A couple of my loyal readers (all five of you) asked how the vacation went, and I do not want to disappoint the adoring public. Also, remember that promise I made to try and keep writing more? Yeah.
Labor Day Weekend
I made plans to go to Long Island for Labor Day weekend to spend my birthday with my family. I’ve done this every year, with the exception of the college years, so no surprises. I worked at home on Friday because I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to get to the airport. The subway was a bit of an adventure, given that everybody else in the greater Boston area was also trying to leave the city for the weekend. I could write a whole post about my idea of proper subway etiquette, but that’s boring. I will say, though, that it sucks when you’re stuffed between “I don’t care if talking on my cell phone really loudly is obnoxious” guy and “oh, is the fact that I keep banging into you with my Coach bag filled with 500lb bowling balls annoying?” lady. Add in “hey, ladies” fratty and “Jesus lives. Everybody hates gay people” crazy, and well, you get the picture. The highlight, though, was these two really crazy and funny Jamaican guys telling really bad jokes right out of “The Truly Tasteless Jokes” catalog. They had most of people on the bus we had to get on post-train giggling and laughing, with the exception of that lady you find on every form of public transportation wearing an ill-fitting sweater and sensible shoes. She did a lot of clucking and eye rolling. When the Jamaican guys got off at their terminal, one shouted out “Thank you to all the beautiful ladies on the bus who have been very nice to look at!” Awesome.
My flight was at 6:50, so I got to the airport at 4:30 because of all the security shit going on at the time. I left my very dangerous deodorant and saline solutions in my checked bag, and brought my wallet, journal, iPod and one book through security – which took all of 15 minutes. Then I found out my flight was delayed an hour because of Hurricane Ernesto. Ughh…I caught up on my important reading (US Weekly, Star, InTouch, Life&Style, and Marie Claire) and bought a copy of The Economist to give the appearance of not being a trashy, celebrity whore (it’s still unread). I also enjoyed the best pizza and beer Logan Airport has to offer.
The flight itself was quite the adventure. I HATE flying and usually try to Xanax myself out, but Boston to New York is only 50 minutes. No point in wasting good drugs – although this was a point I might have wanted to reconsider, considering we were flying directly into a “tropical storm.” The captain warned us that the take off and landing would be “bumpy,” but expected that “the middle” (what, 15 minutes?) would be okay. The middle was not okay. After a hairy take off, he got back on the PA and told us that it was going to be “crappy” the whole trip. To punctuate that point, we bumped and bucked so badly that all my water and books ended up on the floor. Thank God for JetBlue’s Mapquest screens – because it was a short flight, I was able to track how fast we were moving and was able to determine that if I was going to die, it would at least be within 20 minutes or so. I also said every single prayer I could remember from studying for Confirmation class – thankfully, God has a sense of humor and isn’t all “Step off, bitch. I ain’t listening to you now.” I would have been okay, except for Insane Bitch in Row Crazy. She screamed and sobbed at the top of her lungs the whole time we were bouncing around. Classics like “we’re all going to die” and “God help me” and “Somebody get me off of this plane. GET ME OFF THIS FUCKING PLANE!” It was horrible, and I came about as close to puking on a plane as I ever have. Bitch also had the nerve to ream out the JetBlue people for “not helping” and “not responding” when she needed it.
But I survived in one piece. Long Island was Long Island. It’s weird to see so many changes to the house – which NEVER changed when I was a kid. There’s new furniture, and a big new fancy window, and an outdoor fireplace. Some classics still exist, though, like having to open the bathroom door and shout out “can I flush?” as loud as you can. Someone doing dishes + someone flushing toilet = poop on the rug.
Given the hurricane, it was a pretty crappy “beach” weekend. It was still really wet on Saturday morning, but not pouring. My brother went out running, so I decided to do the same. It was so windy that I had to hold on to my glasses and the bridge railing when I ran over to the beach. The beach was ferocious – the waves were insane and the water was running up to the boardwalk. I was there for about 3 minutes before it started pouring – making the run/walk back pretty sucky. Thank jebus for my iPod and James Brown chanting “Get Up Offa That Thing.”
Family barbeque on Saturday afternoon at the cousins’ and lots of t.v. watching, including the first couple episodes of Six Feet Under and Anchorman for about the 60th time. I don’t care how immature it is – “San Diego: it’s German for a whale’s vagina” is ALWAYS funny to me. Sunday was another crappy day so we went outlet shopping. Loaded up on JCrew cashmere t-shirts because I’m all upscale now, and was upset that BCBG didn’t have any more of those wrap sweater/swingy things that all the kids are wearing. I had my family birthday party on Sunday night and scored some good loot: a B&N gift card from my brother, a wrap from my sister, and new luggage from my aunt and uncle. My parents gave me something I’ve been asking for for ages – they reupholstered this great old chair I have. It looks fabulous! We also had my favorite – Carvel ice cream cake, preceded by about 60lbs of ravioli and meatballs, and “sides” of mozzarella and tomato and dried sausage.
It was sunny on Monday so I finally got my beach day! I continued to read crappy magazines and eat French fries – perfect. I had a 6 p.m. flight from JFK, but told my parents that it was 5 since their idea of “on time” is quite different from mine. To me, “on time” means I get to the airport, I get through security, I have a drink, I read a magazine and then I get on the plane. Their idea of “on time” means getting to the airport at precisely the time they are screeching out “final boarding call” over the PA. My dad dropped me off at 4:25 for my 5 p.m. flight, so I’m glad I lied.
Back to Massachusetts
Flight back was uneventful, but on my cab ride, I got to listen to some conservative talk show hosts that made me so mad, I actually asked the cab driver to turn it off. The person in question (I WISH I could remember his name so I could flame him publicly) was discussing some recent study that said that a large number of heterosexual men are not using condoms. Instead of wondering why the fuck that is, this guy praised those men and said that he, and none of his friends either, used condoms because – this isn’t a direct quote, but you get the point – “We haven’t fall prey to the liberal media myth that we’ll get AIDS without using condoms. AIDS is still a homosexual disease, and I praise those young men that aren’t bowing down to the homosexual agenda.” Seriously, folks. On the radio. I was floored. Especially when he pointed out that none of his friends were monogamous either. This idiocy just makes me want to scream.
At home, I discovered the first of my presents from YG and the MG. YG, a proud member of Red Sox Nation, bought me a nice new Yankees sweatshirt AND he cleaned my car from top to bottom. If any of you have ever taken a ride in my car, you know that keeping it clean is not something I do well. In my world, backseat = garbage can. I had amassed so much junk – everything from old magazines to a graveyard of Diet Coke cans to a program from my brother’s college graduation years ago. And the trunk was worse. The two of them cleaned the whole thing out, vacuumed, scrubbed, purged and then arranged all the stuff that was salvageable in a neat, storage box for the trunk. They even bought me this crazy thing I had never even thought of: a garbage can.
Tuesday was my actual birthday. I woke up feeling no different at 30 than I did the day before. I consider this a good thing. I worked from home and ran errands and treated myself to a Bruegger’s Bagel Leonardo Da Veggie sandwich. It sounds so lame that this was my big birthday treat, but I’ve been craving one of those things since I worked at BB 8 years ago.
YG came over and FINALLY told me where we were going: SAN FRANCISCO, with four nights at this fabulous place! Not only did he plan this whole thing and manage to keep it a secret for months, but he also wrote up a detailed [and bulleted] itinerary. Excuse me a minute while I gush – is he not the best boyfriend in the entire universe? The trip itself – incredible. The fact that the boy knows me so well that he knew I’d get all hot and bothered over a bulleted checklist – priceless.
We dropped off my keys at SKB’s because she was gracious enough to feed my cats while I was away, and went to dinner at Christopher’s. SKB was gracious enough to feed my cats while I was away, AND helped YG get some of the info he needed to plan one of the items on the itinerary. She also told YG he was the BBFE (Best Boyfriend Ever!) so she’s top notch in our book!
The next installment: San Francisco. Who knew that my ho-hum life could take so long to regurgitate?