Debatable
This weekend got off to an early start when Carey told me his friend Adam's cousin, who owns a bar off of the Q in Brooklyn was hosting a viewing party for the Presidential Nominees' debates. After I'd gone uptown to change clothes and tend to The Grets, I met Carey at Port Authority.
As I was leaving, I opened up my door and almost ran smack-dab into this guy standing just outside. He was frazzled and basically started babbling. For a split second I thought he was a cop. We'd had a burglary on the floor above me the week before, and I thought he might be taking statements. But his uniform was a navy blue generic security one, not a policeman's, and he stood in front of me babbling. In an accented voice, he said he was looking for 4G, and asked me if I was 4G, even though the apartment numbers are clearly marked. Then he turned to 4G which has a "Latinos for Obama" sticker on the door, and read it out loud and said he was there for the debate. He knocked on the door for 4G and no one answered. Something seemed very wrong about the situation, mostly that he was very nervous and didn't seem to be telling the truth. So instead of leaving to meet Carey, I went down a flight and a half and waited with my phone in my hand, in case I heard sounds of forced entry. He continued to mutter out loud; I wasn't sure if it was for my benefit or not. After a few minutes, he started coming down the stairs, and I raced to the lobby and pretended to be on the phone. He saw me standing there and babbled about 4G not being home. I said "Then how did you get in the building, if they didn't buzz you in?"
He looked completely confused and made a big show of going out into the vestibule and shutting the door behind him and then trying to open the door.
"It's locked now," he said, and muttered some more, and I waited for him to leave before I did, pulling the door firmly shut behind me. As I headed to the subway, though, there the guy is. Standing in the Dunkin Donuts right next to my apartment but not buying anything. Just lurking. I stood outside, debating on whether to call the police, wondering if I was blowing the whole thing out of proportion, picturing him going back in after another one of my empty-headed neighbors left the door open, straight up to my apartment since he'd seen me leave.
The whole subway ride to the bar, I worried. I knew the break-in last week was due, in a large part, to the fact that the front door doesn't shut and lock unless you pull it shut, and apparently the effing people in my building are either too stupid or lazy to do this (can you tell it makes me insanely angry!?).
By the time I got to the bar, I was too worried to let it go. I called my super, who didn't answer and didn’t return my call. I called 311 who connected me to my local precinct. I asked the guy who answered to let the patrol car in the area know about the situation, and to check out the door and the apartment building for any signs of a break-in. The precinct guy was UNBELIEVABLY unhelpful, and clearly didn't want to take a report, because he told me to dial 911, which I reluctantly did. I explained the situation to the operator and she said they'd send someone to check it out. I gave them all my info, but no one ever called me back. Not my super, not the cops. When I finally got home, everything appeared safe and sound (except for the flipping front door ajar, once again. COME ON people).
The debates were interesting. Well, the bar was crammed full of people and we had to stand nowhere near our friends, and it was hard to get a drink, and the computer that was projecting the streaming of the debate on the wall kept freezing up, but the energy and the dialogue and the actual CARING of everyone there was palpable and inspirational. Finally. People giving a sh*t.
After the debates we ended up trying to catch a minivan cab to Adam and Ty's, making our way toward the Brooklyn/Queens border as we scanned the street. We saw a bus that would take us where we needed to go, but the damn thing wouldn't let us in between stops, so all six of us took off in a sprint, running after the bus, trying to keep up with it until the next stop. We made it, and the surge of endorphins was more than enough compensation for the burn of lactic acid surging through my muscles.
Carey and I ended up crashing at Adam and Ty's, which, hilariously enough, is about six blocks from my old "worst apartment ever" in Bushwick. Four years and six blocks make a big difference, but when I dragged Carey to my old front door to point it out to him, Four police cars converged on some guy right outside and put him in bracelets. Ah, memories.
I had my second circus rehearsal on Saturday morning. We practiced a lot of partner tumbling and one-foot silk climbs, and then we did some conditioning before we left. I can pretty much count on never getting out of there on time, which is poopy.
Saturday night I went to an engagement party. Not to celebrate it- Katarine was actually proposing to her girlfriend Virginia. She had t-shirts made, each with one word of her proposal, and her friends put them on and milled around the party. When the time was right, they all lined up, and Katarine got down on one knee. And Virginia said yes! Soooooo cute. We were all feeling very festive and the bar was fully stocked. Carey had just come from a different open bar and apparently 1+1= throwing up in a red plastic party cup. He was really really done, and we left the party early. We stopped at a deli to get rehydrating drinks, a turkey sandwich for me and a vom receptacle for Carey. The ride home was rough for my man, but we made it, and all the hurling actually helped- he woke up on Sunday morning feeling just fine.
Sunday I was all set to enjoy the campy goodness of the Medieval Festival at The Cloisters, but it rained all day. I got a butt-load of housework done and cleaned out my turtle’s tank and cuddled Sweet Greta. Carey finished up at work in time for dinner, so he came over for wine and pizza.
Which reminds me. I've tripled my workout time since I got cast in the circus show, and ended up giving myself permission to eat anything anytime. Bad move. I'm back to consciously healthy eating, with very little simple carbs and sugar until I can get back into the groove. Considering I have to get back in a racing suit for my alumni swim meet at the end of October, it's definitely not a bad idea.
As I was leaving, I opened up my door and almost ran smack-dab into this guy standing just outside. He was frazzled and basically started babbling. For a split second I thought he was a cop. We'd had a burglary on the floor above me the week before, and I thought he might be taking statements. But his uniform was a navy blue generic security one, not a policeman's, and he stood in front of me babbling. In an accented voice, he said he was looking for 4G, and asked me if I was 4G, even though the apartment numbers are clearly marked. Then he turned to 4G which has a "Latinos for Obama" sticker on the door, and read it out loud and said he was there for the debate. He knocked on the door for 4G and no one answered. Something seemed very wrong about the situation, mostly that he was very nervous and didn't seem to be telling the truth. So instead of leaving to meet Carey, I went down a flight and a half and waited with my phone in my hand, in case I heard sounds of forced entry. He continued to mutter out loud; I wasn't sure if it was for my benefit or not. After a few minutes, he started coming down the stairs, and I raced to the lobby and pretended to be on the phone. He saw me standing there and babbled about 4G not being home. I said "Then how did you get in the building, if they didn't buzz you in?"
He looked completely confused and made a big show of going out into the vestibule and shutting the door behind him and then trying to open the door.
"It's locked now," he said, and muttered some more, and I waited for him to leave before I did, pulling the door firmly shut behind me. As I headed to the subway, though, there the guy is. Standing in the Dunkin Donuts right next to my apartment but not buying anything. Just lurking. I stood outside, debating on whether to call the police, wondering if I was blowing the whole thing out of proportion, picturing him going back in after another one of my empty-headed neighbors left the door open, straight up to my apartment since he'd seen me leave.
The whole subway ride to the bar, I worried. I knew the break-in last week was due, in a large part, to the fact that the front door doesn't shut and lock unless you pull it shut, and apparently the effing people in my building are either too stupid or lazy to do this (can you tell it makes me insanely angry!?).
By the time I got to the bar, I was too worried to let it go. I called my super, who didn't answer and didn’t return my call. I called 311 who connected me to my local precinct. I asked the guy who answered to let the patrol car in the area know about the situation, and to check out the door and the apartment building for any signs of a break-in. The precinct guy was UNBELIEVABLY unhelpful, and clearly didn't want to take a report, because he told me to dial 911, which I reluctantly did. I explained the situation to the operator and she said they'd send someone to check it out. I gave them all my info, but no one ever called me back. Not my super, not the cops. When I finally got home, everything appeared safe and sound (except for the flipping front door ajar, once again. COME ON people).
The debates were interesting. Well, the bar was crammed full of people and we had to stand nowhere near our friends, and it was hard to get a drink, and the computer that was projecting the streaming of the debate on the wall kept freezing up, but the energy and the dialogue and the actual CARING of everyone there was palpable and inspirational. Finally. People giving a sh*t.
After the debates we ended up trying to catch a minivan cab to Adam and Ty's, making our way toward the Brooklyn/Queens border as we scanned the street. We saw a bus that would take us where we needed to go, but the damn thing wouldn't let us in between stops, so all six of us took off in a sprint, running after the bus, trying to keep up with it until the next stop. We made it, and the surge of endorphins was more than enough compensation for the burn of lactic acid surging through my muscles.
Carey and I ended up crashing at Adam and Ty's, which, hilariously enough, is about six blocks from my old "worst apartment ever" in Bushwick. Four years and six blocks make a big difference, but when I dragged Carey to my old front door to point it out to him, Four police cars converged on some guy right outside and put him in bracelets. Ah, memories.
I had my second circus rehearsal on Saturday morning. We practiced a lot of partner tumbling and one-foot silk climbs, and then we did some conditioning before we left. I can pretty much count on never getting out of there on time, which is poopy.
Saturday night I went to an engagement party. Not to celebrate it- Katarine was actually proposing to her girlfriend Virginia. She had t-shirts made, each with one word of her proposal, and her friends put them on and milled around the party. When the time was right, they all lined up, and Katarine got down on one knee. And Virginia said yes! Soooooo cute. We were all feeling very festive and the bar was fully stocked. Carey had just come from a different open bar and apparently 1+1= throwing up in a red plastic party cup. He was really really done, and we left the party early. We stopped at a deli to get rehydrating drinks, a turkey sandwich for me and a vom receptacle for Carey. The ride home was rough for my man, but we made it, and all the hurling actually helped- he woke up on Sunday morning feeling just fine.
Sunday I was all set to enjoy the campy goodness of the Medieval Festival at The Cloisters, but it rained all day. I got a butt-load of housework done and cleaned out my turtle’s tank and cuddled Sweet Greta. Carey finished up at work in time for dinner, so he came over for wine and pizza.
Which reminds me. I've tripled my workout time since I got cast in the circus show, and ended up giving myself permission to eat anything anytime. Bad move. I'm back to consciously healthy eating, with very little simple carbs and sugar until I can get back into the groove. Considering I have to get back in a racing suit for my alumni swim meet at the end of October, it's definitely not a bad idea.