A Regular Person in NYC

I recently went on a trip to New York City. Loved it. I went once before as a teenager and I enjoyed it then. It was very magical to me. There was something different about going back as an adult though... I don't know, I guess I felt more like a part of the mass of humanity. I didn't feel quite so alien there. The anonymity of being one of millions was actually kind of freeing. If that makes any sense at all.

Things I loved: The food. Theatre. Greenwich Village. The cute wallet I bought in Chinatown. MMoA. OMG.

Things I didn't love: So much honking of horns. When we got turned around and lost in the Ramble in Central Park. Walking through the dank, dingy, utterly frightening outer edges of Chinatown. We were looking for this bakery. We didn't realize we'd have to traipse through a nightmare to get there.

Wait! I lied! There was one place I felt completely alien! My cousin and I were walking down 5th Avenue, past all the fancy schmancy stores. She wanted to go inside Bergdorf Goodman and look around at the rich people stuff. I tried to talk her out of it. I didn't want to go inside a store where I knew I wouldn't be buying anything. She was unrelenting. So we went inside.

The moment we stepped across the glittering threshold, I felt like there was a big sign on my forehead with lights flashing "POOR PERSON! POOR PERSON!" The women in that store, you guys! They were all dressed in like Valentino skirt suits and diamond bracelets and earrings. They had impeccably coiffed hair and perfect manicures and Gucci-suit-wearing, indifferent husbands. My Old Navy jeans and I were feeling horribly out of place. Scarves there start at $350 dollars, friends. Who lives in that world? Who can spend $350 on a square of fabric and feel like it was a good purchase? Is there really satisfaction in it?

Weirder still was the fact that my cousin seemed completely immune to the uncomfortableness of the situation. She was unfazed. Is there such a thing as "inferiority complex"? Maybe I have it.

Anyway, overall it was an awesome trip.

Nerd

My friend Garit and I were team rowing in a little yellow raft on Lake Tahoe, enjoying the water, the sun and the beautiful woods around us. Garit pointed over to the shore where we saw a beautiful old tree. It's roots were big and exposed. They jutted away from the earth, forming a little cave between the roots and the hillside.

"Oh wow! That's cool!" I said. "You could hide from a Black Rider under there!"

I then proceeded to explain how Gandalf came to possess one of the three rings of power originally given to the Elves.

Nerd.

Thoughts on Public Restrooms

1- People making conversation with me while one or the other, or both of us is locked in a stall, doing our business. Not cool. Not okay.

2- People talking on their cell phones while locked in a stall doing their business. Those poor unsuspecting folks on the other end. Suddenly the echoey conversation becomes lost in an great rushing of water. The realization hits. Weird.

3- One-ply toilet paper. It's the worst thing in the world. It just means that I have to get twice as much. Is that really saving you anything? I think not.

4- The toilet-paper-on-the-shoe phenomenon. I saw this for the first time in real life the other day. A lady I know was on her way out of the restroom while I was washing my hands. I glanced down just in time to see a string of toilet paper trailing behind her. The surprise was so great I didn't have time to tell her before she was out the door. I wonder how long it was there before she noticed? Hmmm...

5- I was in JFK airport and I went to find a restroom. The one I found was one of those that has a common entry, but then the ladies' and gentlemen's rooms split to either side of each other. For a moment, I thought it was one of those unisex restrooms I've heard of. I almost turned and left. If I were a more evolved person, I'm sure I wouldn't care. But I'm not and I do. I would rather hold it than go to a restroom with strange men. Don't you fret, though. I soon realized it was, in fact, a normal restroom.

Have a nice day.

The Secretary Files: A Plague

Every summer the employee break room at my office becomes a disgusting, festering hot bed of revolting, ghastly plague! I'm not talking about a plague that everyone catches and dies. It's more like one of the Plagues of Egypt. In fact, it was one of the Plagues of Egypt.

The Plague of Flies.

Gross, huh? I don't know how they get in here, but they do and they're everywhere! At any given time there are probably 10 or so live ones buzzing furiously around the windows. Then they die and their rotting, shriveling carcasses litter the windowsills and floors.

They also make their way into the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. The silhouettes of death.

I don't know if the custodians of the building don't put this room on their daily rotation or if they're too terrified to enter, but the fly body count keeps rising. I don't want to sound like I'm blaming the custodians. Maybe the expectation is that the employees should take care of their own space. Fair enough.

One time, one of my co-workers went up there to heat up her lunch in the microwave. She said she opened it and a fly flew out. I died a thousand deaths.

Anyway, I pretty much avoid that room altogether this time of year. I only went in to take pictures. You're welcome.

Saying Please Doesn't Make You Polite

Have you ever spoken to someone and they're saying "Please" and "Thank you" but they have a tone and demeanor that says "Hurry up and do what I want" and "I don't like you"? They think they're being polite, but they're really arrogant, condescending, patronizing, selfish, and rude. I would rather have a box full of over-ripe greasy brown bananas hovering 2 feet from my nose for an entire month than talk to people like that.

Nerd

I went to a movie with my brother Dylan. There was this preview for a movie about a bunch of really attractive young adults who go on a summer vacation to a lake. Things seem to be perfect, until they all start getting picked off by what appear to be sharks. The kids are like totally freaking out because what in the world are sharks doing in a lake?!

I leaned over to Dylan and said, "They're freshwater bull sharks."

A few moments passed. Dylan leaned over to me and replied, "Nerd."

I Must Look Like a Spouse

As of this weekend, I've been mistaken for my dad's wife/significant other twice, my brother Derek's once and now, my baby brother Dylan's once. Uhhh... Weird. Gross. I don't get it. I'm positive I'm not overly affectionate with my family members. Any of my brothers will tell you I'm exactly opposite that. Touching= Germ Transmission. Germ Transmission= Gross. Therefore, Touching= Gross. Just kidding! Kind of.

I don't know why strangers think I'm "with" my siblings and father. I guess once you reach a certain age around here, it's just assumed that you must be married. And if you go anywhere one-on-one with someone of the opposite sex, it's impossible that you might be friends or siblings or PARENT and CHILD.

I give you these excruciating stories in chronological order.

Example 1- I was 20 years old. Which makes this even creepier. I looked like a 17 year old at 20. I probably reached age 20 in looks at age 25. Although, I was mistaken for a high schooler earlier this year. Another story for another time. Anyway, I had gone with my dad to his hometown for an event honoring his old high school football coach. We were sitting there in the bleachers when a lady in front of us turned around and noticed my dad sitting there. Old friend exclamations started flying. "Oh my gosh! It's been so long! How've you been?!" etc... She then looked over at me with a smile and asked my dad, "Is this your wife?" I think I probably made a weird face and my dad kind of laughed it off saying, "Uh, no. This is my daughter." Awkward! They didn't talk for much longer after that.

Example 2- I went with my brother Derek to a western outfitter store. He wanted some sweet "go to meetin'" boots, and I went to help him choose. A nice lady was helping us. Derek would see a style he liked and she'd go to the back to get his size. He tried on a few pairs of boots and then we deliberated. The nice lady walked up just as I said of the boots he was presently wearing, "I like those ones. I think you should go with those." Derek agreed. She decided to throw in her two cents, saying to me, "Now all he needs is a hat and some Wranglers like Jason Aldean, right, Mama?" (wink and smile). I kind of stopped for a second and tried to decide what to say. I didn't want to embarrass her by correcting her when she was trying to be cute and funny. I certainly didn't want to agree with her, thereby confirming her suspicion of our marital status and implying that I thought my brother looked as hot as a country singer when wearing western garb. Shudder! I settled on a weak laugh and smile.

Example 3- I once went shopping for a new mattress set. My dad came with me. It's alright. Go ahead. Ewwwwwww!!! We walked into the store where a salesperson met us. I said, "Hi. I'm looking for a queen size mattress set." He smiled and nodded, then gestured for us to follow him. He said, "Okay now. Is this for the two of you?" I scrunched my nose and looked at my dad. I said as politely as I could, "No. No. Just me." It was all I could do to not pantomime sticking my finger down my throat and make a retching sound. I'm so grown up. I guess what we learn from this is that my dad looks like the kind of guy that marries himself a ridiculously young trophy wife and I look like the kind of girl who gets herself a sugar daddy.

Example 4- The time: this weekend. The place: The Golden Hills Restaurant in Mt. Carmel, Utah. My little brother Dylan and I were traveling down to Kanab together. We stopped for a little refreshment. Golden Hills has the most delicious scones. The restaurant was mostly empty. Only two other tables were occupied besides our own. One by one the other couples left.

Halfway through our meal, the server came up to our table and asked, "How is everything for you guys? Doing alright?" "Yes, it's great! Thank you!" we replied. Then she said, "I just want to let you know that that gentleman who left here a few minutes ago paid for your entire meal." My voice went up about two octaves and my hand flew to my heart, which had just grown 3 sizes. "Are you serious?! Oh my gosh, that is just the sweetest thing! I can't believe it! Why did he do that, I wonder?" The server smiled, sort of nervously and said, "Well, I'm not sure about this, but he said, 'Looks like love.'"

Then we gasped. Then we laughed. A lot. I reached across the table and took Dylan's hand. "Uh, this is my little brother." Dylan said, "And we do love each other very much." We all laughed uncomfortably for a moment. The kind man was long gone, so I couldn't thank him, but I left the server a big tip to try to pay it forward. Even though it was one of the most heart-warming, faith-in-humanity-restoring moments of my life, I felt a little guilty. He did it because he thought we were young and in love. And we are siblings. So he was wrong. His kindness was misplaced. I felt bad. Also, really good. Next time I go out, I'm doing that for someone. It was the best.

So there you have it. I'm not offended at all by the assumptions. They're fair and natural. But you have to admit it's a little weird.