Tuesday, January 14, 2014


We went to New York! Well, I went to New York. So did Rachel, my PM (previously mentioned, get with the Internet slang, please) Internet pal for THREE YEARS this fall. Time flies when you're throwing watches or whatever.

Picture the luckiest person you know. A small leprechaun, your grandpa who won the lottery, my dad, whatever, picture that person. And then picture me. If you are picturing the right people, they should be starkly opposite because I am so unlucky, my past lives must have smashed mirrors regularly. For fun. Like, instead of playing some rich-person sport, they just stood in a room in a manor and threw mirrors to the ground. My LUCK doesn't even exist. Because, okay, so I decide to visit NYC in January 2014. At first, I was kind of lying. Didn't really intend on going, put it on a sticky note on my wall at the rarely-used desk in my bedroom, never looked at it again. I think it fell down, actually. Then, it was like, a plan. Let's go to NYC, visit Shanna, see the city For Real. Okay, sure, sure, we'll go. Let's decide on dates another time. I'm procrastinating then, in this past that I'm describing, and also now. I'm supposed to read Terry Eagleton's 'What is Literature?' which sounds fun, I know, but this is funner. Anyway, I was procrastinating, put off deciding on a date, said I'd ask my mom and I never did. But, you see, it kept coming up. Like, when are we going to NYC? We needed to arrange travel plans, whatever, I asked my mom, and Merry Christmas to me, because she said yes, and we planned a far-off date that I thought might never come.

Well, it did. It almost didn't. The gosh-darn blizzard monster decided it'd be a wonderful time to bestow a level-three or whatever, whatever, snow globe thing onto America. And it was great news to find out that my 6 AM bus was cancelled. Luckily, I'm not suing Megabus because they refunded me, anyway, I got to NYC eight hours later than I planned. I'm never going to get those eight hours back. I'll be on my death bed, if it ever comes, you know, the planet thing, I'll be there and I'll still be saying, "I WANT THE EIGHT HOURS WITH MY INTERNET FRIENDS" and it'll never come.

I didn't tell my mom this, but I waited at Penn Station, alone, for like twenty minutes because trains are slow and I don't trust them. I made it out alive, though. That's what's important from this little narrative, is that I'm still alive, and here to tell you how. It was cold as a Friday in January when I got to New York and navigated the five blocks from the bus stop to Penn Station. Why doesn't Megabus just drop off outside of Penn Station? What is that even about? The five blocks. It's nothing. We made it onto the train, though, and I forgot to thank her again for it, but Shanna bought me a train ticket home, saving me a whole nine dollars that I had but didn't want to spend, since I'm thrifty and a little poor myself. I don't work because I'm too glamorous to hold a job.

Nothing super exciting happened after I lugged myself, my 35 pound duffel and backpack into Penn Station. Yes, Shanna and I were reunited, obviously, nothing special though. It was too dark to really experience Long Island or whatever, because of night time.

In fifth grade, I wrote detailed descriptions - that is an egregious lie - I wrote dull descriptions of things I did and wrote meta about myself in the margins. In case I get Alzheimers :D, emoticon included, of course, and not even a real sentence. Or, well, a grammatically incorrect sentence. You can't see it because I'm transcribing it from a memory of a page of text in a diary, but there's some sort of indicator that the "in case" relates to the description of the day. I think that day I watched Aladdin twice in a row. The point of this tangent is to say that I am writing this blog post in case I get Alzheimers and cannot remember this strange, snowy time in my life when two of my best friends (sisters, maybe, if I'm getting stupid and sentimental, remember future readers, emotions are the enemy) didn't live at least forty minutes from me and we had to drive long hours or fly distances to hang out for a few days. So I want to remember everything, even the boring stuff on the train to LI, like how Shanna and I are basically twin sisters separated at birth by distance and two-ish-three-ish years.

I look like maybe I just swallowed a jalapeno whole. I didn't, I assure you. This was merely my attempt to keep it Real.
There we are, looking great. What did we talk about, on the train? New Years Eve shenanigans, TV shows, life, I suppose. We went back to Shanna's, got on our computers, as we do, and after a while we went to bed and that was that. I wish I'd had cooler stuff to sleep in, like a fancy robe or onesie or something, but when it comes to sleepwear I'm afraid my taste is quite pedestrian.

We woke up. Straightened my hair because even though it looks semi-decent in the above photograph, I woke up and it looked how I'd imagine a tumbleweed feels after tumbling around in dust for a few years. We drove to LaGuardia airport because Rachel was there after flying in from Indianapolis, and she, too, was delayed in a freak series of winter activities, but no worries. We got her, there in Queens, and we sang in the car to Wicked, like the true celebrities we are. And we sang, too, to "Sugar, We're Going Down" by Fall Out Boy, which I think might be our anthem as a triad. Maybe not. More on that later, but the point here is that we made it, the three of us, fulfilling the prophecy. It's like something out of Harry Potter, in retrospect. Voldemort - the snow storm - tried to stop us, keep us from completing our life's goals, but we overcame it. Now that I'm looking at it from here, almost two weeks later, I'm realizing that it's far more inspirational than I ever could have dreamed. I'm going to turn this into a fantastic (DOUBLE MEANING HERE) YA lit series, you watch me.

I was hungry when we were in the car, during the singing, too, and we went to Panera and I got macaroni and cheese. It's really good from there, you know, and while it always makes me feel weird afterwards, I think it's always worth it. Don't really remember what the others got. Also, I don't care. This is about me, after all, not them. I also don't drink Diet Pepsi, so going to Panera is a bit of a catch-22 for me. We went to Ulta, a fancy makeup store, after lunch, because I wanted makeup brushes. Recently, I decided that it was up to me to become a famous makeup star, and well. I need makeup brushes, to this day, so if anyone knows of a sponsorship I can acquire, hit me UP. 

Found nothing of worth in Ulta, we returned to Shanna's. En route, Rachel described to me how I am Mindy Kaling. She loves Joni Mitchell, Mindy, that is, and how can I dispute that claim? I've been meaning to read Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) ever since I discovered that my friends were hanging out without me. And other concerns. I also recently uncovered this quote by Mindy herself:
"I always get asked, ‘Where do you get your confidence?’ I think people are well meaning, but it’s pretty insulting. Because what it means to me is, ‘You, Mindy Kaling, have all the trappings of a very marginalized person. You’re not skinny, you’re not white, you’re a woman. Why on earth would you feel like you’re worth anything?’"
This quote really gets me, you know? Besides the white thing. I'm white and aware of the privilege. I feel like I need to say that for legal reasons, please don't come after me, I am a white privilege girl. But I'm not skinny and I identify as a woman, I need to talk about this elsewhere. Okay. Anyway. We discussed the Mindy thing, shared some laughs, then we sat on our computers some more and decided what to Do in NYC. 
We saw Frozen and I have now seen it three times in theaters, not ashamed in the least. It's cute and smart and good music and I don't care what you think as long as it's about me. We saw Frozen and played Heads Up, not the 7-Up game but the one on the iPhone that we played when they joined me in Ohio for a few days back in August, and we played apples to apples two ways, green describing red and red describing green, backwards and forwards ladies, we are, so progressive, and we played pictionary. I chose the best ones for pictionary, like The Black Plague, surfboard, and others, like Soulja Boy. Another good word when you play make-your-own-pictionary could be Infidelity. Draw that and lose. It's impossible. I don't have more pictures so it's a lot of text. 
Saturday, we woke up too early (like eight thirty, not that early, looking back) and rode a train into New York City. Penn Station, again, my old friend. We got coffee at Starbucks because it felt right and real. And normal. This was actually on Sunday, but it felt like Saturday, because God Bless winter break. The coffee was good, as usual, but the croissant was not and I regret getting it even to this day. I had taken the subway exactly once before in my life but I definitely understood everything about it, I'm a quick learner, if I do say so myself, anyways, we got our metro cards if that is supposed to be capitalized I'm sorry but grammar is irrelevant in the 21st century full of Internet lingo or whatever, we got on the Subway, sat on the subway, not the sandwich store so I'm sorry for capitalizing it. I want everything to be a poem. That subway ride into the Museum of Natural History, the giant dinosaur skeletons, the taxidermy. It's all so beautifully raw and real. Some pictures from that exist, Heavens thanks or whatever.
Rachel, our true dino-philiac, posing here with her natural reaction to the dinosaur wing.

Shanna wondering what is scarier: the dinosaur teeth, her, or the word 'diet' behind her? What do you think? I'm thinking the Shanna.
After that, we explored NYC a bit because Shanna couldn't find a subway entrance on her phone and she'd never hung out much in that part of the city before. Also, I met Abraham Lincoln.
I'm posing like Abe, FYI. It looks like I'm doing the Pledge of Allegiance, but for once, I am not.

We called a cab and went to the biggest Forever 21 in the world. And it was scary and I wish that store organized by color or sweater or something and it felt very haphazard and I bought nothing while there because I was too busy being scared and cowering in the corners and also I'm too cheap, even for them. We ate Real Pizza, which was just...pizza...with a thin crust...don't really get these "pizza cities" or whatever, but okay. Cleveland will always have those famous chefs and Melt.

Times Square is 100% better in the cold rainy weather than in the blistering heat of late July that I experienced over the summer. There were a lot of weirdos, too, but that is to be expected, because I am like a magnet to weird things. Also, bad luck. Remember the blizzard? I'm quizzing you at the end of class.
Times Square Selfy!!
We saw the Rockefeller tree, which is not cool enough to merit me putting a photograph of it in here, because it was extremely underwhelming. I like the tree at the outdoor shopping mall near more. The NBC store was much cooler but I didn't take any pictures because Kyle Chandler, AKA Coach Eric Taylor from Friday Night Lights was in there. Maybe he was. It looked like him and we made eye contact and that's all that matters. Pretend you didn't read any of that and just read this: I saw Coach Taylor in the NBC store in NYC, we made eye contact near The Office merchandise.

There were some more things. I saw St. Patrick's Cathedral and the Catholic schoolgirl within me lit up and propelled me to take a very poor photograph of it. Earlier, I forgot to mention, I saw the Church of Scientology's building. Joey Potter was in that before she broke up with Tom Cruise to get away from it, so Dawson's Creek continues to live and breathe within this world. We met another Internet friend within the Rockefeller Center and it was beautiful, all this Internet happenstance happening around me, I don't think any of the surrounding humanoids knew what was going on next to them in the food court at Rockefeller Center, near the Starbucks: a collision of the Internet. A Collision of the Internet is going to be the title of my memoir, if anyone steals it, I'm suing for copyrighting purposes. Thanks in advance for whatever I purchase using the money from the lawsuit!

We found a subway and took it back to Shanna's, which I just (heartbreakingly) referred to as 'home' in my brain. So sweet. Then, the train, where a guy sitting beside Shanna gawked at us talking about not only funny things we read on the Internet, but Kevin Bacon, and how celebs really are "just like us." Someday, when I reach my celebrity, you are going to think, wow! Mary Gael Britton once walked outside with her skirt tucked into her underwear without knowing for at least 5 hours! She's just like me! I want you to know that no, I am not just like you, that is why I am (will be) a celebrity. You don't just get famous for being a regular human, otherwise, there'd be no point.

We got breakfast at midnight, I think, and played cards. There are approximately 56 diners on Long Island, and also, CVS and Dunkin Donuts, but before midnight, we played on the computer, called our moms (me and Rachel, anyway), watched Mean Girls, and sat gloriously. Also, we ate pasta for dinner. See, old age is already altering my memory. I just told things backwards and didn't even mention that the girls on the train next to us were 100% judging and making fun of us but what's the point? They were wearing fleeces in the city. We are fashion forward young women, the three of us, and well. We would never.

The diner was great and groovy and so was the rest of the evening but Sunday nights are always prickled with the sadness of upcoming Monday, and upcoming Tuesday, when we would say goodbye again until the summer, even though we Skype almost every night. It's not the same.

What is Long Island planning that it needs all these CVS pharmacies around? Or the Dunkin Donuts? Should a donutpocalypse descend and we find our world devoid of donuts, I'm pretty sure that Long Island will become Donut Island, you know what I mean? What I mean is that Long Island is hoarding donuts and pharmaceuticals and also shampoos and low-end makeup brands, and when the apocalypse descends, they will be the sole survivors.

Can I just say that being in huge malls reminds me of You're Invited to Mary-Kate and Ashley's Mall Party and I was a little disappointed that I didn't find them, like, I don't know, singing in the food court. Anyway, we went to this huge mall and I bought a sweater and we ate food court food and went to Hot Topic and F.Y.E. and had a blast. I have this thing where I have to either be driving or shot gun or I'd rather be flying on the end of the car holding on with my hands, you know? It's a control thing from being the youngest child or something. We left the mall, went to Target, sang our faves from the Wicked soundtrack and Shanna got lost again. We've realized she knows, like, maybe ten things out of one hundred.

At Barnes and Noble, later, I got tarot cards because I don't know I feel like I need them. Maybe someday I'll be the entertainment at children's parties (as if I'm not already!). I hate the ends of things, vacations and trips especially, and our little things we do now. We went to this swell British fake pub, in that it was a poser and we were still in the US and not in England like the pub might've suggested. In fact, it was actually a restaurant and Shanna bought us dinner like the good date she is and the mac 'n cheese was good and basically, that's it, besides 300 pictures on my computer's webcam and a fun game of Glee Scene It that I lost at, terribly. It took me a few tries to spell that word right.

This is all pouring out of me like lava this fine January evening and I wish time had stretched into years, then, in that city with those people, and I don't want to get overly sentimental but someday, I want to live in the city and be able to see them regularly. Or something. Anyway, we got up at five in the morning to go to the airport again and my flight was delayed and I was in that airport for 5ish hours but the point of this tale is that I'm here, despite the problems, I made it out alive.

1 comment:

  1. this is the greatest thing i've ever read NOT KIDDIN