East Side Adventures
I'm in New York!! Woo.
It's pretty awesome here, most definitely. Today I got unpacked and hung out with the uncles, but it will be interesting to see how I fare when they are not constantly around and I have to actually attempt friend-making. Although I've decided I wouldn't so much mind being a hermit for two months. Especially since I have wireless internet in the room (whew!) and lots and books.
Work should be interesting. Apparently I'm sharing a small office with a very nice 24-year-old man who looks like Barack Obama and has a last name that sounds absolutely musical with my first name. (Why are my uncles so anxious to marry me off?)
The security guards at the YMCA think I'm a bit of a lunatic. First of all, tonight I forgot to bring my room ID card with me when we went to dinner, and upon returning was chastized by the guards and told I had to go through a security check. My uncle was freaking out because I had a bag with a huge kitchen knife in it, but for some reason it passed through security all right, and now I feel decidedly unsafe. About fifteen minutes later I wanted to brush my teeth and change my underwear, because (and this is personal, so discontinue reading if you're squeamish or male) I had bled in them. So I did so, but upon returning to my room I realized that I was locked out. So. Barefoot and in my pajamas, I had to trudge down to the lobby and stand before the guards who already kind of hated me, all the while clutching bloody underwear and a toothbrush. The conversation went as follows:
Me: Um, hi. Remember me?
Guard: Yes. You're the girl who didn't have your ID card and tried to prove that you lived here by waving your key in our face.
Me: Yeah...so...now I'm locked out of my room. I didn't realize they locked automatically.
Guard: They do.
Me: ...I know?
Guard: What floor are you on?
Me: Seventh.
Guard: We have to call the 7th floor liaison. (WTF?)
Me: Okay...
Guard: Just wait while he comes.
Me: (gesturing to the side) So I should just like, stand around over there or something?
Guard: (rolling his eyes, gesturing to the other side) You could even stand around over there, if you want.
In conclusion, Summer in New York 2007 has started off in style. Let's hope I don't die or anything.
At least the seventh floor liaison was friendly!
It's pretty awesome here, most definitely. Today I got unpacked and hung out with the uncles, but it will be interesting to see how I fare when they are not constantly around and I have to actually attempt friend-making. Although I've decided I wouldn't so much mind being a hermit for two months. Especially since I have wireless internet in the room (whew!) and lots and books.
Work should be interesting. Apparently I'm sharing a small office with a very nice 24-year-old man who looks like Barack Obama and has a last name that sounds absolutely musical with my first name. (Why are my uncles so anxious to marry me off?)
The security guards at the YMCA think I'm a bit of a lunatic. First of all, tonight I forgot to bring my room ID card with me when we went to dinner, and upon returning was chastized by the guards and told I had to go through a security check. My uncle was freaking out because I had a bag with a huge kitchen knife in it, but for some reason it passed through security all right, and now I feel decidedly unsafe. About fifteen minutes later I wanted to brush my teeth and change my underwear, because (and this is personal, so discontinue reading if you're squeamish or male) I had bled in them. So I did so, but upon returning to my room I realized that I was locked out. So. Barefoot and in my pajamas, I had to trudge down to the lobby and stand before the guards who already kind of hated me, all the while clutching bloody underwear and a toothbrush. The conversation went as follows:
Me: Um, hi. Remember me?
Guard: Yes. You're the girl who didn't have your ID card and tried to prove that you lived here by waving your key in our face.
Me: Yeah...so...now I'm locked out of my room. I didn't realize they locked automatically.
Guard: They do.
Me: ...I know?
Guard: What floor are you on?
Me: Seventh.
Guard: We have to call the 7th floor liaison. (WTF?)
Me: Okay...
Guard: Just wait while he comes.
Me: (gesturing to the side) So I should just like, stand around over there or something?
Guard: (rolling his eyes, gesturing to the other side) You could even stand around over there, if you want.
In conclusion, Summer in New York 2007 has started off in style. Let's hope I don't die or anything.
At least the seventh floor liaison was friendly!