Some nights you know will end up being completely ridiculous even before they become that way. A few weeks ago I decided at the last minute to go out on a Tuesday. I had something to celebrate or really the lack of something to celebrate. My idea of celebrating was going out to a party and consuming half a water bottle of tequila straight. Well actually I took it straight for awhile, but then decided to chase it with water. We went to a party for this kid coming to America. I'd never been to a party at this house before and ended up being well a little overdressed, short shorts, black going out shirt...a bit much when everyone else was in jeans and Ts.
Even if I was wearing a gorilla costume I have learned to enter a room filled with confidence, enough to prove that I should be there and have no reason to feel silly. I walked in and played flip cup with my tequila and then some beer when I thought that consuming that many shots in a short span would be bad. I met a good number of people at that party, even the guy who had come to America. I also had enough to tequila to dance like an idiot a bit. My friend who was DDing suggested we go to Waffle House. I've never really been to Waffle House. I tried once on New Year's at 5 am once when I was a freshman, but there were too many people there, I felt sketched out and left. Well she was the DD so I guess I had to go along with it.
Two people from the party wanted to come, but we couldn't give them a ride since we wouldn't be coming back. They decided to follow us in another car. Probably not the best idea. The driver ended up backing up too fast and swung the truck he was driving into another car. They did not make it with us to Waffle House.
At Waffle House there were 3 guys there besides me and my 2 friends. Apparently they were talking about us in Spanish-which I don't understand beyond a few words like: "Como estas?" "Muy Bien" "Mucho Gracias" "Como te llamos" "mi llamo es.." "huevos" "caliente" and some other random kitchen words and a few cuss words. I had no idea what they were saying, but my friend had just returned from Spain (she's also been studied in Mexico) and understood exactly what they were saying. She didn't want to hear them rate our bodies and talk about what they wanted to do with us....ewww. They thought I had a boyfriend since my guy friend was sitting next to me, so I was pretty safe. My friend decided to let them know she understood them so they would shut up. She began talking to them in Spanish-well that may not have been a good idea because they wouldn't shut up and were ow talking to her. I decided to interject and make them all shut up and somehow I thought talking to them in Italian would help out the situation. It didn't. They wanted to know where I was from in Italy...haha. My Italian is terrible and it's funny that they understood it at all.
They continued their assault on my friend. One of them was Puerto Rican, the other two were El Salvadorian. One was trying to convince my friend to go with him to a salsa club later in the week. I was so annoyed by this man's intrusion on what was otherwise a delicious meal (the food was amazing...I've heard you have to be intoxicated to enjoy it though). I decided to try once again to make him leave us alone. I began speaking in Italian again and since they understood everything I said last time I thought he would continue to understand what I said. "Lei solo scopa i messicani." "Que?" "Lei solo scopa i messicani" "Que?" Okay, he didn't get it. Maybe scopare was not the same in Spanish. In my mind at the time I thought telling him she would only have sex with Mexicans would make him go away since he was not. I also for some reason could not think of the word for any other nationality at the time. Whatever. This man was not giving up. He eventually left, but him and his buddy waited in their truck outside Waffle House for us to exit. My friend told us we had to run to her car. I guess she was a bit sketched out. I mean I didn't think these guys were going to throw us in their car and drive away or anything, but it was 3 am at a Waffle House.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
Far Rockaway
Sunday was a gorgeous day and since they had mainly gotten a lot of rain up until I visited my cousin decided we should do something outside. Her friends wanted to go boating in Central Park, so we took the subway there only to discover that it would be an hour and a half wait and she couldn't get in touch with her friends (the subway was still not fixed and it took them 2 hours to use it). She decided we should go to the beach. I was skeptical...a beach in New York-cold water, not fun. We took the long hour or more trip on the subway to Far Rockaway and yes it is far away. My cousin loved the beach despite the fact that it was deserted except for an orthodox Jewish family and a few others and it was cold with broken glass embedded in the sand. We spread out our blanket and laid down only to discover the harsh wind blowing sand in our face. We moved closer the water's edge and tried again. I laid down and wrapped myself up in a towel and dozed off in an attempt to avoid freezing. My cousin stripped down to her bikini and tried to get a tan. After awhile I was glad my cousin wanted to leave this barren beach. We packed up and headed for the subway. We decided to get off at Canal St. and made our way past the street vendors with their suitcases full of knock off purses and arms piled high with fake Rolexs. All of these measures made it easier for them to pack up and move if the police decided to come through. We made our way to Chinatown and ended up eating at a dumpling house. Then we continued to Nolita (Little Italy) and then wandered through some area (I still don't know what part of town) to a subway and went home. We tried to finish the rest of the movie...but it was no good and passed out instead.
In the morning I woke up and got ready for my second meeting, this one was at 1pm. I went downtown on the subway...no way was I walking that far in business clothes and spent most of the morning wandering around looking at different buildings, stores, etc. I got food and ate at a small park and listened to investment bankers from Credit Suisse talk about this wedding they were going to attend. I then made my way to Starbucks and met an alum who happened to be only 26 and helped me realize what I ultimately wanted to do with my life. She was extremely helpful and encouraged me to continue improving my foreign language skills. I then wandered around a bit more and took the subway back uptown and then went shopping.
I met my cousin at dinner and her friend suggested we go to a movie downtown at a small park. We went by Chelsea first in search of some brownie shop, which happened to be closed so we went to s wine store instead. They were filming something at this wine store so it was closed, but the clerk let us in as long as we left very soon. I heard the producer complaining about the customers in the store and how he wanted them out so he could film. We left, hopped on the subway and wandered through downtown looking for some mysterious park among the tall buildings. Well, you couldn't see the park from the street, it was up an escalator from the street and right next to the Hudson. We met this boy my cousin's friend had been on a date with and snuggled against the cold breeze off the Hudson and watched a Marilyn Monroe movie. at the movie's conclusion we left and fell asleep back at my cousin's.
The next morning I woke up and my eyes were red and hurt....wonderful. I had planned on going to the Met, but I didn't feel like going that far away if my eyes were going to hurt all day. I decided to stay nearby and went shopping, which was fine minus the money I spent, until I was on 5th and 52nd and it started raining and I had no umbrella. I ran into H & M, probably the cheapest store on 5th and bought an umbrella. I went outside and it had stopped raining...oh well. I headed back to my cousin's, changed for my final meeting and then headed east in search of the office. This meeting was in a very large building with a lot of security. I had to have my bag scanned through an x-ray machine and tagged, and then go to the receptionist who called the person I was supposed to be meeting, then print me off a badge, so I could have security let me through a turn still to take a particular elevator to her floor, where she had to let me in the glass door. I talked with her for a bit, learned very little and left my new umbrella in her office...waste of time.
After leaving the office I went back to my cousin's and got ready for my last NYC night. We went to this place in Nolita, Il Piccolo Bufalo, which has amazing homemade sangria, except it's 20 dollars a pitcher. We finished the pitcher and were a tad bit drunk afterward. We went to Eileen's dessert cafe for cheesecake and had the cutest little cheesecakes outside. We walked through Soho to the subway and went to Alpha, a Japanese place with amazing drinks near her place. I got an Alphatini and she got a pom martini. Both amazing. We sipped our cocktails, tipped the bartender and proceeded to go back to her place. Watched the "Good Girl"-which is incredibly demented and I could never see how anyone could do that to other people.
The next morning I had breakfast, said good-bye, and went to the New Yorker to get picked up by the shuttle. The ride to the airport was sad, but as I said good-bye to New York I kept thinking-next summer I'll be here again.
In the morning I woke up and got ready for my second meeting, this one was at 1pm. I went downtown on the subway...no way was I walking that far in business clothes and spent most of the morning wandering around looking at different buildings, stores, etc. I got food and ate at a small park and listened to investment bankers from Credit Suisse talk about this wedding they were going to attend. I then made my way to Starbucks and met an alum who happened to be only 26 and helped me realize what I ultimately wanted to do with my life. She was extremely helpful and encouraged me to continue improving my foreign language skills. I then wandered around a bit more and took the subway back uptown and then went shopping.
I met my cousin at dinner and her friend suggested we go to a movie downtown at a small park. We went by Chelsea first in search of some brownie shop, which happened to be closed so we went to s wine store instead. They were filming something at this wine store so it was closed, but the clerk let us in as long as we left very soon. I heard the producer complaining about the customers in the store and how he wanted them out so he could film. We left, hopped on the subway and wandered through downtown looking for some mysterious park among the tall buildings. Well, you couldn't see the park from the street, it was up an escalator from the street and right next to the Hudson. We met this boy my cousin's friend had been on a date with and snuggled against the cold breeze off the Hudson and watched a Marilyn Monroe movie. at the movie's conclusion we left and fell asleep back at my cousin's.
The next morning I woke up and my eyes were red and hurt....wonderful. I had planned on going to the Met, but I didn't feel like going that far away if my eyes were going to hurt all day. I decided to stay nearby and went shopping, which was fine minus the money I spent, until I was on 5th and 52nd and it started raining and I had no umbrella. I ran into H & M, probably the cheapest store on 5th and bought an umbrella. I went outside and it had stopped raining...oh well. I headed back to my cousin's, changed for my final meeting and then headed east in search of the office. This meeting was in a very large building with a lot of security. I had to have my bag scanned through an x-ray machine and tagged, and then go to the receptionist who called the person I was supposed to be meeting, then print me off a badge, so I could have security let me through a turn still to take a particular elevator to her floor, where she had to let me in the glass door. I talked with her for a bit, learned very little and left my new umbrella in her office...waste of time.
After leaving the office I went back to my cousin's and got ready for my last NYC night. We went to this place in Nolita, Il Piccolo Bufalo, which has amazing homemade sangria, except it's 20 dollars a pitcher. We finished the pitcher and were a tad bit drunk afterward. We went to Eileen's dessert cafe for cheesecake and had the cutest little cheesecakes outside. We walked through Soho to the subway and went to Alpha, a Japanese place with amazing drinks near her place. I got an Alphatini and she got a pom martini. Both amazing. We sipped our cocktails, tipped the bartender and proceeded to go back to her place. Watched the "Good Girl"-which is incredibly demented and I could never see how anyone could do that to other people.
The next morning I had breakfast, said good-bye, and went to the New Yorker to get picked up by the shuttle. The ride to the airport was sad, but as I said good-bye to New York I kept thinking-next summer I'll be here again.
NYC Continued...
On the fourth we woke up, ate lunch and set out to once again find my cousin's friend. This time he was in central park-and we wandered around for an hour or more before we found him. Then we went to the Great Lawn and laid out for most of the day. The only exciting thing that happened here was being mistaken for someone's friend Rachel and having a group of men try to talk to me as I was walking around alone. We left the park in the afternoon and walked down Broadway to times square to meet my cousin's friend's mother. She was cute little woman who decided to have us search for her (must run in the family)-she was standing near Elmo-a small person in an Elmo costume. After we met here, we went to the river (west side) and realized that the cute vendors who were there in the morning had left and now people were already camping out for fireworks. We quickly left that area and went in search of food-no one wanted to be the one to suggest a place-but my cousin's friend finally decided we were going to have pizza. We went to this place (don't know the name) and consumed chicken parmigiana pizza. We left her friend and his mother and headed back to her place. We met here already drunk friend and decided to go to Trader Joe's for some 3 buck chuck. Trader Joe's is down near 14th st, so we hopped on the subway and found out that Trader Joe's closed early on the 4th. Slightly disappointed, we went to her roof and waited for the fireworks.
After the fireworks ended-I was very glad to be on a rooftop. The masses of people leaving the river area was ridiculous. I was also very glad to not be in the subway at that moment either. Three blocks worth of people were pushing their way down into the hot, putrid depths of nyc's dirty subway system.
Soon enough I found out I would be joining their ranks. My cousin's Brooklyn friends wanted to go out in Brooklyn and wanted to leave right then. We got on the subway and I found out how the subway must be in rush hour. Crowded, unpleasantly warm, and sweaty. Once in Brooklyn I was happy to be out in the slightly cold air. We went to some bar with a cute little back deck area (which I found out are very popular in Brooklyn). Drank and watched people play ping pong while trying to guess the accents of the group of people beside us. Apparently my cousin's friend won-the people were Polish. One thing about this area of Brooklyn-known as Williamsburg-it full of hipsters. Picture guys with longish hair. Thick rimmed black glasses. Bright colored tight shirts or plaid button ups and tight skinny jeans or jords (sp?) cut-off jean shorts. Not really the kind of guy I'm attracted to-not that it really mattered I was there one week and staying in a place where only girls could go upstairs and sleeping on a cot in a room so narrow that my cot had to be beside the actual twin bed, creating one large bed. My cousin's friend was actually a lot of fun and we all went to another bar that had free cheese puffs and cozies for canned beer. I opted for a bit more expensive bottled beer and watched my cousin's friend take a "vodka cranberry goggles" picture with a hipster. She only drinks vodka cranberries and claims that she gets those goggles instead of beer goggles and now takes pictures with people whose glasses she wears in the picture. Interesting...anyway, this girl proved to be incredibly social and I loved it. I acted almost as a wing woman and chatted up these Spaniards with her (not my type they looked about 12, but claimed to be 23 yr old med students). Then while waiting for the bathroom-the man she had taken a vodka cran pic with came up and started talking to me. Long blond-haired and wearing thick rimmed black glasses-no thanks. I used the bathroom and dodged him on my way out. Luckily I could escape b/c we had to take my cousin's friend home b/c she had had a few too many vodka crans and was stumbling down the street listening to "Billie jean is not my girl" over and over again. We put her to bed and headed to the subway.
Problem-the subway was broken-the next train leaving Brooklyn would be there in 45 min.-not good. We left hailed a cab to take us to the first subway stop in Manhattan-this cost about 10 dollars with tip. Then we took the subway and headed back to her place. At one point we were on the opposite side of the street of some guys who were fighting-it was only a yelling match-no physical contact. My cousin then started to go on about how we shouldn't be on the street alone. She was scared and I wasn't. I never felt scared for one minute in NYC. I don't know if that's good or bad. Maybe I don't have a good concept of what I should be afraid of.
After the fireworks ended-I was very glad to be on a rooftop. The masses of people leaving the river area was ridiculous. I was also very glad to not be in the subway at that moment either. Three blocks worth of people were pushing their way down into the hot, putrid depths of nyc's dirty subway system.
Soon enough I found out I would be joining their ranks. My cousin's Brooklyn friends wanted to go out in Brooklyn and wanted to leave right then. We got on the subway and I found out how the subway must be in rush hour. Crowded, unpleasantly warm, and sweaty. Once in Brooklyn I was happy to be out in the slightly cold air. We went to some bar with a cute little back deck area (which I found out are very popular in Brooklyn). Drank and watched people play ping pong while trying to guess the accents of the group of people beside us. Apparently my cousin's friend won-the people were Polish. One thing about this area of Brooklyn-known as Williamsburg-it full of hipsters. Picture guys with longish hair. Thick rimmed black glasses. Bright colored tight shirts or plaid button ups and tight skinny jeans or jords (sp?) cut-off jean shorts. Not really the kind of guy I'm attracted to-not that it really mattered I was there one week and staying in a place where only girls could go upstairs and sleeping on a cot in a room so narrow that my cot had to be beside the actual twin bed, creating one large bed. My cousin's friend was actually a lot of fun and we all went to another bar that had free cheese puffs and cozies for canned beer. I opted for a bit more expensive bottled beer and watched my cousin's friend take a "vodka cranberry goggles" picture with a hipster. She only drinks vodka cranberries and claims that she gets those goggles instead of beer goggles and now takes pictures with people whose glasses she wears in the picture. Interesting...anyway, this girl proved to be incredibly social and I loved it. I acted almost as a wing woman and chatted up these Spaniards with her (not my type they looked about 12, but claimed to be 23 yr old med students). Then while waiting for the bathroom-the man she had taken a vodka cran pic with came up and started talking to me. Long blond-haired and wearing thick rimmed black glasses-no thanks. I used the bathroom and dodged him on my way out. Luckily I could escape b/c we had to take my cousin's friend home b/c she had had a few too many vodka crans and was stumbling down the street listening to "Billie jean is not my girl" over and over again. We put her to bed and headed to the subway.
Problem-the subway was broken-the next train leaving Brooklyn would be there in 45 min.-not good. We left hailed a cab to take us to the first subway stop in Manhattan-this cost about 10 dollars with tip. Then we took the subway and headed back to her place. At one point we were on the opposite side of the street of some guys who were fighting-it was only a yelling match-no physical contact. My cousin then started to go on about how we shouldn't be on the street alone. She was scared and I wasn't. I never felt scared for one minute in NYC. I don't know if that's good or bad. Maybe I don't have a good concept of what I should be afraid of.
Uptown/Downtown/Brooklyn/Far Rockaway/Williamsburg
The title says it all, but I never made it to Queens, the Bronx, and the time I spent in Brooklyn was mainly concentrated in Williamsburg and Far Rockaway. I also went on the Staten Island ferry, passing by the statue of liberty.
On Thursday I woke up with my cousin (she had to go to her internship) and I was going running. I headed out to the Hudson river (on the west) side at 34th st. and began running downtown along the river walkway park. I was amazed by how many people were rollerblading. People in NYC love rollerblading and they even have a section blocked off in central park for roller blade dancers. Anyway, my run took me downtown and because of numerous detours i actually ended up running through the streets instead of by the river. Once I reached a certain point (about 40 minutes into my run)-I decided to stop and walk (also b/c it was becoming increasingly harder to run through the construction). I walked through john st, broad st, wall st, maiden lane, etc, passing the south harbor area. I walked uptown a bit, past the stock exchange (heavily guarded-you can't even stand on the sidewalk in front of it). Past many banks and firms, large buildings, a small park with a bull hung with some pretty big ones. I walked past Ground zero and NYU before I ran back, ate a sandwich I made at breakfast, showered, and got dressed for my first meeting (I had 3 meetings while in NYC with alumni at different corporations-I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life). Meeting number one went well, she showed me the office and what she did and afterward told me to let her know if I wanted a paid internship there next summer (of course I do-we'll see how it plays out later).
Once I arrived back at my cousin's I changed and ran to Bryant Park for yoga-which once I got there and met my cousin I realized had been cancelled because of rain-it wasn't raining then, but it had been. We decided instead to go back and eat at her place and find something to do that night. We decided to head uptown to go to bars-maybe meet a few cute guys from Columbia. Uptown we went to two bars- one with specials on domestic pitchers and another that we stayed at maybe 5 minutes because it was so narrow and crowded it wasn't worth it. We only made it that far b/c my cousin's friend wanted to head home-but after running 72 minutes and walking for hours I was really beat anyway.
Friday we woke up, ate breakfast, and then laid out on the roof. My cousin's friend was coming from out of town and we were going to be hanging out with him later in the day. Well, he somehow got off the bus he took from Vermont and decided to cross a bridge called the Manhattan bridge-for some reason he thought this took him to Manhattan-but he had already been in Manhattan so this bridge actually took him to Brooklyn. Our job was to find this friend who was horribly lost. We took the subway to Brooklyn and got off, told him to meet us at the Brooklyn Bridge and thought that he would soon arrive. A half hour later and still no friend, we began to search for him and found a really cute area DUMBO and with a huge bar (which we used the bathroom in). Finally her friend called to inform us that he was on the Brooklyn bridge and we raced to meet him there. We met him in the middle-how romantic-and crossed into Manhattan. We decided to walk downtown and take the Staten Island ferry by the Statue. After this we took the subway to central park and wandered around the park for a while. Then headed to my cousin's place ate dinner and then went back to her room and passed out (napped for a few hours).
That night we went out to Brooklyn with the intention of meeting up with my cousin's Brooklyn friends. We encountered one problem-my cousin's friend forgot his ID all he had was a student ID. Most bars won't take a student ID-it doesn't have a birth date, but we found one hole in the wall bar that did not care at all. So we chilled out, drank, and then left early again-probably around 2am-bars are open till 4.
On Thursday I woke up with my cousin (she had to go to her internship) and I was going running. I headed out to the Hudson river (on the west) side at 34th st. and began running downtown along the river walkway park. I was amazed by how many people were rollerblading. People in NYC love rollerblading and they even have a section blocked off in central park for roller blade dancers. Anyway, my run took me downtown and because of numerous detours i actually ended up running through the streets instead of by the river. Once I reached a certain point (about 40 minutes into my run)-I decided to stop and walk (also b/c it was becoming increasingly harder to run through the construction). I walked through john st, broad st, wall st, maiden lane, etc, passing the south harbor area. I walked uptown a bit, past the stock exchange (heavily guarded-you can't even stand on the sidewalk in front of it). Past many banks and firms, large buildings, a small park with a bull hung with some pretty big ones. I walked past Ground zero and NYU before I ran back, ate a sandwich I made at breakfast, showered, and got dressed for my first meeting (I had 3 meetings while in NYC with alumni at different corporations-I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life). Meeting number one went well, she showed me the office and what she did and afterward told me to let her know if I wanted a paid internship there next summer (of course I do-we'll see how it plays out later).
Once I arrived back at my cousin's I changed and ran to Bryant Park for yoga-which once I got there and met my cousin I realized had been cancelled because of rain-it wasn't raining then, but it had been. We decided instead to go back and eat at her place and find something to do that night. We decided to head uptown to go to bars-maybe meet a few cute guys from Columbia. Uptown we went to two bars- one with specials on domestic pitchers and another that we stayed at maybe 5 minutes because it was so narrow and crowded it wasn't worth it. We only made it that far b/c my cousin's friend wanted to head home-but after running 72 minutes and walking for hours I was really beat anyway.
Friday we woke up, ate breakfast, and then laid out on the roof. My cousin's friend was coming from out of town and we were going to be hanging out with him later in the day. Well, he somehow got off the bus he took from Vermont and decided to cross a bridge called the Manhattan bridge-for some reason he thought this took him to Manhattan-but he had already been in Manhattan so this bridge actually took him to Brooklyn. Our job was to find this friend who was horribly lost. We took the subway to Brooklyn and got off, told him to meet us at the Brooklyn Bridge and thought that he would soon arrive. A half hour later and still no friend, we began to search for him and found a really cute area DUMBO and with a huge bar (which we used the bathroom in). Finally her friend called to inform us that he was on the Brooklyn bridge and we raced to meet him there. We met him in the middle-how romantic-and crossed into Manhattan. We decided to walk downtown and take the Staten Island ferry by the Statue. After this we took the subway to central park and wandered around the park for a while. Then headed to my cousin's place ate dinner and then went back to her room and passed out (napped for a few hours).
That night we went out to Brooklyn with the intention of meeting up with my cousin's Brooklyn friends. We encountered one problem-my cousin's friend forgot his ID all he had was a student ID. Most bars won't take a student ID-it doesn't have a birth date, but we found one hole in the wall bar that did not care at all. So we chilled out, drank, and then left early again-probably around 2am-bars are open till 4.
Day one: NYC
I should mention that I've never been on an airplane. Or for that matter out of the southeast. I mean I've been to DC (farthest north), Florida (furthest south), and Louisiana (furthest west), but otherwise I have not seen much of the world. My dad thought that I was completely stupid, demented, and crazy to go to NYC and stay with my cousin while she had an internship and I would be alone to wander the streets for a few days. I am too headstrong to listen to people who tell me I can't do something (and normally telling me to do something produces the opposite result).
My first experience in an airplane was not as bad or scary as I thought it was going to be. I thought security would take 2 hours to get through...well I got through everything in 18 minutes and was sitting at my gate planning on waiting 2 hours for my flight (oh well time to catch up on reading). The flight was on a tiny commuter plane (which I was not expecting). I was getting nervous during take-off and began taking deep breaths to calm down. A few minutes later after we leveled off and didn't experience turbulence at that point I realized that I liked flying. Except I didn't like the even no turbulence smooth sailing, I liked take-off, landing, and the dips (kind of like a roller coaster ride). I also realized that I didn't want the plane to experience turbulence because even though it was the most fun thing that happens in an airplane (because I really don't see myself joining the mile high club-small bathrooms...come on). Because the plane is so high up and not attached to a track, like a roller coaster, it could fall out of the sky and I would die in a fiery crash-lovely thoughts, but you never know.
The plane landed in La Guardia, no problems, and I collected my bags and caught a shuttle heading for the New Yorker (even though I wasn't staying there and had to walk a block and a half). One note about NYC taxis-they are crazy. I mean it doesn't bother me that much as long as I never have to drive in New York. If I move there I will not own a car-because it's pretty pointless anyway and I will not drive. The roadways were so crowded and so much honking happened everywhere, but it didn't bother me much. There were many signs around in certain areas that threatened a 350 dollar fine if the vehicle owner honked (I guess it helps noise pollution, but what about if someone is about to hit you?). I got out of the shuttle and dragged my bags down the few blocks, checked into my cousin's room and unpacked my stuff. Her room faced the street and didn't have AC, just a small fan. I hadn't had any lunch, but didn't really feel like trying to find food. I ate a cookie out of the bunch I brought her and headed out the door. I was going to explore.
I thought New Yorkers were going to be mean, rude, and not even look at me (this was all advice my dad had imparted with me before I embarked). Well I hadn't been on the street 3 minutes when this business man approached me while I was on the phone and said "Excuse me, I just wanted to let you know your tag is hanging out the back." This was actually going to be the first of many stereotypes I let go of. I wandered all the way to central park and spent the better part of the day wondering around the park, reading, etc. I found the zoo, big rocks, a playground, meadows, and wandered all the way to the east side of the park and made my way back to one trump tower near the entrance on 7th or 8th (I can't remember). I went into the Time Warner center and grabbed a sandwich from Dean and Deluca while eavesdropping on the guy next to me who did something in theater because he was going on about the script he was working with currently.
After the overpriced sammie (8 dollars for something that hard and stale), I headed back to my cousin's place (until she called me and directed me to Bryant Park for jazz in the park). I ended up walking down broadway on my way back, walking through times square and the theater district with crowds of tourists. I learned to spot a tourist and vowed not to look too much like one, because trying to navigate through crowds of tourists was not fun. Tourists stare at the building tops, wait for the little man before crossing the street and walk very slowly while blocking the entire sidewalk. (The best way to navigate your way through the sidewalks in NYC is to walk at a pretty good pace-unless your wearing killer heels, but you will probably wear flip-flops and carry your heels with you if you have to go far. Also don't stop on the sidewalk, or look at the tops of the buildings or around too much in general (its ok to look around a bit, as long as you can keep walking)-just don't stop moving because people will run into you and you will have ruined the perfect rhythm of walking the street. As for crossing the street, most streets are one way, so if the little man is not present and the stop hand is not flashing, you can still cross the street, just check to see if anyone is coming and then cross. If you hear something honking at you though, then pick up the pace and get out of the middle of the street.)
Walking through Times Square I was harassed by a short man who claimed to want my autograph. I said no and kept moving. This guy could only have wanted it for three reasons: 1. he was going to use my signature to try to sign me up for something/steal my identity, or something along those lines. 2. he mistook me for someone famous. or 3. maybe he was trying to flatter me for some reason. I believe 1 or 3 are more likely since I don't really resemble anyone (I once had someone tell me I looked like Cate Blanchett, but I don't see it).
I found my way to the garment district and spent some time walking around before I headed for Bryant Park and found a spot near the jazz performance and sat back waiting for my cousin to get off work. By the time she got off the music was basically over (which was really good and relaxing) and we had to practically run to make dinner at the place she was staying (her meals were included in her rent-breakfast and dinner)-I had to pay for dinner, breakfast was free though. At 6 dollars for a buffet style meal I didn't think it was too bad-b/c all food in NYC is expensive and as previously stated my stale sammie was 8 dollars. After dinner we grabbed a bottle of sav blanc from the wine store down the street, relaxed on the roof, watched part of a movie (A Good Year is terrible btw-very boring, don't do it to yourself), and then passed out in the uncomfortable heat that was a combination of her un-air conditioned room and a few glasses of wine. I drifted off listening to the sounds of traffic outside her window that would range from quiet rumble to full on bouts of honking and sirens.
My first experience in an airplane was not as bad or scary as I thought it was going to be. I thought security would take 2 hours to get through...well I got through everything in 18 minutes and was sitting at my gate planning on waiting 2 hours for my flight (oh well time to catch up on reading). The flight was on a tiny commuter plane (which I was not expecting). I was getting nervous during take-off and began taking deep breaths to calm down. A few minutes later after we leveled off and didn't experience turbulence at that point I realized that I liked flying. Except I didn't like the even no turbulence smooth sailing, I liked take-off, landing, and the dips (kind of like a roller coaster ride). I also realized that I didn't want the plane to experience turbulence because even though it was the most fun thing that happens in an airplane (because I really don't see myself joining the mile high club-small bathrooms...come on). Because the plane is so high up and not attached to a track, like a roller coaster, it could fall out of the sky and I would die in a fiery crash-lovely thoughts, but you never know.
The plane landed in La Guardia, no problems, and I collected my bags and caught a shuttle heading for the New Yorker (even though I wasn't staying there and had to walk a block and a half). One note about NYC taxis-they are crazy. I mean it doesn't bother me that much as long as I never have to drive in New York. If I move there I will not own a car-because it's pretty pointless anyway and I will not drive. The roadways were so crowded and so much honking happened everywhere, but it didn't bother me much. There were many signs around in certain areas that threatened a 350 dollar fine if the vehicle owner honked (I guess it helps noise pollution, but what about if someone is about to hit you?). I got out of the shuttle and dragged my bags down the few blocks, checked into my cousin's room and unpacked my stuff. Her room faced the street and didn't have AC, just a small fan. I hadn't had any lunch, but didn't really feel like trying to find food. I ate a cookie out of the bunch I brought her and headed out the door. I was going to explore.
I thought New Yorkers were going to be mean, rude, and not even look at me (this was all advice my dad had imparted with me before I embarked). Well I hadn't been on the street 3 minutes when this business man approached me while I was on the phone and said "Excuse me, I just wanted to let you know your tag is hanging out the back." This was actually going to be the first of many stereotypes I let go of. I wandered all the way to central park and spent the better part of the day wondering around the park, reading, etc. I found the zoo, big rocks, a playground, meadows, and wandered all the way to the east side of the park and made my way back to one trump tower near the entrance on 7th or 8th (I can't remember). I went into the Time Warner center and grabbed a sandwich from Dean and Deluca while eavesdropping on the guy next to me who did something in theater because he was going on about the script he was working with currently.
After the overpriced sammie (8 dollars for something that hard and stale), I headed back to my cousin's place (until she called me and directed me to Bryant Park for jazz in the park). I ended up walking down broadway on my way back, walking through times square and the theater district with crowds of tourists. I learned to spot a tourist and vowed not to look too much like one, because trying to navigate through crowds of tourists was not fun. Tourists stare at the building tops, wait for the little man before crossing the street and walk very slowly while blocking the entire sidewalk. (The best way to navigate your way through the sidewalks in NYC is to walk at a pretty good pace-unless your wearing killer heels, but you will probably wear flip-flops and carry your heels with you if you have to go far. Also don't stop on the sidewalk, or look at the tops of the buildings or around too much in general (its ok to look around a bit, as long as you can keep walking)-just don't stop moving because people will run into you and you will have ruined the perfect rhythm of walking the street. As for crossing the street, most streets are one way, so if the little man is not present and the stop hand is not flashing, you can still cross the street, just check to see if anyone is coming and then cross. If you hear something honking at you though, then pick up the pace and get out of the middle of the street.)
Walking through Times Square I was harassed by a short man who claimed to want my autograph. I said no and kept moving. This guy could only have wanted it for three reasons: 1. he was going to use my signature to try to sign me up for something/steal my identity, or something along those lines. 2. he mistook me for someone famous. or 3. maybe he was trying to flatter me for some reason. I believe 1 or 3 are more likely since I don't really resemble anyone (I once had someone tell me I looked like Cate Blanchett, but I don't see it).
I found my way to the garment district and spent some time walking around before I headed for Bryant Park and found a spot near the jazz performance and sat back waiting for my cousin to get off work. By the time she got off the music was basically over (which was really good and relaxing) and we had to practically run to make dinner at the place she was staying (her meals were included in her rent-breakfast and dinner)-I had to pay for dinner, breakfast was free though. At 6 dollars for a buffet style meal I didn't think it was too bad-b/c all food in NYC is expensive and as previously stated my stale sammie was 8 dollars. After dinner we grabbed a bottle of sav blanc from the wine store down the street, relaxed on the roof, watched part of a movie (A Good Year is terrible btw-very boring, don't do it to yourself), and then passed out in the uncomfortable heat that was a combination of her un-air conditioned room and a few glasses of wine. I drifted off listening to the sounds of traffic outside her window that would range from quiet rumble to full on bouts of honking and sirens.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Liar, Liar
I decided to catch up on some summer reading, some educational, some not. So far one book talking about transitioning from college to the corporate world explains that everyone needs to create a corporate persona, not make real friends at work, and maintain this corporate persona even after hours with co-workers. Another book I've been reading is a memoir of a woman who used to be a stripper. In her book she explains that she created a separate persona to cope with stripping and lived as this person. Somehow this seems confusing and completely wrong. Why do we have to hide who we really are and basically live a lie all the time. Whether we do something like stripper (which especially after reading this book I hope no one I know ends up doing) or climb the corporate ladder it seems that we must create a persona different from who we really are and live as this person.
In both books, it explains how you should not become real friends with your co-workers. Well then I pose the question, who should you become friends with then? It is so aggravating to me that to succeed in life (not as a stripper, but in the corporate world), you have to lie and pretend to be something your not.
I guess I could be called out for lying. Someone heard me lie a few times and afterward would never believe anything I said. I admit I do lie, but normally it is to avoid punishment or to make my life easier (this sounds really bad, but it's human). I mainly lie to my parents because telling them the truth about everything would only hurt them and cause me a lot of grief. Example: I went out of town this past weekend and wanted to go to a party the night I got home. My parents would have asked to many questions about why I was not spending the night at home since I had been gone for a few days, so I lied and told them I wasn't getting home until the day after the party. I almost got trapped in my lie because I locked my keys in my car when I got back into town the day of the party. Instead of calling my parents to get them to bring a spare key, I decided to call a locksmith and pay for the man to open my car. An expensive lie, but it helped prevent problems in the future.
I guess that may be what the author of the corporate book was trying to get across. The idea that having a certain persona is only helpful and prevents problems in the corporate world. I just wish that we could be honest all the time without terrible repercussions, but that will never happen. We always have to watch what we say or we may offend people, have people think we are crazy, or we may end up without jobs and now that I'm nearing the end of college (I have 2 more years, but they will go by too fast) I am realizing the importance of making and saving money.
In both books, it explains how you should not become real friends with your co-workers. Well then I pose the question, who should you become friends with then? It is so aggravating to me that to succeed in life (not as a stripper, but in the corporate world), you have to lie and pretend to be something your not.
I guess I could be called out for lying. Someone heard me lie a few times and afterward would never believe anything I said. I admit I do lie, but normally it is to avoid punishment or to make my life easier (this sounds really bad, but it's human). I mainly lie to my parents because telling them the truth about everything would only hurt them and cause me a lot of grief. Example: I went out of town this past weekend and wanted to go to a party the night I got home. My parents would have asked to many questions about why I was not spending the night at home since I had been gone for a few days, so I lied and told them I wasn't getting home until the day after the party. I almost got trapped in my lie because I locked my keys in my car when I got back into town the day of the party. Instead of calling my parents to get them to bring a spare key, I decided to call a locksmith and pay for the man to open my car. An expensive lie, but it helped prevent problems in the future.
I guess that may be what the author of the corporate book was trying to get across. The idea that having a certain persona is only helpful and prevents problems in the corporate world. I just wish that we could be honest all the time without terrible repercussions, but that will never happen. We always have to watch what we say or we may offend people, have people think we are crazy, or we may end up without jobs and now that I'm nearing the end of college (I have 2 more years, but they will go by too fast) I am realizing the importance of making and saving money.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
The Friendly Doctor
Yesterday while I was running I felt this dull pain throbbing in my left shin. I always have pain every time I run, I just get used to it and try my best to ignore it. This made me think about my sports medicine doctor. He hasn't had the pleasure of seeing me in awhile, even though I have called his office for my orthotic prescription. I don't mind going in to see my sports med doc, he's always upbeat and even though he misses things all the time, like the stress fracture I had in my left leg, he is fun to talk to. He is probably the only person who after all my leg problems is excited to hear about my next running challenge (if he knew I ran a half marathon he would be jumping up and down). He ran track in college and understands the thrill of running (which fewer and fewer people seem to recently). He didn't tell me to stop running after I sprained my ankle for the second time (although my mother suggested I take up swimming when I called my freshman year of college asking her if the paramedics had contacted her while I was getting an x-ray). He just referred me to physical therapy (I have been to the same physical therapy clinic for at least 3 or 4 different injuries but never seem to retain the same physical therapist). I think physical therapy is a waste of my time, I never do the appropriate exercises and refused to go in high school (to be fair in high school I refused to go to my school's sports med department. On various occasions they burned my leg, hurt me, and almost caused me to lose toes due to frostbite-I have Raynaud's syndrome (look it up) and can't handle cold very long). My ex-boyfriend would literally force me to go to sports med at school (once I think he physically carried me there-sometimes I can be the biggest pain in the butt).
But back to my sports med doctor, I think he honestly would have made a better coach than doctor (considering he missed my stress fracture). He would have been supportive and encouraged runners to achieve their best. Unlike my head track coach in high school who ridiculed me, thought I couldn't achieve anything, and even tried to make fun of my accomplishments ("You made states? What height did you have to jump 4'4"?"-he was referring to high jump and the height was 4'10"). If only everyone was like my sports med doc, encouraging. I think too many people try to put others down like my track coach for some reason. I don't see how that helps people achieve their full potential. I mean, my doc never told me he thought I was going to be an Olympian, but he was always excited to hear about the next running challenge I had set for myself.
But back to my sports med doctor, I think he honestly would have made a better coach than doctor (considering he missed my stress fracture). He would have been supportive and encouraged runners to achieve their best. Unlike my head track coach in high school who ridiculed me, thought I couldn't achieve anything, and even tried to make fun of my accomplishments ("You made states? What height did you have to jump 4'4"?"-he was referring to high jump and the height was 4'10"). If only everyone was like my sports med doc, encouraging. I think too many people try to put others down like my track coach for some reason. I don't see how that helps people achieve their full potential. I mean, my doc never told me he thought I was going to be an Olympian, but he was always excited to hear about the next running challenge I had set for myself.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Is it right or left?
I am going to be in so much trouble next year. I am directionally-impaired as my parents like to call it. It took me a long time to learn my left from my right and I still have problems with it sometimes. For my driving test when I was 16 I wore a ring on my right hand, so when the instructor told me to turn right I wouldn't end up turning left (believe me this has happened before, even in the driver's ed car). Last summer I went to DC for the first time and had to take the metro from Union Station to Springfield. Well somehow I got lost on the metro (yes the DC metro, the easy one with color-coded, easy to understand routes). I ended up in Vienna and had to back track while my friend and her sister could not believe how stupid I was.
It's not only cities that give me a hard time either. Once during cross country practice I was leading my friend through the woods and instead of going to the neighborhood we were supposed to meet the rest of our team at, I ended up taking her to an elementary school, pretty far away from our cars. She was not very happy and refused to listen to my directions after this, so she made us run back along the roadway. Our entire run ended up being 80 minutes long (the longest I had run at that point). Our coach had sent people from our team out to look for us. We were only supposed to have gone on a 40 minute run. After that no one believed I knew the trails at all, even though I made myself learn them thoroughly.
Yesterday was one of those wonderful days where things go completely wrong. I was supposed to drive me and my friend to the water park a few cities over. Everything was going fine and I was catching up with my friend until the directions I was following told me to take the left fork into a highway that happened to be closed. Not a big deal, it old me to follow a different route for a detour, except after the initial, follow this other highway signs, the detour signs ended and I was lost. Luckily my grandmother happens to live right off the highway we had to take, so I was not completely lost, but my grandmother was not home and I don't have a GPS in my car (you would think my parents would buy me one). We decided to have lunch and figure out what to do. I called my dad after lunch, he gave me new directions that seemed a bit strange (why was I taking 220 south and then following some other road and taking 220 north...how would that work). I followed the crazy directions and was doing well until the directions ended with "fork left"...except there was no fork, and there was nowhere to go left. I ended up back in the same place I started. At this point it was pretty late in the day and we were tired, so we gave up, went to my friend's pool, and had Mexican for dinner (where I had to make a complete ass of myself, typical).
It's not only cities that give me a hard time either. Once during cross country practice I was leading my friend through the woods and instead of going to the neighborhood we were supposed to meet the rest of our team at, I ended up taking her to an elementary school, pretty far away from our cars. She was not very happy and refused to listen to my directions after this, so she made us run back along the roadway. Our entire run ended up being 80 minutes long (the longest I had run at that point). Our coach had sent people from our team out to look for us. We were only supposed to have gone on a 40 minute run. After that no one believed I knew the trails at all, even though I made myself learn them thoroughly.
Yesterday was one of those wonderful days where things go completely wrong. I was supposed to drive me and my friend to the water park a few cities over. Everything was going fine and I was catching up with my friend until the directions I was following told me to take the left fork into a highway that happened to be closed. Not a big deal, it old me to follow a different route for a detour, except after the initial, follow this other highway signs, the detour signs ended and I was lost. Luckily my grandmother happens to live right off the highway we had to take, so I was not completely lost, but my grandmother was not home and I don't have a GPS in my car (you would think my parents would buy me one). We decided to have lunch and figure out what to do. I called my dad after lunch, he gave me new directions that seemed a bit strange (why was I taking 220 south and then following some other road and taking 220 north...how would that work). I followed the crazy directions and was doing well until the directions ended with "fork left"...except there was no fork, and there was nowhere to go left. I ended up back in the same place I started. At this point it was pretty late in the day and we were tired, so we gave up, went to my friend's pool, and had Mexican for dinner (where I had to make a complete ass of myself, typical).
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Growing up too fast
I was a lot of trouble when I was younger and always gave my parents grief (kind of like what I currently do). I am too headstrong, want things my way, and can be so obstinate that I won't listen to anyone else (which has caused me to do things no one thought I was capable of, and has caused me a lot of pain, physical and emotional).
When I was 4 (according to my mother), I wanted to be 16. Who knows why the age 16 appealed to me so much. Sixteen was the magic number, the age where I would be grown up and love life. I always tried to act older than I was. I wanted to be older so I could control my own life and be taken seriously. I negotiated a weekly allowance with my dad when I was probably 7 or 8 because I wanted to start saving up for a car (if that seems weird, I was talking about what college I wanted to go to when I was 5).
When I did hit that magical age I had fantasized about, it wasn't that special. Me and my friend had a double birthday, which sort of became a tradition. We went bowling with friends and watched White Noise. My friend was sleeping over at my house and we got back late. My mom happened to be awake and handed me a car key. I started freaking out and me and my friend were jumping up and down yelling because I got a car!! My mom then motioned for me to open the card sitting on the steps it read on the front, "What would be better than getting a car on your birthday?" Inside it read, "Getting a Card, one whole extra letter". I was so confused, did I really get a car? My mom was laughing hysterically. Apparently this was a joke, there was no car. Wonderful 16th.
I did end up getting a car, a month later. I didn't get my license until 4 months after I turned 16. Ended up wrecking my car a month later and then being forced to grow up. Before, even though I always wanted to be older, I was Daddy's little girl. My dad understood me better than my mother and would normally take my side or help me out of scrapes, not to mention let me take advances on my now monthly allowance that I would go over every single month.
I still sometimes want to be older than I am. People don't take me seriously half the time because they still think I'm too young to understand. I think people with that mindset are completely wrong. There are some 40 year olds out there who comprehend less than people half their age. It all has to do with your experiences. I finally try to embrace my age. I don't want to relinquish the ability to make mistakes and do dumb things (which I constantly do) without having someone give me a weird look and tell me to act my age. That does happen sometimes, but I roll with it. I think regrets are dumb, don't regret something that happened, move on and learn from it. The only thing I think I regret in my life is wanting to grow up too fast and not enjoying being a kid.
When I was 4 (according to my mother), I wanted to be 16. Who knows why the age 16 appealed to me so much. Sixteen was the magic number, the age where I would be grown up and love life. I always tried to act older than I was. I wanted to be older so I could control my own life and be taken seriously. I negotiated a weekly allowance with my dad when I was probably 7 or 8 because I wanted to start saving up for a car (if that seems weird, I was talking about what college I wanted to go to when I was 5).
When I did hit that magical age I had fantasized about, it wasn't that special. Me and my friend had a double birthday, which sort of became a tradition. We went bowling with friends and watched White Noise. My friend was sleeping over at my house and we got back late. My mom happened to be awake and handed me a car key. I started freaking out and me and my friend were jumping up and down yelling because I got a car!! My mom then motioned for me to open the card sitting on the steps it read on the front, "What would be better than getting a car on your birthday?" Inside it read, "Getting a Card, one whole extra letter". I was so confused, did I really get a car? My mom was laughing hysterically. Apparently this was a joke, there was no car. Wonderful 16th.
I did end up getting a car, a month later. I didn't get my license until 4 months after I turned 16. Ended up wrecking my car a month later and then being forced to grow up. Before, even though I always wanted to be older, I was Daddy's little girl. My dad understood me better than my mother and would normally take my side or help me out of scrapes, not to mention let me take advances on my now monthly allowance that I would go over every single month.
I still sometimes want to be older than I am. People don't take me seriously half the time because they still think I'm too young to understand. I think people with that mindset are completely wrong. There are some 40 year olds out there who comprehend less than people half their age. It all has to do with your experiences. I finally try to embrace my age. I don't want to relinquish the ability to make mistakes and do dumb things (which I constantly do) without having someone give me a weird look and tell me to act my age. That does happen sometimes, but I roll with it. I think regrets are dumb, don't regret something that happened, move on and learn from it. The only thing I think I regret in my life is wanting to grow up too fast and not enjoying being a kid.
As Good As it Gets
Yesterday at work, I was talking about how much it sucks that I turn 21 in Hong Kong. One of the male servers, who I think should try his luck at stand-up comedy, sarcastically went on about how that is terrible and how bad my life must be because I have to turn 21 in OMG Hong Kong. Yea, I love that guy so much.
I realized that even though I'm missing a year in the US, being abroad for a year will be amazing. Especially since I get to go to Copenhagen, Brussels, Berlin, England, and will hopefully get to visit Barcelona, France, Milan, Florence, Amsterdam, and a few other places. Then I fly Emirates to Dubai and then to Hong Kong where I get to go to Shanghai and Tokyo and will hopefully find the time to visit friends in Australia. Yea my world travels are looking pretty good right now, as long as I can break even this summer (after paying for my NYC trip, airline tickets to Copenhagen and Hong Kong), then I should be set. There's no reason to complain or be sad (when I moved out in May I cried so many times that it was hard to hide from my parents).
The countdown has started I have 2 months and 4 days until I leave the country for a long time. I leave RDU around 4:30ish, leave JFK around 7:30ish and leave the airport in Iceland around 7:30 in the morning (ugh...not a fun flight).
There are downsides to going abroad for 10 months:
1. I miss most of my friends for 10 months or more (but I am no longer worried that they will forget me, we'll just ahve so much to catch up on when I get back...I'm forseeing a huge night out when I return).
2. I won't be able to take my business core classes until I'm a senior. (Well most of them, I take two electives when I come back for my program, but the rest of my senior year will be core classes.)
3. It will be hard to find an internship for the summer (most companies want to see you in person, which will be impossible for me).
4. I have to network now with alumni so I will be in front of employers (and for people who ahve not tried to network, it is hard, very hard to get responses).
5. Housing for senior year will be harder to arrange.
But, it's more than worth it. The only thing that I really wish was that I was leaving sooner. I'm anxious to go and see the world right now!!
I realized that even though I'm missing a year in the US, being abroad for a year will be amazing. Especially since I get to go to Copenhagen, Brussels, Berlin, England, and will hopefully get to visit Barcelona, France, Milan, Florence, Amsterdam, and a few other places. Then I fly Emirates to Dubai and then to Hong Kong where I get to go to Shanghai and Tokyo and will hopefully find the time to visit friends in Australia. Yea my world travels are looking pretty good right now, as long as I can break even this summer (after paying for my NYC trip, airline tickets to Copenhagen and Hong Kong), then I should be set. There's no reason to complain or be sad (when I moved out in May I cried so many times that it was hard to hide from my parents).
The countdown has started I have 2 months and 4 days until I leave the country for a long time. I leave RDU around 4:30ish, leave JFK around 7:30ish and leave the airport in Iceland around 7:30 in the morning (ugh...not a fun flight).
There are downsides to going abroad for 10 months:
1. I miss most of my friends for 10 months or more (but I am no longer worried that they will forget me, we'll just ahve so much to catch up on when I get back...I'm forseeing a huge night out when I return).
2. I won't be able to take my business core classes until I'm a senior. (Well most of them, I take two electives when I come back for my program, but the rest of my senior year will be core classes.)
3. It will be hard to find an internship for the summer (most companies want to see you in person, which will be impossible for me).
4. I have to network now with alumni so I will be in front of employers (and for people who ahve not tried to network, it is hard, very hard to get responses).
5. Housing for senior year will be harder to arrange.
But, it's more than worth it. The only thing that I really wish was that I was leaving sooner. I'm anxious to go and see the world right now!!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
The Curse
I never heard of this before I started working at my current employers, but this past winter after a former co-workers horrific death I heard people start mentioning "the curse". Five former employees died in the past year, well six now as of Monday (even though the 6th was a current employee). Their deaths are not the usual, oh the person was old or was in bad health kind of deaths, but the unexpected, you never saw it coming kind.
One of my co-workers passed away this week and his death is being investigated. An artery was cut in his leg and he bled to death in his house. I thought everyone at work would seem distraught and upset, but when I came into work the following day nothing seemed different except there was a new guy in the kitchen. It bothers me a bit that no one seemed to care that someone died. It also bother me because I knew him. Our last conversation centered around my legs. He noticed they were muscular and asked if I played soccer. Then we talked about the half marathon I would be running that weekend.
The supposed curse at my work had claimed a victim in December as well. A former employee, I didn't know, hit a fire hydrant in his car and the car flipped vertical and hurdled into a grove of trees behind the fire hydrant killing the driver (the former employee) and causing the passenger to fly out the back window, injured, but alive.
Another victim of the curse, a guy I knew, another former employee who worked the first summer I started, hung himself. I knew he was troubled, did a lot of drugs, and kind of scared me. My second summer there he would come back late at night when I was the last server on and most people had left the restaurant and follow me around and try to touch me. It's crazy to me to believe that all these people are connected and that these terrible things happen.
One of my co-workers passed away this week and his death is being investigated. An artery was cut in his leg and he bled to death in his house. I thought everyone at work would seem distraught and upset, but when I came into work the following day nothing seemed different except there was a new guy in the kitchen. It bothers me a bit that no one seemed to care that someone died. It also bother me because I knew him. Our last conversation centered around my legs. He noticed they were muscular and asked if I played soccer. Then we talked about the half marathon I would be running that weekend.
The supposed curse at my work had claimed a victim in December as well. A former employee, I didn't know, hit a fire hydrant in his car and the car flipped vertical and hurdled into a grove of trees behind the fire hydrant killing the driver (the former employee) and causing the passenger to fly out the back window, injured, but alive.
Another victim of the curse, a guy I knew, another former employee who worked the first summer I started, hung himself. I knew he was troubled, did a lot of drugs, and kind of scared me. My second summer there he would come back late at night when I was the last server on and most people had left the restaurant and follow me around and try to touch me. It's crazy to me to believe that all these people are connected and that these terrible things happen.
Monday, June 8, 2009
"Body, if you get me through this I promise to never do this to you again..."
I am a very impulsive person, which gets me in trouble a lot. I don't think about the consequences of my actions most of the time and just do what I feel like doing at that moment. This past Spring I decided that I had nothing to work toward (a bad predicament to find myself in). I signed myself up for a half-marathon in Hickory because I thought it wouldn't be too bad (I'd run more than 13 miles at once before) and I had been telling myself I would do one for some time. My mom freaked out when I signed myself up telling me I would injure myself again and that Hickory was too far away and I should find something closer. Well I'm also very stubborn and won't listen to reason when I have my mind made up about something. I signed up and kind of forgot about it because it was a few months away.
After I finished exams and realized i hadn't run in over a week and had a half-marathon to run in a month, i hit the pavement. I ran almost everyday everywhere. I explored neighborhoods to potentially live in by running past. I also discovered a mental hospital in a place that was very surprising. The day of my half marathon crept up pretty fast and I felt as prepared as I was going to be.
What I know now, I was not ready for this thing (the whole experience). We checked into our hotel in Hickory, got food, and were going to look for the start of the race (somewhere in downtown) so we wouldn't be lost at 6 in the morning. After spending an hour driving around Hickory (I lost the map of Hickory they had given me) and being bitched out the entire time for losing the map and having my parents berate me about how I was going to get lost everywhere I went and that I would get raped in New York and kidnapped abroad, etc. etc., we managed to find the start and our way back to our hotel room. I forced myself and my parents to go to bed at 9pm, so I could wake up at 5 am and feel well rested. One slight problem: I don't go to bed ever at 9pm, I normally go to bed sometime after midnight. A bigger problem: The room next door was throwing a loud party and our side of the hotel faced a major road where everyone decided to rev their engines and drag race. Then the worst thing happened: my dad started snoring, loudly. Every time I got up to get ear plugs (they had provided them for us at this hotel), my dad stopped snoring. I was also paranoid that if I put the ear plugs in I would oversleep and not hear my alarm. (I didn't trust my parents to wake up.)
I got up at 5am, ate a quick breakfast, began downing fluid, and vaselined my feet to avoid blisters. I got to the race at 6:15, attached the timing chip to my shoe and walked around looking at all the people I would be racing against. I haven't raced since high school and a 5k or track race is very different from a half marathon. The people I saw where drinking coffee (a big no-no for any type of race) and listening to their iPOds. I refused to wear my mp3 player because I feel that music while your running helps you run faster and longer (it helps block out some of the pain your feeling by distracting you and it gives you a beat to keep up with). At the start I felt good, a bit nervous but not too bad. The race started fine, I was up with the second to top group of runners at the start and felt fine. It was into the first mile that I ended up beside a woman who sounded like she was about to pop out a baby. Her breathing sounded like this "hee-hee, haw-haw" and it was loud. At once I thought I heard her say "hello" and another time "water", but I was never sure. All I knew was I had to get the hell away from her because I could not run 13 miles listening to that. I lost her after the third mile, but endured her for 24 minutes. My downfall I'd have to say in this race is that I ran too fast at the start. My first mile was under 7 minutes, with many of the proceeding miles around 8 minutes. I made it to mile 6 and then mile 7 without too much difficulty. At mile 7 I started feeling bad. I got a throbbing pain up my right leg. It started in my foot and went all the way up to my butt. I kept telling myself to keep going that I was 3 miles from mile 10 and that was 3 miles to the end. (I know some motivation, hey body you only have 6 miles left-it sounds impossibly long). Around mile 8, some man decided to smartly read the writing on my shirt and the back of my shirt. Just the smug way he said it made me want to flick him off, but I resisted. I have this bad habit of being very mean to people who cheer for me in races. I've gotten better, I like it when they cheer in long distance races now, hurdle races, etc., but if I was still high jumping, I would go off on anyone who made a noise while I was attempting a height. I needed all my concentration for high jumping and the noise was too distracting (I would envision myself clearing the bar and jumping perfectly: perfect j-curve, left foot plant, jump straight up, lifting arms straight up, bending head, neck, back into a perfect arch, and then immediately kicking my legs up so they wouldn't hit the bar and ruin my jump-a lot to think about just that happens in a few seconds). Anyway this guy was not going to get to me, so I just shook my head and kept going. Another annoyance I encountered around this time was the realization that my butt was bouncing around and it felt like it was slowing me down. I have had a love-hate relationship with my butt. While competing in high school and at that moment I hated it. It slowed me down in cross country and it was terrible for high jump. I couldn't lift my hips high enough to get my butt high enough to clear the bar. If I had no butt I could have cleared 3-4 more inches easily. And now it was bouncing around and just being a pain. If I could have cut off my butt to shed some extra weight to make me more aerodynamic then I would have.
Mile 9 passed the start and finish area and took you past Lenoir-Rhyne college. By this point I was cold for some reason and my body was tingling. Probably not a good sign. I knew I had to stop running if I stopped sweating, but I didn't know what to do if I felt like this. I decided to keep going because at this point I didn't care what time or what place I finished I just wanted to finish without ever walking. After mile 11 things went uphill, literally. The last two miles of the course were uphill. I thought I was going to die, right there, but I was so close. "Body, if you get me through this I promise to never put you through this again, no more half marathons." This really had no effect on my running, but maybe it would help me finish strong. After mile 12 I kept myself going by thinking "You are less than a mile from finishing, come on you can do it." I ran up hill after hill, hoping that the finish would be around the corner. Eventually it was around the corner and I began to speed up. (I love finishing fast, I sprint in, no matter how tired I am). I beat 2 people from my sprint alone (one happened to be a little boy half my height who I didn't even see beside me). No matter, I finished, I had finished a half marathon!!
Even though it was tough and I was beaten by 158 other people. I finished 159 overall, 5th in my age group thought (20-24) and had a 73 yr old man beat me (he looked like all he ever did was run to be fair). And never again will I sign my body up for another half marathon...well at least that's what I told my body.
After I finished exams and realized i hadn't run in over a week and had a half-marathon to run in a month, i hit the pavement. I ran almost everyday everywhere. I explored neighborhoods to potentially live in by running past. I also discovered a mental hospital in a place that was very surprising. The day of my half marathon crept up pretty fast and I felt as prepared as I was going to be.
What I know now, I was not ready for this thing (the whole experience). We checked into our hotel in Hickory, got food, and were going to look for the start of the race (somewhere in downtown) so we wouldn't be lost at 6 in the morning. After spending an hour driving around Hickory (I lost the map of Hickory they had given me) and being bitched out the entire time for losing the map and having my parents berate me about how I was going to get lost everywhere I went and that I would get raped in New York and kidnapped abroad, etc. etc., we managed to find the start and our way back to our hotel room. I forced myself and my parents to go to bed at 9pm, so I could wake up at 5 am and feel well rested. One slight problem: I don't go to bed ever at 9pm, I normally go to bed sometime after midnight. A bigger problem: The room next door was throwing a loud party and our side of the hotel faced a major road where everyone decided to rev their engines and drag race. Then the worst thing happened: my dad started snoring, loudly. Every time I got up to get ear plugs (they had provided them for us at this hotel), my dad stopped snoring. I was also paranoid that if I put the ear plugs in I would oversleep and not hear my alarm. (I didn't trust my parents to wake up.)
I got up at 5am, ate a quick breakfast, began downing fluid, and vaselined my feet to avoid blisters. I got to the race at 6:15, attached the timing chip to my shoe and walked around looking at all the people I would be racing against. I haven't raced since high school and a 5k or track race is very different from a half marathon. The people I saw where drinking coffee (a big no-no for any type of race) and listening to their iPOds. I refused to wear my mp3 player because I feel that music while your running helps you run faster and longer (it helps block out some of the pain your feeling by distracting you and it gives you a beat to keep up with). At the start I felt good, a bit nervous but not too bad. The race started fine, I was up with the second to top group of runners at the start and felt fine. It was into the first mile that I ended up beside a woman who sounded like she was about to pop out a baby. Her breathing sounded like this "hee-hee, haw-haw" and it was loud. At once I thought I heard her say "hello" and another time "water", but I was never sure. All I knew was I had to get the hell away from her because I could not run 13 miles listening to that. I lost her after the third mile, but endured her for 24 minutes. My downfall I'd have to say in this race is that I ran too fast at the start. My first mile was under 7 minutes, with many of the proceeding miles around 8 minutes. I made it to mile 6 and then mile 7 without too much difficulty. At mile 7 I started feeling bad. I got a throbbing pain up my right leg. It started in my foot and went all the way up to my butt. I kept telling myself to keep going that I was 3 miles from mile 10 and that was 3 miles to the end. (I know some motivation, hey body you only have 6 miles left-it sounds impossibly long). Around mile 8, some man decided to smartly read the writing on my shirt and the back of my shirt. Just the smug way he said it made me want to flick him off, but I resisted. I have this bad habit of being very mean to people who cheer for me in races. I've gotten better, I like it when they cheer in long distance races now, hurdle races, etc., but if I was still high jumping, I would go off on anyone who made a noise while I was attempting a height. I needed all my concentration for high jumping and the noise was too distracting (I would envision myself clearing the bar and jumping perfectly: perfect j-curve, left foot plant, jump straight up, lifting arms straight up, bending head, neck, back into a perfect arch, and then immediately kicking my legs up so they wouldn't hit the bar and ruin my jump-a lot to think about just that happens in a few seconds). Anyway this guy was not going to get to me, so I just shook my head and kept going. Another annoyance I encountered around this time was the realization that my butt was bouncing around and it felt like it was slowing me down. I have had a love-hate relationship with my butt. While competing in high school and at that moment I hated it. It slowed me down in cross country and it was terrible for high jump. I couldn't lift my hips high enough to get my butt high enough to clear the bar. If I had no butt I could have cleared 3-4 more inches easily. And now it was bouncing around and just being a pain. If I could have cut off my butt to shed some extra weight to make me more aerodynamic then I would have.
Mile 9 passed the start and finish area and took you past Lenoir-Rhyne college. By this point I was cold for some reason and my body was tingling. Probably not a good sign. I knew I had to stop running if I stopped sweating, but I didn't know what to do if I felt like this. I decided to keep going because at this point I didn't care what time or what place I finished I just wanted to finish without ever walking. After mile 11 things went uphill, literally. The last two miles of the course were uphill. I thought I was going to die, right there, but I was so close. "Body, if you get me through this I promise to never put you through this again, no more half marathons." This really had no effect on my running, but maybe it would help me finish strong. After mile 12 I kept myself going by thinking "You are less than a mile from finishing, come on you can do it." I ran up hill after hill, hoping that the finish would be around the corner. Eventually it was around the corner and I began to speed up. (I love finishing fast, I sprint in, no matter how tired I am). I beat 2 people from my sprint alone (one happened to be a little boy half my height who I didn't even see beside me). No matter, I finished, I had finished a half marathon!!
Even though it was tough and I was beaten by 158 other people. I finished 159 overall, 5th in my age group thought (20-24) and had a 73 yr old man beat me (he looked like all he ever did was run to be fair). And never again will I sign my body up for another half marathon...well at least that's what I told my body.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
How to Make Money Fast
At work today me and my friend, who I never get to see because I think our boss purposely schedules us to work opposite shifts (so if I work lunch she works dinner), decided we need to make money fast. I need to make money to go abroad and then have enough to support myself during the summer after I return (because I cannot live at home again) and she needs money because she recently went abroad and doesn't have any. We began contemplating ideas and came up with a fee viable choices:
1. Sell our eggs (Besides the hormones and surgery, it would be easy to make a couple of thousand. The major downside the potential of having children with your DNA running around.)
2. Sell drugs (Completely illegal and not incredibly profitable actually. Plus the danger of a drug war.)
3. Crash weddings (It sounds like this would make you no money, but as my friend pointed out, you could steal some gifts and then sell them on e-Bay and no one would notice.)
4. Strip (No one would have to know unless your friends came to the strip club you worked at, but then you could pretend to have a look-a-like, because how many of your friends have seen you naked. But as my other friend pointed out to me most strippers are fat, his words, not mine, and I am not. Another friend suggested I should be a go-go dancer.)
5. Sell plasma (You make 60 a week if you donate twice a week and you can do it over and over again. I have never donated blood, hate having blood taken from me, and think I would probably pass out, a very legitimate concern.)
A few other options were thrown out there, but really none of these ideas is very good. I mean half are illegal and would end in jail time if we got caught, which is definitely not worth the money and the others are not very appealing (stripping). I guess I could try donating plasma, but the idea of being poked that much does not seem worth the 60 a week. I guess I'll have to stick to waiting tables and hope that someone will walk in and leave me a couple of hundred out of the kindness of their heart. Probably won't happen considering today my last table told me to that I looked like I didn't want to be there (and I basically told them I didn't). When I transferred them to another waitress once I was cut and came to tell them they mentioned that was the first time they saw me smile the entire time I had waited on them.
1. Sell our eggs (Besides the hormones and surgery, it would be easy to make a couple of thousand. The major downside the potential of having children with your DNA running around.)
2. Sell drugs (Completely illegal and not incredibly profitable actually. Plus the danger of a drug war.)
3. Crash weddings (It sounds like this would make you no money, but as my friend pointed out, you could steal some gifts and then sell them on e-Bay and no one would notice.)
4. Strip (No one would have to know unless your friends came to the strip club you worked at, but then you could pretend to have a look-a-like, because how many of your friends have seen you naked. But as my other friend pointed out to me most strippers are fat, his words, not mine, and I am not. Another friend suggested I should be a go-go dancer.)
5. Sell plasma (You make 60 a week if you donate twice a week and you can do it over and over again. I have never donated blood, hate having blood taken from me, and think I would probably pass out, a very legitimate concern.)
A few other options were thrown out there, but really none of these ideas is very good. I mean half are illegal and would end in jail time if we got caught, which is definitely not worth the money and the others are not very appealing (stripping). I guess I could try donating plasma, but the idea of being poked that much does not seem worth the 60 a week. I guess I'll have to stick to waiting tables and hope that someone will walk in and leave me a couple of hundred out of the kindness of their heart. Probably won't happen considering today my last table told me to that I looked like I didn't want to be there (and I basically told them I didn't). When I transferred them to another waitress once I was cut and came to tell them they mentioned that was the first time they saw me smile the entire time I had waited on them.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Either Way You're Lying
Everyone should wait tables at some point in their life. It changes your perspective of the world. I started working in a restaurant when I was 17. It was a terrible job. I started out busing tables and watched parents dump runny black beans on the table for their little babies to eat. Just a little FYI the tables in restaurants are disgusting. Even after they have supposedly been cleaned. One restaurant I worked at didn't even use sanitizer spray and a dirty rag (yes all the rags used to wipe down tables are dirty because they have are being used all day to wipe down every dirty table and chair and booth seat), this restaurant used a rag dipped in sanitizer, but the rags were used a lot and not re-dunked in the cold dirty water that passed as sanitizing solution.
Anyway, restaurants are not only disgusting places (I've worked in 3 different restaurants and even though some are more sanitary than others, they are all gross), but they let you see how people really act when they think no one is watching. Being a waitress does not just entail taking orders and getting drinks, it's learning to anticipate a person's needs by watching their body language and gestures. When customers have to ask for things they think the server is terrible at their job and not attentive enough (even if they just saw you get 5 new tables at once). I dealt with crazy customers ( I had a woman who rocked back and forth in her seat, wanted her ribs, coleslaw, and fries to be on separate plates, and refused to pay 2 dollars of her bill because she didn't like the pasta salad, yet refused to tell me this. Regardless, I had to chase her down and make her come back to pay her entire bill). I've also had to deal with picky customers, mean customers, nice customers, and liars. I had a table once tip me 50 dollars when their bill was only 80, it made my night. Monday night I had a table of liars who tried telling me that they had been here before and we had a 2 for 1 special on food on Mondays. Only problem, we don't run specials on food or drinks ever. I explained this to them and then came back to take their food order only to be told that this was their first time here. Come on, you just told me you had been here before. Sometimes I just want to yell at people, but I continue to smile even when they ask for their change when they give me 43 dollars and the bill is 42.33. I love those people (sarcasm), but they are much better than the people who tell you to keep the change on something like that. I would rather be properly stiffed than get 63 cents.
There are a few things I have not had to deal with that I am thankful for: I have never caught anyone having sex in the bathroom or someplace in the restaurant (this actually happens more than you would think), I haven't had anyone throw up at one of my tables, I have not had anyone (other than the crazy lady) try to run out without paying, and I generally come out pretty well at the end of the night (besides last night when I made 16 dollars).
Anyway, restaurants are not only disgusting places (I've worked in 3 different restaurants and even though some are more sanitary than others, they are all gross), but they let you see how people really act when they think no one is watching. Being a waitress does not just entail taking orders and getting drinks, it's learning to anticipate a person's needs by watching their body language and gestures. When customers have to ask for things they think the server is terrible at their job and not attentive enough (even if they just saw you get 5 new tables at once). I dealt with crazy customers ( I had a woman who rocked back and forth in her seat, wanted her ribs, coleslaw, and fries to be on separate plates, and refused to pay 2 dollars of her bill because she didn't like the pasta salad, yet refused to tell me this. Regardless, I had to chase her down and make her come back to pay her entire bill). I've also had to deal with picky customers, mean customers, nice customers, and liars. I had a table once tip me 50 dollars when their bill was only 80, it made my night. Monday night I had a table of liars who tried telling me that they had been here before and we had a 2 for 1 special on food on Mondays. Only problem, we don't run specials on food or drinks ever. I explained this to them and then came back to take their food order only to be told that this was their first time here. Come on, you just told me you had been here before. Sometimes I just want to yell at people, but I continue to smile even when they ask for their change when they give me 43 dollars and the bill is 42.33. I love those people (sarcasm), but they are much better than the people who tell you to keep the change on something like that. I would rather be properly stiffed than get 63 cents.
There are a few things I have not had to deal with that I am thankful for: I have never caught anyone having sex in the bathroom or someplace in the restaurant (this actually happens more than you would think), I haven't had anyone throw up at one of my tables, I have not had anyone (other than the crazy lady) try to run out without paying, and I generally come out pretty well at the end of the night (besides last night when I made 16 dollars).
Monday, June 1, 2009
Inflatable Animals
Every night out is a mini-adventure, you never know how it's going to end. The other night is a perfect example. The night began with me and a group of friends over-indulging ourselves at a local chain restaurant. After copious amounts of food were consumed we headed back to my friend's apartment in search of a party, which during the summer is harder to find since the vast majority of students have left the area leaving behind the very studious or the people who need to be pay more attention to their grades than their social lives. Through social networking we discovered a small party that didn't sound very promising, but would be better than sitting in the apartment doing nothing.
After arriving at this party and realizing the people we knew had yet to arrive, we walked in pretending that we had every right to be there (which we most likely did, we actually brought the first girls to the party). Making the rounds we introduced ourselves to people and it turns out I knew a few of the guys there and some of them even remembered my name. While I was chatting with one guy I had met a few times before but had never really talked to, a bunch of older guys came in with leis, glow sticks, and grocery bags. The first thought that entered my mind was, "Why do alumni keep coming back to party with students?" I never really understood why old guys come back to their Alma mater and hit on undergrads. I don't get it. Freshmen year a bunch of old guys who claimed to only be 23 (though one was balding) tried to convince me and a friend to join them in the "back house" for a private party. Anyway, these guys started pulling out inflatable animals from the bags and blowing them up. There were two inflatable monkeys (one happened to be 3 feet tall), a crab, an octopus, fish, a flamingo, and other various animals. One guy proudly announced to everyone, "I have crabs and an octopus". Wonderful, an old guy with a sense of humor bordering on a prepubescent boys. The guys distributed out their loot, handing me a flamingo and placing the 3 foot monkey on my friend's back. I decided since these guys made up half of the party that I might as well get to know them, plus they were the ones who brought the decorations (and fun) to an otherwise dull summer party.
One of the guys happened to be 24, which was probably bad news since he looked like the youngest of his friends (one looked about 25/26 and the other appeared to be approaching his mid-thirties). This guy was ok, slightly goofy, but had started his own business. The mid-thirties guy was a complete turn-off, he was not very nice to me and was getting on my nerves (and why was he partying with students is a very good question). The guys with the inflatables ended up leaving because they were committed to meeting friends elsewhere, but invited us to come watch them play later on a street corner. Apparently they were part of some kind of Stomp-esque band and would be entertaining the drunken masses later on. We planned on stopping by, for a laugh, and my friend still had the inflatable flamingo.
The rest of the party was ok, nothing out of the ordinary occurred except the man who had been sitting behind us at the restaurant earlier showed up accompanied by our waitress. The only thought I had about this was that I was glad I tipped the waitress well. We left the party and made our way to the designated street corner. They were there setting up but hadn't started playing yet. Their instruments consisted of paint buckets, pans, a cookie sheet and spatula, along with various other kitchen and household apparatus. Their drummer was still MIA, but they warmed up with my friend creating the beat on the paint cans. Once their drummer made an appearance and they began rocking out, we joined in with maracas and flamingo guitar playing. Their music attracted a crowd that began trying their best to hula hoop or dance to the crazy beat.
That could have been the end of the night, weird, bordering on average, but it wasn't. Right before leaving the raucous orchestra a women came running up to us in a panic, "Do any of you have a condom? I need a condom for my friend." One person replied that they didn't use condoms, while everyone else around explained that they didn't carry them around. The lady began accosting other people walking by, begging each one for a condom for her friend. If that wasn't bad enough, this thirty-something year old woman came running up to us, "Do any of you have a condom? I need to have sex tonight. I haven't had it in such a long time." Wow. This was something. When all of us once again explained that we didn't have a condom, she rushed over to her friend who had found a man, a random man on the street, who happened to have a condom in his wallet. Then the woman who "needed to have sex tonight" had her condom and the number of the man who had supplied it.
After arriving at this party and realizing the people we knew had yet to arrive, we walked in pretending that we had every right to be there (which we most likely did, we actually brought the first girls to the party). Making the rounds we introduced ourselves to people and it turns out I knew a few of the guys there and some of them even remembered my name. While I was chatting with one guy I had met a few times before but had never really talked to, a bunch of older guys came in with leis, glow sticks, and grocery bags. The first thought that entered my mind was, "Why do alumni keep coming back to party with students?" I never really understood why old guys come back to their Alma mater and hit on undergrads. I don't get it. Freshmen year a bunch of old guys who claimed to only be 23 (though one was balding) tried to convince me and a friend to join them in the "back house" for a private party. Anyway, these guys started pulling out inflatable animals from the bags and blowing them up. There were two inflatable monkeys (one happened to be 3 feet tall), a crab, an octopus, fish, a flamingo, and other various animals. One guy proudly announced to everyone, "I have crabs and an octopus". Wonderful, an old guy with a sense of humor bordering on a prepubescent boys. The guys distributed out their loot, handing me a flamingo and placing the 3 foot monkey on my friend's back. I decided since these guys made up half of the party that I might as well get to know them, plus they were the ones who brought the decorations (and fun) to an otherwise dull summer party.
One of the guys happened to be 24, which was probably bad news since he looked like the youngest of his friends (one looked about 25/26 and the other appeared to be approaching his mid-thirties). This guy was ok, slightly goofy, but had started his own business. The mid-thirties guy was a complete turn-off, he was not very nice to me and was getting on my nerves (and why was he partying with students is a very good question). The guys with the inflatables ended up leaving because they were committed to meeting friends elsewhere, but invited us to come watch them play later on a street corner. Apparently they were part of some kind of Stomp-esque band and would be entertaining the drunken masses later on. We planned on stopping by, for a laugh, and my friend still had the inflatable flamingo.
The rest of the party was ok, nothing out of the ordinary occurred except the man who had been sitting behind us at the restaurant earlier showed up accompanied by our waitress. The only thought I had about this was that I was glad I tipped the waitress well. We left the party and made our way to the designated street corner. They were there setting up but hadn't started playing yet. Their instruments consisted of paint buckets, pans, a cookie sheet and spatula, along with various other kitchen and household apparatus. Their drummer was still MIA, but they warmed up with my friend creating the beat on the paint cans. Once their drummer made an appearance and they began rocking out, we joined in with maracas and flamingo guitar playing. Their music attracted a crowd that began trying their best to hula hoop or dance to the crazy beat.
That could have been the end of the night, weird, bordering on average, but it wasn't. Right before leaving the raucous orchestra a women came running up to us in a panic, "Do any of you have a condom? I need a condom for my friend." One person replied that they didn't use condoms, while everyone else around explained that they didn't carry them around. The lady began accosting other people walking by, begging each one for a condom for her friend. If that wasn't bad enough, this thirty-something year old woman came running up to us, "Do any of you have a condom? I need to have sex tonight. I haven't had it in such a long time." Wow. This was something. When all of us once again explained that we didn't have a condom, she rushed over to her friend who had found a man, a random man on the street, who happened to have a condom in his wallet. Then the woman who "needed to have sex tonight" had her condom and the number of the man who had supplied it.
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