25 February 2009

a black trunk

There is a gossip writer for the NY Post who blabs on about people and events daily and always ends her columns with "only in NY kids, only in NY". That pretty much sums up my day.
I am on the third night in a row of not falling asleep until 0700. I lay awake praying for sleep sometimes getting up to use the restroom or get on the computer but most of the time just laying motionless hoping for my brain to shut off and my body to fall. That feeling right before a deep sleep, when you feel it coming and welcome it with open arms or fight it when it is not appropriate to sleep. The two days prior it didn't really matter what time I awoke as there were no plans for the day. Today however, I had commitments with a busy week following. I awoke in a nightmarish sweat at 0900 as a huge bee was in my hair. I fell back asleep for forty minutes not restfully but light slumber. I brushed my teeth and washed my face. The clock was not my friend when it came to getting across town to walk the dog. I consider to take a cab in order to keep my commitment to Willy but stopped for a triple latte or what I refer to as my savior these days.
I hoped in a cab and actually made some phone calls and returned some emails as the cab crept across Central Park. I arrived ten minutes late to the lovely greeting of some one who didn't care what time it was, he was just happy to see me. We walked in the NY chill for an hour and then spent some time cuddling.
i walked up ten blocks to the paper store to purchase some additional wrapping paper and talked myself into spending the $8 for a cab ride home versus 45 minutes via public transport. I could maximize my sleep time prior to the next commitment. I got home and made a piece of toast with peanut butter to quite the tummy before laying down with my eye mask on and alarm set. In two hours, I got one. I'll take it. I arose to get into the shower and get ready to get to BJ's for my first serving gig in two months. I got there early, enough time to order a triple latte. I wasn't hungry, I just did my work. It was super busy and I was running my ass off.
I helped a group of people that wanted to eat without a table. I didn't want to but felt bad when my manager wanted me too. My gut was correct as they bolted on their check $35 out of my tips for that bullshit. I continued to get table after table and in moment of calmness took a look around. I was out of the swing of things and this waitressing was exhausting. I used to be a rock star, helping out the other girls. Tonight I was being asked for help. I also took a moment to realize I had new love handles in my Classic tee.
I walked to the bar to get some drinks and came back to find another table skipped out on me. FUCK!!! Are you kidding me? Who does that bullshit as an adult? I was immediately on the defense and went to ask every table for a credit card. Do you realize how bad that makes you look as a waitress? I was depressed, all this work for nothing. The last table I had were NYPD and they were ready to find my check cutters and take them down. We discussed this with great length as they bought me a post shift beer.
As I was counting out my money and paying everyone but myself, I was on the phone to Beth to find out that they are not leaving the country as Drew has lost his passport. I am not dog walking tomorrow...more money lost.
I usually treat myself to a cab after a long night of waitressing but couldn't justify it tonight. And what do I have to get home for? To lay awake and wait for day light? So I began walking. East on 31st Street towards the 6.
What is great about NY is the things people leave on the sidewalk for pick up. Mind you, we have no dump. You could literally furnish your house from items left on the sidewalk. I investigate things every so often and wonder what the hell I would really do with it. I am using my book shelve with delight for over a year now!
There is a black trunk with brass latches and brass corners, it intrigues me. I look inside, just plywood. I inspect the outside to see that it is in good condition considering it's age of forty years or so. I pick it up and start carrying it with me. My $95 dinner in one hand and the 1'x1'x3' trunk in the other. I turn up Park Avenue and enter the subway station. I wait for several minutes with my trunk on the bench. I board the train and sit next to some bums. They comment on my trunk and my dinner. I have my ipod in but can here them. I acknowledge with a "ya right" and a smile. I get off at 86th to catch the cross town bus. I get off here instead of 116th because it is my old neighborhood and I feel safe here. I didn't want to wait for the bus in Spanish Harlem with my trunk. Ten minutes later the bus pulls up. I am the only person on the block. I remind myself of Pattington Bear with his suitcase at the train. I board the bus much to the amusement of the bus driver. I cross the park and get off at CPW. I walked down the subway stairs to catch the B uptown. I am on the only one of the platform. Five minutes later the train comes. I board a some what busy car. I sit down my trunk and look ahead. A gentleman looks at my trunk and gives me a knowing smile. I shrug my shoulders a little proud of my find. I stare at it wondering what I am going to put inside. I decide it will be blankets and old photos and it will sit next to my dinning table. I watch guy for a bit as he is reading. He is not American, he is kind of cute actually.
There have been many times when I wish that someone cute would please, please get off at my stop and make witty banter with me. It never happens and if they do get off at the same stop they or I rush off to the next leg of the journey.
He earmarked his book which made him chuckle during the ride and got off at my stop. He commented about my trunk, I told him I found it on the streets. I ask him what he was reading. A French book he said in a French accent. So we walked for a block and talked. Then I sat down my trunk and he asked for my number. I said yes. Because if I can find treasure on the streets at midnight, I might find something on the subway home.

24 February 2009

esb colors

Putting my new found insomnia to good use....

http://whatcoloristheempirestatebuilding.com/

Today is Committee Encouraging Corporate Philanthropy, Corporate Philanthropy Day

Cool!

pretty in pink...only double the age

Nothing can make me feel more like a girl than a gorgeous dress. I know it is odd to hear the Yankee fan, dire hard college football, wear no make up on Sunday gal loves a nice dress, but it’s true. It is the dress up part of me, the feminine side you could say.
I swat here by the bed in my new pink party dress and dnky mules trying to capture the moment of how pretty I feel. Swatting is even pretty in this dress. My make up has been washed off for the evening and my hair…we are not even going to talk about my hair. Here I am in alone in my room twirling in front of the window with only a vague reflection back but the top of the city contrasting myself.
It is the dress I searched months for prior to my 30th birthday and could not find. Don’t get me wrong; Marc Jacobs served his duty well for my lavish festivities. But this year, in the party dress, I have no plans. I have birthday proper off work, the only day that week actually.
I have thought about making a reservation at a restaurant I have always wanted to try 21 Club. It has the jockeys outside of it and is rumored to be courted by the celebs.
I have this image of sitting alone with a glass of champagne everyone wondering who I am and why I am dining alone. Maybe a handsome man will come over and ask. I’ll explain that it is my birthday. He’ll send over a birthday cake to my embarrassment and glee. We will go dancing in my pink dress and it will flutter gently with the momentum of the moment.

dubai...a mirage: a letter written to another applicant

So I went to Dubai to visit my friend and here is what I found out. They called an update meeting to let the cabin crew know that there will be no profit sharing this year as they had not made a profit. Also they have stopped recruiting at this point and time and well as stopped training until they can re-evaluate.

I stayed in crew accomidation and even though it was nice, each person has their own bathroom, bedroom fully furnished in a brand new building. You can't open the windows for fresh air. The building I stayed in was the Millenium Tower and it is in the center of Business Bay which will be something grand in a year or so but right now it is just dirt. My other friend lives in 21st Century building and it a bit friendlier to get around without having a car. That's the thing as well, you really need a car to have sanity. True the crew bus picks you up to and from the airport but other than that there are just taxis. You are not allowed to get a car loan for the first 6 months of your probationary period.

Food is expensive as well since everything is shipped in. It was kind of fun to go to the market and see produce from all over the world though.

I liked the city but I don't believe it lived up to it's hipe.

Pablo sent me this article, which I found amusing and could see how it could be totally true. They are all about appearances.

I'll keep you updated if I hear any good news from there as well.

16 February 2009

dubai day one

Within 11 hours of returning home, I was on a plane once more headed east, the middle east. My friend was working the flight on the A-380 and made the 13 hour flight more bearable with champange upstairs in the business lounge and coming to get me during service breaks.


Fast forward: I am having a feeling that I am going to have to stand up for myself and actually ask to see Dubai not her Dubai which hates the locals and only visits ex-pat sights. I know this will lead to a fight that is usually why I go with the flow but seriously I am the vistor not to her world but to her city. Show me around damn it!!!

hawaii in a coconut shell

Carol / Me
5 hour flight / 10 hour flight
picked up in town car with lai / took bus to get rental car 1/5 hrs later at hotel
passenger in the convertible / map reader, driver
shopper / bag holder
tourist / tour guide and driver
steak and lobster / sushi
spa day / spa day plus bikini wax
luau lover / pork lover
actually got into the ocean / surfer
discovered poolside drinks / got drunk with local friend and tan!
shuttled to the airport and walked to the gate / returned car, hung out for 5 hours with broken toe
5 hour flight / 10 hour flight

We hit Pearl Harbor Memorial which was moving and informative to learn about where my grandpa and father were during the attacks. The BX, equally fun! : ) Showing my mom the island and actually remembering my previous tour over Christmas was great. Driving the convertible on gorgeous sun filed days was fabulous even if I had to read the map and drive at the same time. Our spa day was amazing and so relaxing. The luau was great especially the part when Carol told the hot luau giver that she wanted a kiss as well. My favorite day was the relaxing one where I hit the waves early in the morning and practiced my surfing skills until a wave kicked my ass and broke my toe. We walked around and in the sand before retiring to the pool. The next morning I went for a final walk on the beach just to soak it all in and re-established the broken toe by hitting it on a rock. It was Friday the 13th but at least I have a souviner for a couple more weeks

06 February 2009

february alterations

Maybe Carol is right, maybe it is the time of year when I start to worry I am not doing enough with my life. She believes it has something to do with my looming birthday. I think it has something to do with the winter blahs. Thus why I always take my holidays around this time. Sunshine does well with my soul and helps tied me over until spring.

In retrospect, I do tend to make those big, life-altering decisions this time of year. I used to attribute it to coming home from a big holiday. It started in my mind when I was 25 right after my first international trip. I didn’t mess around for the first one; it was big and way far away. I spent two weeks in Australia with Turiya, Dennis, and my beau Matt. It was a great trip and it opened my eyes to the world outside of Klamath Falls. I came home and within three months I packed up my life and blindly moved to Portland. I had been to Portland once for a Garth Brooks concert in another lifetime. I had a job and a place to stay for a month and that was all I needed to leave my hometown.

I made a promise to myself to go somewhere new internationally every year from then on. I even opened a savings account to put money away for the next journey.

The following year around the savings account was a little low, I am sure this had something to do with the fact I was supporting my boyfriend. He thought his job was to sit around all day playing PS2 and drinking beer. I met up with Dennis and Turiya once more as they were living in Whistler. There was sunshine up there on those beautiful mountains and I did get my passport stamped as a courtesy so I count it as somewhere international. I came home and within a month I was single ending a four-year relationship.

Next year with newfound freedom and a raise in salary, I made it to Europe for the first time. Once again I met Dennis and Turiya, are you seeing a pattern here? Two weeks we road tripped around Italy and France. It was good fun other than the fact that they were on the cliff of break up and I got to me the person they felt comfortable enough to fight in front of. I came home and was very unhappy with my work life. I also came down with some infliction which lasted no less than two solid months, two rounds of anti-botics, a chest x-ray, and CAT scan. I was in a horrible funk and decided I needed to move to San Diego. I had many phone interviews and called in sick to fly down for a final interview. I missed the plane and by the time I arrived the president of the company already didn’t like me so, no job. I did try to make a life change with no avail. Within two months I met my Pearl friends and found my home.

A new home purchased and still money in the bank. It is easy to say I was in the mortgage business when times were good. This year I took my friend Emily and we met Turiya and two other ladies in Thailand. A great girls holiday for sure. As I was on the second of the three planes back to Portland I started conversing with the flight attendant. He told me I should become a flight attendant since I couldn’t afford to travel as much as I would truly like. I took this under consideration and within two weeks started interviewing with Horizon Airlines. It seemed to snow ball after that and within three months I had quit my job and was in training in Houston, Texas.

Sad to say I didn’t leave the continental US other than the Bahamas for the first seven months of flying until my vacation days arrived in February. I planned a trip with a friend and she was unable to go so I boldly did it on my own. I went to Costa Rica and discovered not only the love of surfing, zip lining, and exploring but also myself. I found out how great it was to do what I wanted, and not to be pressured into drinking if I didn’t want or to take a nap any damn time I pleased. This enlightenment in itself was my big life change.

In June right after my dad’s passing the world finally opened up for me. I was finally an international flight attendant. The destinations and experiences happened over and over again much to my delight. I continued to nurture my boldness of exploring on my own. I even took off to Prague for a long weekend because my roommate was bugging the shit out of me.

I still planned my pilgrimage in February and met…you guessed it, Turiya in Bali. I went there with the intention of spirituality; she came with the intention of getting hammered. We met somewhere in the middle. I followed in the footsteps of Liz Gilbert and found a peace from the horrible month I lived through prior. When I came home the life change was already in place. I decided to stay in New York and not let it make me weak. I stayed and fought already and the holiday was just my reward.

And here I am this year. It is February 6th, 2009. I have already gone to Panama, the only life decision I made there was to never go back and thank god for my intelligence. Hawaii with Carol lies before me Monday and then Dubai with...Turiya. Tomorrow morning is also staring me in the face. I know there will be a decision or two or three which will demand attention soon.
Can I figure them out or will take more years of reflection?

Maybe it is Turiya who is my oracle...

panama, still una persona

Panama day 2
My friend Jim had to get some things done so he sent me off on a journey around the city. I had to get a cab to take me to the Canal de Panama. I was instructed to say the full name as they may not know what I was referring to if I just said canal. I was also given a figure to pay as well as instructions to figure out if the cab driver was legit or wanted to rob me. (the license plate number should match the number on the side of the door) After an hour in traffic and weaving in and out of neighborhoods while I watched cautiously we made it to the canal. I made it just in time to watch the last ship passing through for the morning. It is a pretty awesome thing to think about. I was standing in South America watching a huge tanker pass through two continents in this man made canal. The logistics of it as learned bilingually as well as with a short film are pretty damn intriguing.
After my millions of pictures I headed over to Casa Vallejo to wander about. Again I had to haggle with my cabbie and the area to get to where I was supposed to be was super sketchy. I kept murmuring, "please don't' let me out here, please don't' let me out here". There area was nice and I wondered around and snapped some photos before I realized I needed to head back to meet Jim.
Our evening in short:
picked up his friend and his Colombian girlfriend
took them to the airport and discussed his next girlfriend's visit
ate dinner at a nice Italian restaurant
we were served last because we were white, I didn't' mind because I ordered a 1/2 liter of wine
headed to a cigar bar
smoked Cuban cigars and drank Cuban beer
watched prostitutes pick up old white men
headed home with no prostitute

Day 3
Jim had to go back to the states and I decided to take a bus out to the beach. Sounds simple enough right? This is Panama were talking about though. My hour bus ride turned into eternity. At hour two we stopped at a road side cafe. I was not only the only English speaker on the bus but also the only person by myself. The bus driver stood up and said something about "an hour". Others got off the bus and wandered in. I looked around and decided to join the crowd towards the bathroom. When I get out I find everyone hoovering around a counter getting soda and pringles. I stand back to watch the scene. As everyone settles down to their individual table I walk up to the counter to see what the deal was.
Options:
6 different kinds of soda (these people live for sugar)
2 types of Gatorade
coffee (it is 100 degrees out)
beer
large cans of pringles...two flavors red or green.
Everyone in the room is eating chips and I all I could think about is my distaste for pringles and why the bus driver thinks it will take an hour to do this activity.
Luckily I am sitting next to the bus at my table for one when everyone gets up and gets back on the bus. Another hour in our drive (makes much more sense) and we arrive at the resort. Not the resort I am staying at, no I have to take a taxi ten minutes away to get to mine.

Playa Blanca is a nice little place. It reminds me of the inclusive resort I stayed in PV with Nichole and Janene. It was nice to catch up on my reading and lay in the sun. What wasn't so nice is to have to answer all the questions posed to me with,
"una persona, si".

03 February 2009

una persona, si´

Well it was Panama that won the earlier battle of places to go. It started off as one of those trips.

Day uno

I hailed a cab on the way out the door but him dicking around costs me to miss the bus at 0630 so I waited around Port Authority unitl 0700. Once we got to the terminal, police had it blocked off for some reason. Finally at the gate, my boarding pass won´t print so I go up to the desk amist chaos that is Latin America travel and get my passport checked and a boarding card. I glance at the seat number and jockeyed for postion as these people like to bring everything not nailed down onto the plane with them. I am all settled in my seat and some guy claims I am in is seat. I look at my card to discover they gave me the incorrect slip. Shit! They were about to close the door and there I stood without a seat. It was rectivied quickly and I was then placed in 12A. The deadheading captain was in 12C and found it necessary to ask the same montanous questions every crew member asks. I answered politely but briefly and finally gave him the stink eye when he started insulting Oregon. I wake up to find a very tall Dutch man next to me and then he proceeds to talk to me even though I have my paper in hand.

I arrive and wait for my friend Jim where he told me to. He drives quickly into town as he has found a Superbowl party for us to attend per my request. We stop for a quick bit and then head over to some penthouse. We arrive and this guy answers the door. A tight fitting tee shirt and silver ¨gun¨ shaped belt buckle. He informs us that everyone just left and we missed the party. It is 2:30 and I find this strange. We head home then to change as we are going to watch the game at a casino now. We make a stop at the friends house who invited us to see what was up. He told us we missed one hell of a party as there was a live sex show on the pool table. I replied that doesn´t have anything to do with the Superbowl. We make it to the casino and order some beers. I have to explain not only the game but how betting on squares works to my friend. I am watching the game, commericals, and the women trying to prostitute themselves all at the same time. Girls are running around in heels and super tight clothing. I don´t get it, I tell Jim who wears high heels to watch football? He explains to me as he motions to my reefs (with the beer bottle opener on bottom) that women are women down here and I am some kind of a man. Whatever, I reply and take swig of beer.
On the way home there was some sort of traffic jam. The Panamanians didn´t seem to mind as they turned up the music, left the cars and started dancing. They all walked to the trunks and retrived beers from coolers. I am cracking up as Jim explains, this is just what they do. I tried to picture New York traffic jams as parties.