I have (almost) officially reached my almost-mid twenties: the unexciting age of 24. I will miss 23, come September 3rd (email me and I'll let you know where all presents may be sent to), but only because 23 is the number of my hero, Don "Donnie Baseball" Mattingly. My 23rd year of life on this planet has been one of ups and downs... and rollercoaster, if you will, of emotion and change. Here are the major changes of my life:
1. Moved out to San Francisco - a great cross-country trip
2. Registered as a Democrat, began working on the Obama campaign (Change We Can Believe In... and fill our days of unemployment with something worthwhile).
3. Held a not-so-fun, temp-to-perm job for five months which, eventually, helped force me to give 110% in finding a job in public relations.
4. Adopted a cat on prozac.
5. Moved from one apartment to my fabulous, swinging sixties-styled apartment that is currently dominated by cat hair and a broken Ikea chair that I have yet to return (due to my unwavering procrastination - that has yet to change).
6. Joined a kickball team, met a few friends, started dating a Googler.
7. Met my good, dear friend Laura due to dating the Googler.
8. Found a new, awesome job in public relations.
9. Re-connected with fellow Stag alumni, my kindred spirits (high-five!).
10. Broke it off with Googler due to his lack of commitment and the fact that his ex-girlfriend is still in the picture and he has no backbone to stand-up and move on. (Hey, at least I got my wonderful friend Laura out of it!)
11. Decided to shape up, hired a trainer (a mind-blowingly hot trainer, I might add) and am currently working towards looking as good as I feel.
12. Reluctantly, but happily (in some weird combination of the two) going on a pretty-much-call-it-for-what-it-is blind date set up by my Best Friend Emily - 3,000 miles away, but she knows me better than I know myself. Maybe this will change a few things... who knows.
Sooo... I think I've done a lot. Kept old friends, made new ones, had a non-relationship, got my heart kinda broken, adopted a new roommate (Cat, as I call her now), etc. I guess 23 wasn't such a bad age after all. I still have about a month and a half to go but I'm hoping no big surprises will throw my course off track. I'm content, nay, I'm happy!
Some thoughts (I know, this is a different setup but my mind wanders... and so should my post):
I'm kind of annoyed that everyone LOVES Giambs now... he's doing well, his 'stache is very reminiscent of Donnie Baseball's gloriousness back in the day (it was a Wednesday, sometime in the 1980s or 1990s), and he's the only guy who had enough brains to work through his steroid controversy. I'm happy for him - he deserves all the credit he can get - he is one of the few who seems to be smart, pretty ethical (A-Rod could take a cue from him) and extremely focused. Yet, I'd like a little credit for standing by him during his darkest days as a player. He was booed, he went through his steroid withdrawal on the field, in front of all the fans to see (cue the boos), he was even written-off by a few critics who thought his talent was purely due to his performance enhancing diet. He gained weight, he lost muscle, the sweat that poured from his face during games was equivalent to the flow of Niagra falls. Yet, I stuck by this guy because I knew he'd come back. And he did - something I could not be happier about... I just wish everyone would acknowledge the fact that I'm one of the few true, loyal Giambs fans.
I think all Yankees fans, perhaps all baseball fans in general, could learn a good life lesson from his story - you're up, you're down, you feel like you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Yet, through work, through focus and determination, through drowning out the boos and wiping the sweat off your brow, you can come back better than you were before. Maybe, next time someone slumps (this is in exception to A-Rod because he still owes us like 5 world series titles), don't boo them - let's save our boos for the Red Sox.
In the immortal words of Jerry Seinfeld "WHAT IS THE DEAL" with women in their twenties? Seriously, and I am including myself in this one. I do not understand how all conversations lead to men... no wait, all conversations lead to GUYS. For a detailed how-to-differentiate between a man and a guy, please see Dave Barry's Guide to Guys. Well, don't "see" it - the movie was lame, but read the book, you'll understand.
Back to the topic at hand... why do my friends and I, and I'm pretty sure most women in their mid-twenties, spend at LEAST a good 70%, maybe more, of our conversations are on the subject of loser dudes who either a. don't want a relationship right now, b. are trying to play games, c. have no direction, or d. (the most elusive guy) seem good on paper (maybe they even resemble a "nice" guy) but end up being lunatics/morons/bores. Then, when we find a decent one, we tend to over analyze the entire situation - all the while knowing he's more focused on beating the expert level of Guitar Hero than the direction of your relationship. I don't know, I really have no answer, I'm just throwing this out there so maybe an explanation or reasoning might come to light.
I have, however, compiled a list of SIGNS YOU SHOULD RUN, RUN FAR AWAY AND FAST FROM THIS GUY. Please enjoy and seriously consider running far, far away and fast if you suspect or know:
1. His roommates direct all relationship-related actions, such as whether or not to text you back, whether or not to call or ask out, etc.
2. He still has a montage of his girlfriend somewhere in his bedroom - it may sound obvious but, when you're in that "la la land" state of being happy to finally meet a guy, your brain may have taken off on a vacay to St. Tropez.
3. He "just" got out of a long-term relationship.... 6 months ago. If he uses that word, I'm sorry to report, he ain't movin on.
4. You have a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that you're, essentially, downgrading. Guess what? You are. Move along.
5. You have a nagging feeling, in the back of your mind, that he should be so lucky that a woman/girl like you would bother GLANCING at him. Yet he has no appreciation for such luck.
6. His ex-girlfriend still texts him - at 11 at night - and he responds while sitting next to you or walking with you. Again, he ain't over it.
7. You thought he was gay the first time you met him. Seriously, he'll probably turn out to be either gay or way too close with his roommates. I'd say still be friends if he is gay... but, if he hasn't already, then he probably won't be revealing this info to you anytime soon.
8. His idea of communication is strictly limited to texting and/or anything computer-related. If he doesn't have the decency to call then and make an effort, no matter how shy or bla bla bla he is, then you shouldn't have to make the effort of seeing his face.
9. His facebook mini-feed shows "[Guy] is now friends with [Insert random female name]" every Saturday and Sunday morning.
And finally, 10. His ex-girlfriend still has HIS car! Seriously?!?!?!
Note: None of the above are from personal experience. Ok, that's not really true. Actually, that's not even remotely true - they're all from my or a friend's own personal experience.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Saturday, June 7, 2008
OMG HE JUST TEXTED ME!
I should probably continue my cross-country road trip tale, but alas, I am forced to address a more serious issue right now.
What issue, you might say? Well, it is the single, most effective tool in dating that alleviates the major hurdle faced by men (well, in reality, "guys") to CALL (PHONE, RING, ETC) a woman (girl) to invite her to dinner/date/movies/etc. It is also the most damaging dating tool for women - we are forced to lower our standards because some genius (who probably never had the guts to ask a girl out - and no, instant messaging and chat rooms do not count) decided that our phones needed to also have the ability to text message people! Text messaging! What a concept! Granted, it's great in meetings, movie theaters, bars, when you're in a cab with the girl you're taking home and your ex calls and you need to let her know you can't talk right now, those kinds of situations. Yet, it is NOT good for the plight of the single female, the woman who struggles to keep her standards afloat as she constantly battles the waves of letdown. I don't mean to get all "Carrie Bradshaw" on this subject, but I think it is in keeping with the "stunning, single, female" notion that is currently dominating cinemas nationwide. The previous generations of single females never had to deal with such a blow to their standards as text-messaging has dealt to today's generation. Why? Prior to texting, men had to actually have the nerve to pick up the phone, dial, and vocally ask a woman out. As we know, many men were not necessarily the greatest at accomplishing such task - a la George Constanza from Seinfeld. Yet, it was the "difficult" and "effort" part of a man's dating regime. Now, with texting such an easy and seemingly effortless form of communication, men don't have to sweat the nerve-wracking phone call.... and women, subsequently, now only HOPE for the phone call but are, more than likely, FORCED to SETTLE for the text message. It's better than nothing, right?
WRONG. I don't know why this generation of women allows such a travesty to continue. I mean, some women spend hours getting ready for a date - a process that involves a lot of shaving, plucking and God knows what other types of painful procedures are out there - just to look good for the guy. Guys probably spend, hmm, maybe a half hour (if they decide to shave) getting ready, and I highly doubt they ever go out and get a brand new outfit just for a date.
The end result: the standards of women have been lowered FORCEFULLY by the text-messaging phenomenon, while the dating procedure has become easier than ever before for men. How could we let such a terrible setback for single women happen!?!?
I'd love to examine this further but I have to get ready for my date - he just texted me, looks like we're on!
What issue, you might say? Well, it is the single, most effective tool in dating that alleviates the major hurdle faced by men (well, in reality, "guys") to CALL (PHONE, RING, ETC) a woman (girl) to invite her to dinner/date/movies/etc. It is also the most damaging dating tool for women - we are forced to lower our standards because some genius (who probably never had the guts to ask a girl out - and no, instant messaging and chat rooms do not count) decided that our phones needed to also have the ability to text message people! Text messaging! What a concept! Granted, it's great in meetings, movie theaters, bars, when you're in a cab with the girl you're taking home and your ex calls and you need to let her know you can't talk right now, those kinds of situations. Yet, it is NOT good for the plight of the single female, the woman who struggles to keep her standards afloat as she constantly battles the waves of letdown. I don't mean to get all "Carrie Bradshaw" on this subject, but I think it is in keeping with the "stunning, single, female" notion that is currently dominating cinemas nationwide. The previous generations of single females never had to deal with such a blow to their standards as text-messaging has dealt to today's generation. Why? Prior to texting, men had to actually have the nerve to pick up the phone, dial, and vocally ask a woman out. As we know, many men were not necessarily the greatest at accomplishing such task - a la George Constanza from Seinfeld. Yet, it was the "difficult" and "effort" part of a man's dating regime. Now, with texting such an easy and seemingly effortless form of communication, men don't have to sweat the nerve-wracking phone call.... and women, subsequently, now only HOPE for the phone call but are, more than likely, FORCED to SETTLE for the text message. It's better than nothing, right?
WRONG. I don't know why this generation of women allows such a travesty to continue. I mean, some women spend hours getting ready for a date - a process that involves a lot of shaving, plucking and God knows what other types of painful procedures are out there - just to look good for the guy. Guys probably spend, hmm, maybe a half hour (if they decide to shave) getting ready, and I highly doubt they ever go out and get a brand new outfit just for a date.
The end result: the standards of women have been lowered FORCEFULLY by the text-messaging phenomenon, while the dating procedure has become easier than ever before for men. How could we let such a terrible setback for single women happen!?!?
I'd love to examine this further but I have to get ready for my date - he just texted me, looks like we're on!
Monday, April 14, 2008
Why do I have the feeling I'm getting ripped off?
I know that my second post for the road trip is wayyyyyy overdue, and I do promise to write it quite soon, but something happened to me today that I feel I must put down in words before I get over it tomorrow...
You see, last fall I splurged on some $80 headphones for my 90 year old ipod (and by 90 years I mean in Apple-years, to the rest of society it would be about four). I was very wary of the buy, seeing as I thought only DJs, you know, the ones who pump up the jams at clubs, were the ones who spent so much money on headphones.
Well, I guess I should've thanked Steve Jobs for offering me SUCH A STEAL! I didn't know it at the time, but 80 bucks is chump change compared to today's prices at apple.
This afternoon, after taking the dirty-30 home from work (don't ask, all I can say is "chinatown" "rush hour" and "odors from another dimension") I decided to pop into the Apple store just a few blocks down Chestnut from my apartment. I wanted to get new headphones because my "high quality" 80 dollar headphones that I was suckered into buying last fall had finally become somewhat defective. And by defective, I mean one side's volume is at an 11 while the other is at a 2. Anyway, I make my way into the store and, luckily, I'm only slightly accosted by two Apple "geniuses" (by the way, I highly doubt 10% of apple store employees are geniuses). After fighting them off with my iPhone (you must show them you belong), I get to the headphone section and, while staring at all the wondrous choices, another "genius" comes up to me, with the stupidest grin on his face, and asks if I could use his help. And trust me, I did want his help, and I wanted him to understand that I was replacing outrageously expensive headphones, ones that were supposed to last until nuclear winter. I started explaining my situation, saying how I got them there (meaning AT THE APPLE STORE) and it was about, ohhhh 6 months ago, and I was wondering if they had some similar headphones. Then, this "genius" with the idiot smirk on his face says "oh well we weren't even open six months ago soooo no, we would definitely not have those." Umm, did he just talk back to me? Did he just try and call me out? I kept my cool and explained that I got them at the downtown store, and that I know they probably didn't have the exact same kind so if he could suggest any others....
He does, and points to the "very popular" headphones that come in 210, 310 or 410. Mind you, he doesn't bother explaining what the hell the difference is between those silly numbers, so I say "ok thanks I'll take a look." Genius walks away (I was thinking of slugging him at that point) and I pick up the shure max 210 ultra whatevers and look at the price: $159.99. Um, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I put the super great popular headphones back and glanced at the prices of some other brands. $159.99, $179.99, $199.99... my jaw was hanging open at this point, so I slowly backed away from the headphone racks and casually made my way out.
Now, Apple products are not cheap, I know that. They are usually pricey and a lot of times people are very disappointed by them (ask anyone with the older nano version). But I have always been pretty damn loyal to Apple. I've even applied for a job at the Cupertino HQ, and I practically, nay, I DID steal the iPhone from my dad after he had it for only a couple of days. That being said, I'm loyal enough to usually be able to stomach the prices with the pride I feel in being an Apple consumer. Yet, as I walked back to my apartment, shocked by the actions of the moron "Genius", coupled with the ridiculous prices of the headphones, I began to wonder. "Is Apple trying to rip me off? Does Steve Jobs think that I'd go for it, just because I'm a loyal fan of Apple gadgets?" The funny thing is, the headphones weren't even Apple headphones, and Genius didn't have the brains to explain the benefits and bla bla bla.
So, I was kinda pissed. Plus, my iPod is probably worth about a third of $159.99 - if that. I figure, $159.99 for headphones better include the band running alongside me every time I work out. They better be singing their brains out while I'm stretching or doing some crunches. Those headphones better come with a live band, or else their sound quality isn't worth crap.
You see, last fall I splurged on some $80 headphones for my 90 year old ipod (and by 90 years I mean in Apple-years, to the rest of society it would be about four). I was very wary of the buy, seeing as I thought only DJs, you know, the ones who pump up the jams at clubs, were the ones who spent so much money on headphones.
Well, I guess I should've thanked Steve Jobs for offering me SUCH A STEAL! I didn't know it at the time, but 80 bucks is chump change compared to today's prices at apple.
This afternoon, after taking the dirty-30 home from work (don't ask, all I can say is "chinatown" "rush hour" and "odors from another dimension") I decided to pop into the Apple store just a few blocks down Chestnut from my apartment. I wanted to get new headphones because my "high quality" 80 dollar headphones that I was suckered into buying last fall had finally become somewhat defective. And by defective, I mean one side's volume is at an 11 while the other is at a 2. Anyway, I make my way into the store and, luckily, I'm only slightly accosted by two Apple "geniuses" (by the way, I highly doubt 10% of apple store employees are geniuses). After fighting them off with my iPhone (you must show them you belong), I get to the headphone section and, while staring at all the wondrous choices, another "genius" comes up to me, with the stupidest grin on his face, and asks if I could use his help. And trust me, I did want his help, and I wanted him to understand that I was replacing outrageously expensive headphones, ones that were supposed to last until nuclear winter. I started explaining my situation, saying how I got them there (meaning AT THE APPLE STORE) and it was about, ohhhh 6 months ago, and I was wondering if they had some similar headphones. Then, this "genius" with the idiot smirk on his face says "oh well we weren't even open six months ago soooo no, we would definitely not have those." Umm, did he just talk back to me? Did he just try and call me out? I kept my cool and explained that I got them at the downtown store, and that I know they probably didn't have the exact same kind so if he could suggest any others....
He does, and points to the "very popular" headphones that come in 210, 310 or 410. Mind you, he doesn't bother explaining what the hell the difference is between those silly numbers, so I say "ok thanks I'll take a look." Genius walks away (I was thinking of slugging him at that point) and I pick up the shure max 210 ultra whatevers and look at the price: $159.99. Um, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I put the super great popular headphones back and glanced at the prices of some other brands. $159.99, $179.99, $199.99... my jaw was hanging open at this point, so I slowly backed away from the headphone racks and casually made my way out.
Now, Apple products are not cheap, I know that. They are usually pricey and a lot of times people are very disappointed by them (ask anyone with the older nano version). But I have always been pretty damn loyal to Apple. I've even applied for a job at the Cupertino HQ, and I practically, nay, I DID steal the iPhone from my dad after he had it for only a couple of days. That being said, I'm loyal enough to usually be able to stomach the prices with the pride I feel in being an Apple consumer. Yet, as I walked back to my apartment, shocked by the actions of the moron "Genius", coupled with the ridiculous prices of the headphones, I began to wonder. "Is Apple trying to rip me off? Does Steve Jobs think that I'd go for it, just because I'm a loyal fan of Apple gadgets?" The funny thing is, the headphones weren't even Apple headphones, and Genius didn't have the brains to explain the benefits and bla bla bla.
So, I was kinda pissed. Plus, my iPod is probably worth about a third of $159.99 - if that. I figure, $159.99 for headphones better include the band running alongside me every time I work out. They better be singing their brains out while I'm stretching or doing some crunches. Those headphones better come with a live band, or else their sound quality isn't worth crap.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
What a long, strange trip it's been...
“Road Trippin’ with my two favorite allies, fully loaded we got snacks and supplies…” Red Hot Chili Peppers
Instead of watching the re-run of Project Runway that I’ve already seen about five times, I’ve decided to recap one of the greatest experiences of my life – an experience that JUST ended exactly one week ago from today (and I still CANNOT stop thinking about it).
In case you’re someone who doesn’t follow my life very closely, I’ll let you know that this AWESOME, FANTASTICAL experience was my cross-country road trip with two of my closest confidantes, Carla and Sam (they’re quonnie people... meaning they’ve seen me at my best, my worst, and all of in between). Since it was SO fun and we made SO many memories, I think I’ll do a blog for each day we spent out on the open road (and in Denva for new year’s).
Before I begin, though, I must express how grateful I am to have such wonderful friends who, willingly, put up with my neurotic, control-freak behavior and who came into the trip with the greatest enthusiasm… an enthusiasm that never faltered, even during the darkest (literally) days of our trip. I couldn’t have asked for better traveling companions and cannot express my gratitude towards Sam and Carla, PLUS Shawn, Tom, Nick and (last but NOT least) Erin… who shared their home (Shawn) and flew out to Denva (Nick, Tom, Erin) in order to make new year’s a real “Quonnie Crew” ordeal. You all are great… you guys have helped and guided me through the good and the bad over the years, and I hope that I, somehow, have played a positive role in your lives as well. I hope you all know by now how much I love you and how much I’ve enjoyed growing up with you in my favorite place in the entire world – Quonnie. As Kevin’s mom put it (on the 2000 NYE cake that no one ate) “Long live the Q-taug Crew!”
“It’s time to leave this town, it’s time to steal away… Let’s go get lost anywhere in the USA” (RHCP)
December 26th, 2007…
“You know you’re not sitting up there the whole time, right?” TYPICAL Carla Sutherland remark as she slips into the backseat and greets Sam, who (after having been in the car for only about twenty minutes) has created a little cozy nest for her self in the front passenger seat (hence the “typical Carla” response).
“I know!!!” Sam says irritably. “I knew you were gonna say something about that.” Thus begins the Sarah Matthews / Samantha Benson / Carla Sutherland Cross-Country Road Trip… stopping in Denver to spend NYE with Shawn Frazier, Tom Igoe, Nick Dimeo and Erin Sutherland and then continuing on (minus Carla) to San Francisco, California. Most everyone I spoke with would either hint at or just blatantly tell me that I was crazy to be doing such a road trip in the middle of the winter… and I do understand the factors that would make them think this. A. The Midwest is, well, the Midwest, the part of the country that, during the winter months, really enjoys a good ice storm or two… or possibly a tornado… but maybe a blizzard. B. The last leg of the journey, through Wyoming and Utah on I-80, is a straight-shot stretch of highway, known for being closed (due to weather hazards) and, when open, can be extremely windy and icy. C. It is a MUCH easier trip during the summer. And, finally, D. You’re going through the Rockies in DECEMBER?
Yet, I’ve proven such naysayers wrong by physically (and, I hope, mentally) surviving over 3,000 miles of America… 3,000 miles that took us from the remnants of 9/11 in the hills of Pennsylvania through the gateway to the West in St. Louis, the “Oz” lands of Kansas, the mountains of Utah (No wonder their plates say “ski Utah!”), the ghost towns of Nevada, the ski resorts of Tahoe and, finally, to the beautiful bay of San Francisco. We did it, beating the blizzard warning for Tahoe by only ONE day, we made it.
Back to December 26th, 2007, around 2:15p.m. Per usual, the GW has us backed up in traffic two minutes after crossing the NY state line. This ends up being the BIGGEST setback of our trip… and I cannot say that I’m surprised. This is what happens when you have millions of people, who work in the greatest city in the universe (I don’t doubt it), simultaneously trying to get back to their suburban homes in Wes-ches-ta, Luong Eye-lend, Connet-i-cut and New Joy-zee (sound it out, that’s the real dialect… and don’t argue with me). How do we pass the time? I prefer the occasional cursing out of a random driver who has managed to either cut me off, not use their signal, or something similarly blood-boiling like that. Sam prefers to switch from one depressing love song to the next… with an occasional rap song (to humor Carla) and an occasional Van Morrison-type-road-trippy song (to humor us all, I guess). Carla prefers to divide her time wisely by either staring at the other drivers (through her huge Chanel sunglasses… even though its quite cloudy outside), pushing Sam’s buttons through little, consistent smart remarks, freaking out about the BRAKE LIGHTS that I’m beginning to freak out about now (thank you, Carla), or occasionally commandeering the ipod. Overall, each of us has accepted our roles in the road trip, and we all seem to be quite comfortable in them.
It is about 7ish when we finally get out of Jersey… Besides passing the time with our normal habits, we have also gotten through NJ by a. videotaping our rendition of “I’ll always be right there” (the Quonnie girls’ song), b. calling parents, c. stopping to pee, d. drinking about five red bulls each (hence the continence issue), and e. figuring out how much longer until we reach PA. Before I continue, I’d just like to thank ALL of you wonderful New Jersey drivers who decided that my CT plate was an invisibility cape and, therefore, you weren’t cutting off ANYONE, you were just changing lanes and being cautious by not letting those pesky turn signal buttons that decorate your steering wheel distract you! In the words of Carla, Sam and myself, THANKYOUSOMUCHHHHHH. Oh, and I’d also like to thank the thousands of truck drivers we passed along the way… without your commitment to driving on 48 hours of no-sleep, I would not have been able to be so freaked out along the curving hills of Pennsylvania. Thank you.
Enough about the people who can’t drive (in my case, I believe that it is everyone else in America besides myself), let’s march on like the drummer guy Thoreau once mentioned.
It was pretty smooth sailing after the rain showers that followed us from NJ into PA cleared up. The occasional long tunnel and the scarcity of other cars on the road were good indications that we were on our way through the middle-of-nowhere-Pennsylvania. We end up making it to Somerset, PA, around 11:00pm… the wonderful ladies at the Holiday Inn directed us to a nice local restaurant/bar, Maggie Mae’s, so that we could reminisce about our first day over a nice, cold brewsky. We were greeted by the bar manager who, although I’m guessing he was closing shop for the night, still took us in and let us marvel at the small-town charm…
TO BE CONTINUED…
Instead of watching the re-run of Project Runway that I’ve already seen about five times, I’ve decided to recap one of the greatest experiences of my life – an experience that JUST ended exactly one week ago from today (and I still CANNOT stop thinking about it).
In case you’re someone who doesn’t follow my life very closely, I’ll let you know that this AWESOME, FANTASTICAL experience was my cross-country road trip with two of my closest confidantes, Carla and Sam (they’re quonnie people... meaning they’ve seen me at my best, my worst, and all of in between). Since it was SO fun and we made SO many memories, I think I’ll do a blog for each day we spent out on the open road (and in Denva for new year’s).
Before I begin, though, I must express how grateful I am to have such wonderful friends who, willingly, put up with my neurotic, control-freak behavior and who came into the trip with the greatest enthusiasm… an enthusiasm that never faltered, even during the darkest (literally) days of our trip. I couldn’t have asked for better traveling companions and cannot express my gratitude towards Sam and Carla, PLUS Shawn, Tom, Nick and (last but NOT least) Erin… who shared their home (Shawn) and flew out to Denva (Nick, Tom, Erin) in order to make new year’s a real “Quonnie Crew” ordeal. You all are great… you guys have helped and guided me through the good and the bad over the years, and I hope that I, somehow, have played a positive role in your lives as well. I hope you all know by now how much I love you and how much I’ve enjoyed growing up with you in my favorite place in the entire world – Quonnie. As Kevin’s mom put it (on the 2000 NYE cake that no one ate) “Long live the Q-taug Crew!”
“It’s time to leave this town, it’s time to steal away… Let’s go get lost anywhere in the USA” (RHCP)
December 26th, 2007…
“You know you’re not sitting up there the whole time, right?” TYPICAL Carla Sutherland remark as she slips into the backseat and greets Sam, who (after having been in the car for only about twenty minutes) has created a little cozy nest for her self in the front passenger seat (hence the “typical Carla” response).
“I know!!!” Sam says irritably. “I knew you were gonna say something about that.” Thus begins the Sarah Matthews / Samantha Benson / Carla Sutherland Cross-Country Road Trip… stopping in Denver to spend NYE with Shawn Frazier, Tom Igoe, Nick Dimeo and Erin Sutherland and then continuing on (minus Carla) to San Francisco, California. Most everyone I spoke with would either hint at or just blatantly tell me that I was crazy to be doing such a road trip in the middle of the winter… and I do understand the factors that would make them think this. A. The Midwest is, well, the Midwest, the part of the country that, during the winter months, really enjoys a good ice storm or two… or possibly a tornado… but maybe a blizzard. B. The last leg of the journey, through Wyoming and Utah on I-80, is a straight-shot stretch of highway, known for being closed (due to weather hazards) and, when open, can be extremely windy and icy. C. It is a MUCH easier trip during the summer. And, finally, D. You’re going through the Rockies in DECEMBER?
Yet, I’ve proven such naysayers wrong by physically (and, I hope, mentally) surviving over 3,000 miles of America… 3,000 miles that took us from the remnants of 9/11 in the hills of Pennsylvania through the gateway to the West in St. Louis, the “Oz” lands of Kansas, the mountains of Utah (No wonder their plates say “ski Utah!”), the ghost towns of Nevada, the ski resorts of Tahoe and, finally, to the beautiful bay of San Francisco. We did it, beating the blizzard warning for Tahoe by only ONE day, we made it.
Back to December 26th, 2007, around 2:15p.m. Per usual, the GW has us backed up in traffic two minutes after crossing the NY state line. This ends up being the BIGGEST setback of our trip… and I cannot say that I’m surprised. This is what happens when you have millions of people, who work in the greatest city in the universe (I don’t doubt it), simultaneously trying to get back to their suburban homes in Wes-ches-ta, Luong Eye-lend, Connet-i-cut and New Joy-zee (sound it out, that’s the real dialect… and don’t argue with me). How do we pass the time? I prefer the occasional cursing out of a random driver who has managed to either cut me off, not use their signal, or something similarly blood-boiling like that. Sam prefers to switch from one depressing love song to the next… with an occasional rap song (to humor Carla) and an occasional Van Morrison-type-road-trippy song (to humor us all, I guess). Carla prefers to divide her time wisely by either staring at the other drivers (through her huge Chanel sunglasses… even though its quite cloudy outside), pushing Sam’s buttons through little, consistent smart remarks, freaking out about the BRAKE LIGHTS that I’m beginning to freak out about now (thank you, Carla), or occasionally commandeering the ipod. Overall, each of us has accepted our roles in the road trip, and we all seem to be quite comfortable in them.
It is about 7ish when we finally get out of Jersey… Besides passing the time with our normal habits, we have also gotten through NJ by a. videotaping our rendition of “I’ll always be right there” (the Quonnie girls’ song), b. calling parents, c. stopping to pee, d. drinking about five red bulls each (hence the continence issue), and e. figuring out how much longer until we reach PA. Before I continue, I’d just like to thank ALL of you wonderful New Jersey drivers who decided that my CT plate was an invisibility cape and, therefore, you weren’t cutting off ANYONE, you were just changing lanes and being cautious by not letting those pesky turn signal buttons that decorate your steering wheel distract you! In the words of Carla, Sam and myself, THANKYOUSOMUCHHHHHH. Oh, and I’d also like to thank the thousands of truck drivers we passed along the way… without your commitment to driving on 48 hours of no-sleep, I would not have been able to be so freaked out along the curving hills of Pennsylvania. Thank you.
Enough about the people who can’t drive (in my case, I believe that it is everyone else in America besides myself), let’s march on like the drummer guy Thoreau once mentioned.
It was pretty smooth sailing after the rain showers that followed us from NJ into PA cleared up. The occasional long tunnel and the scarcity of other cars on the road were good indications that we were on our way through the middle-of-nowhere-Pennsylvania. We end up making it to Somerset, PA, around 11:00pm… the wonderful ladies at the Holiday Inn directed us to a nice local restaurant/bar, Maggie Mae’s, so that we could reminisce about our first day over a nice, cold brewsky. We were greeted by the bar manager who, although I’m guessing he was closing shop for the night, still took us in and let us marvel at the small-town charm…
TO BE CONTINUED…
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
