After a few hours of sleep my cell starts cheerily chirping out a polytonized Hungarian Dance. I almost throw it across the room before I realize that Lauren is texting me. I use one hand to hold open an eye, while the other works on taking off my key guard and reading the message. I’m starting to wake up a bit, and with that comes the freaking out…because, as of 4:30am, Lauren only had a flight into Detroit…no connection to Toronto…at least according to continental.com.
Thankfully all is well, she’s in layover in Detroit, ready to catch her next plane. Super. I manage to text something like:
Great! What time in?
Lauren gives me the details then, realizing that I *might* not be so on top of things, texts the obvious: Why are you even awake?! (The key point to remember here, people, is that to call from the US to Canada is expensive. To text costs the same as it would to text the same country…it’s a North American thing, apparently. So this is the answer to: what's with all the texting?)
I’ll fast forward past all the textingstuff…at which point it’s nine in the morning and I can’t seem to go back to sleep. Whatever, I needed to get going anyways. So I spend some time up with the g’rents, explaining why I didn’t get in until the sun came up, and that Lauren, did, finally get a flight in.
Oh! Silly me, in all this craziness, I forgot to mention my land phone line is not working. I double check my account and resent autopay…yeah, nothing…and customer service is out until next Tuesday. Considering all my great Canada to US calling is on said land line…yeah, well, you can figure out the rest for yourself.
Needless to say, after my night, I’m not moving so fast…somehow, even with three hours to spare, I still leave late for the airport. Damn morning news team. I circle the airport twice, thinking Lauren will come outside once she’s landed…or at least text me. After my third circle I decide to suck it up and park. Sure enough, the beautiful blond is ready and waiting…had been for awhile. Woops, apparently Lauren’s phone doesn’t jump straight over to roam like mine does. Honest mistake.
So, the first thing she says is, “You look great!” Which makes my day—hell, forget day—makes my whole year. It’s crazy that one little comment from a great friend can do that to me, but, yeah, this is who I am…She looks great as well, all tall, cute blond bob, rocking the eighties…and ear to ear smile.
After a slight parking error (Hello, how was I supposed to know you were supposed to take your ticket with you to pay BEFORE you went back to your car? That’s just weird.), and a giggly moment when Lauren gasps over the excitement of colored money, we get out and decide to head for the mall.
On the way, Lauren plays entertainer with an anecdote about The Guy Who Would Not Shut Up. “My first mistake, was making accidental eye contact, after that, I was a goner." Not to be detoured by Lauren’s oh so subtle—like smashing a wet stake in someone’s face is subtle—hints at being happily boyfriended, The Guy, starts asking her why she’s in Toronto. Now…how to put this?…Lauren, Caity, and I, in our hayday when all was easy and good…we saw a lot of bands…and, well, we sort of embellished on our occupations, locations, or connections. Whatever, it was innocent fun. So, figuring she’ll make the best out of a bad situation, she launches into this story about her actress friend flying her up to Toronto while she’s filming…and her other friend who’s marrying a Rock Star…getting free tickets to the Leafs…in the seat service section…comped hotel at the Hilton downtown…you get the picture. At this point we both start laughing our asses off, because—God almighty—absolutely none of it is a lie…it’s not even really an embellishment. It’s the truth...without all the nitpicky details.
I park in my standard area, just outside the upstairs of Wal-mart…which Lauren freaks out about because it’s two stories…I don’t really remember why, but I seem to recall something about DC not having the greatest of Wal-marts. Instantly we hit the main walk and I point out any and all stores that aren’t in the US. Our main goal…or maybe it was just my main goal…again, the details are a little fuzzy…is finding Lauren a pair of long jeans. It sounds simple…yeah, no, the woman is six feet tall and has no torso…she basically IS legs. As anyone who’s seen the two of us together knows, Lauren’s hips stop right at my boobs. Her elbow rests comfortably on my head.
(muttering) And you people wonder why I’m always in heals.
It’s about this point that I finally stop looking at Lauren like, wow, she’s really here. I mean…I’m literally acting like a freak, petting her and giggling. I missed her for her energy…sarcasm and just basically all the other random things that just hit so well when I’m around her. Unfortunately, I start to feel my less then adequate sleep. We agree to head back to the house (after we eat), to get over to the Hilton in time for check in.
So we head to Jack Astor’s…a generic restaurant-bar/American grill/hangout type establishment. The place is generally fairly causual and busy, so we sit and order fast. The tables are all covered in brown paper…to which, someone (our waiter?) has written: JACK IT UP! Well, after stealing crayons off various tables to acquire her desired mixture of colors (which hilariously alerts some head waitress to our table, in a tissy over “making sure all the tables have crayons”), Lauren discreetly crosses out UP, and inserts another applicable preposition…that is, if OFF is a preposition…
Well, our waiter…who is wearing the same turquoise contacts I sometimes do (with a much different effect)…starts a bit of a hissy fit over the change in Jack’s activities. In case I’ve been unclear, the ENTIRE table is covered with our scribbles at this point…flowers, names, pictures, sayings, various languages…whatever it’s on there. Clearly, the OFF is not the most legible thing on the table. Well, Mr. Waiter starts to lecture…and I groan. Lauren worked with kids for years and years and years (and years and years....). She knows what she can get away with, and what she can’t. Someone giving her a lesson on “appropriate conduct” for a restaurant whose sign blinks on and off to occasionally read: Jack Ass does not go over her well. She explains her position on the matter. He counters. She counters back. I’m literally looking for an escape route. Things start to look like they could be blowing over, when he starts to leave, then comes back, and tries to get in the last word. At this point, I can’t help myself, I jump in, just trying to get the damn thing dropped, as I scribble out both the original words and Lauren’s addition. I’m praying to the food Gods that ours comes free of bodily fluids.
Don’t for a second misunderstand my position on this one. Lauren had the right hand the entire time…I’m just particular about being OVERNICE to the waiter, in the hopes that my food will arrive with no unexpected additives. Well, in the end all works out, because Mr. Waiter apologies with two servings of “The World’s Smallest Pudding Cups” which, essentially is chocolate pudding, syrup and whipped cream in a shot glass. Lauren, happy to have been proven correct, and I attempt the obvious…yeah, FYI, pudding does not shoot. Turn it upside down…and it just kinda stays there. We finish those, I mostly just smoosh the cake we’d already ordered, and Lauren fills out a comment card. And I mean fills…front to back, top to bottom…you didn’t really think we’d get out of there without some comments, did ya?
I think the best part of the whole event, was when Mr. Waiter came back to bid us Adieu. He’s watching Lauren, something akin to interest behind his unnaturally colored eyes. She stands up, his eyes follow her…and just kind of keep going. Lauren must have been a good five inches taller than the guy…and he can’t hide his, “Woah…you’re, wow.”
Yes, my strange little man, yes she is.
We leave…damn, I totally missed an important reference. The only way in or out of Jack Astor’s is a revolving door. How I know this? Because I was forced to ask. Lauren is petrified of the turning…I had to practically push the broad through the thing. It’s funny in the way me intimidating someone is funny. Like, HELLO? I’m not even heavy enough to be a Super Featherweight in boxing…the intimidation factor I do not pack. Lauren, however, with her hott height, and hott looks, appears to be in control of the world…which, most of the time she is…except around revolving doors.
Makes me happy.
Okay all you out there in cyber space, I’m exhausted, so this story is going to have to get picked up tomorrow. Until then…sweet dreams.
Quote of the Moment: “"It's only fun when you judge people. And by "it" I mean life. And by "fun" I mean worth living."
Soundtrack of the Moment: Rediscovering Evanescence
TV/Movie Quote: From The Emperor’s New Groove:
[the palace guards have all been transformed into various animals]
Yzma: Get them!
Cow Guard: Hey, I've been turned into a cow. Can I go home?
Yzma: You're excused. Anybody else?
Other Guards: No, no. We're good.