You Can Never Go Home Again
Well, I’m back from my trip home for the weekend. It was incredibly relaxing, with the exception of some drama on Saturday night. Here’s how the weekend went down, yo:Friday morning, I grabbed my backpack and my suitcase (brought a bunch of clothes home to do laundry) and left my office for the bus stop. The bus stop is only about 20 blocks from my office, and after hauling my heavy bags about a block, I decided to just take a cab. I’m usually very good about not taking cabs, but I convinced myself that this was an extenuating circumstance, and that this way, I’d get to the bus stop a bit early instead of right on time.
No such luck. My cab driver decided (because he was a prick) to drive straight through Times Square to get to our destination. Anyone who has read this blog knows that my hatred of Times Square knows no bounds. And I forgot that if I want my cab driver to not rape me up the ass with cab fare by taking 3 hours to get where he’s going, I actually have to pipe up and say, “Can you go around Times Square please?” My mistake.
Times Square was a-hoppin’. Apparently, they were filming some sort of video or something, because blocking all traffic in the square was about 150 people, all holding electric guitars and standing next to cinder blocks (including the famous Naked Cowboy, though I don’t know why he’s so famous, he’s not even naked). Anyway, because of this, I arrived only 15 minutes before departure time, and this, I learned, was not early enough. I got in an enormous line, and had to wait for the second bus. Guess what? The second bus HAD. NO. AIR CONDITIONING. For 5 hours, I sweated and tried to stay as still as humanly possible so as not to produce any more sweat than was already in existence.
Eventually, I got to D.C., and stopped by my former place of employment to say hello to some people, and to make sure the place had not crumbled to pieces because I, their pivotal member, had left. Luckily, they appear to be holding it together.
Friday night was spent with my family and my dog, who missed me terribly and who told me that he’s been getting significantly fewer doggy treats in my absence. I told him I would speak to my family and have the situation rectified. He responded by saying, “Why, thank you Colleen,” peeing on the floor, then sleeping for three hours.
Saturday was nice. I went to Target with Mom, hung out with Lindsay all evening/night, drank wine, and baked a cake.
I had a lovely air-conditioned bus on the way back, and the only crappy thing about my trip was that when we pulled into NYC, it was in the throes of a B.A.T. (Big Ass Thunderstorm). It was raining in sheets as we got off the bus and tried to retrieve our luggage from under the bus. There were a few old people on our bus, and they were freaking out because of the rain and their inability to climb under the bus to get their suitcases. Here’s a little snippet of what I heard:
Old Lady #1: Aaaaahhhhh! Oh, no. Oh, God. I’m getting wet.
Old Lady #2: Me too! Oh God, how will we get our luggage? Oh God! Ahhhhhhh!
Literally, they were wailing (I don’t think they were crying, but I wouldn’t have been able to tell anyway, what with the rain).
So, since none of the other people were paying any attention, I threw my bags back on the bus and climbed into the luggage compartment. I started hauling bags out, one by one, until everyone’s luggage was in its owner’s hands. The old ladies appeared to have seen wings growing out of my shoulder blades because they then shouted, “God bless you! You are an angel! Thank you!” So, I figured I’d done my good deed for the day. This way, I wouldn’t feel so bad about the baby kittens I was planning to brutally murder that evening. It all works out in the end.
Anyway, my soggy weekend ended fittingly, I think. Danny wanted to take me out to dinner at this restaurant in the West Village. It looked like the storms were over, so we headed out. We were oh-so-wrong. The downpour this time was equal to, if not more violent than the previous one. We ended up getting soaked from head to toe (even with umbrellas) and getting to the restaurant, only to discover it was closed. So, we went all the way to the West Village from the Upper East Side for Go Sushi, the sushi food chain which has a restaurant 3 blocks from Danny’s apartment. Ugh.
Today though, it is a bit overcast, but 74 degrees! It’s beautiful! I plan to go for a run with my guy after work, in a vain attempt to not look like crap for the beach (less than 3 weeks baby!)
And now, for your viewing pleasure, I present to you my new favorite entries on www.overheardinnewyork.com:
Girl: ...anyway, he was making money hand over foot--
Guy: Isn't it "hand over fist"?
Girl: It'll be "fist up your ass" if you don't stop interrupting me.
--Starbucks, Spring & Crosby
Guy: Hey pretty lady, what's your hurry? Can I have some of that?...Oh, come on, share your candy, pretty lady.
Lady: It's Pepto Bismol, not candy.
Guy: Walk on, crappy lady, walk on.
--88th & Broadway
Woman: I'd like to order a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich.
Cashier lady: I'm sorry, ma'am, we're kosher.
Woman: Oh OK, then make it a sausage, egg, and cheese.
--Nathan's, LaGuardia
Hobo: Do you have any spare change?
Guy: Sorry, no.
Hobo: Well, come back when you do.
--Orchard & Houston
Guy: Don't feel bad, honey. I'd say that one out of every 8 guys is a convicted arsonist.
--Union Square
Conductor: Ladies and gentlemen, we have some good news and some bad news. Bad news is that our engine has stopped. The good news is that you're not on an airplane.
--MetroNorth train
posted by Colleen @ 10:18 AM
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