It’s raining outside, and the dog has climbed into my lap like I am a life raft. Never mind that we’re not on the bottom floor, and we’re also on the couch. I don’t know why I suddenly decided to use capitals in all my posts. You’re supposed to, but I never remember what small words you’re not supposed to capitalize. If anyone knows, please give me the heads up. Articles like “the,” “and,” and “a.” That’s all I know.
For your viewing pleasure, I added pictures to help break up the text. You’re welcome.
In high school, our drama class went to New York (post-9/11). This was a big freaking deal, because first our drama teacher had to specially choose us out of all the kids he had taking drama.My mom drove me to the airport at 3:30am, and I rambled on until she told me to be quiet. It was waaaaay too early to be talking or awake. I hadn’t really slept, because I knew we were leaving, and so I’d been awake until some awful hour where I only got an hour or two of sleep. I’d never been to the East Coast before. I still often talk too much when I’m really tired. I just talk a LOT.
It’s really windy between Chicago and Newark (why would you name a town that sounds like New York and put it half an hour away from the state/city in New Jersey? That’s dumb), and the skies were not being kind to us. Then the captain came on and told us we had 3 planes ahead of us for landing, so we’d be circling another 20 minutes. Suffice to say, no one was pleased by this. My ex and I were the only people that threw up (not sure what the opposite of an iron stomach is, but ours are made of THAT material). He was in the window seat and I was on the aisle. We had one poor girl in between us, but fortunately, she was kind enough to comfort us BOTH.
When we looked out our window that night, Ellie said, “This is it. This is going to be the time of our lives. We have money, no jobs, no school, and no parents. College is going to be all class, and after that we work. This will be our only chance to goof off.”
The rest of the week, we did theatre/city tours during the day and plays/musicals by night. We saw tons of awesome works on and off Broadway.
About half the time it was uncomfortable though. Because of CK. My ex will be known as CK in this story. I can’t think of who to compare him to, except possibly Louis CK, because he is sort of shocking and can talk a lot of shit, but he’s also a good person when he’s not doing stand up (and sometimes when he is). Also, Louis CK did a lot of stand up about his wife (later he regretted and admitted it). CK and I had broken up a few weeks prior, and I was so NOT over him. I recognized that this was stupid, and it was completely obvious to everyone but that was how I felt. It was a small school, so we couldn’t avoid each other even if we wanted to. We were in the same musical, the same drama class, and we had a lot of the same friends. Remember how I said in my earlier entry that guys (primarily) do dick things to get you to break up with them? CK was totally guilty of this. He was simultaneously the best and worst boyfriend I had ever had. The best, because for some reason he knew me better than my closest friends and family and played shrink to me constantly. The worst because I was a hot mess, and he didn’t actually want to be anyone’s boyfriend. That combination made us terrible together.
So on the trip, we mostly avoided each other.
We had our afternoons free, and we were supposed to go places in 3’s. But half the people in my room (we were 4 to a room) had already BEEN to New York, so they didn’t care. Ellie and I spent a lot of our time there being pissed, because everyone would go off and leave us. Then people would come back and talk about all the tours they went on and all the stuff they saw. I still dream about New York from time to time, and I totally want to go back.
We DID do a lot of fun things as a group though. To the top of the Empire State Building, the diner from Life with Mikey, Grand Central Station, and we met Matthew Broderick. The first day, CK yelled that Matthew Broderick was outside our hotel and we all ran out and he laughed at us. We should have expected this, because CK did stuff like this a lot. The second time he did it, we yelled at him for tricking us twice, but one of our other friends was with him, so we went. I probably have Matthew Broderick’s signature in with all my high school junk in a box somewhere. Ellie and I both hugged him, and that scared him half to death (I hoped to find an interview afterwards about how creepy fans attacked him, but alas, all the news was about his wife’s pregnancy. Way to one up us!). If I find that signature, I’ll post it.
On our second to last night there, we rode in a limo. Then our room (the girls’) and the guys’ room decided to play jokes on each other.
CK was filming almost the entire time we were in NYC. I literally have a 3-3.5 hour dvd a friend from the trip made me chronicling our entire trip (I’m only seen three times in a whole week, one of which is on the plane. We had arranged seating. That shows you how much time I actually spent with CK). I was over hanging out with my guy friends, and our drama teacher called on the room phone and told me to “go back to the girls’ room.” I don’t know why he knew I was over there, but he did. I wasn’t even doing anything suspicious. We were just jumping on the beds, like five year olds. Earlier that night, CK had smoked a cigar and thrown up multiple times. CK was recreating the story of his puking from the cigar incident with Fritos (to comfort you, he was just throwing them on the floor, he wasn’t actually making a concoction) and one of our classmates was filming it (probably because they were too tall or mature/cool to jump on the bed, but NOT to make a puke portion of the documentary).
One of the girls from our room got mad at CK about borrowing a cd. She called his room. Instead of answering, everyone else in the room answered the phone pretending to be CK. Then we asked one of the kids down the hall to call their room pretending to be the front desk and telling them to keep the noise down. It took them about ten minutes after to figure out it was us.
Finally, there was a knock at our door. We figured it was CK coming over to apologize. Ha ha, just kidding, no one thought that. We figured it was some kind of prank or trap. Ellie went to the door since our roomie was REALLY angry (we were just irritated and kind of amused).
It was a cup of urine. When you picked it up, it was warm. I still doubted it was urine, because it didn’t SMELL like urine. It didn’t smell like anything, which led me to believe they’d somehow deceived us, and this was interesting. What’s worse than one cup of possible urine? Two.
After that, the rooms made up, because it’s hard to top two cups of urine. Also, we got sent a peace offering in the form of a funny joke. This was awesome. The cups weren’t urine, to be clear, but they had been specially engineered to look and feel like warm pee. After that, Ellie and I went to the top floor of the hotel and played cards. She asked about what had happened with CK. I asked about how she and her boyfriend were.
“He said he didn’t want me to change him,” I said.
Ellie wrinkled her nose. “That’s stupid. All relationships change you. I’ve changed.”
And she was right. Ellie and I had been best friends, but over the past year, we’d stopped being best friends. Something about hanging out in the hall playing cards with her and chatting honestly about life and love resolved our no longer best friends status. We weren’t best friends again, but I was somehow more okay with the way things were.
The following night, we stayed up all night. Okay, a few of us stayed did. I’d stepped outside with Ellie and the girl from down the hall to have another cigarette (the night CK puked from his first cigar, Ellie and I had our first cigarettes and rubbed it in his face by telling him we didn’t throw up). I’d run up and down with my friends on other floors then left in the elevator so we wouldn’t get caught. We left the hotel to get breakfast, and watched some drunk(?) guy puke outside a convenience store.
“The city that never sleeps my ass,” Ellie complained. “Everything is closed. There’s nowhere to get coffee and breakfast.”
After we came back, I spent half an hour doubled over laughing with one of my best friends. Because it was late and our minds were both shot, but we were wide awake on our last night. We’d been hoping for a rematch of wits between the rooms, but that hadn’t happened.
CK emerged around 5 or 6 a.m. from the elevator, and asked, “Where have you been? I have been looking for you EVERYWHERE!”
I blinked, surprised that he was looking for me at all and did a little half wave. “I’ve been right here the whole time.”
That was a lie, because I told you all of what I just did. CK had been absent from our nightly shenanigans, and I assumed that it had to do with him hanging out with other people or sleeping. It turned out he was going around and talking to everyone individually and making them feel better. So when CK took me aside around dawn, I was surprised. While I had been distracting myself by staying up all night our last night, it turned out everyone was having a hard time leaving New York. We were all dealing with high school emotions.
He talked to me away from everyone else, 2/3 of whom were sleeping.
“Why were you looking for me?” I asked.
He said that he was sorry he’d ignored me during the trip. He apologized for what happened while we were dating. And I broke down in tears from staying awake so long, avoiding feeling hurt by him, and not being sure I wanted New York to end.
And then we were better. Then CK made it up to me by taking Ellie and I to Central Park and across the Brooklyn Bridge. We came back, and boarded the plane. CK and I held hands, and I fell asleep on his shoulder. “Aw,” my roomie from our 4-person room said, “You guys look cute together.” We didn’t go back to dating (hell no), but we didn’t throw up either.
When I showed up at the airport, I had an hour and a half of sleep in me. My mom had sent a news crew to the airport to interview me about how the towers looked since the devastation. The super sleepy, high-sounding Weird Button had to report to the cameras that “there really wasn’t anything left. Just a bunch of rubble and ash. There were trucks cleaning it up. There’s a memorial wall set up.” It was moving, but I was exhausted. We probably have it on VHS somewhere.
We went home, and my mom made me stay awake to watch it on tv, where I cringed at my tired self saying “uhhh” a lot. Then I passed out.
I went to New York. I worked some shit out. I learned New York DOES sleep. I went home and slept.