When my father randomly called me to ask if I wanted to go to DC for a weekend, I—of course—said, “HELL yeah!”
A quick call to Lauren put me into her voicemail. So I was a little nervous. I mean, I knew they (“they” being of the Lauren & Steven variety) were going to be moving soon, but I wasn’t completely on top of the exact date. Not only that, but I knew that Lauren had some serious jet setting to do, so I was thinking I might miss her completely.
I somehow don’t have Steven’s number in my phone—probably lost during my cell’s suicide earlier this year—so I have no idea how to confirm everyone’s whereabouts for the said weekend. Then I remember another DCian of worth: SLFM. Thankfully, he answers my call. Unfortunately, I’ve also woken the boy up. He quickly assures me that he was wanting to wake up anyways and lays out the 411 for me. Lauren and Steve will both be in town, but the weekend is the weekend of the great move-in.
Shortly thereafter I get a text from my girl and finally make contact. Yes, she’ll be there. Yes, they’ll be moving. And yes, I should come. Yea!
Well, in keeping with my flying curse, my connecting flight in Cleveland will be leaving before my first flight gets there. I somehow manage to get on an earlier flight, get to the airport less than an hour before it’s scheduled to depart, get through customs and get on board with no further problems. Well, so far, so good.
I land in Newark. There are three issues with the airport. First is, of course, my departing gate is about a thousand miles away from my recently arrived gate. Seriously, I’m thinking I may have landed in New York and departed from Newark. Second is the fact that the A/C in my gate is shot. They’re literally trying to get all perishable goods out of the place post haste. The third issue is completely dependent on the first two; the supercute new shoes I’m wearing have been broken in too fast, in far too warm a situation. The last time I saw blisters like that, I’d just gotten out of a four-hour dance class.
Right. Also, my phone flips out and won’t let me make any calls while out of the country. Oh, I can receive calls. I can send and receive texts. But I can’t make calls. WTF, I ask you?! WTF?!?!
The car picks me up at the airport, and it’s about a half hour to get into DC from BWI, where I’ve flown in. I walk in the front doors of my hotel—a very nice affair with lots of marble and crystal chandeliers—and pumping Hip Hop/R&B. Um, hi. What the hell is going on here? I feel like I’ve walked into a high school prom.
Which, ironically, I did. Yep, prom night in DC. I briefly consider joining the party—after all, everyone thinks I’m sixteen anyways—but I don’t think it’s something that I can pull off in jeans and my “Possibly…the best fuck ever” shirt. I call Lauren and hear about the awful day she’s had. I try calling SLFM, but the hotel keeps telling me his number’s invalid. Instead, I text him and call Dad. Dad’s out with the customers he’s here to entertain. I’m invited. I’m not super thrilled, what with the craziness and the blisters and the feeling ugly, but I confirm dress code and change to head over and join the festivities. SLFM calls the room, and we momentarily discuss the options. Eventually, it’s decided that SLFM will meet me in the lobby 8:30am the next morning and we’ll head over to Lauren and Steven’s from there.
I do the daughterly thing with Dad & Co. This includes a finely made vodka martini extra dry, with a twist. This is so damn good I continue to drink them all weekend. We joke and laugh and talk everything from the industry to relationships and hit quite a few things in between. We wrap things up sometime around 3, and Dad and I head back to the hotel. I borrow a T from him, to use for the moving the next day, and give him an imported candy bar for his troubles. I read a bit, then sleep.
The next day I’m up before my alarm, thanks to the insane intensity of the sunlight. I opt to watch some cartoons and mope around getting ready. SLFM gets in touch with me, letting me know he’ll be in the lobby in fifteen. At exactly 12 minutes he texts and asks where I am. I tell him I have three minutes. He warns me that I, alone, will be facing the wrath of Lauren for our tardiness.
Whatever. Lauren does not scare me. She may be the boss of me, but she doesn't scare me. ;)
I get downstairs and stand in line for Starbucks, and wave to a SLFM-looking boy by the front doors. Since he waves back I figure I have the right guy, and holler out an inquiry to whether or not he wants a coffee. He declines, and I end up wishing I had gotten something a little…well, colder.
It’s a funny thing to meet someone you’ve basically been in fairly constant contact with for awhile but never actually seen in person. I had a similar situation when I met Steven. I mean, we’d talked online, on the phone, engaged in ridiculous three and sometimes four way Gmails with Lauren & Co. Meeting him felt a lot like meeting an old friend, except not half as awkward. It was just…easy. Like hanging with Lauren, but a boy. SLFM was kinda like that. Except…not. I don’t know the most delicate way to say this, so I’m just going to come out and say it. SLFM is, clearly, not dating Lauren. He’s also someone that I’ve talked to about life…and yes, sex…more than a dozen times. I was worried he’d be weird or I’d be weird.
I think SLFM summed it up the best when he said, “I’m so glad you’re as cute in person as you are online.” Ditto for me.
Of course, this wasn’t the first thing he said to me. I think, “Wow, you ARE short,” was before. He kinda took advantage of my height. You know, pointing out street signs and things above us and asking, “Can you reach that?” Repeatedly. Over and over. Seriously. Mean. ;)
We approach the new apartment building. I am so excited to see Steven driving the U-Haul, that I ignore the hot, gross weather and run over to say hi. I know very few truly good people in this world. Steve and Lauren are two; and I would be lying through my teeth if I didn’t say I really, really love the both of them together. When I see the beautiful girl herself, it’s like a bit of all that’s been wrong with my world lately falls away. It’s milk and hot, fresh cookies for big kids. Or at the very least, milk and cookies for me.
My idea of heaven is walking onto a horse farm surrounded by all the people in my life that have made any of this worth anything. So, seeing these tragically hipster pirates in the flesh is…I suppose…a little piece of heaven on earth.
I’m excited that Lauren notices I’m wearing the necklace she made for my birthday, and totally thrilled that she likes it on me as much as I, well, like it on me. We start the ordeal of unloading all of Lauren’s things, which, of course, is interrupted by the obligatory tour. Thankfully, everyone really does their best to pull their weight, and things move along quite nicely. There was a few funny moments…mostly envovling a very tight fit with a couch, Steve’s ex-roommates, and a hilariously timed call from MGFM.
Oh! And the tufu jerky! Soooooo excited about that. Anyways, I help out Steve and Lauren with emptying boxes, grocery shopping, and just general bonding. Of course, finding out that my debit card is frozen, puts a damper on things.
Picture this, my friends. While I’m blow-drying my hair, I’m on hold with my bank…jumping around the hotel half-in and half-out of my clothing…getting tangled up in both the phone and blow-dryer cord. Seriously, if my half naked, falling over, screaming ass isn’t funny, what is?
So, I’m late for dinner. Also, the cab drops my father and I, like four blocks from the actual restaurant—yeah, that was hilarious. Lauren and Steven are waiting outside, looking like the rockstars they are. It’s so nice to have, like, grown-up friends that you don’t ever have to worry about taking into public. Don’t get me wrong, I have lots of adult friends…just not all of them understand what an appropriate “dinner conversation with customers” entails.
We make our exits early, so we can hit up the new Pirates. Not going to lie, I started out a little drunk, thanks to the two martinis and…um…not sure how many glasses of wine. Over all, I get a kick out of the movie. Helped, in part, to Lauren and my ridiculousness. Oh, also my loud laughter. That seems to both shock and disturb Steven’s ex-roommates. (Just as a side note here, I would have declared them XRs above, but that makes them sound like a sports car and…well, that would be at the very least slightly misleading.)
Anyways, we head back to the hotel, I give Lauren the Captain Jack Bearrow I made at Build-A-Bear and grab a change of clothes for a sleep over at their new place. I get a bunch of texts…some of which are coming from SLFM. Eventually he comes over to the apartment, and I set about keeping everyone awake. It only works for so long…
I wake up to a strange form crouched over me. Three things happen in quick succession: I scream; grab my pillow while rolling many times; and burst into laughter as I realize that SLFM was just trying to let me know he was taking off. I attempt to get back to sleep, but figure I’m SOL before I really start.
Soon enough, I’m re-booking my flight, and setting up lunch with Dad. Lauren and Steven come, and again I’m just super impressed with how much affection I have for all of them. This leads to some quick shopping, which leads to longer shopping by Lauren and me. I have two minor freak outs. The first is in an overcrowded Steve Madden shoe store. The second is in Forever 21 when it seems that my impending cycle has my boobs almost twice their normal size. Literally ripping bodices out of dresses.
Yep, it’s official, I’m stressed.
I take a super long bath to try and calm myself down, while also reminding myself that I always—ALWAYS—gain weight right before. I’m not a large woman. I’m not completely unfortunate looking. I’m not unworthy of love or affection.
I go out to dinner with Dad & Co. again, this time sans my dynamic duo. I do okay, but I miss the slightly more open conversation of the night before. Like, I don’t need a bunch of old people with their heads up their asses telling me that global warming is an urban myth.
Look people, whether or not we actually caused the warming of the globe…its happening. Maybe instead of arguing over whose fault it is, we could work together to try and make it a little better. I’m not asking all of you to never again drive a car, but it would be super great if you could, like, plant a tree or change the type of light bulb you use.
Wow…um…sorry about that. I clearly have some pent up anger I need to work out. Sorry again. I digress.
Dad & Co. had taken a limo around DC all day and a cooler of mixed alcohol bottles accompanied them. During dinner, this cooler hung out in my hotel room…and then proceeded to melt from ice to freezing water. Since I want Lauren and Steven to have it, I run up to the room before my cab ride over. Of course, I get all the way into the elevator before it occurs to me that I could have just dumped all the freezing water out before carrying it downstairs. This becomes particularily relivent as the corner of the Styrofoam thing busts open and I flood the elevator like James Cameron did in Titanic.
So glad I was all alone in the elevator. So glad. Can’t even truly express. Not so glad, however, about the freezing cold water dripping down my leg when I held the thing and my socks turning into soppy cold fabric, but who I'm I to complain?
Right, so, I’ve meantioned how I kinda hated myself this day, right? Up above? Right, well, realizing this is my last hang out time with my girl, I definitely go into self destruct mode. I drink. I drink a lot. I hit on boys inappropriately. I nearly break the neck of a girl that hugs Steven. Seriously, almost killed her. Ask Lauren, she totally saw the whole thing and had to tell me it was okay.
I think the funniest part was Lauren making me drink water, telling me, “We don’t want a ‘bad sushi’ episode.” See how she takes care of me. Well, that or me eating watermelon and asking why, exactly, there was no vodka in it.
Hey! I told you I went into self-destruct mode. Did you think I was kidding?
The night ends with Lauren and I rushing to get me back to the hotel in time to pack my bags and jump in the cab in order to make my flight. I don’t, then I have flight issues, then the entire military is in Philly checking baggage. Don’t ask; I have no idea what the hell was going on.
Regardless, when I finally get home, I immediately go to bed and pass out. I’m missing Dad, and Lauren and Steven already, but I have to say I was so glad to be back in my (nice, cool) city.
Next time on RC, this girl’s going to try and sum up the last couple-o-weeks in under two pages. Until then, I send you love and special sauce...
Quote of the Moment: “It’s not that your customers like you, it’s more that they like looking at you.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Fergie, “Big Girls Don’t Cry”
TV/Movie Quote: Family Business: [Regarding shooting an orgy scene]“Never in my life have I ever more wished to have earplugs on a set.”