Thanksgiving recap '06 -- annnd it's good, plus a few crazies
I enjoyed Thanksgiving break much more than I had initially anticipated. By Friday evening I found myself on the phone with Amtrak, trying to change my train ticket from Saturday to Sunday (to no avail).
Although the group was split, I dined with twenty-six other OBHS class of ’04-ers at Applebees and rang in Thanksgiving with them at midnight. I finally got to hang out with Rich for more than fifteen minutes. I played Wii and had a rather homely character made in my likeness. I started and finished a cover letter en français. I made my little sister stand outside in the cold as it rained just so I could take pictures for class. I watched as much television as possible. And I smiled as George Carlin discussed just how hard life is for us “fussy eaters” during an old special in Carnegie Hall on HBO at four-thirty in the morning.
But most importantly, I saw so many great friends of mine and was able to spend quality time with my family.
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I seem to get stuck with the strangest characters on the train. This time, a drunken lady with a young son sat next to me and babbled nervously to him. Eventually, she grew tired of his company and tapped my shoulder. I pushed the headphones off my ears to hear her say, “You know, I JUST figured out why this train is so quiet.”
“Oh. Why?”, I asked, afraid she would turn belligerent if I did not respond politely.
“Because no one here is happy about where they’re going!”
“Oh, well, I… uh, I’m happy…about…” I mumbled…
“WELL GOOD FOR YOU!”
“Are you… happy… about where you’re going?”, at this point I was looking around for help from someone, anyone.
“I guess so. I mean, I’m going to be out of my element. So I’m happy about that, to be out of my element, yeah,” she said cryptically. I had no idea what this meant. But I did know that I did not want to find out.
“Oh,” I managed to stammer, making the most uncomfortable face I could muster. After babbling for a bit more, she told me that I could return to my music. Gratefully, I did just that. I also pretended to fall asleep to avoid any further dialogue with this crazy lady. At Penn Station, she left with her poor son, and I put mango-scented moisturizing cream onto my hands to get rid of the alcohol smell that lingered still in her vacant seat.
Last year, I sat next to what I thought was a family with a little boy. Instead, after approximately two hours of eavesdropping, I learned that the “little boy” was actually an undergrad at Smith-an all girl’s school. I realized this after listening to the Smith undergrad tell her aunt sordid tales of hookups between others whilst showing photo albums on her laptop. For a long while, I thought to myself, “Wow, those kids start having hook ups early on nowadays,” until I realized just what was going on. Damn, I was SO fooled by that girl.
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Happy birthday, Irene! My life is not complete without you living with me in close quarters.
Although the group was split, I dined with twenty-six other OBHS class of ’04-ers at Applebees and rang in Thanksgiving with them at midnight. I finally got to hang out with Rich for more than fifteen minutes. I played Wii and had a rather homely character made in my likeness. I started and finished a cover letter en français. I made my little sister stand outside in the cold as it rained just so I could take pictures for class. I watched as much television as possible. And I smiled as George Carlin discussed just how hard life is for us “fussy eaters” during an old special in Carnegie Hall on HBO at four-thirty in the morning.
But most importantly, I saw so many great friends of mine and was able to spend quality time with my family.
---
I seem to get stuck with the strangest characters on the train. This time, a drunken lady with a young son sat next to me and babbled nervously to him. Eventually, she grew tired of his company and tapped my shoulder. I pushed the headphones off my ears to hear her say, “You know, I JUST figured out why this train is so quiet.”
“Oh. Why?”, I asked, afraid she would turn belligerent if I did not respond politely.
“Because no one here is happy about where they’re going!”
“Oh, well, I… uh, I’m happy…about…” I mumbled…
“WELL GOOD FOR YOU!”
“Are you… happy… about where you’re going?”, at this point I was looking around for help from someone, anyone.
“I guess so. I mean, I’m going to be out of my element. So I’m happy about that, to be out of my element, yeah,” she said cryptically. I had no idea what this meant. But I did know that I did not want to find out.
“Oh,” I managed to stammer, making the most uncomfortable face I could muster. After babbling for a bit more, she told me that I could return to my music. Gratefully, I did just that. I also pretended to fall asleep to avoid any further dialogue with this crazy lady. At Penn Station, she left with her poor son, and I put mango-scented moisturizing cream onto my hands to get rid of the alcohol smell that lingered still in her vacant seat.
Last year, I sat next to what I thought was a family with a little boy. Instead, after approximately two hours of eavesdropping, I learned that the “little boy” was actually an undergrad at Smith-an all girl’s school. I realized this after listening to the Smith undergrad tell her aunt sordid tales of hookups between others whilst showing photo albums on her laptop. For a long while, I thought to myself, “Wow, those kids start having hook ups early on nowadays,” until I realized just what was going on. Damn, I was SO fooled by that girl.
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Happy birthday, Irene! My life is not complete without you living with me in close quarters.