May 22, 2007

making friends and making memories

This past weekend I had the privilege of meeting six, new, fun, and amazing girls.  One in particular, Meg, I have been trying to meet up with for the past couple of months.  But finally, last Saturday, it happened.  We decided to meet for dinner and drinks, and then see where the night would lead us. Which was to a few bars, which I cannot remember the names of, meeting a few guys, which I cannot remember the names of, and to yet another bar to see a band, which I cannot remember the name of.  However, that should not be a surprise to anyone.  My remembering skills are not what they used to be.  I blame Dr. Baker, my Personality Disorders professor for making me memorize fourteen chapters of every disorder in the DSM IV.  Now, my brain has trouble storing new information.  Though I am very good at pointing out the many disorders my family, friends, and complete strangers have, I now have trouble remembering simple names and events.  And I now firmly believe that everyone, everyone has some type of disorder. 

Anyway…back to Saturday.  After meeting, smiles, hugs, and new introductions, everyone was acquainted, and the chit-chatting began.  Dinner was so entertaining and enjoyable.  Along with the conversation, the food was scrumptious.  The Jerk Chicken was good and the Bahama Mama’s were down right delicious, along with one of Katie’s drinks, which she swapped for one of mine.  Our waiter, which of course, his name escapes me, was a skinny hippy, nice and cute, but not nice and cute enough.  His hair, which was in dreads, was a huge turn off, along with his anorexic looking body.  I need a guy with some meat on him.  And obviously, appearance is high on my list, but then again, he was a nice waiter, and he was good at his job.  At least he had that going for him.

After dinner and several drinks, we decided to hit up a few bars and join in the festivities of what is known as, “Bike Week.”  It consisted of thousands of leathered, tanned, tattooed, hairy men, accompanied by their leathered, bleach blond, overly tanned, half-naked women.  Dress wise; we were a little out of place, considering not a one of us was wearing leather. But leave it to my dear, sweet, lovable, drunk, crazy friend, Kate to never miss an opportunity to live in the moment…a drunk moment, which she later hung her head in shame, and laughed hysterically about the next morning, when she recalled the night and her new belongings.  In her drunken, biker inducing high, she bought a pair of ass-less chaps.  She went as far as to have them fitted and measured just for her.  She strutted in her new chaps the rest of the night, feeling cool and hot, which she was.  And that’s why we are friends and I love her.

I was surprised however, by the keep of the restrooms inside these bar establishments.  Never, have I ever, been in a bar bathroom where there was a woman, in this case old, sitting there offering soap, paper towels, tampons, and body spray.  She was equipped with all the necessities a girl might need in a public restroom.  However, this one in particular restroom bar maid, was not on her “A Game.”  It never failed, each time Diana and I made a trip to the restroom; I ended up sharing my paper towel with her.  This occurred at least three times.  This lack of paper towelessness really hurt her in tips, which I refused to leave.  I mean, she had an entire stack of paper towels lying before her.  All she had to do was pass them out.  Not a difficult task.

The rest of the evening is somewhat of a blur.  Not that this part of the evening was not memorable, it’s just that I don’t remember it enough in detail to write about it.  I remember walking forever to another bar, to see a band, which we only made it for the end of the last song.  I remember ordering a vodka straight, and then half way through it thinking, why oh why did I do that.  I also remember several of the girls swapping shoes.  The night held way too much walking for such cute shoes.  I remember talking with Meg, and having so much fun finally getting to hang out with her.  And, I also remember at last calling it a night and then making our way back to the car, which was parked on the complete opposite side of where we were.  Thank God, Kristin and Kate have great navigational skills, or we might have been lost for hours.  Not only did they manage to find the car, but they also managed to get us to the hotel, and they got us there in a timely manner.  I was thoroughly impressed.  And luckily, for Kate and I, our new friends let us spend the night and let us borrow clothes to sleep in.  Like I said, these girls were amazing.

It’s strange: how comfortable the night was.  It was like I had known this group of girls my whole life.  It was also amusing to see their interactions with each other.  To hear them tale stories and little inside references was a joy to watch.  To see how close the six of them are was remarkable.  But even with their inner circle stories, I never once felt like an outsider.  Each one welcomed me with open arms and a new friendship.    And I know it’s cheesy and girly, but I hope our new friendship continues to grow and we are able to see more of each other.  Yeah, they were that great!

 

 

Posted by brooke alexandra at 01:00:00 | Permanent Link | Comments (6) |

December 23, 2006

London

 View pictures of London

Posted by brooke alexandra at 13:16:39 | Permanent Link | Comments (1) |

November 30, 2006

as luck would have it

“I don’t have it.”

“Have what?”

“I don’t have it.  It’s not here.”

“Brooke, what don’t you have?”

(Long, eye locking pause between my mother and I)

“My passport.”

“You’re kidding?”

“It’s not here.”

“Did you look everywhere?”

“YES.  It’s not here. You had it last.  You said you put it back in my bag.  You were making a copy of it and I asked you if you put it back in my bag, and you said, yes.”

“I asked you plainly before we left the house, ‘Brooke, do you have your passport?’ and you said, ‘Yes, Mom I have it.’”

“That’s because I assumed you had put it back in my bag like you said.  I put all my trust in you; therefore, I trusted that you had put it back in my bag.”

“They’re not going to let you on the plane without your passport.”

“I realize that, thank you.”

“What are you going to do?”  (What I do best…I head straight to the bathroom, and throw-up.)


Thirty minutes later…having missed the last flight to Chicago, we re-book for the next morning, flying to Washington, then to London.  This was just the beginning, a preview for what was to come.  If losing my passport, missing our scheduled flight, arriving a day late, and still having to pay for a room we did not occupy weren’t enough, there was still the rest of the week. After arriving in London at 6:30 am, we decided to take a cab to the hotel.  We thought it would be easy and not too expensive, we were wrong.  We got stuck in morning traffic and what should have taken twenty minutes, turned into forty-five, which lead to the fifty-two pound fare. While checking in, we were greeted by Julia, the incompetent twit who worked the front desk.  Julia and her lack of people skills managed to screw up our reservation.  Finally, after twenty minutes of dealing with Julia and her gracious hospitality we made it to our room…a single, 4 x4 box.  It was supposed to be a double with robes, slippers, fresh fruit, and wireless connection, but no such luck.  The room was beautiful and stylish, but not what we had requested.  I love my aunt, but I needed my space and my own bed.  So, I headed back downstairs to have a chit-chat with my new BFF Julia, and as expected, she was unable to do anything.  Being the fool I am, I went ahead and asked about a room for Thursday night, and she informed me that they were completely booked, of course.  Now, I know this is not true, for I spoke with Yahoo Travel and they assured me that the hotel had rooms available for Thursday night.  By now it was 7:30 am, I was tired and could no longer deal with Julia and her snooty attitude…I needed caffeine.  Thank God like U.S., London has a Starbucks on every corner.  I order a Grande, non-fat Gingerbread latte, no whip and then I realized I had no money.  Luckily, gift cards are accepted everywhere, even Europe .  (Thank you, Katelyn, for the Starbucks gift card you gave me for my birthday, it saved my life.) 

Other than ALL that, Monday went fairly smooth.  We shopped around Piccadilly and then took a walk through Green Park .  I ventured out alone that evening, browsing Regent Street, High Street, and Victoria looking for the theatre.  I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Tuesday, we over slept, managing to miss breakfast.  Julia delighted in this.  However, I found Harash, the manager, who made Julia reopen the restaurant and serve us whatever we wanted.  This irritated Julia, making every bite that much more delicious.  After breakfast I took my aunt to see Big Ben, the London Eye, House of Parliament, London Aquarium, and her first experience on the tube.  My aunt is a germ-a-phobe; I honestly and amusingly thought she was going to have heart failure on the germ and disease infested tube.  Later that night, we went to Victoria to see Wicked and the amazing, Idina Menzel…I almost peed my pants with anticipation.  We arrived at the theatre an hour early to pick up our tickets and once inside, posted on every wall, in big bold letters, “TONIGHT’S PREFORMANCE, THE ROLE OF ELPHABA WILL BE PLAYED BY KERRI ELLIS.”  What the hell, are you serious?  I felt my heart fall to my feet, along with my smile.  At this point I was beyond devastated and found it hard to breathe, I couldn’t think straight.  I collected our tickets and proceeded inside the theatre.  We located our seats, thirteen rows back, and dead center.  I started eavesdropping in on conversations taking place around me and I was pleased to hear that I was not the only ticket holder upset that Idina would not be performing.  I learned that the majority of the theatre was also there to see Idina, who had failed to show up, leaving so many of us furious.  However, the difference between them and me; most of them lived in London , allowing another month of opportunities to see her, while I was leaving Friday, not to return anytime soon.  I wasn’t going to get upset yet.   No, I still had two more days in London , and that meant four more chances to catch Idina.  I would simply purchase another ticket…problem solved.  All was not lost, plus, who knew Kerri Ellis could sing?  I didn’t.  I didn’t even know who Kerri Ellis was, but the girl could sing.

Wednesday, I made my way to the theatre, where I learned that Idina would not be performing at the matinee or evening performance that day.  Therefore, I purchased a full price ticket, for Thursday night.  I thought that would give her plenty of time to recuperate and get her act together.  My seat, though, I thought wasn’t possible, was even better than Tuesday; eleven rows back, dead center, again.  It was a sign, I knew it.  What are the chances of a seat like that being available the day before the show?  My luck was changing, I felt it.  We spent the rest of the day shopping on High Street, where I found a beautiful gray wool scarf and a pair of brown Italian leather boots found me.  I don’t even remember the store, but they called out my name as we walked by, so I had to at least go in and try them on.  They slid on like butter and fell perfectly below the knee.  I was Cinderella and the boots, my glass slippers.  The price was of no concern at this point, I had to have them.  Wrap them up, I’ll take’em.

Thursday, I was feeling good.  My new boots greeted me when I woke up, singing, “Good morning, Brooke.”  And of course, I replied, “Good morning, Beautiful.”  My aunt and I headed out for the day, but not before running into Harash in the lobby.  He informed us that we indeed had a room for the night, though it would be one hundred and ninety-five pounds.  I didn’t care, I had my boots, a room, and I was going to see Idina Menzel later that night, I was oozing luck from every pore.  Later that evening, I headed out in search of a Starbucks and a book store.  As fate would have it, I found both, right beside each other.  It wasn’t just any book store either; it was Waterstones, a six story book store.  Cue the angels and harps, I was in heaven.  I made my way to the third floor, the biography and poetry floor, looking for Janet Street-Porter’s Fall Out, which I found, SIGNED.  Could my day get any better?  I glanced over to the man standing a few feet away, mainly because he smelled so good, like Old Spice.  However, after looking, I realized he was in his late 50’s early 60’s…not my ideal type.  Curious as to what book he was flipping through, I new it looked familiar, I read the title, “Straight Up and Dirty.”  SHUT UP.  I didn’t recognize it at first because the cover was different than the U.S. one, but sure enough it was.  The nice smelling man chuckled, and I desperately longed to know what part he had just read.  “It’s a great book.” I told him.  He replied, “Oh, I bet it is.”  I’m still curious whether he bought it or not.  I made my purchase and my way back to the hotel.  Angels actually sang while little birds helped me shower and dress.  I slid on my boots and instantly, I felt sexy and amazing.  After dinner at Bella’s I made my way to the theatre, strutting all the way there, I felt like I owned the city.  Night had fallen once I arrived and a crowd had formed just outside.  I opened the door, stepped inside and…SMACK, the same dreaded sign, “TONIGHT’S PREFORMANCE, THE ROLE OF ELPHABA WILL BE PLAYED BY KERRI ELLIS.”  NO, not again!  I was sick at this point, SICK!  My last chance to see Idina was gone…GONE!  I proceeded to the loo and puked.  I somehow managed to compose myself until intermission.  I decided: I’m not going to see Idina and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make it through the second act listening to Helen Dillamore’s characters high pitched voice (I loved her, just not the voice).  I had thirty pounds in my wallet…I needed a drink.  I made my way to the bar and at four pounds fifty each, I threw back four Malibu Lemonade’s, bringing the fifth back to my seat with me.  At final curtain I was depressed, tipsy, and had trouble buttoning my coat.  I managed my way across the busy street to Victoria Station.  I took one step towards the escalator and I heard, “West bound Piccadilly lines closed.”  WHAT?  Seriously, you have got to be kidding.  My drunken mind immediately switched to panic mode: “What am I going to do?  I can’t take a cab because I just spent all my money on booze.  I can’t take the tube because it’s closed.  I could walk but I’m in heels, I’m drunk, it’s dark, and it could take hours.”  Apparently, my look of desperation caught the eye of the security guard,

“Miss, where are you headed?”
”Piccadilly.”
”My dear, you’re in luck.  Piccadilly Circus is Eastbound, it’s still running.”

I almost jumped in his arms and kissed him.  Instead I said, “Thank you, so much.”  I walked around Piccadilly for an hour before heading to the hotel.  It reminded me of NYC with all the lights and people.  I felt at home. The second I walked in the room the phone rang, it was my mother calling to see how the show went…
“How was the show?  Was she there?”
”I can’t talk about it right now.  I’m too upset.  I’m going to bed.  I’ll see you tomorrow and I’ll tell you all about it then.”
”Oh, Brooke, I’m sorry.  I know how much you were looking forward to this.”
”Its ok, I’ll get over it.  Happy Thanksgiving.  Tell everyone I love them.  Love you, good night.”

Thirty minutes before our flight, I popped two Dramamine and I slept the entire duration of our seven hour flight back home.

So, that was my trip.  I did have fun, really.  My aunt’s germ phobias and not being able to touch doors, or sit too close to strangers constantly made me laugh.  My Italian boots, which make sweet sweet love to my feet, were reason enough for the trip.  I’ll get over not seeing Idina.  I’ll be in NY come June anyway.  She’s always doing something, I’ll catch her then.  
Posted by brooke alexandra at 11:54:48 | Permanent Link | Comments (1) |

October 26, 2006

semi-happy thanksgiving

I cancelled my trip for London today.  It made me physically ill.  Seriously, I have a trash can sitting beside me right now as I write this.  London was my last chance to see Idina Menzel in Wicked (I’ve seen Wicked several times, but never with Idina and she’s my favorite).  I purchased two non-refundable, will-call tickets for the show back in July.  Will–call meaning, I have to pick them up in person thirty minutes prior to show time.  I can’t even sell them on e-bay.  The tickets were three-hundred dollars…wait, hold on, where’s the trash can?  I purchased and booked this trip under the assumption that my “friend” was going with me, I know, how stupid of me.  He reassured me that he was most definitely going, that he couldn’t wait, and was excited that we would be spending a week together.  Well, this had me all excited; He has never been to London, so I was thrilled to be the one to show him around.  There were so many places I wanted to take him; I had already mapped out three whole days of the trip:  Go to the Victoria and Albert Museum, shop at Harrods, Trafalgar Square, Borough Market, Portobello Road, Piccadilly Circus, go to the British Library (where we could see Shakespeare’s original folios), have a picnic in Kensington Gardens, St. Paul’s Cathedral, and Leicester Square.  And this was just the first three days; this didn’t even include the BIG tourist sites; Big Ben, London Bridge, Westminster Abbey, and the House of Parliament.

Then, a few weeks ago he informs me that he has exams the week of Thanksgiving and cannot re-schedule them.  Apparently med-school does not observe the Thanksgiving Holiday…basically, med-school SUCKS.  Fine, I really wanted him to go, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from seeing Idina Menzel, HELL NO.  She is the only reason I planned the trip in the first place. So, I decided to ask someone else, it’s Thanksgiving week, everyone’s off…right?  No, that’s just it, THANKSGIVING WEEK, everyone has plans for Thanksgiving.  But who wouldn’t give up family, even on Thanksgiving for a chance to see Idina?  Could I be the only one? Come on people, its Idina Menzel, in London, an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity…ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME.  No takers?  Fine, no big deal, I’ll just go by myself.
I was ok with this decision for a while.  Then, it started to become real.  I was going to be spending a week, alone, in London…WHO DOES THAT?  Granted, I know I would be safe and I’m sure I would have a good time, I love London…but not alone.  I wanted to be in London with someone, exploring, shopping, and eating.  I wanted to have tea at Harrods and shop at the street vendors on Portobello Road Saturday morning.  I wanted to do these things and I wanted someone to do them with.  Could it be that my only options were; go alone, or not go at all?  Yep, that’s what it boils down to.  I guess I will have to catch Idina the next time she’s performing in NYC, but who knows when that will be. 

Luckily I was able to cancel the room and flight, but I’m still left with the three-hundred dollar tickets for the show.  What hurts most is that come November 23, I will be sitting at my aunt’s house eating Thanksgiving turkey (which I HATE) knowing that at the Apollo Victoria Theatre seats M 26 and 27 in the orchestra will be empty.  p.s. those are FREAKING AMAZING seats just so you know.  Have I made the right choice, probably not.  Will I regret it, probably.  I can just add it to my ever growing list of regrets.   Though, I feel sorry for my family, who has to be around my depressed butt all day.  I’ve already called and warned my mother, “I’m telling you now, do not expect me to be in some happy, thankful, family loving mood on Thanksgiving.  It’s not going to happen.  You better make the BEST apple and pumpkin pies EVER or live with knowing that the one thing that will make me semi-happy on Thanksgiving, you ruined.  You don’t want that hanging over your head now, do you?” 
Posted by brooke alexandra at 21:47:35 | Permanent Link | Comments (4) |