Grr.

Pissed and annoyed and upset. Every time I get to a point where I love my job and I like the people I'm working with and everything seems to be going well... it all gets messed up.

Short version of the story: still going to the Frankfurt Book Fair. Not going on vacation afterwards. Sure do hope Mom and Barb haven't booked their tickets already.

Bugger.

"Shirley, can I move the equipment now?"

Wow. I mean, wow. To some degree, I’m honestly shocked that I made it successfully back and forth to Connecticut this weekend for the wedding of some old college friends. For a good long while, it was looking pretty damn iffy. All I can say is: Rescue Train.

Yep, Metro North, which has never seemed to give me much of a problem in getting back and forth to my mom’s, decided to completely conk out on us, so that the super early, “hey, we’re gonna get up to Stamford with so much leisure time before the wedding to change and get ready” plan turned into “my god, my god, my god, are we going to make it?”

First, there was the happy meeting in Grand Central of me, MJ, and the Science Guy. (Names have been changed, as throughout this entire blog when I remember it, to protect the not-so-innocent). No problems there, as MJ managed to mostly curb her usual late tendencies and we all happily caught the 1:07 express train to Stamford. Supposed to have been a 41-minute trip. One quick little stop at 125th Street, and then full speed ahead to Stamford. Except… no. We chugged along to Harlem, where we stopped for 20 minutes or so with only a brief explanation of “mechanical difficulties,” though our soon-to-be-best-new-friend and seatmate said she saw four cops go by to arrest a passenger. A few minutes later, relatively, the cops got off, the doors closed, and we were on our way…

… And then we weren’t. Somewhere between Mount Vernon and Pelham, we went kerplooie. Just… stopped. The conductor came on and said we weren’t taking power from the overhead lines, which was obvious, what with the lights and the AC cutting out. Did you know the windows on MetroNorth trains don’t open? Yeah, it’s fun. Also, hot. After another long pause there, we got moving again somehow, and made it almost all the way to Port Chester, where we stopped again. And this time, there was no fixing things. After another long wait, where we continued to entertain our seatmate, and ended up sharing her Zaro’s-baked goodies, the announcement went out that we were now waiting for a “Rescue Train” from Stamford, and would have to all switch to that train to continue on.

By now, I should mention, the plan that Keeley and the groom would pick us up from the train station was completely trashed. That would have worked if we got in before 2pm, as originally planned, but not as the time ticked closer and closer to the wedding. We were going to have to get the hotel shuttle instead.

So we finally all get on the Rescue Train, and take some exciting photos, hear the funniest line on an intercom ever, and continue on to Stamford, now going local. There are five stops to make now before Stamford, and it’s getting closer and closer to 3pm. I call the hotel to arrange for the shuttle to pick us up, but it’s in use, and the guy tells me we’re going to have to take a cab from the train station. “But there will be lots of cabs there, so don’t worry.” Ok, I say, well, can we arrange to have the shuttle take us from the hotel to the church, with pick up now less than an hour away? “No,” he says, because they can’t reserve the shuttle in advance. Also, they say, the church is a half-hour away in New Canaan. Uh, no, it’s not. I read them the address from the invite, and we discover there’s another wedding party also at the hotel. Of course. Grrr.

Finally, finally, we get to Stamford, and jump off the Rescue Train with a palpable feeling of relief. We head over to the taxi queue, and find an already sizable line, and not a single cab. Sigh. It’s after 3pm now, and still no cabs. Finally, one shows up, and one guy gets in it, and we lurch a little closer to the front of the queue. I manage to grab the phone number for the cab company off the car door, and call them, asking them to send as many cabs as they can to the train station to deal with the line, which continues behind us. In drips and drabs, they finally come, and we make it to the hotel. Keeley has left the key for the room under his or MJ’s name, which would be great, except he’s not there, obviously, and MJ ran off as soon as we got to hotel to find something to eat for her and Science Guy. So I have to call her to come back, and she finally comes running over to show some picture ID to get the keycard, and as we’re waiting, after I go through the funny church-is-a-half-hour-away joke again with the reception clerk, we see a couple more college friends come down, already nicely dressed for the wedding, whereas we’re still in tshirts, shorts, and flip-flops. Yes, haha, we do know the wedding’s in a half-hour. Good one.

We run up to the room, throw on our fancy duds, get a call from reception that our friends are waiting for us to take the shuttle to the wedding, and run back downstairs in record time. Sigh. Moment to breathe as the van takes us to the church, which seems to share space with a Korean community center. Huh. Our friends didn’t mention anything about that to us, but we’re sure this is it. Our fellow shuttle-busians move on ahead and disappear, as I wait for Science Guy to tie his shoes and finish getting dressed, and for MJ to come out of the bathroom. When we’re together again, and move into the church foyer, we take a quick look around. Finally, one of us says to the others, “Do you recognize anyone here?” Short answer: no, and then we overhear someone say, “Oh yes, I’m David’s mother.”

Neither of our friends getting married is named David.

We mad-dash to where the programs are piled up by the door of the church, and see our friend’s names. Ok, phew, not in the wrong place. Finally, finally! We saw someone familiar and sat down for the ceremony. Which, for all the travel and hullabaloo… lasted a mere 15 minutes. And that’s with a problem lighting the unity candle!

But it was lovely, and the bride looked beautiful, as all brides do, and the reception was fun, and hanging out with all our college friends was an absolute blast, though I did add a few more things to my list of things I won’t do or have when I get married (which may have to be another post, as this one is getting way too long already). Keeley gave a hi-larious best man speech, and put on one hell of a performance on the dance floor. Science Guy totally scored with the single hot chick at our table that didn’t go to school with us, and our old pal L.O.P. told us he and his wife are having a baby, which, while somewhat mind blowing, is also great news. If a little frightening that he’s managed to grow up, so to speak, and I’m still not. Sort of. Kinda. Maybe.

But at least I can find humor in chaos!

Recapping RGoSC "date"

Wow, I totally forgot to mention how the date went with Random Guy on Street Corner, didn't I? And it's such a good story too. (Yes, please feel free to note the irony.)

So, we had the initial encounter on the aforementioned streetcorner where he pressed his card on me, begged me to call, and said something else that I completely lost due to the wicked sound system on my iPod. I called, he said I was adorable, and that he'd call me that night. That night goes by, no call. No call, no call, no call, until Friday afternoon (the initial encounter was on Monday morning) when he called and asked me out. Well, I was out of town for the long holiday weekend, so I told him I'd call on Tuesday, which I did, when we made plans for Thursday night.

He suggested a bar called Brasserie, and I asked if he meant Brasserie 8 1/2, but no, he gave me the address for Brasserie. (Which, if I may make a momentary aside? French is all well and good, but come on, you name your restaurant the French word for restaurant? Generic, much? May as well go to a bar called "Bar," or a pub called simply "Pub." Not even Joe's Pub, or Bar 33. Booooo-ring.)

So, at 6:30 on Thursday night I'm at Brasserie, looking fab (of course), and sipping slowly from a vanilla vodka and ginger ale (my fancy drink for when I just would feel off about knocking back a bottle of beer). And I'm sipping, and I'm people watching, looking for a guy to come in along, see me, and come over. No one does.

Yes, let me stress that. No one does. I am stood up. And I just spent $9 on a cocktail that could have been used for, oh, I don't know... shopping. Hopefully, I didn't look too obviously rejected, so I just finished my drink and left for home. Stupid men.

Gah! Annoying and obnoxious, and worst of all, it made me feel less happy about the great Monday morning thrill which had been his compliment in the first place. But I'm moving on, and hopefully, this'll be the last time I mention it.

I'd rather think about the possible date in the future with the guy I've been emailing. No pressure, but it makes me feel better, especially after having been stood up, to think that someone somewhere does want to spend time with me.

Road Trip Weekend

Got back last night from the exciting Pig Roast weekend in Massachusetts, which involved a heck of a lot of driving but was all sorts of fun.

Anja and I met up on Friday afternoon in Grand Central Station and caught a train up to my mom's, and after a quick lunch there, borrowed her car and hit the road. Unfortunately, the road hit back. No, not an accident, just annoying traffic and delays almost from the moment we made it to Connecticut through exit 65 or so. Hours and hours and hours of mind-numbing traffic, but we finally made it to Jamestown, RI, this beautiful old New England town where Anja's grandparents live. Overflowing flowerboxes and a gorgeous view of the bay, and the Newport Bridge, and a house on a rock surrounded by water, reachable only by boat. I could imagine living there -- taking deliveries by rowboat, sitting out on the porch staring at the water from every side of the house, the view from every window a calming one of water and sky. I'll have to put up a picture later. For now, it's stuck in my head.

Saturday morning, after dipping our toes in the water, we got back in the car to check out an unfortunately fogged-in lighthouse, then took a more direct route on less crowded roads up to Kelly's in Weymouth for exciting pig roastyness! Made super time, though we were barely there for long before I figured it was best to leave, and head up to the other party I had to go to that day in Massachusetts, so I could come back all the sooner and start drinking. So I left Anja in Kelly's capable hands, and drove up to Rachel's, where I finally met her beautiful daughter Jacki, helped her with her party set-up, and then turned around a little over an hour later to head back to Kelly's. Where I then stayed for the rest of my trip.

The party was buckets of fun -- hung out with a number of Kelly's friends and family members, enjoyed the sound of the Rolling Stones and The Doors from a garage band of 14-year-olds, ate pig (though I turned away from the pig brains, thank you very much), had a bushel of petite little Coronitas, played some pool, wore our Yankees caps as soon as we found out they'd beat the Red Sox, were subjected to (mostly) good natured teasing, relaxed in hammocks, and generally had an excellent time. I won't be able to help comparing the pig roast party with my family's annual summer beach BBQ, and will cross my fingers that it's as much fun. Though I think there's something to say about being invited guests at a party where you're a stranger to mostly everyone, and can spend time getting to know a select group of people, versus being one of the host family, knowing almost everyone, and not being able to spend all the time you want with your favored guests. But we'll see.

Yesterday, Sunday, after lunch and helping Kelly and her family clean up, and piling all the empties in one giant stack on their porch (gotta get that photo too), Anja and I headed back south, and made it back into the city around 7pm, and home shortly thereafter. The Keelster was just making dinner, so I had a little of that, and spent the evening reading A Stroke of Midnight by Laurell K. Hamilton, which, yes, is sort of as dirty as it sounds. But also about fairies. So there.

And that brings us up to date! Got my writers' group tonight, so I have to take some time today and read all the pieces that have been sent around, though luckily, most of them are revised versions. Oh, oh, oh! And Elena was able to get both my and Timothy's copies of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince signed by the illustrator. Whee! I love having connections...

Close to my Crazy

Had a really good night out last night with the roomie and two of my favorite geek buddies, and though, yeah, we spent a good portion of our dinner conversation talking about gaming, both online and face-to-face, and about my proposed gaming weekend house party in October, after dinner we moved to another bar, lost one of us to his wife, and settled in for a really pretty serious conversation about life and love and making big, important choices. I declared that I was "close to my crazy," because, yeah, I think that I am. I'll act on the weird ideas that I get, whether it's running off to Nova Scotia on a whim and a "sign" from the Powers That Be, arranging to meet in person a whole bunch of folks I've only talked to in a computer game, traveling by myself around Ireland, or whatever. It's something I do, that I love doing, that makes me feel better about myself every time I do it. Maybe, in serious retrospective, I can do this only because I don't have someone at home that I want to run back to all the time, that I need to spend time with. Or maybe I'm just going to be that type of person, for the rest of my life and even when I am (hopefully) in a real relationship, that can enjoy couple time and serious me time without either one feeling shortchanged.

I don't know where this was going.

Hug someone, ok?

Everyone I know in London is ok, but man... I'm suddenly so very grateful that New York didn't get the 2012 Olympics. I know someone's going to say that the announcement yesterday might not have anything to do with the bombings today, that it's all about the G8 summit, but it's all just too convenient, ok? I thought twice about getting on the subway this morning -- but then did it anyway because how else was I going to get to work? Besides, you know, taking the bus or walking. But that's letting the terrorists win!

*sigh* I didn't mean to be funny. This is awful, and I just wanted to tell all my readers -- the six of you, or whatever -- hug a friend and/or loved one, ok? And pass it on.

Post-long-weekend ramblings

I get to a certain point at work sometimes where I just find it impossible to knuckle down and actually do anything, you know? And I manage to waste more time reading other people's websites and obsessively checking my email than taking care of the things that pile up on my desk. I suppose, in some form, that's because I feel I can take care of the work-related stuff relatively easily. But mostly I think it's because I want to be entertained. I want the fun, the excitement, that comes from reading something funny, or getting that thrilling email from the new boy who's occupying my time, and my daydreams, and... *ahem* such.

But I managed this weekend to go without email for most of three whole days, which was rather an accomplishment, though it pales in comparison to walking on the moon, or other such legitimate deeds. Though there was text messaging. And, two too-brief phone conversations, which, devoted readers of my blog will be interested to know, is more than I ever got from f.i.b. I'm not giving this new boy any sort of a nickname, though. I have this weird creepy feeling that if I do that, it'll just disapate, you know? If I name it.

But we talk all the time about him coming up to visit me, and I really want that. As much as I want the spark that's there in our email and written conversations to be there in the flesh. So... we'll see.

In other news, random guy on the sidewalk called me this weekend to set up a date for this week. I have to remember to call him back. I told my mom about him -- couldn't really help not telling her, as she was in the car with me when he called -- and she was characteristically a little worried that he was some kind of crazy. I told her I didn't think it was any different than meeting someone in a bar, and to please have a little respect for my good sense, that I wasn't about to go running off to meet him in a dark alley somewhere, but would be careful. As I'll be if my latest email buddy comes to New York to visit. I'll be careful (no Star Wars quotes back, please), and will meet him at Paddy's or something, where I know folks and would feel comfortable asking for help if anything got out of hand. Which I hope it won't. And he doesn't know where I live, so there. I'm cautious.

Optimistic, but cautious. Cautiously optimistic. And grateful I don't have the cash to just get on a plane to go see him myself. This time, with this guy, I'll let him come to me. And hope for better results.

Friday roundup

Mmmmmm. Friday morning of a nice long, four-day weekend. Lying in bed, taking it easy, enjoying the air conditioning and the peace and quiet. I have been incredibly bad in terms of updating here, though perhaps I've been going overboard updating elsewhere. But I have other things to talk about, don't I?

Uh, sure.

Ok, let's see. Well, I signed up for another Danskin Triathlon, which is something. Need to get the heck off my ass and back to the gym to pick up my training again.

Got a very nice compliment the other day when a stranger came up to me on the street corner on my way to work, told me I was adorable, gave me his card, and asked me out. Super start to a Monday, even if nothing further came of it.

Got another compliment too, from a guy I've been emailing and IMing, but I think I'll keep that to myself for now.

In sad news, I have to head up to Westchester this afternoon to go to a wake of a high school friend's mom. The funeral is tomorrow. I don't do well at wakes/funerals. Haven't, since... well, since I had to go to my dad's. But I get that they're for the family, so I'll be there. I owe that to my friend, who was there for me.

And on that downer note, I should get moving. More soon.