11:59 PM. That was my scheduled time of departure from Storm's End.
11:00 PM. I had rushed out of the apartment with my tiny, condensed suitcase, filled with all my necessities for the weekend: clothes, toiletries, etc. As I hurried down the first set of escalators, I heard a train arriving to a halt. I panicked. So I picked up the suitcase and ran the rest of the way down. After getting past the gate, I ran down the second set of escalators and nearly tripped the rest of the way down. I still managed to miss this train. So I had to wait an extra nine minutes. In reality, It's wasn't that bad. When seven minutes had passed, the time on the screen then said that the next train would be arriving in twenty minutes. My heart dropped. Then it went back to one minute. All of a sudden, it jumped back to fifteen. It went on like this for another four or five rounds.
11:14 PM. The train had finally arrived.
11:45 PM. I finally arrived in Confederate Station and rushed up the escalators and stairs to find my point of departure.
11:55 PM. I made it to my train with four minutes to spare...or so I thought!
When I had finally found my seat, I was relieved to discover that the persona sitting next to me was someone that was close to my age, normal, and easy to talk to. I know, it almost sounds like I was going on a date, but let me tell you right now, readers, I have never lucked out in sitting next to someone chill and cool. My usual partners would be old and boring, people too big for their seat, people arguing across from me, old men that were "happy"; trips were never delightful. So this guy was a breath of fresh air.
During that entire trip, we just talked about our lives, mostly school, then ventured into our past of dogs killing snakes, the intellectual levels of our pets, and the things we did in high school. As we talked, I gazed outside the windows, as well. He knew that I had never been on a train ride before, so he knew he was sitting next to a "child" having their first experience. At one point of our trip, a train had passed right by us; it sort of sounded like the bellowing of a whale. It was soothing, in a way. Then at the end our travels, he pointed out the windmills all across the valley. Blinking lights everywhere. It was magical. This entire trip, I reverted back to that childlike innocence of being in awe and wonderment. By the time I arrived, it was 4 AM. Mind you, I was supposed to be on the rails, by 11:59 PM. No. Instead, we left at at 1 AM. So I rushed for nothing...
Upon arrival, I was escorted into the most glamorous abode; the contemporary structure filled with leather seats, stainless steel appliances, modern art, and a beautiful hardwood table with chairs to match. When I entered my room, I was in heaven; the bed was so enormous that I was engulfed by the sheets whenever I went under the covers, I had a gorgeous view of the mountain and pool, and the connected bathroom was delicate and simple, but the shower was the most complicating thing to work.
I jumped into the shower as soon as I got up. It was the most complex contraption I have ever had to work. Coming from places where the water needed a little bit of time to warm up, it was very unsuspected that the water was instantly hot. During the first ten minutes, I struggled trying to figure out how the shower worked; I could only run the bath water. I kept twisting the knobs and all I ended up doing was changing the temperature or turning off the water. So instead of taking twenty steps to Screeching Cat or Sheep for help, I sat in the tub, let the running water rush through my hair, and then stopped the drain so as to fill the tub. It wasn't until I finished washing my hair and body that when I tried to turn off the bath water, I switched it over to the shower head. I literally jumped from where I was sitting and continued sitting in the tub feeling dumb about everything.
As the day progressed and it had hit the night, we finally went out and about; and by that, I mean the clubs.
The location of these clubs was interesting. It wasn't until we went to the first club that I finally realized that every gay man in the Spring of Hands was well over the age of my father, possibly my grandmother. It was a very intriguing scenario. How so? Because I had all these men checking me out. Why? Because I look like a little boy. At one point, there were a group of older gentlemen staring at me. I honestly thought that they were gazing uponScreeching Cat, because people normally do that. Nope. As soon as he got up to go over to Sheep. I looked back at them and they were staring directly at me. One guy looked back at his drink, took a huge gulp, and set his eyes back on me. After seeing this, I jumped ship and walked over to my men in fear that this stranger had the courage to come up and talk to me. Readers, I don't know if you know this, but I am socially awkward when it comes to love. I'm really awesome as a friend, but not as a person getting hit on.
Soon after, we high tailed it to another bar that ended up getting packed and came to our final destination for the evening. It was here that we met the Canadians.
Before I had accepted the invitation to stay with Screeching Cat and Sheep for the weekend, Cat had told me that it was his goal to find me somebody to get with while I had the chance. I declined. When we got to the bar, both Cat and Sheep found somebody that they wanted me to get with, one of the Canadians. He was a charming man and very sweet, then there was his friend, the short, Jewish Canadian who has been married for quite a while. Either way, I did not want to hook up with either one of them because the Canadian has a boyfriend and, as I've previously stated, JC has a husband. Nope. I'm not into the home wrecker life. Ain't nobody got time for that!
In the end, I came home empty handed, which, to be honest, was perfectly fine with me. It meant I got the whole bed to myself.
Readers, go out and have fun, but also be wary about involvements. They get tricky, and that is never a situation you want to be a part of; they tend to get ugly. Maintain that childlike wonder and you'll enjoy your life even more.
Here's to more future adventures and experiences!
Sincerely,
An Asian
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Today, I was a mess.
For those of you that don't know, I work at a restaurant as a host and expo. This week, I've worked six days straight, in which three of the days I worked were doubles/split shifts, including today. I had finally reached the point of no return when I woke up this morning feeling even worse than the past few days with my aching shoulder blade.
On Thursday afternoon, I could feel a light throbbing pain when I would twist my neck and move my arm around. At first, I thought that it was because I slept on it wrong. When I clocked in to work later that evening, I realized that it was because of the dishes I would have to carry back to the kitchen. Honestly, readers, I'm pretty sure I lift about forty to fifty-five pounds, ten to fifteen times for four hours. The fact that I have to do this nine times a week, it's no wonder that it's finally starting to take a toll on my body, especially since I don't give my body time to recover due to my lack of sleep. Anyway, back to today.
I should have seen it coming. At first, I was very unaware of my surroundings this morning that a sliver of light made me stumble because I thought that there had been something on the ground I would have tripped over. Then, I accidentally knocked over a soy sauce container and spilled it all over the table. Afterward, I dropped a soy sauce dish filled with soy sauce. To top the end of my first shift, we were discussing the various methods we have in carrying our glasses and how mine and my trainer's way of carrying them terrified a coworker. I should have expected this to foreshadow the events to come later this evening.
When Meow Meow and I had come back to work from our break, we talked about how we could feel it getting worse throughout the evening. At the beginning of this shift, it was nice and steady. Ten minutes later, it had picked up and plates started to appear on the counter as I hauled ass to and from tables, hectically dropping off plates and trying to clear the counter from the cacophony of plated fish. I was in Hell. In the middle of the evening, I had gone over to a table to help my fellow coworker clear it off for another party. I stacked three glasses of two on my left hand, tightly hugged two towers of two with that left arm, and carried the the remaining stacked, two glasses with my right hand. Now, keep in mind, I have done this numerous times at this job and at the other restaurants I used to work at. I have never dropped a dirty dish...until today.
As I gently glided across the floor and maneuvered my way around the crowds of people and table, I gently trip myself and drop the glasses under my death grip. Everything was moving in slow motion at this point. There was no saving me. As I bent down to help soften the landing of the glasses, I watched them slip away from my grasps and fall toward the ground. I did not look down. When they had shattered onto the floor, I paused, looked forward, stood up straight, looked over to my left down the long, never ending pathway of shame, and made direct eye contact with my manager as she was on the phone. Then I walked away and put the remaining glasses in the bus tub. Now, when these glasses crashed, it wasn't just some noise you hear in the corner. No. Instead, I was in the perfect spot in which it echoed throughout the entire restaurant loud and clear, for everybody to hear and witness. Four glasses didn't make it out this evening. It was a sad day.
After the incident, the coworkers were kind enough to worry about me and were concerned about my safety. In reality, I was unaffected. I'm sure they knew that. My biggest concern were the customers around me that were affected by this debacle. Luckily, nobody made a big deal about it and I sure as hell did not as well.
To top off this disastrous evening, I failed at lent by eating a piece of delicious, dark, beaned chocolate. If you are not a religious person nor have the understanding of certain religious practices, lent is the period of time when you give up something that is hard to let go for forty-six days. This year, I chose to give up sweets and desserts; so chocolates, soda, cookies, etc.
Now, it was bad enough that I made a fool of myself and I failed at lent, but then I come home to Panda telling me:
Asian: ...I need to eat...
Panda: Oo, don't go in the kitchen...
Asian: ...Why...?
Panda: Well...
Asian: You didn't...
Panda: I'm sorry! Just don't look at it while you're cooking!
Asian: Are you kidding me?!?! I'm on LENT!
Panda: I know, but we ended up baking.
Asian: PANDA!!!
When I entered the kitchen and flipped on the light, I turned around to see a plate full of big, puffy, thick chocolate chip cookies. I hated her. So much. I still do. My temptation to eat one was so strong, but my will to stay true to my word to God and myself was stronger. I will admit, though, I almost had a taste. Of course, that taste would have turned into several bites, which would have turned into a couple cookies, and then ended up with an empty plate. Why I chose to do something for lent, I will never know.
We all have to go through embarrassment at some point in our lives, as well as failures. It's through these crises, though, that we learn the most from. In other words, I will never drop and break a plate again. At work, at least. As for lent...we'll see how that goes.
Here's to more future adventures and experiences!
Sincerely,
An Asian
On Thursday afternoon, I could feel a light throbbing pain when I would twist my neck and move my arm around. At first, I thought that it was because I slept on it wrong. When I clocked in to work later that evening, I realized that it was because of the dishes I would have to carry back to the kitchen. Honestly, readers, I'm pretty sure I lift about forty to fifty-five pounds, ten to fifteen times for four hours. The fact that I have to do this nine times a week, it's no wonder that it's finally starting to take a toll on my body, especially since I don't give my body time to recover due to my lack of sleep. Anyway, back to today.
I should have seen it coming. At first, I was very unaware of my surroundings this morning that a sliver of light made me stumble because I thought that there had been something on the ground I would have tripped over. Then, I accidentally knocked over a soy sauce container and spilled it all over the table. Afterward, I dropped a soy sauce dish filled with soy sauce. To top the end of my first shift, we were discussing the various methods we have in carrying our glasses and how mine and my trainer's way of carrying them terrified a coworker. I should have expected this to foreshadow the events to come later this evening.
When Meow Meow and I had come back to work from our break, we talked about how we could feel it getting worse throughout the evening. At the beginning of this shift, it was nice and steady. Ten minutes later, it had picked up and plates started to appear on the counter as I hauled ass to and from tables, hectically dropping off plates and trying to clear the counter from the cacophony of plated fish. I was in Hell. In the middle of the evening, I had gone over to a table to help my fellow coworker clear it off for another party. I stacked three glasses of two on my left hand, tightly hugged two towers of two with that left arm, and carried the the remaining stacked, two glasses with my right hand. Now, keep in mind, I have done this numerous times at this job and at the other restaurants I used to work at. I have never dropped a dirty dish...until today.
As I gently glided across the floor and maneuvered my way around the crowds of people and table, I gently trip myself and drop the glasses under my death grip. Everything was moving in slow motion at this point. There was no saving me. As I bent down to help soften the landing of the glasses, I watched them slip away from my grasps and fall toward the ground. I did not look down. When they had shattered onto the floor, I paused, looked forward, stood up straight, looked over to my left down the long, never ending pathway of shame, and made direct eye contact with my manager as she was on the phone. Then I walked away and put the remaining glasses in the bus tub. Now, when these glasses crashed, it wasn't just some noise you hear in the corner. No. Instead, I was in the perfect spot in which it echoed throughout the entire restaurant loud and clear, for everybody to hear and witness. Four glasses didn't make it out this evening. It was a sad day.
After the incident, the coworkers were kind enough to worry about me and were concerned about my safety. In reality, I was unaffected. I'm sure they knew that. My biggest concern were the customers around me that were affected by this debacle. Luckily, nobody made a big deal about it and I sure as hell did not as well.
To top off this disastrous evening, I failed at lent by eating a piece of delicious, dark, beaned chocolate. If you are not a religious person nor have the understanding of certain religious practices, lent is the period of time when you give up something that is hard to let go for forty-six days. This year, I chose to give up sweets and desserts; so chocolates, soda, cookies, etc.
Now, it was bad enough that I made a fool of myself and I failed at lent, but then I come home to Panda telling me:
Asian: ...I need to eat...
Panda: Oo, don't go in the kitchen...
Asian: ...Why...?
Panda: Well...
Asian: You didn't...
Panda: I'm sorry! Just don't look at it while you're cooking!
Asian: Are you kidding me?!?! I'm on LENT!
Panda: I know, but we ended up baking.
Asian: PANDA!!!
When I entered the kitchen and flipped on the light, I turned around to see a plate full of big, puffy, thick chocolate chip cookies. I hated her. So much. I still do. My temptation to eat one was so strong, but my will to stay true to my word to God and myself was stronger. I will admit, though, I almost had a taste. Of course, that taste would have turned into several bites, which would have turned into a couple cookies, and then ended up with an empty plate. Why I chose to do something for lent, I will never know.
We all have to go through embarrassment at some point in our lives, as well as failures. It's through these crises, though, that we learn the most from. In other words, I will never drop and break a plate again. At work, at least. As for lent...we'll see how that goes.
Here's to more future adventures and experiences!
Sincerely,
An Asian
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