At RL yesterday, Eva was reading palms. I never knew she could do this, but Eva is a very versatile person. I shouldn't be surprised. She wasn't like lining people up or anything, she just was looking at Justin's palm and told him a few things while we were standing around between lunch and dinner shifts. So I stuck out my hand.
"What does mine say?" I asked, like an eager child.
She took my hand palm side up and ran hers across it. She tilted it to one side, then the other. Her brow furrowed as she pulled it closer to her face. Then she let go.
"Well, you won't be getting married again," she said.
"Again?" I replied. "I haven't even been married at all yet. Are you saying I'm never getting married?"
"Well, if you do, it won't be for love. You have no love line."
Silly as it sounds, I wanted to cry. Wait! I wanted to say. I must have a love line - just look a little closer! It has to be there!
Instead, I let out a little "oh."
"Sorry, hon, I have to get to my table," Eva said, running off.
Justin was gloating. "Cool - I'm gonna marry into money!"
And I wasn't going to marry at all. All this time, I wondered if something was wrong with me. Now I know it is just fate. The fates must have decided long ago that this was one tough cookie who didn't need anyone. That she could make it just fine on her own. That love was really only found in fairy tales.
HA! Scoffed fate. This girl needs NO ONE!
But I do, thought the little voice inside me. I DO need someone...
I know that palmistry isn't an exact science - but she also told me something she couldn't have known - a very personal fact about my past. So I couldn't help but be kind of rattled. No one wants to be told there's no chance, that the game is over before you even got to play.
Iwant a love line.
I wonder if that means that I've never really loved in the past, either... Kevin, Corry, Dave, Brad... were all those just crushes? Was Kevin a six-year fling? Kind of sad, really.
Oh, hell. What do you do. I guess I'll just have to find some young studs and "hang out" once in a while - you know, since there'll be no love lost.
Anyone know where I can get an old house and a couple dozen cats?
Monday, January 21, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
NO WAY!!!!! SERIOUSLY?!?!?!?!?!
Yup, look below. A NEW CHAPTER!!! And for those of you unfamiliar with "TBOTE", I suggest starting with the Chapter links to your right. For those of you who are familiar, you may need a refresher too. ;) I know I did. I apologize for the delay, and will try to update the chapters more often. At least, more often than once a year...!
Hope you enjoy getting back into the story!!
Hope you enjoy getting back into the story!!
The Beginning of the End, Chapter 40
When we finally pulled up to our new "home," I had managed to wipe away my tears and focus on unloading the car with Kevin. He hadn’t even noticed me silently crying in the car as we drove the last few blocks. Apparently he had a lot on his mind as well.
Schmauser made a beeline under the bed, and I wished I was small enough to join him. I was suddenly so tired of everything, tired of my "adventure" in Reno, tired of partying, tired of life. I dragged in a couple of bags, and was just about to collapse on the bed…
"Kevin?" I asked, staring at the queen sized bed. "Isn’t something missing here?"
The bed was stripped clean. Thankfully, the mattress seemed relatively new, and devoid of any remnants of past users, but there was not a stitch of linen to be found.
"Oh, yeah, Ken warned me about that. Wait – I took the sheets from our old place."
He ambled back in carrying everything from our old bed, right down to the pillows and cheesy bedspread. With a flourish, he tossed them on the mattress where they landed with a "whoomph." I heard Schmauser complain at the intrusion.
"Don’t you think they might be a little upset that you took those?" I inquired tiredly.
"Ah, who cares?" Kevin shrugged. "They probably have a ton more. Ken told me bedding wasn’t included – towels, either. I hope you don’t need to shower, I forgot to grab those," he added sheepishly.
Honestly, all I really wanted was to go to sleep. For a long, long time. The whole experience had left me exhausted. But first I needed to make up the bed. As soon as I had the last blanket laid down, Kevin collapsed on the bed with a sigh.
"Babe, that was really messed up," he said.
I laid myself next to him, and snuggled up as he put his arm around me. "I know," I murmured. "I missed you."
"I missed you, too."
As we laid there, savoring the silence, we both jumped at the sound of a knock at the door.
I looked at Kevin with fear. "You don’t think they followed us or had us followed, do you?"
His eyes were glued to the door. "I’m not sure," he said quietly. "I thought we got out ok, and I was promised my back was covered..."
"Hey, just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood," a girl’s voice called from the other side of the door.
I stared at Kevin in confusion. "Do they have girls working with them?" I whispered.
"Not that I know of," he responded, looking as baffled as I felt.
"You aren't asleep already, are you?" the voice asked. "Cause I can see the lights still on..."
I cautiously walked to the door and opened it a crack. Standing there was a girl about my age, hands on her hips, looking annoyed. I couldn't help staring.
"So, you inviting me in or what?" she asked.
Startled, I pulled the door open wider and motioned for her to come in. She surveyed our room, and her eyes settled on the bed. She sucked her teeth and laughed.
"You got those from another motel, didn't you?" she accused, motioning at the linens.
"So what if we did?" Kevin replied defensively.
"Hey, I don't care," she said, shrugging. "I just recognized them." She turned to me and stuck out a surprisigly well-manicured hand. "Name's Tanya. Nice to meetcha."
I shook her hand with a smile. "Dasi," I said, "and that's Kevin." It had been a while since I had a "real" girlfriend, I had lost touch with Shelley and it seemed my only female friend lately was the State's Attorney. Tanya had a friendly smile and a strong grip, and judging by her unexpected "welcome-to-the-neighborhood" visit, a pretty strong personality as well. I liked her already.
Kevin seemed more skeptical. "You live here yourself?"
She gave him a once-over. "Yeah, so?"
He shrugged. "No reason. So no boyfriend, nothing?"
"He split. A while ago. Why are you asking so many questions? You five-oh?" she asked suspiciously.
I laughed out loud at her query as to us being cops. Even Kevin cracked a smile.
"Hardly," I answered, still giggling. "Actually, he just got out of-"
Kevin cut me off. "Work. I just got out of work. And we needed a new place to crash." He glared at me.
I felt like a child who had just been reprimanded. "Yeah, the last place wasn't working," I added meekly.
Tanya nodded. "Whatever. It's cool." She continued to scrutinze the room. "Soooooo..." she began, testing the waters. "You guys party?"
I felt my stomach lurch. Suddenly I wasn't tired anymore, and it seemed like a hit would make everything better again, especially with a new friend. I pushed back all my earlier fears and worries and looked at Kevin with a question in my eyes.
"Depends," Kevin answered cautiously. "If you're supplying..."
She chained the door and reached into her bra, pulling out a baggie that was gloriously familiar. "I got the favors if you're up for a party," she said smugly. "Like I said, welcome to the neighborhood."
Kevin magically produced a pipe and lighter. "Welcome, indeed."
And the three of us spent what was left of the night, and a good part of the morning as well, partying on Tanya's dime.
"You know, you're a hell of a neighbor," Kevin managed as she squinted in the sunlight as she opened the door to leave.
"Yeah, thanks," I added, still feeling the buzz, but suddenly feeling pretty tired, too.
She smiled and turned around. "No problem," she said. "Hey, dasi, we'll have to do a girl's night out sometime, kay?"
"Definitely," I answered.
She nodded, still smiling my way, like she knew something Kevin didn't. The problem was, neither did I. And my new friend Tanya had secrets of her own that I would find out in a horrible way.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Whale of a Tale
As I stood at the service bar waiting for a table at RL the last Sunday, I overheard the bartender and a couple servers discussing their night out. And? It sounded like fun. And it occurred to me that I haven't really been "out" since my birthday, which was two months prior. Which isn't any big deal, really, but all of a sudden it struck me that I missed having fun. Not necessarily getting wasted, mind you, but going out with people and having fun. So I made an announcement right then and there: "You know what? I hereby resolve in 2008 to have more fun. To go out more. To be a bit more IR-responsible!" I puffed out my chest. "Yup, and I'm gonna lose a bunch of weight too so I can look good doing it. AND? I'm gonna loosen up more too!"
"YAY!" came the chorus from my fellow RL crew.
Yesiree, Bob, this was gonna be my year. Fun fun fun. Although I plan on staying away from the South Side this time. We all know what happened then. Pathetically, though, that was the last time I "hung out" with anyone. Oy, what a sad, sad person I have become!!
In my resolve to be fun and more daring, I bought something I never thought I would: several pairs of thong underwear. See, it just never occurred to me that someone Sir Mix-A-Lot used for his inspiration while writing "Baby Got Back" should ever wear a thong. Plus, I always wondered why, if I was constantly trying to pull underwear out of my crack, I would ever buy underwear that deliberately goes there. Seemed like I would go insane wearing them. But guess what? I didn't! And although I need a bit more work for anyone to see me in only a thong, the reality is that with no panty lines, my ample ass doesn't look half bad, actually. And the comfort level? Pretty darn good. I came to realize there is a big difference between a small piece of material deliberately placed in your crack and a huge chunk of material inappropriately wedged there.
So on Saturday night, I started asking around. "You going out tonight? You going out tonight?" As it turned out, Ashley and John were going to have people over for drinks and Cranium. YAY!!! Drinks and Cranium!! What FUN!! Although I had never actually played Cranium, I was sure it would be a good time. So I told Ashley I had to check in with the boss (that would be Lexie), but that I would try to make it.
I left work at 11:15 pm, and called Lexie on my way home. Not surprisingly, she wanted me anywhere but home so she could keep playing Habbo online and talk to her BFF on the phone while doing so. Apparently having your mother in the direct vicinity takes the fun out of junior high conversations. I stopped home to make sure that was all she was doing (although I have a pretty good kid, so I really didn't doubt her) and took a quick shower. After pouring the remainder of a probably five year old bottle of raspberry vodka into a little sports bottle (about enough for three drinks) I smooched my angel and headed out the door.
I picked up some pink lemonade on my way over, and when I got there, I was ready for some Cranium. Bring it on!! Everyone was surprised to see me, but I reminded them that I was the fun dasi in 2008, so they shouldn't be surprised. And we split into four teams of three and played Cranium. Which, by the way, is really fun. Especially when you've had just a smidgen of alcohol. Ashley kept creating new shots for us to try, but I had to limit myself as I was driving. (Even irresponsibility has its limits, you know.) After we finished the game (which my team lost on a technicality), I was leaning over looking up something on their computer, and that's when I heard it:
"LOOK! Dasi is wearing a thong!!"
Catcalls and snickers followed, and I very nonchalantly responded, "Yes, I am! It is part of the new and improved dasi, thank you very much. My very first thong, by the way."
"Don't fix it," I was told, "it's called a whale tail. And it looks sexy." This from the not-quite-21 year old who looks like Marissa Tomei and is sweet as hell, especially since she thinks I am cool. So I took her advice and fought the urge to adjust my unmentionables which had suddenly become quite, well, mentionable.
"Hey, I like it," one of the guys added.
I wanted to giggle. But I didn't. Because I am a grown mature woman and grown mature women don't giggle. Then again, they probably don't have whale tails or play Cranium on Saturday nights after midnight. So I settled for feeling a little smug and kind of sexy too.
I think maybe being grown and mature is overrated. At least some of the time.
Yay 2008!
"YAY!" came the chorus from my fellow RL crew.
Yesiree, Bob, this was gonna be my year. Fun fun fun. Although I plan on staying away from the South Side this time. We all know what happened then. Pathetically, though, that was the last time I "hung out" with anyone. Oy, what a sad, sad person I have become!!
In my resolve to be fun and more daring, I bought something I never thought I would: several pairs of thong underwear. See, it just never occurred to me that someone Sir Mix-A-Lot used for his inspiration while writing "Baby Got Back" should ever wear a thong. Plus, I always wondered why, if I was constantly trying to pull underwear out of my crack, I would ever buy underwear that deliberately goes there. Seemed like I would go insane wearing them. But guess what? I didn't! And although I need a bit more work for anyone to see me in only a thong, the reality is that with no panty lines, my ample ass doesn't look half bad, actually. And the comfort level? Pretty darn good. I came to realize there is a big difference between a small piece of material deliberately placed in your crack and a huge chunk of material inappropriately wedged there.
So on Saturday night, I started asking around. "You going out tonight? You going out tonight?" As it turned out, Ashley and John were going to have people over for drinks and Cranium. YAY!!! Drinks and Cranium!! What FUN!! Although I had never actually played Cranium, I was sure it would be a good time. So I told Ashley I had to check in with the boss (that would be Lexie), but that I would try to make it.
I left work at 11:15 pm, and called Lexie on my way home. Not surprisingly, she wanted me anywhere but home so she could keep playing Habbo online and talk to her BFF on the phone while doing so. Apparently having your mother in the direct vicinity takes the fun out of junior high conversations. I stopped home to make sure that was all she was doing (although I have a pretty good kid, so I really didn't doubt her) and took a quick shower. After pouring the remainder of a probably five year old bottle of raspberry vodka into a little sports bottle (about enough for three drinks) I smooched my angel and headed out the door.
I picked up some pink lemonade on my way over, and when I got there, I was ready for some Cranium. Bring it on!! Everyone was surprised to see me, but I reminded them that I was the fun dasi in 2008, so they shouldn't be surprised. And we split into four teams of three and played Cranium. Which, by the way, is really fun. Especially when you've had just a smidgen of alcohol. Ashley kept creating new shots for us to try, but I had to limit myself as I was driving. (Even irresponsibility has its limits, you know.) After we finished the game (which my team lost on a technicality), I was leaning over looking up something on their computer, and that's when I heard it:
"LOOK! Dasi is wearing a thong!!"
Catcalls and snickers followed, and I very nonchalantly responded, "Yes, I am! It is part of the new and improved dasi, thank you very much. My very first thong, by the way."
"Don't fix it," I was told, "it's called a whale tail. And it looks sexy." This from the not-quite-21 year old who looks like Marissa Tomei and is sweet as hell, especially since she thinks I am cool. So I took her advice and fought the urge to adjust my unmentionables which had suddenly become quite, well, mentionable.
"Hey, I like it," one of the guys added.
I wanted to giggle. But I didn't. Because I am a grown mature woman and grown mature women don't giggle. Then again, they probably don't have whale tails or play Cranium on Saturday nights after midnight. So I settled for feeling a little smug and kind of sexy too.
I think maybe being grown and mature is overrated. At least some of the time.
Yay 2008!
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
FYI
This whole "do everything at lunch" thing is harder than I thought. I still don't have time to read everyone's blogs, and comment, and write on my own. Obviously when I worked for Satan I slacked off a lot more than I realized... Hmmm. Who would've thought? But now that I am a FEDERAL employee, working for the DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE, I need to do actual work during work hours. Which I do. And honestly? It is really interesting work. And I enjoy it. Plus, it is really cool to watch people's faces when you tell them you work for the US government. Especially when I have customers at RL ask me if I am a full-time server. "No, I work for the FEDERAL GOVERNMENT," I tell them nonchalantly. Makes them wonder if I am really a CIA agent posing as a waitress or something. Tee hee! In any case, one hour is not enough time to blog and read and comment, plus on occasion I do get invited to lunch, so if I am sporadic with my postings, be patient. I will return, I promise.
My daughter Lexie is also very impressed that I have a cubicle. Go figure. I guess to a pre-teen a cubicle is cool. Now, I think it is cool that I have a boombox in my cubicle and can listen to whatever I want to, and I have a real nameplate. Just in case anyone forgets my name. Like you-know-who. What's funny is that I took a picture of my nameplate with my cell phone, to jokingly show off to my family, and my brother showed me his nameplate. Which he also took a picture of with his cell. Only, the reason he took the picture was this: Instead of reading "Bob Coolbrother," it said "Bobo Coolbrother." HIL-arious!! Actually, he kind of looks like a Bobo. Like Bobo the Clown. Maybe I'll make Lexie start calling him Uncle Bobo. Of course, she would never do that. Oh well.
So the point of this post was to let you all know that I will not renege on my promise, I will post as often as I can. But now I am going to read some other people's blogs. Which I had forgotten just how much I miss and enjoy. And if I get a chance, I am going to have to update my blogroll - some of you have vanished (boo hoo!). And post a new picture. We'll see how time goes.
Hasta la vista!!
My daughter Lexie is also very impressed that I have a cubicle. Go figure. I guess to a pre-teen a cubicle is cool. Now, I think it is cool that I have a boombox in my cubicle and can listen to whatever I want to, and I have a real nameplate. Just in case anyone forgets my name. Like you-know-who. What's funny is that I took a picture of my nameplate with my cell phone, to jokingly show off to my family, and my brother showed me his nameplate. Which he also took a picture of with his cell. Only, the reason he took the picture was this: Instead of reading "Bob Coolbrother," it said "Bobo Coolbrother." HIL-arious!! Actually, he kind of looks like a Bobo. Like Bobo the Clown. Maybe I'll make Lexie start calling him Uncle Bobo. Of course, she would never do that. Oh well.
So the point of this post was to let you all know that I will not renege on my promise, I will post as often as I can. But now I am going to read some other people's blogs. Which I had forgotten just how much I miss and enjoy. And if I get a chance, I am going to have to update my blogroll - some of you have vanished (boo hoo!). And post a new picture. We'll see how time goes.
Hasta la vista!!
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Take Me Out to the Ballgame (Then Watch Me Get Kicked Out)
As I was walking from the train to work in the balmy 7 degree Chicago temperature, I decided I would battle the cold with mind over matter, picturing myself sweating in the bleachers at Wrigley Field... and subsequently decided to share this story about my night with the RL crew at the Cubs game. Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed my evening.
It was sometime in August that I decided it would be fun to go to a Cub game in the bleachers with some fellow RL employees. I went online and saw that there were an abundance of available tickets in the bleachers for the September 5 night game against the Dodgers - and it was Derrek Lee bobblehead day, no less! - so on a wing and a prayer, I ordered 8 tickets.
The next night when I went in for my shift, I started asking around, hoping I could get the other 7 tickets sold. Turned out, it was easier than I thought - as a matter of fact, I wound up getting 8 more tickets. By the week before game night, there were 16 of us going (yes, they all paid me) and it was shaping up to be the RL event of the summer (shut up, I know September isn't technically "summer," but who cares?).
Chris approached me one night as I walked in: "DASI! So do you know the plan??"
I laughed at his enthusiasm. "No, why don't you tell me the plan, Chris?"
He looked at me seriously. "We get there REALLY REALLY early, get REALLY REALLY drunk, and sit in left field."
"Sounds like a plan," I agreed.
Now for those of you not familiar with Wrigley Field or their infamous bleachers, it should be noted that if you want good seats (and obviously left field right behind Alfonso Soriano are choice), you need to line up well before the gates open. WELLLLLL before. And the gates open two hours before the game. So I always plan on an additional two hours (at least) before that. My plan was to leave work at 12:30, get organized, and go. So Chris' plan was fine by me, although I didn't think I would be doing the whole "really really drunk" thing...
The next day, Rick approached me. "Did Chris tell you the plan?" he asked.
I reiterated Chris's plan to Rick.
"Yeah, but we're taking the train, and we're probably leaving at like 11:00," he added.
I raised my eyebrows. "You do know it's a 7:05 game, right?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yeah, but we need to start drinking early. And it's too expensive at the game."
I was pretty sure it was just as expensive at most of the Wrigleyville bars, but I said nothing. Hell, at least they were taking the train.
"So, you in?"
I laughed. "Hell, I'm not even leaving work until 12:30," I said. "But hopefully I'll be there at around 3:00 to get in line."
"You're getting in line at 3?" he asked, stunned. "We weren't going to get in line until about 5!"
I had to explain to him the whole "get in line early" thing, and promised him ( and the rest of the posse) that I would save them a place, but that they had better be there by 4:45.
One of the younger girls, Ashley, asked if she could ride with me. She didn't plan on drinking excessively, and didn't want to ride the train. I told her that would be fine, in fact, I would enjoy the company. So on game day, I left work and went home to do my ritual.
See, Rick was right about one thing: alcohol at Wrigley was expensive. So I always snuck in my own. I usually brought 6-12 water bottles methodically filled with Mike's Hard Lemonade, or Bacardi Razz, or some other clear malt beverage. Because you were allowed to bring in soft sided coolers, and any bottled non-alcoholic beverages under 1 liter. And they never checked the bottles too closely. This time, however, I spent extra time carefully filling 28 bottles - and each bottle held about 18 oz. So you do the math as to how much alcohol I was smuggling. Suffice it to say, it was a lot. I also brought about 6 regular waters, for me to chill out near the end of the game.
So anyway, I'm just about to leave, when Kelly calls.
"Dasi? It's Kelly. Look, we're on the train to the city, and Kristine and I forgot our tickets. Could you print us new ones?"
Ok. See, I could, in theory, but the problem was I had no idea what ticket numbers they had. The only solution, besides sending thm back home to get them, was to print ALL 16 tickets and match up everyone's ticket numbers in line, and give the remaining two to Kelly and Kristine. Which is what I had to do.
"Thanks, dasi!!" she said happily, as she hung up the phone.
So by now I am running a little later than I had hoped, because I had to print out all the tickets, and then I went to pick up Ashley. She was ready and waiting, thankfully, and we were on our way. I had on some classic rock music, and mentioned to her that this may not be her kind of music, but I felt like listening to it and it was, after all, my car. Her response?
"That's ok, my mom listens to it all the time too."
Gee, thanks, Ashley. She felt bad right after she said it, and kept telling me how her mom had her really, really young (like at 8 or something, I think) and I shouldn't take it the wrong way. To coin a phrase from my daughter, 'what-ever.'
We actually made it in pretty good time, and were third in line at the gates. We struck up a conversation with the guy in front of us, and told him we were expecting a pretty large group. He didn't seem to care, since he was in front of us. I mentioned my secret stash in the cooler, and he thought that was a great idea. I did, too, and figured I'd might as well imbibe as long as we were just standing around.
Then my cell rang.
"DASI?????" I heard, over the background yelling.
"Hi, Chris," I said.
"YOU THERE YET??"
"Yes, Ashley and I are third in line."
"KELLY AND KRISTINE HAVE NO TICKETS!!"
"I know," I replied. He was obviously already quite trashed, and from the background noise, whoever he was with was as well.
"SO WE'RE COMING BY NOW!!"
I didn't want to cause a scene this early - not in line. We still had an hour before the gates opened. "That's ok - wait a half hour!" I yelled into the phone.
"SO WE'LL SEE YOU IN A FEW MINUTES!"
And he hung up.
I turned to Ashley and our line buddy. "They're on their way - and they're wasted," I said with a grin.
I don't think our line buddy realized what he was in for. Suddenly Kristine and Colin were approaching, swaying together happily.
"I don't have a ticket," Kristine slurred.
"I DO!!" Colin pronounced happily. He pulled out his piece of paper. "Right here!!"
I matched up the numbers on his ticket to the ones I had. With my ticket, Ashley's, and Colin's, we only had 13 possible tickets left. This would be hell.
Kristine sat down and leaned against the wall. I had to pee, so Colin offered to go with me to the bar across the street. When we returned, Kristine was drinking a "water."
"This doesn't taste like water," she commented, "but it sure is GOOD!"
"I thought I gave her a regular water," Ashley apologized in a whisper.
I had to hush up Kristine to keep my stash a secret. No easy feat, I can assure you. And as I was doing that, the rest of the crew arrived. Well, most of them at least. And they all were in a similar state of drunkenness. I admit it was entertaining, but it was also a bit insane. Trying to get a bunch of drunk people organized is no easy feat, and we still had to figure out which two tickets Kelly and Kristine could use to get in.
It seemed that Rick was sick, and wasn't coming after all, but he gave his ticket to our old bartender Carl. Who was going to meet us there.
"And I have his ticket," Chris informed me. "So when he gets here, he will call me and I will drop it over the edge to him down on the street."
O-K. "Chris," I said carefully, "his ticket is a piece of paper. Do you really think it's a good idea to drop it over the wall?"
"Yup," he replied confidently. "He said he'll catch it."
"Why not just meet him at the gate and hand it to him?" I suggested.
Chris looked at me with amazement. "Good idea!"
Then we found out that Aggie and her husband were meeting us there once the game started, and so was Elsa. Which meant that if we picked the wrong tickets to give to Kristine and Kelly, one (or two) of them wouldn't get in. And try as we might, we couldn't reach any of them by phone.
The rest of the group didn't seem that concerned, they were too busy laughing and swaying and harassing some poor guy walking down the street to give us a sign (which, by the way, he did). Ashley and I, the only sober ones, tried to use logic to figure out the ticket numbers, and crossed our fingers as we gave Kristine and Kelly each a ticket and put away the remaining three.
"PICTURES! How about a picture for the Cubs website?" a guy stood there holding a camera, looking at our group with amusement.
There was an outcry of assent, and we posed as best as we could. This was the end result. If you look carefully, you can see Kristine's arms holding up the sign.
(That was right before the gates opened, when all was still good with the world. (And? That's me in the back with the sunglasses. I don't look like an old lady, right??) If you look on the left, you will see Colin with his arm around Nick. And they both have very cute, content smiles on their faces. I actually blew up that part of the picture, and changed Nick's shirt to say "The Joy of Colin." They both credit me with taking the gayest picture of them in the world. And? They're totally not gay. Too funny. Chris is on the right, Ashley's in the white Cubs jersey, Kelly's in the blue with the shades, and then there's Michelle and Greg. Hey, that only makes nine of us... and with four more coming, that's thirteen - oh, yeah, Dan and his girlfriend met us there too and there was one unused ticket. Ok, back to the story.)
So finally, the gates are opening. Security checks my coolers, and I am cleared to go in. We all got our bobbleheads, and those of us who were able ran up the ramps to get seats. Chris and Kristine both wiped out on the way up, and there was blood. But I don't think either of them cared too much. So we managed to get a nice block of seats right behind Alfonso, and all of a sudden, it starts to POUR. I'm talking HUGE raindrops coming down in sheets.
Did we move? Did we run for cover?? HELL NO!!!! We may have been wet, our bobbleheads may have been ruined, but we had awesome seats and we were going nowhere!!! Plus, there was still two hours to gametime, and we were sure the rain would pass.
In the meanitime, my "water" supply was being depleted. And everyone was getting drunker. Kristine lit up three different cigarettes and was told three different times by security that there was no smoking. The rest of our group arrived (and amazingly, we gave the right tickets to Kristine and Kelly so everyone got in no problem), and things got louder, and more animated, and by the time the rain stopped and the game started security was watching us all like hawks.
The Cubs were playing an amazing game, and I was loving every minute of it. I had only had two or three "waters," and had switched to real water. It was the top of the fourth inning, and I only had four "waters" left from the original 28. And that's when it happened.
A HUGE Mr. T type on steroids walked over to Michelle, Elsa, and Kristine. "Lemme see those water bottles," he growled.
I almost choked. And very nonchalantly nudged the remaining four "water" bottles under the bench I was sitting on. Next thing you know, the three of them are being led out by Mr. T.
Which was not a good thing. Colin very gallantly offered to leave as well, to go find the girls and stay with them at a bar until the game was over. No one else made a similar offer, so he went off like a drunken knight in shining armor. The rest of us just sat there somewhat meekly, a bit more mellow now that things had taken such a serious turn.
We still had fun, though, and it was an awesome game. Security kept their eyes glued on us, and it was a bit unnerving. At one point, in about the eighth inning, Nick turned to me.
"Dasi - got any more of those waters?" he asked.
I smirked. "I've got four, but they're really watching us," I warned.
"Eh, I'm ready to go anyway," he shrugged.
So I kicked a bottle his way. He picked it up, took a swig, and - "LEMME SEE THAT WATER!"
Mr. T had returned. Nick smiled, shrugged, and said "See ya, dasi!" As he handed over the bottle and strolled out followed by Mr. T.
I couldn't help but laugh.
The game ended in a win for the Cubbies, and as we all sang "Go Cubs Go" I was busily texting our outed pals trying to find out where to meet up. We managed to find them at one of the bigger bars, and there were cheers and hugs all around.
Kristine was wearing Colin's jersey, and when I inquired as to why, she launched into detail about her "wrongful ejection."
"I was so mad I just went EEEEYYYYAAAAHHHHH! And ripped my shirt right open, like the Hulk!" she said, demonstrating in the air.
"She did," Michelle said solemnly. "I thought she was going to get arrested. She yelled and ripped her shirt, but I just cried."
"So when I found her, I gave her my jersey," Colin added matter-of-factly.
Suddenly Nick came up and gave me a bear hug. "That was like the BEST game EVER!!" he said gleefully. "Thanks, dasi!!"
I was glad everyone had enjoyed themselves so thoroughly, but I looked at Ashley and motioned towards the door. I had had enough. We snuck out with hardly anyone even noticing.
And the next day at work, the night had already become legend. With another game outing planned for the next season.
Although I think I'll leave my "water" at home if I go with those crazies again.
It was sometime in August that I decided it would be fun to go to a Cub game in the bleachers with some fellow RL employees. I went online and saw that there were an abundance of available tickets in the bleachers for the September 5 night game against the Dodgers - and it was Derrek Lee bobblehead day, no less! - so on a wing and a prayer, I ordered 8 tickets.
The next night when I went in for my shift, I started asking around, hoping I could get the other 7 tickets sold. Turned out, it was easier than I thought - as a matter of fact, I wound up getting 8 more tickets. By the week before game night, there were 16 of us going (yes, they all paid me) and it was shaping up to be the RL event of the summer (shut up, I know September isn't technically "summer," but who cares?).
Chris approached me one night as I walked in: "DASI! So do you know the plan??"
I laughed at his enthusiasm. "No, why don't you tell me the plan, Chris?"
He looked at me seriously. "We get there REALLY REALLY early, get REALLY REALLY drunk, and sit in left field."
"Sounds like a plan," I agreed.
Now for those of you not familiar with Wrigley Field or their infamous bleachers, it should be noted that if you want good seats (and obviously left field right behind Alfonso Soriano are choice), you need to line up well before the gates open. WELLLLLL before. And the gates open two hours before the game. So I always plan on an additional two hours (at least) before that. My plan was to leave work at 12:30, get organized, and go. So Chris' plan was fine by me, although I didn't think I would be doing the whole "really really drunk" thing...
The next day, Rick approached me. "Did Chris tell you the plan?" he asked.
I reiterated Chris's plan to Rick.
"Yeah, but we're taking the train, and we're probably leaving at like 11:00," he added.
I raised my eyebrows. "You do know it's a 7:05 game, right?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yeah, but we need to start drinking early. And it's too expensive at the game."
I was pretty sure it was just as expensive at most of the Wrigleyville bars, but I said nothing. Hell, at least they were taking the train.
"So, you in?"
I laughed. "Hell, I'm not even leaving work until 12:30," I said. "But hopefully I'll be there at around 3:00 to get in line."
"You're getting in line at 3?" he asked, stunned. "We weren't going to get in line until about 5!"
I had to explain to him the whole "get in line early" thing, and promised him ( and the rest of the posse) that I would save them a place, but that they had better be there by 4:45.
One of the younger girls, Ashley, asked if she could ride with me. She didn't plan on drinking excessively, and didn't want to ride the train. I told her that would be fine, in fact, I would enjoy the company. So on game day, I left work and went home to do my ritual.
See, Rick was right about one thing: alcohol at Wrigley was expensive. So I always snuck in my own. I usually brought 6-12 water bottles methodically filled with Mike's Hard Lemonade, or Bacardi Razz, or some other clear malt beverage. Because you were allowed to bring in soft sided coolers, and any bottled non-alcoholic beverages under 1 liter. And they never checked the bottles too closely. This time, however, I spent extra time carefully filling 28 bottles - and each bottle held about 18 oz. So you do the math as to how much alcohol I was smuggling. Suffice it to say, it was a lot. I also brought about 6 regular waters, for me to chill out near the end of the game.
So anyway, I'm just about to leave, when Kelly calls.
"Dasi? It's Kelly. Look, we're on the train to the city, and Kristine and I forgot our tickets. Could you print us new ones?"
Ok. See, I could, in theory, but the problem was I had no idea what ticket numbers they had. The only solution, besides sending thm back home to get them, was to print ALL 16 tickets and match up everyone's ticket numbers in line, and give the remaining two to Kelly and Kristine. Which is what I had to do.
"Thanks, dasi!!" she said happily, as she hung up the phone.
So by now I am running a little later than I had hoped, because I had to print out all the tickets, and then I went to pick up Ashley. She was ready and waiting, thankfully, and we were on our way. I had on some classic rock music, and mentioned to her that this may not be her kind of music, but I felt like listening to it and it was, after all, my car. Her response?
"That's ok, my mom listens to it all the time too."
Gee, thanks, Ashley. She felt bad right after she said it, and kept telling me how her mom had her really, really young (like at 8 or something, I think) and I shouldn't take it the wrong way. To coin a phrase from my daughter, 'what-ever.'
We actually made it in pretty good time, and were third in line at the gates. We struck up a conversation with the guy in front of us, and told him we were expecting a pretty large group. He didn't seem to care, since he was in front of us. I mentioned my secret stash in the cooler, and he thought that was a great idea. I did, too, and figured I'd might as well imbibe as long as we were just standing around.
Then my cell rang.
"DASI?????" I heard, over the background yelling.
"Hi, Chris," I said.
"YOU THERE YET??"
"Yes, Ashley and I are third in line."
"KELLY AND KRISTINE HAVE NO TICKETS!!"
"I know," I replied. He was obviously already quite trashed, and from the background noise, whoever he was with was as well.
"SO WE'RE COMING BY NOW!!"
I didn't want to cause a scene this early - not in line. We still had an hour before the gates opened. "That's ok - wait a half hour!" I yelled into the phone.
"SO WE'LL SEE YOU IN A FEW MINUTES!"
And he hung up.
I turned to Ashley and our line buddy. "They're on their way - and they're wasted," I said with a grin.
I don't think our line buddy realized what he was in for. Suddenly Kristine and Colin were approaching, swaying together happily.
"I don't have a ticket," Kristine slurred.
"I DO!!" Colin pronounced happily. He pulled out his piece of paper. "Right here!!"
I matched up the numbers on his ticket to the ones I had. With my ticket, Ashley's, and Colin's, we only had 13 possible tickets left. This would be hell.
Kristine sat down and leaned against the wall. I had to pee, so Colin offered to go with me to the bar across the street. When we returned, Kristine was drinking a "water."
"This doesn't taste like water," she commented, "but it sure is GOOD!"
"I thought I gave her a regular water," Ashley apologized in a whisper.
I had to hush up Kristine to keep my stash a secret. No easy feat, I can assure you. And as I was doing that, the rest of the crew arrived. Well, most of them at least. And they all were in a similar state of drunkenness. I admit it was entertaining, but it was also a bit insane. Trying to get a bunch of drunk people organized is no easy feat, and we still had to figure out which two tickets Kelly and Kristine could use to get in.
It seemed that Rick was sick, and wasn't coming after all, but he gave his ticket to our old bartender Carl. Who was going to meet us there.
"And I have his ticket," Chris informed me. "So when he gets here, he will call me and I will drop it over the edge to him down on the street."
O-K. "Chris," I said carefully, "his ticket is a piece of paper. Do you really think it's a good idea to drop it over the wall?"
"Yup," he replied confidently. "He said he'll catch it."
"Why not just meet him at the gate and hand it to him?" I suggested.
Chris looked at me with amazement. "Good idea!"
Then we found out that Aggie and her husband were meeting us there once the game started, and so was Elsa. Which meant that if we picked the wrong tickets to give to Kristine and Kelly, one (or two) of them wouldn't get in. And try as we might, we couldn't reach any of them by phone.
The rest of the group didn't seem that concerned, they were too busy laughing and swaying and harassing some poor guy walking down the street to give us a sign (which, by the way, he did). Ashley and I, the only sober ones, tried to use logic to figure out the ticket numbers, and crossed our fingers as we gave Kristine and Kelly each a ticket and put away the remaining three.
"PICTURES! How about a picture for the Cubs website?" a guy stood there holding a camera, looking at our group with amusement.
There was an outcry of assent, and we posed as best as we could. This was the end result. If you look carefully, you can see Kristine's arms holding up the sign.
(That was right before the gates opened, when all was still good with the world. (And? That's me in the back with the sunglasses. I don't look like an old lady, right??) If you look on the left, you will see Colin with his arm around Nick. And they both have very cute, content smiles on their faces. I actually blew up that part of the picture, and changed Nick's shirt to say "The Joy of Colin." They both credit me with taking the gayest picture of them in the world. And? They're totally not gay. Too funny. Chris is on the right, Ashley's in the white Cubs jersey, Kelly's in the blue with the shades, and then there's Michelle and Greg. Hey, that only makes nine of us... and with four more coming, that's thirteen - oh, yeah, Dan and his girlfriend met us there too and there was one unused ticket. Ok, back to the story.)
So finally, the gates are opening. Security checks my coolers, and I am cleared to go in. We all got our bobbleheads, and those of us who were able ran up the ramps to get seats. Chris and Kristine both wiped out on the way up, and there was blood. But I don't think either of them cared too much. So we managed to get a nice block of seats right behind Alfonso, and all of a sudden, it starts to POUR. I'm talking HUGE raindrops coming down in sheets.
Did we move? Did we run for cover?? HELL NO!!!! We may have been wet, our bobbleheads may have been ruined, but we had awesome seats and we were going nowhere!!! Plus, there was still two hours to gametime, and we were sure the rain would pass.
In the meanitime, my "water" supply was being depleted. And everyone was getting drunker. Kristine lit up three different cigarettes and was told three different times by security that there was no smoking. The rest of our group arrived (and amazingly, we gave the right tickets to Kristine and Kelly so everyone got in no problem), and things got louder, and more animated, and by the time the rain stopped and the game started security was watching us all like hawks.
The Cubs were playing an amazing game, and I was loving every minute of it. I had only had two or three "waters," and had switched to real water. It was the top of the fourth inning, and I only had four "waters" left from the original 28. And that's when it happened.
A HUGE Mr. T type on steroids walked over to Michelle, Elsa, and Kristine. "Lemme see those water bottles," he growled.
I almost choked. And very nonchalantly nudged the remaining four "water" bottles under the bench I was sitting on. Next thing you know, the three of them are being led out by Mr. T.
Which was not a good thing. Colin very gallantly offered to leave as well, to go find the girls and stay with them at a bar until the game was over. No one else made a similar offer, so he went off like a drunken knight in shining armor. The rest of us just sat there somewhat meekly, a bit more mellow now that things had taken such a serious turn.
We still had fun, though, and it was an awesome game. Security kept their eyes glued on us, and it was a bit unnerving. At one point, in about the eighth inning, Nick turned to me.
"Dasi - got any more of those waters?" he asked.
I smirked. "I've got four, but they're really watching us," I warned.
"Eh, I'm ready to go anyway," he shrugged.
So I kicked a bottle his way. He picked it up, took a swig, and - "LEMME SEE THAT WATER!"
Mr. T had returned. Nick smiled, shrugged, and said "See ya, dasi!" As he handed over the bottle and strolled out followed by Mr. T.
I couldn't help but laugh.
The game ended in a win for the Cubbies, and as we all sang "Go Cubs Go" I was busily texting our outed pals trying to find out where to meet up. We managed to find them at one of the bigger bars, and there were cheers and hugs all around.
Kristine was wearing Colin's jersey, and when I inquired as to why, she launched into detail about her "wrongful ejection."
"I was so mad I just went EEEEYYYYAAAAHHHHH! And ripped my shirt right open, like the Hulk!" she said, demonstrating in the air.
"She did," Michelle said solemnly. "I thought she was going to get arrested. She yelled and ripped her shirt, but I just cried."
"So when I found her, I gave her my jersey," Colin added matter-of-factly.
Suddenly Nick came up and gave me a bear hug. "That was like the BEST game EVER!!" he said gleefully. "Thanks, dasi!!"
I was glad everyone had enjoyed themselves so thoroughly, but I looked at Ashley and motioned towards the door. I had had enough. We snuck out with hardly anyone even noticing.
And the next day at work, the night had already become legend. With another game outing planned for the next season.
Although I think I'll leave my "water" at home if I go with those crazies again.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Whiff of the Past
One of the wonderfully fun things (and I say that somewhat sarcastically) afforded me by my new job is riding the train downtown every day. Actually, it really isn't that bad on the whole, but sometimes the person sitting next to you makes the experience, shall we say, somewhat unpleasant.
This morning, for example, a woman boarded the train on the stop immediately following mine, and sat herself down right next to me, rather than the plethura of other single riders in the car. (I still haven't figured out why 90% of the time people choose ME to sit next to rather than anyone else, I think I have to work on my "don't sit by me" aura) This meant that for the next 45 minutes, I had to press myself against the wall of the train and scrunch in my elbows while I read my book. That in itself was bad enough, but then I got a whiff of her.
She was an obvious smoker, and had most certainly put out her last butt milliseconds before she boarded. Being an ex-smoker, the smell of cigarette smoke on others really bothers me. Literally gags me. I still have a hard time believing that I myself used to smell just as bad. (I would apologize to any smokers out there, but I feel I have earned the privilege of soapboxing since I quit cold turkey about four years ago.) So now as well as trying to avoid physical contact with my seatmate, I was also trying to avoid olfactory contact as well. This proved to be very difficult, as I am nursing a cold, and in order to prevent the embarrassment of nasal mucus dripping onto my lap, I had to sporadically sniff mightily. The sniffing prevented the nasal drip, but also invaded my senses with that stale cigarette smell.
After about the fifth sniff, I realized that the yukky smell wasn't only cigarettes... there was, in fact, something oddly familiar about it. Not that the smell was any less unpleasant, but it reminded me of something. I closed my eyes and reluctanty sniffed again, trying to pinpoint what it was.
Suddenly it came flooding back. The smell was that of cheap perfume mixed with the cigarettes. Could've been any perfume, really, but what it reminded me of was hanging out at a smoky corner bar. In this day and age of "smoke-free" zones, I haven't smelled that in a long time. It was a smell that used to cling to my clothes when I smoked myself and had come home from bar-hopping with friends. It was a smell that made me think of partying, and irresponsibility, and one-night stands (not that I ever had any of those, of course...). Made me think of TBOTE, as well. I can't say it was a welcome flood of memories, but regardless, there it was. The longer I closed my eyes and inhaled that nauseatingly sweet yet acrid smell, the more memories came. I almost expected to hear Kevin's voice next to me. I almost expected to open my eyes and find myself in P's again, with a Miller Lite in front of me. Or worse, at an old "buddy's" house, waiting for the pipe.
I opened my eyes again and tried to concentrate on somehow not inhaling while still preventing my nose from drippping. This was done by putting my mittened hand beneath my nose and trying to just block all air (and whatever else) from entering or leaving my nasal passages. When I snuck a look over at my seatmate, curious about the owner of this smell that caused such discontent, I almost laughed. It was a woman in probably her 50's or 60's, black short hair sprinkled with gray, wearing Harry Potter glasses and shaped like a pear. Nothing like what I expected. But still, that smell...
I can't tell you how glad I was to get off that train. Even in zero degree weather. Those kind of memories I can do without, thank you very much.
This morning, for example, a woman boarded the train on the stop immediately following mine, and sat herself down right next to me, rather than the plethura of other single riders in the car. (I still haven't figured out why 90% of the time people choose ME to sit next to rather than anyone else, I think I have to work on my "don't sit by me" aura) This meant that for the next 45 minutes, I had to press myself against the wall of the train and scrunch in my elbows while I read my book. That in itself was bad enough, but then I got a whiff of her.
She was an obvious smoker, and had most certainly put out her last butt milliseconds before she boarded. Being an ex-smoker, the smell of cigarette smoke on others really bothers me. Literally gags me. I still have a hard time believing that I myself used to smell just as bad. (I would apologize to any smokers out there, but I feel I have earned the privilege of soapboxing since I quit cold turkey about four years ago.) So now as well as trying to avoid physical contact with my seatmate, I was also trying to avoid olfactory contact as well. This proved to be very difficult, as I am nursing a cold, and in order to prevent the embarrassment of nasal mucus dripping onto my lap, I had to sporadically sniff mightily. The sniffing prevented the nasal drip, but also invaded my senses with that stale cigarette smell.
After about the fifth sniff, I realized that the yukky smell wasn't only cigarettes... there was, in fact, something oddly familiar about it. Not that the smell was any less unpleasant, but it reminded me of something. I closed my eyes and reluctanty sniffed again, trying to pinpoint what it was.
Suddenly it came flooding back. The smell was that of cheap perfume mixed with the cigarettes. Could've been any perfume, really, but what it reminded me of was hanging out at a smoky corner bar. In this day and age of "smoke-free" zones, I haven't smelled that in a long time. It was a smell that used to cling to my clothes when I smoked myself and had come home from bar-hopping with friends. It was a smell that made me think of partying, and irresponsibility, and one-night stands (not that I ever had any of those, of course...). Made me think of TBOTE, as well. I can't say it was a welcome flood of memories, but regardless, there it was. The longer I closed my eyes and inhaled that nauseatingly sweet yet acrid smell, the more memories came. I almost expected to hear Kevin's voice next to me. I almost expected to open my eyes and find myself in P's again, with a Miller Lite in front of me. Or worse, at an old "buddy's" house, waiting for the pipe.
I opened my eyes again and tried to concentrate on somehow not inhaling while still preventing my nose from drippping. This was done by putting my mittened hand beneath my nose and trying to just block all air (and whatever else) from entering or leaving my nasal passages. When I snuck a look over at my seatmate, curious about the owner of this smell that caused such discontent, I almost laughed. It was a woman in probably her 50's or 60's, black short hair sprinkled with gray, wearing Harry Potter glasses and shaped like a pear. Nothing like what I expected. But still, that smell...
I can't tell you how glad I was to get off that train. Even in zero degree weather. Those kind of memories I can do without, thank you very much.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)