I Came Here To Party!!!

woo-hoo!! so there's this bill, right, and it has all kinds of stuff about iraq and funding that really has nothing to do with the american people but this is the piece de la resistance... the minimum wage is being raised! not since the days of ronald reagan has anything like this happened. the excitement is making me light-headed. i don't know if i can handle it. from $5.15 to $7.25. woo! like this, everyone is going to be driving around in a hummer and paying $4 for a gallon of gas without blinking an eye.

but wait a minute, they knew that the excitement would be overwhelming so they are not giving the increase all at once. oh man, can you imagine how crazy folk would go with that kind of money all at once? after having no increase since 1997? so first it will be 70 cents in 60 days. and then the remaining $1.40 over the next two years. ease these folk into wealth.

i mean the glass half empty people might say to you that the minimum wage is 30% lower, in real terms, than it was in 1979. yeah, those pessimists will add that the cost of living has gone up by 26% since 1997 and throw all kinds of depressing numbers your way. wet blankets!

but the glass half full people in congress who fight every year to give themselves raises tell us that this increase will ultimately raise the annual earnings of someone earning the minimum wage from $10,700 to a whopping $15,000. and that this increase of $4,300 will pay for 15 months of groceries for a family of three. oh man, people will really be swimming in money.

on my part i am saying, i don't need 15 months of groceries for a family of three. i am celebrating. trying to decide what colour my gas guzzling suv is going to be. and if you bump into me during the celebration, drinks are on me!

MWAH!!!

i must have been in my early teens or maybe late pre-teens... i used to go to watch movies with my girlfriends - no parents in sight. but this is how it worked. back then when i wished so hard that i was cool.



my father would walk me to the movie house. he would pay for my movie ticket - i suppose to make sure that the movie i wanted to watch was appropriate. i tell myself it is not that my father did not trust me... he just trusted no one around me??



he then gave me enough money for popcorn and a soda.

then he would ask the dude at the window what time the movie ended.



"enjoy the movie, my dear, i'll pick you up when it is over" he would boom. yes, my father was a boomer.


and then

even though i would duck my head

try to step back so i would be out of range

he would kiss me goodbye.



and not a kiss that a desperately trying to be cool could pretend no one noticed.

uh-uh. not my booming dad.

it was a kiss with sound effect "MWAH"

could be heard from across the street.

followed by a booming "see you later my dear."



yeah, i was never a cool teen.
i guess i got a lot of kisses though...

And A Half...

today i am 33 and a half. it hit me as i was walking from the train to the office. a thought least likely to give me an anuerism at 9am.

• because i can't process immigration reform where illegal aliens who are generally believed to be earning below minimum wage are expected to come up with $5,000 in fines (and i am not even sure if that is per person or per family). because if they have that kind of money just lying around, i need to reassess my pay.
• because i can't keep track of how many are dying every day in say iraq or darfur because i always come back to - ummm don't the people run out?
• because i can't even begin to think about how virgin testing of just girls in south africa is supposed to stop the spread of aids - apparently guys can totally be trusted. and shame on me for being skeptical, even before 9am.
• and once the patent runs out, they are probably going to market viagara as medication for jet lag. and somehow that makes sense to someone.

did i mention that i'm 33 and a half today? AND A HALF!!

I'm Gonna Shoo-oo-oo-oot... The Whole Day Down!

so yeah... after running the marathon i had to limp back home. i had it all planned - 6 am flight that would get me back in new york for 10:30 where i could catch a cab to work, collapse in my chair and get at least half a day's worth of work done and not really have to use my legs.

we woke up at 3:30, took showers and headed out to the airport. the plan was to be there at 5am - nice and early for the 6am flight. we were 15 minutes behind time but that is not so bad, right?

we didn't factor that flights start taking off a little before 6 but security at the airport only opened at about 5:15. so what happens is that everyone who is early, late or on time for a morning flight is standing in line. longest line in the world. rudest tsa agents you have ever seen. people are trying to tell them that they have flights and they don't care. so half our plane misses the flight. damn those other folk stretching out and taking up two seats at a time.

so boston and i get to our turn in the line to rebook us on the next flight out of dayton.

"nothing until tomorrow," the agent says.

i start freaking out a little. dayton airport doesn't even have a restaurant in it. and the chairs look uncomfortable. and i have a job to get back to. then she tells me that if i can drive over to columbus, she can book me on a flight there. of course i don't have a car but one can rent cars at dayton airport so i say - book me because i am NOT sleeping in dayton airport. so boston and i are booked on 11am flights in dayton and we go downstairs and book a car. i drive from dayton to columbus, all the while looking out for a place where we can get a bagel (we are craving them).

did i mention that we woke up at 3:30 am? and that our luggage made the flight, even though we didn't.

about an hour and a half later we have checked the car in at columbus airport and limped over to the check-in desk for the airline. the guy takes our information and says:

"when you miss a flight, you are not allowed to change cities when you rebook."

apparently he doesn't know that i have been up since 3:30 am, i am not a morning person, my leg muscles are not working and i have just driven from dayton. he looks up and i think he sees the madness.

"but since you have come all the way here, i can put you on standby for the 9:45 and the 11am flights. i can only get you definite seats on the 3:20 flight which will get you to new york by about 7pm."

at this point, as long as i am not sleeping in the airport, i think i'm good. there is a bagel place in the airport and we feed the craving. of course we don't get on the 9:45 but we remember that we passed a bar on our way over to the departure gate. the self-debate (is 10am too early for a cocktail?) lasts all of 10 seconds. i order my vodka with grapefruit juice (that is a breakfast drink, no?)

the 11am is full too. we get quesadillas and more drinks. we make friends who are passing through as they are actually confirmed on flights. more drinks. we are carrying our marathon bags so not much is needed as a conversation starter. we meet an architect on his way to new orleans. a woman who used to run marathons before her arthritis got too bad (she had vodka on the rocks - hard core). a businessman who bitches about how an airline lost his luggage for a week - he's still waiting to be reimbursed. we sit through 2 bartenders' shifts. finally 3pm rolls around.

the flight to detroit takes a little over 30 minutes.

you didn't think that i had been booked on a direct flight, did you? nope. now boston and i have to try to get on connections that will take us home. boston's flight is earlier than mine so we go over to her desk first. i dash to the bathroom and come back to find that boston is not happy. they have told her that she has to pay $25 to be put on STANDBY for the flight. she asks why and there is no reason but agent says she is not going anywhere until she pays $25. she wants to see the supervisor. i have to get to the other end of the airport and no running is happening today so i hobble off and head for my gate, all hope gone. i walk up to the agent:

"is this flight full?"

"completely." my shoulders sag in defeat. i am thinking i may have to start shopping for an apartment in detroit. "but what's your story."

i try to put my day into a nutshell and he is punching information into a computer.

"you were confirmed on the 11am flight and it was not late but you were not on it."

"well, the plane was full and so they put me on the next one."

"yes, i see that." another guy walks up and says, "can we put her in 4D?" (that's first class. i have been on that many flights in these last couple of days to know that.

"no, we have a premium passenger in that seat." i am thinking i may be bumped to the next flight and i am trying not to cry. and then, i swear, before i can even blink i have a boarding pass in hand, for a seat in an exit row (extra leg room).

"is that for me?" i look behind me to see if someone is standing behind me, but i am all alone. i take the pass before they change their minds and thank them several times.

i call boston, who is still pissed off and not on a flight. i tell her that people are nicer on this side of the airport and so she comes over and in two minutes she is on the 7pm flight out of detroit.

and me? an air stewardess on my flight has gone awol. flight is delayed for about an hour as they try to find her. we have to settle for a replacement. everyone is irritated. i am the only one smiling. i am not sleeping in an airport.

i get to new york at around 8pm (half afraid someone will tell me i am actually in atlanta and still have to take another flight to get home) and find my bag being kept company by the bags of those who are still, presumably, stuck in dayton.

mondays... why do i hate them again?

Warm Up

so two friday's ago, i had everything planned and mapped out. it would take a little over an hour on the subway to get to the airport and so if i left work 3 hours before the flight i would be better than good. in fact i would have time for a courage-boosting cocktail. i did have a four hour trip ahead of me.

so of course, i get caught up in meetings and leave the office after 3:30. so maybe no cocktails but i am still doing well for time. i head to the subway and get on the N train. one stop later there is one of those barely audible announcements. it seems the N train isn't going to queens so i need to switch to the R. damn! local train. so definitely no cocktails but what can i do. i still have time.

a couple of stops later - another announcements. train stalled, no trains on that line are going to queens at all. i get out with my bag. i am irritated but okay. i'll just take a cab because i cannot see any other way i'll get to the airport from this stop. i come out and stand on the street corner to hail a cab.

they are all off duty. or taken. or they stop to tell me "sorry, dear, i am off duty in 20 minutes, i can't take you to the airport". the sorry dear guys get on my worst nerves because they raise my hopes by stopping. i am too worked up to remember to take down their numbers to file complaints - cab drivers are not allowed to refuse to take you somewhere if they are on the clock, are they?

half an hour later. i am still trying to hail a cab. i have 60 minutes to go now before my flight. where did the time all go? i am freaking out now. calling my friend in ohio to say that i may not make it because i am stuck in manhattan. i am cursing new york city for all it's worth. i try the subway station again but the trains are STILL not running. i am hot and bothered and wondering how it can be so difficult to get a damn ride.

55 minutes before the flight, all hope gone, a stretch limo pulls up next to me and the driver (the only person in the car) asks me where i'm going.
laguardia airport.
get in, he says.
how much? i know i shouldn't get in but i'm desperate and i have a plane to catch.
$40.
like i would have tried to bargain him down.
i jump in and call a friend to loudly reel off all the details of the car (i tell myself that this will save me if the driver has evil ulterior motives)

what a SLOW ride. i am trying to be calm. traffice sucks. i am trying not to shout at the driver.

as soon as we hit the airport - i am quickly running out of time. it is too late to check my luggage and now i have to hit security.

my bag is FULL of liquids. and they are not in a clear ziploc bag and they are way too big to be allowed anyway. and so security pulls me aside. i try to put things in a bag. i am hopping from one foot to another. a fellow passenger is complaining on my behalf - oh those bottles look expensive, women must lose so much money going through security. security takes my shower gel, my special sunscreen and my toothpaste. i am very sad about the sunscreen. but i have ten minutes to catch my flight.

complaining guy invites me to join him at the bar. i thank him for complaining on my behalf but, sadly i have to run for a plane. and i am off. i am the last person there. the gate is about to close. i have overheated.

and then the flight sits on the runway. for an hour. all this time i had been running, i had needed to pee but i thought - well as soon as the plane takes off, i'll go. but we sit on the runway. for an hour. and we are not allowed to leave our seats, in case we get clearance to take off.

when we get to detroit i need to transfer. when i booked my flight i had over an hour between flights. but remember, i sat on the runway in new york for that hour. the flight attendant asks folk to be kind enough to let those of us who have transfers off the plane first but, of course, as soon as the plane touches down and the seatbelt light goes off, everyone stands up and clogs up the aisle. someone offers to lift me up and pass me over everyone. but i gracefully decline the kind offer. i don't quite trust the folk in the front, clogging up the aisle. so i jump up and down until i can get off and start running.

of course my gate is on the OTHER end of the airport. and i run. up escalators, along those moving pathways they have in super long hallways, past the bar with the cocktails. i am the third to last person on the plane. the other two were also on my flight. i get onto the smallest plane i have ever been on.

thank goodness the flight is short.

i get to dayton ohio at almost 11pm. my friends pick me up an hour later (they were drinking margaritas and lost track of time). my head hurts and i am frighteningly foul. but there's a margarita waiting for me at home to make it a semi distant memory.

i am still kinda sorta hating new york, especially its cabbies. SORRY!

2:13:53

my goal was 2 hours 30 minutes. i didn't believe it but i threw it out there. the night before at a roaring party, i clutched my water and gazed at the bucket full of stronger stuff. to cheer ourselves up, three of us shared one smirnoff ice.

we got up at 4:30 and were out of the house a little after 5 to head out to the start line. we were almost late because it was hell finding a bathroom but we persevered - have you ever been inside a porta-potty? there were four of us - from new york, boston, atlanta and cincinnati. we group hugged, planned to meet next to the fence and the finish line and the gun went off. it took two miles to feel slightly warmed up and remember that i had forgotten the inhaler and the hydrocort cream. but i had taken an antihistamine (lots of grass in cincinnati had me drugged up all weekend) so i was rolling. cincinnati (the veteran) was running with me and so it was good. except for the inclines we were running up. did i mention that we ran through kentucky for a while? and then back into ohio. wicked awesome!

after about 5 miles, i am finally feeling warmed up and plodding along and a bend was coming up. a woman ahead of us (i was still running with cincinnati - boston had fallen behind and the start and atlanta we lost half a mile later) shouts out, are you ready for the hills? hills? so what were the last 5 miles? well, round the corner i found out that the first 5 miles were nothing more than soft bumps in the ground. now we had hills. i am hydrating regularly, cos my mouth is getting dry (partly due to thoughts of all those miles still ahead) and then suddenly i need to pee.

by mile 8 i mention this to cincinnati and her response? suppress it.

so at mile 8 - thoughts on my mind - my knees don't feel so good i hope they last til mile 10 then i can run/walk the last three; i need to pee; why are these hills only going up?

at about mile 8.5, cincinnati says her legs are fatigued - go ahead, i'll catch up, she says. i carry on because she has done this like 5 times already. i keep on small-stepping up the hill. at mile 9 i hydrate and look around but cincinnati is nowhere in sight. so i carry on and a few minutes later, hallelujah! downhill!!! i pick up my pace and suddenly the music on the ipod actually sounds good.

so now i am floating along, thinking to myself, oh this is so doable. i could run like this forever. knee still a little wobbly but i think it can hold out a little more. i'll run it til it breaks me down. i am saying thank you to the supporters on the side of the road who are telling me that i'm looking good. i notice a woman is running in step with me and decide to try hang with her as long as possible - her pace is good. after about half a mile she says to me - you're helping me keep pace. i say - no! you're doing that for me. and we agree that it is all good and carry on perfectly in step. downhill.

i woo hoo! at mile 10. double digits. i am almost there and still keeping up with stranger at my side. i could do a marathon, i am thinking. my lungs feel great, my legs are holding up.

at mile 12 i have changed my mind and am so ready for the finish line. but it is coming. i see a sign.

mile 1

what the hell?! no, it must be a typo. or maybe it is trying to say that i have .1 of a mile left to go and i just can't see the decimal point. am i crazy delirious with fatigue? (boston later tells me that she stopped running when she saw that sign and just wanted to sit down and cry). what is going on? but pace stranger is picking up the pace. she must know what's really going on so i pick up my pace to keep up with her. we round a corner. another sign.

mile 26

oh this is not working. i want to kill someone. i can't keep this up much longer. when is this going to end and why are they playing such cruel games? another bend in the road... another sign.

13 miles

i doubt i have ever been happier. 0.1 miles to go. and there. i see it. finish line. i can do it. and i do. i pump my arms up as i cross the line, like i am some kind of olympian.

as soon as i stop running, i want to collapse. legs like jello but i have to keep on moving. tummy hurts but apparently i have to eat something. don't need to pee anymore though. i guess where is the finish line helps suppress all else.

Keeping You Occupied

so, due to my parents' nomadic lifestyle in my youth, i went to 4 different schools in about 2 years. school number 3 was in gweru, zimbabwe and i was in the second grade. apparently birds are very popular in gweru because we studied them at school and my grandfather had a book on them and they taught me so hard there are things stuck in my head forever.
the grey lourie - aka the go away bird - which warns when disturbed something that sounds like "Go Away". whenever i heard it, i used to look around for potential hunters - yes, even in the suburbs...
the coo of the doves that used to wake me up every morning. the way i wanted to stone them on some cold, indecently-early winter mornings.
and the weaver birds, that had a thing for the palm trees at my grandma's house (yes palm trees. i think whoever founded that city got palm tree seeds on discount)
for about a year after that, i used to go on nature walks and try to identify the birds and their calls and see if i could tell the difference between the males and the females. didn't work out so well. apparently i don't walk so quietly and somehow that affects one's ability to see birds.

eons later i am back at my grandma's and, yeah, the weavers still love her palms...

Until I Run New York...

alright folks, sunday i'll be in cincinnati attempting to run my second half marathon. yeah, i know it's not a marathon... yet, but its still 13.1 miles. a little over 21km. a bloody long run, whether you are metric or not. and this morning as i laboured through my 5km run, i had ample time to ruminate over the still unanswered question. why the heck am i doing this i want to run a marathon thing? possible answers:

1. i am teaching my knees a lesson. they thought they were clever giving out on me during my basketball days, but i'll show them clever!
2. i believe that the running will strengthen my knees. the old adage is what doesn't kill you makes you stronger so... yeah, they'll die or get stronger as i pound them against pavement, tarmac or beaten dirt path.
3. i love trying to figure out what i have forgotten to do when 3 long blocks away from my house - sunscreen? asthma inhaler? hydrocortisone for the hives?
4. i dream of being that person that overtakes me just when i think i have hit a pretty good pace. well usually i dream of tripping up that person but i am sure i want to be him/her underneath it all.
5. i want to find out if the horror stories are true - will i really lose a toenail or two during a particularly long run? will my feet bleed from the friction?
6. is there such a thing as a runner's high and if i am on it will i not feel the pain of bleeding or lost extremities?
7. this is like therapy - after the run all tension, anger and stress will have melted from my body.
8. the medals make me feel like i am at the olympics.
9. what better way to see new cities than limping and dehydrated?
10. i live for the day where they take a post race photo that i can actually share proudly with the world

i figured it was easier to spend my time psyching myself up for the long trek up the stairs in my building. flying pig.... here i come!