doctericello

You know what?

2008-04-24T05:49:18Z

Fuck it.

The End

2007-08-01T04:21:08Z

Cheers all!

Drinking with my aunt and the guys

2007-08-01T03:12:28Z

I'm going to start this post with a secret: I am tipsy. Not drunk, but highly highly buzzed. With that said, let's begin.

   Instead of starting with morning let me start with 1 AM, prior to bed. It was around 1 AM Detroit time when I decided to leave the boat and go for a walk to the bathrooms on land. I was trying to exit the boat as quietly as possible so as not to wake my aunt, and being a graceful gazelle I walked into the clear glass door and fell backwards. Very graceful. After that I was quiet and snuck to the bathroom. When I got there, 2 girls and a guy were also arriving. One girl quickly introduced herself to me (for her privacy I will call her Marilyn) and then quickly apologize for her lack of shirt (she was wearing just a bra and boxers). I laughed, looking like crap, and figured I'd apologize for my lack of bra. At this point Marilyn decided she wanted me to have her bra. My friend of only 2 minutes started to whip off her bra as I nervously laughed and said, "no no no... please keep it." Her huge C bra was not going to fit me at all. I wish, but no. So we finish up in the bathroom and she introduces me to everyone else and we talk a little bit before we split up. She was gone. It was great!
   I went to bed around 3 AM after playing a few hours of some computer game I've never played before. I just couldn't sleep. When I woke up around 10 AM the next morning, I made myself some toast and watched more cartoons. I really don't think you can grow out of cartoons. Especially the early cartoons from the 1930s with all the racist and controversial political messages. Got to love them. Anyway, watched those until my aunt woke up and we decided to go to the pool again. Debbie and her parents met up with us there, but we did not stay long because the sun was AZ harsh and I was not there to bake with all the fat-ass leather skin chicks my age smoking on cigarettes and talking on there cellphones, Blah. After a few hours, we decided to part from Debbie and went to the Crew's Inn for lunch/dinner... Basically just something to eat. I ordered the fish and chips since I really couldn't decide what I wanted to get and I felt like crap for a few hours after. It was good, but I ate too much.
   Once we got back to the boat, I fed the school of fish hanging out at the back of the boat and then fell asleep on a towel back there. It was nice with the breeze just above the water... Especially on such an unusually hot day. I shouldn't complain, I'm from the desert, but Michigan is NOT supposed to be 96. Or maybe it is. I'm not familiar with Michigan except with the fact that Vernon's trumps all, Detroit is a ghetto hole, and people drink Canadian beer. And Nino Salvaggios is my favorite grocery store ever. Anyway, so I fell asleep on the back of the boat before I decided to go inside and curl up with a fan on the floor. I still felt terrible and just wanted to lay around. My aunt thought, "let's just shower off! It'll be great!!!" So I peeled myself off the floor and away from the greatest fan on Earth and walked down to the showers. I wanted to curl up into a ball again, but I showered and, yeah, it was nice.
   We walked back to the boat after the showers and my aunt was invited over onto her neighbor's boat for a drink. I just wanted meet up with the floor and the fan again, but okay. She grabbed a glass of wine and we went over. I did not expect to have fun with this group (the "Brokeback Boys") of older guys, but it was such a surprise! They were hilarious. I was not much fun as I sat back getting a feel for everyone and forgetting about the floor and the fan, but my aunt had enough energy and stories for everyone! They had enough jokes and stories for us as well. There are the "old folks" we Arizonans know who walk around in their orthopedic shoes bitching about the world with every breath they take, but these guys were just the opposite. They were lively and drinking up a storm. Coming from the biggest party school in the nation, I was surprised! Nobody out-drinks an ASU chick, but they did. I declined drinks until finally I accepted a who knows what in a cup. It was whisky and something... Whatever it was, it was whisky and I had catching up to do. Halfway through the cup I started to open up a little more, but I was still relatively reserved and taking everyone in. It was a really enjoyable time. A quick note to the group (should they ever stumble upon this): The "38 year old" 50 year old who wore sunglasses the entire time... My suggestion to you- lose the sunglasses at night. You're not Corey Heart. Your eyes are great. Now back to the rest of my travel adventures- These guys were a bunch of fun and my aunt and I took a walk later, discussing how much fun they were. I can't exactly pinpoint and explain what it is that makes this group fun, but I'm sure it's the guys club every guy wishes to be in someday. If I were a dude I'd surely want to be in it. I'm essentially one of the guys back in AZ, I guess. Great group, hilarious. Thanks for a fun night and perhaps if I ever run into them again I will be more interesting. I've decided they are my new [Michigan] drinking buddies.
   That was my day for the most part. No pictures. People watching at the poolside, eating too much at the Crew's Inn, and kicking it with my aunt and the Brokeback Bunch. Whatever it is I drank, it was good, and all those that I met (I remember the names of Jerry, Jim, and Eric... Sorry), totally awesome!
   I probably won't post about tomorrow because I will be home by the end of the night. But tomorrow we are going thrifting and I'm so stoked. It sounds as those clothes are hella cheap here. I'm used to AZ prices. Today's post is not pretty like the others. Hell, the other's weren't even good. They took 5 minutes to write, but at least they had nice pictures to accompany them. This trip was absolutely amazing! I have done soooo much and plan to come/go back to all the places I visited. I especially miss New York. I don't know why. I hated New York when I was alone and had no clue where I was going, but once I figured it out it was like discovering a new world. Michigan is crazy. I feel beautiful here. It's easy to with all the muffin tops. It's not like AZ where I feel bottom of the barrel. Connecticut is gorgeous! That is this trip in a mumble-jumbled blog-o-rific post. I hope you all enjoyed it. To experience the excitement and see it more through my eyes, we can meet up in person and I will tell you with life and expression! I will wear my new clothes, show off my awesome blistered feet, and explain bitching out some crack-whore in the New York subway. I've got balls. And now I have more stories!

Free as the Wind Blows

2007-07-31T04:22:43Z

Where do I even begin with today... As usual, with the wake up!

   It was almost the typical boat morning in that I woke up around noon and went to the kitchen for my bagel and lemonade. My bagels, however, were moldy and there was only a little lemonade left so I just drank it out of the carton man-style. As I drank my lemonade I took my bagel to the back of the yacht and tore one up into little pieces, hoping Fatty would still be there waiting for more food. She wasn't though so my bagel sat on the back of the boat waiting for an empty belly. I wrapped up the other bagel and saved it for feeding the swans at another time. I made myself toast instead before I went down to the coast to read my book next to the water and watch the boats sail past. My aunt went on her 4 mile walk while I did so.
   When I got to the water I realized I forgot my book so I spread out my towel and took in a little sun. After 10 or 15 minutes I realized the sprinklers were turning on all around me so I grabbed my things and went back to the boat. Back on the boat I watched Wallace and Grommit until my aunt came back and we decided to check out the pool.
   "Should I wear a one piece or two?" she asked me.
   "Two. It's a gorgeous day outside," I told her. We both changed into our cute bikinis and went to the pool. Once we were there we realized how fucking great we looked. It seems as though everyone in Michigan is out of shape. Okay, that's a stereotype. Obviously not everyone, but everyone at the pool today had a gut that rivals even the heaviest of beer drinkers. It was absolutely appalling how everyone my age had the body of a 40 year old and everyone over 30 was sun-damaged and fat. I looked to my aunt and said, "now aren't you glad you wore the 2 piece?"
   While on her walk this morning my aunt saw a woman running through paces with her dog, giving German commands every now and then. She identified it as police training and began talking to her. They immediately hit it off, exchanged information, and she (Debbie) met us at the pool that afternoon. Debbie, my aunt, and I sat around talking (I was more listening and observing) on the poolside for hours and Debbie also observed how unfit the Michigan population [surrounding the pool] was... So it's not just me saying it. That's the observation from 3 people.
   As the day wore on and evening approached, we were invited over to Debbie's for dinner. We took her back to the boat, showed it off, and then grabbed our things together for dinner at her house that was just down the street. When we arrived we were greeted by her big, beautiful German shepherd and taken around the house. Her house was decorated to perfection! It was like a beach lodge. There were picturesque lake views out every window and a large river rock fireplace in the center of the living room.

When we got down to the kitchen we went through paces with the dog. It was scary at first. I was not afraid of the dog, but this dog is police trained! I am not a police. I'm a skinny blonde chick and I'm supposed to sound as powerful as she did with him... In German. It was awesome! I totally came off as a push-over pansy ass just because it was an intimidating situation, but how often do people get to boss around a working dog? My dogs barely even know sit.

   After bossing around the dog, we all went kayaking. Even the dog. It was my aunt's and my first time kayaking and it was really easy. I loved it! I don't know how to spell the dog's name so I will refer to him as "Dog," but Dog was hilarious. He originally started off in Debbie's kayak, but jumped into my aunt's kayak, and then into the water. Having swam for about a minute, Dog decided he was done and was hoisted back into Debbie's kayak. After a few minutes he jumped back into my aunt's kayak and then back into the water. We were in a shallow area out in the lake, so we all hopped out of our kayaks and played with the dog. He justed wanted to retrieve things, so Debbie threw a paddle out for him to get. The paddle eventually broke and so Dog would retrieve just the fin he broke off. Finally we decided to wrap things up and got back into our kayaks. My aunt tethered Debbie to her's since she no longer had a paddle, and Dog swam until he decided he didn't want to swim any more and went back into her kayak. Dog was absolutely hysterical! He had so much energy and personality, and it was strange knowing he was trained to kick my ass.

   Once we got back to the house, we cooked up dinner and watched a few videos of her dog in action. He is one of those dogs you see on tv that you dangle a steak in front of and he wouldn't move. I guess he's the canine version of the Royal Guards. He can rip people apart too. Very very cool.
   We went for a boat ride around the harbor in their fast little boat before we settled down for the evening in her kitchen talking. It was such a beautiful night and our day was great! Lounging on the poolside, kayaking, dinner, Debbie, Dog... It was really really great! I am glad my aunt met Debbie because now she had one more awesome, strong, interesting friend to visit while she is Michigan.

Laid back

2007-07-30T06:03:22Z

We'd been on the go since we got in Michigan, so we decided to take a break on Sunday and just lounge around the boat. Maybe I lounged a little harder than my aunt because she actually got dressed and walked around. I really just ate, ate, ate, wrote a little about my adventures, ate, watched a movie, and ate. Eventually I walked out to see all the boats and people littering the lake. We sat out there for a while until we decided to go back to the boat and eat dinner (sausage and such). I'm on a sausage kick... And Michigan has PLENTY of it to offer. Thank god for Michigan.

As dinner was cooking my aunt detected a swan and we began feeding it old bread.

The swan, which I named Fatty, was ballsy. She ate right out of our hands and when I wasn't feeding her more she tried to steal it out of my hands. I tried to split it up between Fatty and the ducks (with their ducklings) but Fatty ate a lot faster and therefore got more.

Next day: Lexington: The Movie

2007-07-29T20:06:53Z

   It was the typical boat morning- waking up a little before noon, bagel for breakfast, and lounging around out on the deck before we left for the day. We planned to spend the day with my aunt’s friend, Carol, out in Lexington, a beachy Great Lakes town.
   We met up with Carol at her friend’s beach cottage, a smaller place with a Martha Stewart touch- white walls and white washed furniture with touches of color from larger items. All the windows were open and bringing in the cool Lake Huron breeze while the light scent of a lilac candle filled the air. It was pretty much the epitome of beach cottage.

   After a brief tour of the cottage, we went into town for lunch and a little shopping. We had lunch at “The Landing” and sat outside on the water. There were a lot of para sailors and boats out on the water. I decided to order the Cherry Chicken Pasta because I have never heard of putting cherries in a non-dessert before. It was quite delicious, though the alfredo sauce was not as creamy as it should have been. When I get back into Arizona I want to make it but with a light olive oil sauce instead of a cream sauce. Or even a cream sauce with asiago cheese. I think that would be really great with the cherries.

   Anyway, after lunch we walked up the street to a few shops and I picked up a few things to bring back to my family. In one shop there was a little (or relatively large) pug that was hilarious! He sat on a chair the entire time looking at everyone and out the window. He never actually moved his body, just his head. His name was Dino and he could give a damn about the world. I pet him a little bit, and he didn't care.

   Overall, Lexington was very quaint. It was small with shops that I imagined a tiny east coast beach town would have (I know Michigan is considered “Midwestern” but I’ve decided it’s a combo of both Midwestern and East Coastal)- furniture and art shops, restaurants, a small theater, and a posh shop with little bit of everything.
   We returned to the cottage after shopping and walked down the steps to the beach. It’s really weird calling it “the beach” when, to me, the beach has always been at the ocean. Lake Huron, however, is so huge it might as well be an ocean. The rule should be, if you cannot see the other side it’s an ocean. But no. It’s a lake and it’s a beach. Carol, my aunt Lisa, and I walked around for a few minutes looking for Petoskey stones before we spread down a blanket to sit on.

I waded around in the water a bit before I decided it was a little too cold with the strong wind and went and sat down with my aunt and Carol. They had brought a bottle of wine and blue plastic cups down with them, and poured me into their circle.

   The day seemed right out of a movie. Carol, my aunt, and the two women in the cottage were strong, independent women who were happily vacationing without their husbands. They all had upbeat personalities and never once complained about anything. It was absolutely refreshing! I’m used to being surrounded by codependent people with nothing but downer words to say. These women were not the fake, Lala-Land happy. They were real.
   We drove back to the boat after our picturesque day in Lexington and got ready to watch desperate people attempt to hook other desperates at a place called “Jack’s.” We sat outside at the Tiki Bar by the water so we could watch not only the desperates but also the boats pass and pull up. There really weren’t that many pathetic singles, but those that were there quickly paired off with what seemed like for sure hook-ups. They were all middle aged. The younger crowd had already moved to another club (The Beach Grill) by the time we ordered and got our food (escargot and potato skins… Nice combo, but really great). Two guys, probably in their mid 30s, invited us over to their table where we talked to them before they left for the Beach Grill, asking us to follow suit. They thought my aunt was an amazing millionaire with her 40ft. yacht at Mac Ray Harbor, traveling each month for Arizona to stay on it, being retired, and having a classic car at home. She was everything they aspired to be. And it was awesome! She sat there telling her stories as one guy kept saying to me, “she must be bullshitting.” No, she wasn’t. She is as interesting and awesome as her stories she tells.
   After our night at Jack’s, not seeing as many desperates as I imagined, we returned to Mac Ray’s. I worked out at the gym around midnight for an hour while my aunt walked. Some drunk guy came in to tell me he needed to work out but was too drunk to do so. I told him he should because he wouldn’t feel the pain until the alcohol wore off. I guess he didn’t drink as much as he thought because I know that reasoning would have convinced someone who was completely trashed. My aunt joined up a few minutes after he left and once we finished working out we showered and went back to the boat to watch The Entourage and to go to bed.

Day 6: Give a German Girl a Taste of Germany

2007-07-29T18:33:15Z

   We woke up around noon again today. Well, actually, I woke up at 9. Our goal was to be up before noon, so I made it happen. I ate my bagel, cream cheese, and lemonade breakfast that I’ve kind of made a routine on this trip (starting in New York). I’ve just been craving lemonade. Else I’d be drinking orange juice with my bagel. Anyway, so I did all that and then went back to bed and didn’t get back up until noon. It was just so perfect in bed with all my windows open, the cool rainy air, and my warm bed.
   When we finally were up and out, we went to Frankenmuth (aka Christmas Town or Little Bavaria). Never ever take a proud German to a town built to celebrate German love and pride. I love being German more than ever now.

It was a really colorful and whimsical town definitely geared towards the tourists, but it worked.

My aunt and I stopped into the sausage shop with over 101 types of sausages. We bought this scary little Ukranian style sausages that reminded me more of a delicious and fresh stick of beef jerky, and then I bought a bag of various sausages to bring home with me. I love sausage! I was really surprised to see that beer wasn’t played up more. The only beer was served in restaurants. No stores devoted entirely to beer, and the beers they did have weren’t even German. They were from the UK. It was completely disappointing, but the flowers in that town were great. So was the chocolate. We bought chocolates too. Not fudge like every tourist, but truffles. They were smooth and amazing! What a combo. Sausage and chocolate. Two of my favorites.

   After Frankenmuth we went out to a bar in Mt. Clemmens called Orleans to see all her Denby High friends. I cannot believe they do not card out much as they do in Arizona. I definitely could have found myself trashed within minutes if I so choosed, but I didn’t. I stuck to coke and water. We played a promotional game from some beer company out here and I got the worst score of everyone- ½ a bean bag into a hole, while everyone else made at least 3 or 4 bean bags into the hole (object of the game was just to toss them into this giant hole). Still, we all scored free pins, tank tops, and flashing blue pens that would drive any druggy up the wall.
   There were pool tables and shuffleboard tables there. I had never seen shuffleboard tables before. The game reminded me a curling, minus the brooms. There are 4 pucks , two colors (two person game) and you shove it across. The table counts from 1-3, 3 being on the outermost edge. You want to get your puck farthest without going over the edge and obviously zone 1 is 1 point and zone 3 is 3 points to reward the person farthest. My aunt, her friend Mike, and I played that for a while, and for being my first time even seeing the game, I did well. I enjoyed it. I definitely think it’s a Canadian thing though. That’s probably why they aren’t out in AZ.
   After shuffle board, we went outside on the patio to talk more. My aunt told the Denby crew about her excursion through her old house the day before. They were in awe that she was not beaten purple or dead. Hell, so was I. As the night went on people around our table started getting drunker and drunker and some asshole next to me dropped a glass tumbler right next to my foot. Luckily it missed me. I kicked half the glass to the side and the guys used the opportunity to hit on the leftover women at the table- Patty, my aunt, and I. They asked us to dance, I declined for everyone. Then they said I looked like a rock and roll chick and had to know who was playing on the radio. I said, “I do love rock, but not this stuff.” He said it was Primus and as more and more of his friends met up at the table he was like, “that chick totally knew this band. Can you believe it?” No, I didn’t. Promise. I know of them, that’s it. Either way, they got the hint that we weren’t looking for their good time and went inside. Drunk people are entertaining and annoying at the same time. I guess tonight they were entertaining since I was in a good mood.
   We went back to the boat after and I met my aunt’s yacht neighbor in the boat house. He looks exactly like Vince Vaughn. I think it is Vince Vaughn. His name is Dennis, though I refer to him as Vince.
   Mmmm…. Chocolate and sausage!

Full Day 5: MI Contrasts

2007-07-29T18:20:14Z

   I woke up to my older sister, Johanna, calling me at 11:15. I did not know it was so late. I laid there talking a while before I got up and walked around, still talking on my phone. We talked about Stephen Lynch coming to Detroit, Stanley, and the correct way to say baklava (say it with almost a hissing voice and apparently that’s how it’s supposed to be said). I lost signal in the middle of our conversation and began to talk to my aunt as she walked out onto the deck. We sat there on that beautiful sunny morning eating our yogurt and working on our computers. I did not know what my plans were yet for the day, so I took my time waking up.
   When we finished breakfast, we got ready and decided to see the house where my aunt and dad grew up- somewhere on Glenwood. A few friends of my aunt said it was probably no longer there, burned out like the rest of the houses in the ghetto, but we still went.
   As we drove down the street towards the house, a tree on our right was covered with stuffed animals, flowers, and crosses. I asked, “was someone killed here?” my aunt responded, “there might have been a drive by.” A few houses down we were there. We were the only white people for miles. Two black kids played in the front yard of her childhood home. My aunt flew out the door excitingly telling them, “this is my old home!” Taken aback, the kids made small talk. I immediately followed after her. I stood back as she told them all about the house and then asked if they knew about the secret room upstairs. They had no idea. She offered to give them a tour and a few moments later we were inside.
   The house was a hole now. I could not help but feel out of place and sympathetic. This was equivalent to Phoenix’s worst ghetto. All the houses surrounding this one had broken windows or were boarded up. Still people lived in them. The walls inside her childhood house were barely white, covered in dirt and filth. A couch and big screen tv were the only furniture in the main room. My aunt walked in, full of energy, explaining how her mother had put up the giant mirror over the fireplace and then walked down the hall into the bathroom, where someone was taking a shower (without the door closed). In the bathroom she explained which things were still original from when she lived there up until the 1970s. Most things hadn’t change. She quickly exited the bathroom, the two boys and I following her, as she pointed out the two bedrooms at the end of the hall- on the right was her’s and my Aunt Laura’s, on the left was my grandma’s. She explained a few things about each room and moved on upstairs. The hard wood floors were gorgeous and the staircase split into two. On the right was a locked door the current family had never tried to open. My aunt told them it was just an attic. On the right was a library and two rooms. We went into the one room and pulled out a drawer from the wall. Behind the drawer was a huge hole to the secret 6x6 room.

The boys were enthralled. They did not know it existed and they ran for their flashlights. She explained the history of the secret room, the house ghosts, and the rooms upstairs. The secret room had been discovered before the current family and was full of junk. This new discovery would provide hours of entertainment once we left. The house was beautiful in architecture with hard wood and built-in shelves everywhere. Unfortunately, time and the bad neighborhood took it over. There was not much furniture upstairs and I wondered how this family lived. I was in shock. I was standing in the house my dad grew up in, getting to put pictures to all the stories I grew up hearing, but I could not get passed how different the current family’s lifestyle was from mine. Here we were, two white chicks in an all black, ghetto neighborhood, not afraid to show this family around their own house. The two boys were completely in awe of our knowledge of secret hiding places and house ghosts, but the woman downstairs was unhappy with our presence. After we finished upstairs we thanked the family graciously and showed ourselves out.

   We did not die that day. I got to see where my dad grew up and how “upper ghetto” families live. It took me a while to soak it all in. I’m still soaking it all. I’ll get back to you on this. It was a really interesting experience though. I don’t know. I’ll bet back to you.
   After we left the Glenwood house we went to the mall where we scoured clearance racks for hours. I found a black dress I was iffy about. I could not make up my mind when my younger sister, Melissa, called me to talk about Stanley. She told me the exact thing Johanna did earlier, “Mom is being mean. She won’t let Stanley into any of the rooms.” I asked to talk to Stanley and made her give him cookies for me. As I talked to both Stanley and her, my aunt decided I needed the dress and bought it for me. It was a nice gesture, but I still was iffy on the dress. We went to more store wear I found $9 jeans that looked fantastic and a long shirt that was totally Johanna but looked good on me for $10. Not a steal, but I have never looked good in anything Johanna would wear… And now I did and it looked good paired with the jeans. I also bought a pair of sweat pants for $5 that made my ass look awesome. I will live in those this upcoming semester.
   On our way back home we stopped by an international market, Nino Salvaggio, and went nuts.

This store was like AJ’s on steroids. It was absolutely insane! There were fruits, vegetables, and herbs I have never heard of in my life. The wine and beer selections were gigantic, and they made their own sausages, cheeses, pastas, and more! We stared at the sausages and finally decided on the Spinach and Chicken Feta, and the Italian Wine and Cheese sausage. Once we finished running around the store like children on a sugar rush, we checked out. At the check out I bagged our groceries and ignored the cashier as she asked for both our IDs (we bought wine) and called her manager over because they were out-of-state IDs. It seemed to work. I never showed my ID and she thanked me for helping her out. I walked out smiling… And with a bottle of wine.
   We got back at the boat and I made dinner- handmade sausages, caprese salad with the fresh made mozzarella, garlic bread, and our bottle of wine. The entire bottle of wine. The tomatoes were so tender and sweet, and I have never had basil so flavorful and aromatic. It was great!
   It was the day of contrast. In morning I was in the ghetto, now there I was- drinking on a yacht eating a beautiful gourmet dinner. I don’t know what to think of myself. How is it okay to see the ghetto and then spend an evening so nicely? Either way, I drank too much on the yacht at dinner. It felt good! After dinner and the bottle we hit the showers. I don’t think anything could have gotten better. Buzzed in a hot shower, completely relaxed and full from dinner. When we got out we walked around the harbor. It was a beautiful night and I needed to walk off the wine. After the walk, we ate our cannolis from Nino Salvaggio and got ready for bed. I slept really good that night with my windows open and the sound of water running lightly outside.

Full Day 4: Moving On

2007-07-28T06:09:25Z

   The German girl woke me up early in the morning and we walked down to the lobby together. Her shuttle came relatively quickyl and mine, of course, was running 30 minutes late. I talked with the front desk dude who was laying across 3 chairs (he was tired, but it was cool) about New York of course and being in the nutrition field. He offered me up a free breakfast and eventually my shuttle came.

   I thought I was the last person to be picked up. I did take the last available seat in the shuttle... But nope. We picked up 3 more people and how we all fit... Well, the shuttle man was definitely taking cues from the Mexican coyotes. We were crammed into that van tighter than peas in a pod. I sat in between two large men with large jackets and large bags and had to beg for them to move when my terminal was the first drop-off. But at least I got to the airport on time.
   At the airport the lines were outrageous. There was no way I was going to make my flight until I saw it- CARRY ON ONLY E-TICKETS. Nobody was in line. I jumped ahead and was at my gate within minutes.
   I had 2 short flights to Michigan, each being a small plane with around 10 people on board. The flight attendant on the first flight was a flight attendant from Hell as her threatened to take us all down if we came near the doors and threatened us in other ways if we did anything else. She begged for change throughout the entire flight and told us continuously to "help her help us." Flight attendant from Hell. The other flight attendant wasn't bad, but I think something happened to the plane as we were landing because once we did land nobody was allowed off the plane and the pilot ran off immediately and circled the plane, examining the wings for damage. All I remember was hearing a loud thug before we landed. So who knows.
   I waited around the airport a few hours more my aunt. I was probably only outside for 5 minutes before a man in a full armor and 2 trench coats with plastic shoulder guards jumps out of a car. I thought he was going to blow us all up. Who in their right mind (and sobriety) wears that in comfort? NOBODY. Plus it wasn't that cold out. I sat out on the bench talking with security most of the time about people, the terminal being a hole, and the weather.
   Once my aunt and I met up, we drove out to the boat,.There we ate dinner at the marina, took a walk a few miles down the road, then came back and crashed. It was an easy day.

Day 3- CT

2007-07-27T06:39:49Z

   Katie and I woke up at 9 the next morning, ate breakfast, and left Glastonbury to pick blueberries at Rose’s Berry Farm. Along the way we talked about Connecticut versus Arizona, observing the hilly berry farms and lush forests. The farm was acres and endless across of hills covered with blueberry and raspberry bushes, a pond, and buckets for our berries. We parked the car, grabbed our cameras, had a brief photo stop at the car next to our’s with the license plate “POOP” and walked downhill to the buckets.

We assigned ourselves 2 bushes, picking for 45 minutes, trying to fill our buckets with the plumpest, bluest berries possible. From time to time we would pop a few into our mouths, looking around like paranoid thieves so as not to get caught.

   After we picked our bushes bare, we went and paid. $2 a pound. That, to me, was a steal! I texted my mom in excitement. $2 a pound. Back in Arizona a ½ pint sold for $2. Once my excitement died down, I finally got into the car. We drove back into town to eat at Panera. For a chain, it was really good. I got a roasted tomato and chicken sandwich, whole wheat baguette, and a grilled salmon salad for $8. I expected it to be completely vile, but it was nice. A real piece of salmon and a very flavor sandwich.
   As soon as we were done with lunch we went out to the Mark Twain House in Hartford. Along the street were a few protestors holding signs that shouted, “NO MORE $ FOR WAR.” I thought nothing of it. I decided that it was probably a daily activity for crazy Connecticut uber liberals. The parking lot was full of cop cars- both marked and undercover. We hopped out of the car and toward the house where we talked with one of the police men. The house was closed because Laura Bush was there. We left for Elizabeth Gardens a few blocks away to occupy our time until it opened back up.

There we ran around taking pictures and stealing flowers, which quickly fell apart when I tried to put them in my hair with bobby pins. Before long we got bored and left for Blood Field Farm ice cream- an ice cream shop run out of a small farm house near Windsor. We ordered massive cones and sat on the little wooden deck chairs laughing, talking, and filling ourselves more. Connecticut life seemed worlds away from New York City life. Everything was so laidback there, no crowds or big billboards. Just tranquility and easy going people.
   We returned to the Mark twain house, getting the last available tour tickets for 2:15. We walked around the gorgeous house quietly, laughing like school girls from time to time just to see the tour guide freak out as he though we were up to trouble.

Once the tour was over we ran across the lawn to take pictures of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s house, which ended up not being her house at all. Within seconds of crossing the lawn the security guard yelled to me, “Bring your camera here!” I froze up. “You have to take a picture of this!” t the top of a tree was a red-winged falcon he began to tell me as I cowered over to him. I took a picture to humor the guard, but it was impossible to see the bird in the picture. Katie and I ran to another house and took a picture. This time we were right. This was Stowe’s real house.

We ran back across the lawn and took mores pictures of Mark Twain’s house from every angle possible then returned to the museum where we stamped our tickets with the “Passport Stamps” before heading to the bus station.

There was little time for nothing more than a hug goodbye before I had to board the bus back to NYC.
   There were less than 15 people on the trip back. Halfway through I had to pee, but did not want to be the person that uses the bathroom. Everyone hates that person… But with 35 minutes left on horribly uneven streets, and seeing 3 people use it before me, I gave in. I shuffled my way back there, only to find a toilet full of bluish-green liquid sloshing around from side to side. I peed fast fearing any quick stop would create a massive tsunami effect and I would be devoured by this blue bowl of bile. I exited the bathroom gracefully by somehow breaking the door. I was the person everyone now hated. I went back to my seat and hid as I listened to someone try to slam the door closed. It made me laugh. It wouldn’t close. I tried. That was my luck this trip. If it could go wrong, it would.
   I got to the bus terminal and quickly left, walking the 9 blocks to my hostel- passing hookers and crack heads singing and dealing. There I stayed, fearing the streets alone at night with a sore knee from the rain. Dan, Zach, Max, and the spontaneous Occidental friend from "full day in NYC 1" were less than half a block away at the White Stripes concert. I was jealous. They are great in concert! I wanted to hang out after (and sent a text asking... never got a response), but they deserved a break from me. I was annoying. I admit it.
   As my hostel mates returned that night I learned one girl was also waking up at 6 the next morning and I asked her to wake me up. She was from Germany and we immediately bonded. We talked for a bit before we crashed and promised to be wake-up buddies the next morning. I trusted her.

The second full day

2007-07-26T16:48:18Z

I woke up late the next morning at 10:17 AM. I had wanted to get up at 8:30. Check-out at the hostel (that I had keys for and did not stay at) was at 11:00 across town in Times Square. With my belongings still in Little Haiti and no time to spare, I made the bed, said good bye to Max and Zach, and left. The moment I stepped outside I was met by New York’s heaviest rainfall this summer. My flowy summer skirt, tank top, flip flops, and no umbrella from the warm day before were completely inappropriate and drenched in less than half a block. I had no clue where the nearest subway entrance was on this side of town and now had only 30 minutes to get from East Village to Times Square.
   I ran into the nearest store looking mainly for shelter and an umbrella to buy to get my through the morning. Eventually I found the subway, but I walked most of the way from 4^th and 2^nd to 39^th and 9^th. I was 15 minutes late, sopping wet, and to my surprise it was okay. I placed by keys on the desk, smiled, and walked back into the rain. This was my side of town. I walked a block to the subway and road it all the way to where I needed to be. The east side subway was now mine!
   Max and Zach weren’t at the apartment when I got back so I met up with them at a coffee shop near NYU. They weren’t ready for the rain either and looked as though they had just jumped into a pool with all their clothes on. We walked a few blocks over to the NYU library to meet Dan and retrieve my backpack of life (it really was my entire life in that backpack. My clothes, reservations, everything). As we stood waiting by the covered doors we all rung out our soaked clothes, shaking cold from the now strong wind. Within minutes Dan arrived. I quickly whipped out the umbrella I had packed and gave newly purchased one to Zach. We decided to walk over to a nearby Ethiopian food place. As Zach tried to light a cigarette, the wind yanked the umbrella out of his hands and dragged it down the street. Dan, Max, and I stopped to watch and laugh as Zach chased it down the street cursing and grabbing. Once he caught it, the wind blew it inside out and rendered it semi-useless. Still he tried to use it.
   We got to the restaurant, where we all sat in silence and wet clothes, disappointed with that day’s weather. After ordering some sort of lentils I ran to the back to change into dry clothes. After eating we all went out own ways. Dan went back to school, Zach and Max waited for the dealer at the apartment, and I took a bus to Hartford, Connecticut to visit my friend, Katie. It was a 3.5 hour ride with rush hour, but when I got there she was waiting.
   That night her family cooked dinner for me- salad, lasagna, Shirley Temples, and Strawberry satin pie. We sat around the table for 2 hours catching up on our lives, figuring out our plans for tomorrow, and comparing Arizona, Connecticut, and New York. After dinner we watched “Return to Me” and about halfway through decided to call it a night.
   Connecticut was very different from New York City. It was the stereotypical East Coast lifestyle I always imagined- polos and khakis, large white houses with blue or red doors, and peaceful green forests near dark blue bodies of water. Everyone looked like an Ivy League graduate in their BMWs and loafers.

let's start with day one (in complete detail)

2007-07-26T05:07:53Z

How should I start this.... I will start once I arrived in LaGuardia airport on Saturday night.

   I did not come to New York with any plans. All I did was book a few hostels so I would never be homeless and make plans with Dan to meet me at the airport around 11:40 at night. My flight got in early around 11:30 and I walked around the closed airport just praying to God he was around somewhere. I called and, to no surprise, no answer. I left the terminal and sat outside until he called me back saying he was at a subway station and something something something. With that I learned I needed to take the bus to meet him. I don't know buses in the US. All I know is that in Europe you buy a ticket in a tobacco shop and you are good to go. Not in NY. They don't take 20s, credit cards, or even paper money at all. Only coins. and lucky for me, I only brought $20s and cards. I ran around the airport trying to find someone to exchange money with. One man yelling at himself to my left offered to swipe me on (but onto a different bus) and an employee ran around scrambling change from other LGA employees and looking for me. We ran into each other a few minutes later and he gave me what he scrambled up in addition to money from his one pocket. This man was my hero. I loved him and really owe him my entire trip. By this point, not even 10 minutes into the trip, I knew that if anything was going to go wrong, it was going to go wrong.
   It was around 12:45 that I got off the bus I thought I was going to die on... With a couple fighting behind me, a man staring at me to my left, and a drunk dude hanging onto the seat for dear life in front me of. I had finally met up with Dan in what seemed to be a sketchy little sect of New York. We hailed a taxi, who I did not tip because he did not give me two $5s and I should have spoken up and feel about about that but oh well, and wove our way to wherever it is that Dan lives (I will refer to it as "Little Haiti' because that is all I know). Because it was late, I riddled around with his guitar and tried to sit down and watch I Heart Huckabees (?), but as usual, I fell asleep. In the morning, almost afternoon, I stumbled out of bed, woke up Dan, and we went to breakfast at a cute cafe that was.... I'm going to say around the block. There we ran into his lesbian landlords whose names I don't remember though one did demand to be "Lord" from the introduced name of "Landlord." Anyway, it was good. I ordered the everything bagel and lox with a fresh lemonade, and, to my surprise, it truly was fresh lemonade. Barely even sugared! The entire time we ate I kept wondering if my face was puckered like a raisin as much as I thought it was or if the smile was nicely covering it up.
   After breakfast we took a train into Manhattan, talking about everything from our families to our futures to simple philosohpies. In the middle of the conversation he said, "Stand up." I thought it was our stop coming up as we walked towards the door, but we were still on a bridge. He pointed out the beautiful view- sparkling water, the Statue of Liberty, and amazing skyscrapers. The pier, the bridge, and the grafittied roof tops people jumped from other buildings to get to. I could not wipe the smile off my face, and I tried because I knew I looked like a cracked out goof. It was all just so awesome!
   Not much longer we got into Manhattan. We walked around the midtown area as he pointed out arches, buildings, and shops.

I saw the mouse-maze of staircases at the NYU library, and constantly ran into Dan and other pedestrians as I walked with my eyes staring straight up at the tops of Times Square buildings so full of ads, moving headliners, and TVs bigger than my house.

There were canvas boothes of cheap Chinese goods engulfed by gawking, fanny-pack wearing tourists up and down the streets and tremendous bronze lions growling on the sidewalks. Just a few blocks away was central Park. As we passed the horsedrawn buggies we considered renting bikes; however, we had to meet his friends by the north gate for Summer Stage. Biking would have been phenomenal.

   We walked up to his friends sprawled out on their blanket full of cheese, chocolate, and "crunk juice" (some cranberry juice and alco-blend). The entire park was crowded with bikini babes and shirtless men. After a while the crunk kids (Dan and his friends) began yoga positions and handstands as I sat in my overly-modest skirt (I've never felt so marmish in a knee length skirt) with one other friend of his talking. Around 3:00 though I had to break off from the crowd to travel to 39th and 9th to check into my hostel (and to keep from annoying the hell out of Dan which I think I still managed to do almost immediately).

   The place was quiet, comfy, and the manager nice. We sat down at a table and we talked before he gave me keys to the entire place. it felt safe. A few minutes later I was back on the street bothering Dan (via text), who was not at Summer Stage. The walk back was long so I attempted the subway by myself. I hoped on what I thought was the B to 67th and ended up being the on the F, just south of 4th in some fucking ghetto. As i walked and waited for the B a strung out middle-aged woman mumbled a question to me. I gave her [the right] answer and she proceeded to yell at me, calling me a know-nothing and dumb. Extremely frustrated and ready to cry at this point, I looked at the frazzled wench and simply said "okay" and walked away. I was done at this point. I was lost, afraid, and frustrated with all of New York. I decided to walk the 60-some blocks back to Central Park, ghetto or not. 3 block blocks and a water stop later, I hopped back onto the subway. I talked to everyone I could and 15 minutes later was walking out into Central Park from 5oth and Columbus Circle. I finally understood the subway system (well... The A, F, 1, 6, and B that doesn't run on weekends). I walked through central Park, deciding to leave Dan in peace and not attend Summer Stage (with the Brazilian Girls). As I walked a young guy with brown hair and East Coast style broke off from his friend and asked to walk with me. I said okay. 30 seconds later he smiled and said, "okay, I think I'm done." We kept walking and I smiled back and said, "I think I am too." With one more look we were done and said good bye.
   I sat down in the grass, listening to the far-away sounds of the Brazilian Girls chanting "Pussy pussy pussy" as the sun shined down on me and the 1000s of half naked chicks around me. As I laid there, thinking about my day, a middle-aged man introduced himself to me.
   "Hi, I saw you walking through the park earlier. My name is Mike." I replied,
   "Hi Mike," with a confused smile on my face.
   "What is your name?" he asked in a businessman way.
   "Erica. My name is Erica." I continued to stare at him from behind my glasses as he continued to talk.
   "Well, I was thinking of having a drink down at the boathouse a little later and would like to invite you for a drink" he explained as he twisted the gold wedding band on his finger. I was shocked. Twice in one day!! I was hit on twice in 1 day! That is more than I get in a year back in Arizona.
   "Thank you Mike, but I am meeting someone here soon," I explained. It wasn't really a lie. In 1 hour I would be meeting back up with Dan somewhere around the city. I laid in the grass about 10 minutes longer before I opened my phone, pretending to talk to Dan, and walked out to the street. I followed the music, not knowing where to enter. I followed the metal fences until there was an opening watched by 1 guard. This was backstage. I walked a little closer, out of security sight, and took a seat. The music was loud, the deep beat pulsing. next to me people were passing a joint and behind me more people lit up. I wasn't in the dancing crowd at Summer Stage. was chilled at the back stage! after 20 minutes I got up and continued to walk around. I wanted to dance with Dan and his friends in the real audience now. I walked through a forest of hippies and beer bottles until I came to a cement barracade near the entrance (nobody could get in anymore) and sat down. I talked to a Caribbean man for 30 minutes about Spanish, the Brazilian Girls, and Haiti. I am really good at bullshitting. I know nothing about Haiti except for their language and traditional cuisine, but I talked as if I knew everything. Not long after, Dan came walking up, exhausted from the day of dancing. We walked up to the Plaza Hotel at the end of Central Park to meet up with Max and Zach who had just arrived into town.
   As we took the subway back to Manhattan apartment Dan was watching for a friend, we all spoke little as we spaced out (however, there seemed to be room for some smart ass comments regarding my inability to figure out the subway machines and bus stations and yada yada). Once off the subway we walked several blocks through East Village. As we were walking Max says, "Hey man, how's it going?" out of no where. To this he gets a "Good good. thanks" from a man's voice. Max leans into us and says, "That was Robin Williams." We all stop and laugh, trying to convince him he is wrong. That man was not hairy at all. Everyone knows Robin Williams is one hairy dude. Plus, where were all the paparazzi? Dan ran down the street after him to find out. The rest of us stood around picking apart what just happened and how Dan was going to be arrested for hunting a celebrity down. A few minutes later he was back with the news- it was in fact Robin Williams. Moments later, a friend of Dan's pops out of no-where (seriously) and joins us for the night.
   That evening we all went out to a surprisingly affordable and warm restaurant named Pangea. It was described as "a restaurant serving a unique combination of all the continents united" to which Dan remarked "hence Pangea." The walls were burnt orange inside, the seats a deep leather, and yellow candles lit the room. We discussed movies, books, drugs, and, again, a little philosophy. Afterwards, Dan, his friend Josh, Max,Zach, and I walked back to the small studio apartment in Manhattan. We waited 5 minutes before Dan left to study at his place out in Little haiti. After that we all watched Planet Earth as Josh and the Mesa guys waited and waited and waited for a dealer to call them back. It had been 3 hours and 4 phone calls and no call had been returned. Out of desperation, Max called every person he "sort of knew" from Occidental that lived on the east coast hoping they were in New York with drugs or the knowledge of a dealer nearby. Nobody answered his calls except one guy who, by the end of the conversation, decided to fly to New York and see the White Stripes concert with them on Tuesday.
   We walked to the corner store for a toothbrush before retuning to the apartment where the last act of desperation took place. A bong found on top of a shelf had a resin ball in it. Max slowly lit up hoping for some sort of hit. Success! They all continued to hit, scraping what they could from around the sides. After one last episode of Planet Earth, Josh left. It took us 20 minutes to figure out how to convert the futon into a bed. My hotel accomodations went to waste that night but I had more fun with these kids... And I had to stay here to wait for my belongings (left at the Little Haiti location).