Nice Donkey in NYC

It is almost cliche to write an end of the year post, to look back and think about what transpired over the last 12 months.   I'd have to say this may have been the most significant year of my adult life.  So, I think I've earned the right to wax poetic about it slightly. 

After YEARS (right @katesetc?) of talking about quitting my job and doing something different, I walked into my boss' office and quit.  I took a giant leap of faith, relying on some savings and the feeling in my heart I needed to be doing something else.  I was published (twice!).  I took a writing class and went to three writing conferences.  I sat in a room squirming in my seat while strangers commented on my writing.  I went to Paris for the first time, finally visiting a city I've dreamed about for years. I got a new job, which allows me to do something that I feel genuinely good about, even if some days I have no clue what I am doing.  I took my first improv class and about to sign up for another.  I ran three road races.   While there is still an approximately 6 foot sized hole where Mr. Wonderful should be, I can't say I didn't try this year.  I went out on a decent number of dates, met some new people, made some bad decisions but that's all part of the process.

A few weeks ago, I joined Tinder.  A friend of mine was having some good luck with it, in that she was going out on dates and from what I recollect of being in a relationship, going on dates is a great place to start. 

And there do seem to be some genuinely good, well-meaning dudes on Tinder.  The key word in that sentence is "some." 

This was my very first conversation.  NSFW (at least in my opinion).  Also, I am not great with the blacking out tool just yet, so pardon the sloppy editing. 

I politely declined, debated deleting the App entirely, but decided against it. So I tinder'ed on.  

I left-swiped this guy, but only after spending a few too many minutes wondering what the heck this is even supposed to be and deciding this guy is way better at Photoshop than I can ever hope to be.  

Also, I get that it is can be overwhelming to manage multiple conversations with multiple people.  And that there may even be a tendency to cut-and-paste because after all, Tinder is a numbers game.  I understood the need for efficiency.  But the app is pretty idiot proof in that the name of the person rests at the top of each conversation. So, imagine my confusion when I get this message.  Spoiler: My name is not Stephanie. 

In 1996, my high school friends and I spent most of our weekend nights at the movie theater where our friend Jim worked taking tickets.  His position gave him a great deal of power and allowed us to sneak into an awful lot of movies.  One such movie was Sense and Sensibility and after watching its opening scenes of the English countryside, my friends declared the movie  too sheep heavy and we walked out.  Ah, the luxuries of not having to pay for a movie ticket and declaring a movie uninteresting.

 In my defense, I had not yet discovered Jane Austen or the confidence to express an independent thought.  Just realizing those two might be related. I've read Pride & Prejudice, Mansfield Park, and Emma but never tackled Sense & Sensibility.   It was quite good.  "Quite" seems like the Austen-esque term to describe it.  Speaking of Austen terminology, I'm not sure "wanker" was slang  in Jane's day but considering Wickham and Willoughby, I'm thinking she picked their last names for a reason. Also, people had a bad habit of getting caught in the rain but it seemed to work out much better for them than it ever has for me.

I fell off the tumblr bandwagon for awhile and return to share a story about my recent bus trip to DC.  It is long because five hours without headphones sitting near chatty ladies makes for a long story. 

Last Friday, I boarded a BoltBus to attend my last wedding of the 2014 wedding season at a resort outside DC. "Outside" turned out to be quite outside and I probably should have flown but then I wouldn't have had the lovely experiences I am about to share. 

I arrived at 9:28 a.m. because apparently now when I travel, I  underestimate everything and almost miss my bus/train/airplane.  I need to not do this when I go to Paris in 10 days.  The bus was about half full, no empty window seats so I took an open aisle seat next to a woman who gave off a "I'm pleasant but also won't make you talk to me" vibe.  Across the aisle was an older woman, wearing a number of layers, in the window seat.  I quickly figured out she was traveling with the older woman seated behind her.  I thought they were also traveling with a younger couple seated nearby because when the man sneezed, one of the women told him to use a handkerchief.  The rest of the bus ride convinced me that she didn't know him, she just likes to tell people what to do.

 The bus driver gave his usual speech about keeping your voices down and shoes on.   This did not deter the two women from conversing with one another loud enough for me to hear every word. 

As we merged onto the West Side Highway:

Woman#1: Is Bernie Madoff alive?

Woman#2: Who?

Woman#1 (louder): Bernie Madoff.

Woman#2: I still can't hear you.

Woman#1 (louder, slightly annoyed): BERNIE. MADOFF.

Woman#2: No, I don't think so. We would have heard.

Woman#1: I thought he had cancer.

Woman#2: Well, that didn't kill him.

Woman#1: It should have.

(Woman#1 dropping truth bombs).

A few hours in, I learned Woman #1 is named Anita. I never learned Woman #2's name.  We'll call her Ruth. She definitely could have been a Ruth. 

Other highlights of the ride:

Anita telling Ruth that Jon Stewart's movie got favorable reviews and they really should go see it when it comes out.

A lengthy discussion of why Anita never thinks to buy apples, even though "they are right there at the market."

A report on what they each ate for breakfast (Anita: an english muffin and half of a banana (she had the other half the night before), Ruth: oatmeal and coffee) and what they brought to have for lunch (Anita: a sandwich of unknown components, Ruth: "some nice egg salad").

Anita's take on Web Therapy and "that Lisa Kudrow is very funny."

We hit significant traffic as we neared the end of the NJ Turnpike and at one point, Ruth leaned over to me and asked if I knew what the problem was. I told her the right lane was closing because of construction up ahead.  

This led to an exchange of approximately five "Well, this is just awful" remarks between Ruth and Anita.  It also led to Anita calling the person responsible for picking them up in DC and telling him/her about the delay.  After that call, things got a little tense because Anita then told Ruth that they would be going to Larry's apartment before the show.  Ruth was distraught.  This was "brand new information" and she didn't have anything to bring to Larry and "I can't go empty-handed."  Anita tried to reassure her but Ruth wasn't having any of it.  She then called Renee and asked her to pick her up a bottle of wine for Larry. "I just found out we are going to Larry's apartment." Renee refused, apparently declaring that Larry didn't need anything.  

Ruth was at her most indignant at Renee's refusal but there was nothing else she could do.  She would just have to buy something later in the weekend and make a return trip to Larry's apartment. 

Both the tension and the traffic soon broke up and we continued to move through Delaware and into Maryland.  Anita began reading a long article in New York Magazine about tipping and Ruth tackled the Times; crossword puzzle. Despite their solitary pursuits, every five minutes or so, one would ask if the other was okay. (That part didn't bother me, I am not a completely heartless b*tch.)

As the bus pulled onto the GW parkway, Ruth stood up to discover Anita was not in her seat.  When Anita returned from the bathroom, this exchange occurred: 

Ruth You used the bathroom on the bus?

Anita: Yes. I've used it twice. 

Ruth: Isn't it hard with the bus moving?

Anita: No, it is not hard.  Just hold on when you are walking back there.

Ruth: How is it?

Anita; How is what? 

Ruth: The bathroom. Does it need housekeeping? 

Anita: No, it is fine.  Just go. Who knows when we'll get there. 

(Again, Anita with the truth bombs.  Our bus was almost an hour late).  

When Ruth returned from the bathroom, Anita asked her what she was going to do next. Ruth stated she was tired of reading so Anita suggested they sit together and talk.  (Because before they were...?) They then read out the various signs they saw on the GW parkway to one another while making wildly inaccurate but confident proclamations about where we were.  As we neared Union Station, Anita declared the area to be "the outskirts of DC" and  stated "this must be the black area." This led to another phone call to the ladies' ride during which Anita read the street signs to the poor person on the other end and declared that she hoped she could find him/her and don't forget, she doesn't use escalators.   The bus finally arrived at Union Station and I, without a shred of guilt, cut in front of Ruth in the aisle and got off the bus before her. 

I'd add to that list an excellent hair stylist, who understands her hair, how it isn't quite straight nor it is curly, and when she says please don't Lloyd Christmas my bangs, he not only gets the reference but complies.  

I saw my hair stylist today for a quick bang trim in advance of a wedding this weekend.  When he popped up behind me in the mirror, he didn't open with hello, but with "So, are you done with your job?" 

I nodded.  "Yep, that's why I can be here at 1:45 pm in jeans." 

He gave me a huge smile.  While he carefully brought my bangs to a more flattering length, he told me that he had shared my decision to quit lawyering and pursue writing with a number of other clients. "I went straight home and told my boyfriend.  I am just so excited for you.  You are going to be so great." 

I was so touched.  The week before my birthday is always a bit of a glum one and pretty much, most of my conversations these days involve someone telling me they are either pregnant, engaged, or falling in serious love.  After his bang trim and pep talk, I went to a coffee shop and banged out another chapter of my novel.  And my bangs thankfully don't look like this, although I did pick up some much needed Lloyd Christmas style optimism.   

Or as my mother likes to think of it, "My daughter is also 35 and a lawyer so now I am just going to assume she's been waiting for her George Clooney this whole time." 

Earlier today, I was sitting at home, working away when I heard what I thought was a knock at my door.  The sounds of construction coming through my open windows meant I couldn't be sure of the knock's origins.  I paused my music and listened and yes, someone was knocking at my door.  I opened the door and was greeted by the underbelly of a large couch and the forearms of a delivery man.  Someone, I presumed my neighbor, poked his head out of the apartment next door and said "Hi! Do you mind leaving your door open to see if we can get this couch in?" 

As someone who had to forcibly remove the legs off her couch to get it into her last apartment, I was immediately sympathetic.  "Of course." I said.  "Just close the door when you are done."  I went back to work and tried not to eavesdrop on their attempts to get the couch through the door.  A little while later, there was another knock and I opened the door.  The couch was in the hallway and was being wrapped up.  

"No go?" I said to my neighbor who introduced himself as Gunner. I expressed my sympathies and wished him luck with the next one. 

I then came back to my computer and realized I missed the perfect opportunity to make this reference:

Considering yesterday was the 20th Anniversary of the premiere of Friends, I can't write this experience off as a coincidence.  Also, the name Gunner is similar to this guy, dispenser of coffee and wisdom: