is it just me?

Today i found myself in a quandary.

You see, i live to go to concerts. and i do not like the idea of concerts selling out before i have the time to find someone who wants to go. so i just buy two. today i had one extra and wasn't sure if i wanted to go it alone.

Only one time in my life have i purchased a sole, lonely ticket. that was for badly drawn boy in london, before i knew anyone well enough to convince them it would be a good time. or before i knew anyone well enough for them to just blindly trust my music judgement, as some have come to do. however, the week of that concert about 4 people told me they would have gone if i had only had another ticket. sigh. really?

so far my only experience with going to a concert alone involved everyone telling me it was socially unacceptable to do so, everyone telling me i would get murdered, not getting murdered, going into the venue and seeing that even though people waited outside no one went up to the front, going up to the front, moving cords that got stuck on speakers, seeing BDB singing and shaking hands with people, having sweaty hands since i was wearing several layers of clothes and it became very hot, thinking oh no i think he is going to try to shake my hand, having my hand kissed, thinking boy this is awkward, but enjoying myself nonetheless.

so. as you might ascertain, i was unsure about what going to Beirut alone might bring. the band, not the city. my friend wound up not being able to go and i didn't try very hard to convince anyone to go to Montclair NJ. why? because it was montclair and that is not nyc. people have a hard time with that.

1. i am about to get off the train and a man standing on the other side of the vestibule mumbles something to me. 'what's that?' i say, in a polite way, even though, when written, that sounds impolite or  like an old lady who wears her glasses on a chain and has to look up from her knitting to try to read your lips while you talk. the situation was not much different. i no knitting. but probably should get a chain...  he says ' nice pumas'. what? i was confused. i am wearing shoes that are at least 5 years old because i refuse to part with them, but the weird part is i really think he was sincere. that is all he says. then we leave the train.

2. i get to the venue and decide to check twitter. a fairly new band that i like very much (Pearl and the Beard), just tweeted that they are at the same show. literally as i am replying to the band's tweet, someone walks up next to me playing with their phone. i look over and think that looks like a whole lot like Jeremy from the band i am tweeting. i was intrigued by this new 21st century awkward situation that was born. i felt that tweeting ' i am standing right next to you' is a little too 'call someone on the phone, breathe heavily, then tell them what they are wearing and to look outside.' in other words, a little creepy murderer-y. i decided then that i should just say hi. luckily the minute i was going to do this, he moves forward to an open space further up. which is good because the only plan of action i could think up was poking him in the arm reluctantly, saying 'hi. so this is going to be weird unless the answer is yes, but are you in a band and is called pearl and the beard? if so you are awesome. and i like your beard.' see why it's good for me not to talk to people?

3. pretty sure a girl from high school came up right next to me two minutes later. this has yet to be confirmed because i was still trying to figure out if jeremy was really jeremy and i was starting to really question myself and my perceptions of who people really were.

4. wandering away from the concert (in the opposite direction from where i need to be), killing time because the next train wasn't for about 45 minutes. someone sort of skips up and taps me on the shoulder. oh hey kid from college that i havent seen or talked to in like 5 years; what's up? so we talk. then i go on my merry way because i was very paranoid about missing the only train left.

5. i get on the train. sit down and start to read Jane Eyre, which i am obsessed with right now, and a random girl comes over and says HI! in a very overenthusiastic manner. i look up in a very under-enthusiastic manner. 'so would you two mind sitting together so that my friend and i can sit together?'  'oh. uh. ok'. then me and the kid who picked a newspaper up off the ground unannounced, even though it was under the feet of someone he didn't know who was sitting across the way, had a quick battle about who would be moving. i lost. i move up to his seat and say hi, he barely glances up and feel like we are on some kind of blind train date that has already failed and that i didn't want to happen in the first place.

so i do all i can do. shove myself as far as i can to one side of the seat, hold my book like i have t-rex arms to minimize the risk of touching, and think do weird things like this happen to other people all the time, or is it just me?

afterword: beirut was absolutely fantastic. it WAS jeremy, as their twitter has since told me since i fessed up.

the public transportation diaries

i have a few minutes today so for those of you who havent heard this story in person, i shall do a quick one here.

i hope you all have experienced the various joys of public transportation as i have been lucky enough to witness. my twitter feed documents many of the things i have gone through, but i think there is one that stands out from the rest:

one time, a very large black lady sat on me. that's right. sat on me. she wasn't jostled. the train wasn't even that crowded. just. boom. large lady on my lap. i think i am just that not noticeable. there was an empty seat next to me, but i am almost positive that she didn't just miss the seat she was aiming for. the train hadn't even begun to move. there was no lurch forward that might explain why a stranger would sit directly on another stranger. no shoving that often happens when the path is having problems and people get a little nuts trying to squeeze in. nope. just a girl in a seat, and a lady who sat on her.

it was only for a brief moment. she noticed, and just went slip right into the seat next to me. i am not sure if she apologized. all i know is she was ok enough with what just happened that she continued to sit next to me for the entire  22 minute ride to newark (this was pre-hobo).

so here i am, sitting next to a lady who just sat on me, and trying not to laugh because of the ridiculousness of it all. everything of course is made worse because a friend from work was next to me and witnessed the whole thing. the chain reaction of laughing that happens when i try not to laugh yet see someone else laughing at the absurd situation we are in is quite dangerous.

let's just say it was awkward. to all the riders of the path, please peek before you plop

Hampstead Heath part II: i accidentally stalk a family

This is it. it seemed like I had walked for so long. Sadly it was kind of a cloudy day. Cold too, though it didn’t seem so after the trek and I wound up having to take off and carry my jacket. Apparently you can see wonderful views of the city through the trees on Hampstead Heath, but it was a bit too overcast. It’s ok. I was content with the lakes, fall foliage, and unleashed dogs romping around through the leaves.

I wander by the water reading  the signs about the scum and duckweed then find myself somehow pretty much accidentally stalking this couple and their small child who was in a stroller. So that’s awkward. I follow them up a hill keeping a certain distance that I had calculated to scientifically be considered the least creepy. i noticed a building in the distance and asked myself whether it was Kenwood House (which I was trying to reach) or even possibly somewhere with toilets, but it was far and I decided it was neither. Unfortunately I didn’t pause long enough to allow the couple and child to get far enough ahead so before long I caught up with them again. This time we were on a beautiful path lined with autumnal colored trees.

All of the sudden their little boy starts to run away from them and in my direction. “NO! Adam!” they yell. And he turns around and runs back to them. They look at me. I look at them. I smile a little and say hello, because what else can you do when someone just yelled as though you were going to steal their child? (as if I am remotely interested in being responsible for a child). They smile back. A little TOO smiley. A smile that says they clearly think I am nuts and want nothing to do with me. a smile that asks ‘are you planning on eating our baby?’ and a smile that answers its own question with an emphatic ‘yes. Yes you are.’ This is when I decided to make a point of using my freakishly long legs to quicken my pace and pass them.

After I have gotten far enough away, I decide to meander a bit more. Near a pond was a lovely blue winged bird that I DID actually stalk, and it probably also wondered if I would eat its babies. (note: I ate no one’s babies). Then I come across a street. Bad news. but then I find a map! Good news!

So I reorient  myself and start wandering again. I come to a path covered in leaves, which were cleverly covering lots of mud. I decide to take this path because the colors just look so darn nice. I only almost fell twice.

Soon I see I an iron fence and decide it is probably a good idea to follow it. which it was. After I go in the entrance I see a sign saying ‘Kenwood House and Estate.’  Ha! Made it! and I am not even a girl scout. I walk along a path that seems to go on forever, yet get nowhere; past two old ladies with two matching poodles; past a young man throwing a ball across the vast expanse of green so his less sissy dog could retrieve it. Finally, I come across signs and follow them until I come to a gravelly driveway leading to a lovely mansion that was of course, undergoing construction (another theme of this trip, you will find). I let myself in, after my wiping my shoes on their shoe cleaner outside, and then a man at the front desk asks if I’ve been there before. After I say no, he kindly tells me that it’s free (obviously I look like I need things to be free, which is fine by me) and he tells me everything else I might need to know. He was very kind and informative.

 this was interesting. i believe it was a way to buffer the old tree and protect it since it was weak.

tube rides, british men, and near death

Nov 4/5

I really did almost cry when I landed in London; how weak is that? I was just so happy. Ew. Everyone go throw up. I will now. Ok back.

As per usual, good old Great Britian was a bit skeptical about letting me in. The man at the desk eyed me suspiciously as he asked me many detailed questions such as why was  I there? Vacation. Who am I staying with? My friend. What is her name? jenna . Why is she here? School. What school? Christies. For what? Uh. Grad school. For art history. When are you leaving? Well I am leaving in a few days, traveling, then coming back and flying out of here. Where else are you traveling to? Uh  Germany, Austria, Prague… But you are leaving the UK? Yes. When do you leave go back to amercia? Um in two weeks. What airline? Continental. When? Where is your ticket? What is your flight number? Where does your friend live? What is her number? Uh.. well…I cant find the piece of paper with her address right now, it’s somewhere in my bag. I know I am meeting her at chalk farm and I wrote down her street I just don’t remember the house number. You don’t have her address? No not at the moment. And how are you getting to Chalk Farm? the tube. And what happens if she doesn’t meet you there? Uh…well I think she’s a better friend than that. Fine. Well don’t do that again. Always have an address. Go on.

I omitted many other questions. I do think the fact that I studied abroad confused them. and maybe someone had written some note in code about my plan to use the last of my money to come live there if I need to become a hobo. All I know is they are soooo onto me.

Anyway. Back to the main story.

Unfortunately despite my thinking London was home, I realized I really didn’t live here when a couple in the airport asked me how to get tickets for the tube. I had my two year old oyster card in my pocket and decided to see if that still worked, only to find out that not only was it functioning but it had 7 pounds on it! yay! However, when the couple in the airport tried to get me to help them I could not. They wanted a three day pass or something like that and the machines didn’t seem to offer it. I hope it was the machine’s fault and not mine.

Another man – who happened to be the man sitting in my row on the plane – came down with his daughter and was having an equivalent amount of trouble. I swiped my oyster card and walked through the gates, while my new friend pushed my luggage through to me. There was a train waiting to depart but I refused to leave my comrades behind. They couldn’t get the machine to take their tickets (it was too late at night I think – 11pm due to our flight being delayed), and try as I may I could not assist. Finally a tube worker shows up out of nowhere and tells them that they have to go through this other gate as he just glances at their ticket. They were very pleased that I waited for them for some reason “you’re too kind,” one of them says. (Those kind of phrases always make me a little nervous…too kind? Why not ‘you’re just kind enough’? or ‘your kindness has been wholly sufficient in this situation’. it makes me second guess myself to be called ‘too kind’.

We sit in the nearly empty car, joined only by another couple who sat across from me, and participate in some lovely small talk. It is my airport friends’ first time to London so they ask some things to do, if I like being there, etc etc. All was fine and dandy until they started asking me about their hotel or if I knew the best way to get to Buckingham Palace and I for the life of me could not remember. Nor did I have my awesome laminated London map. Just a guide book. With junk maps. I failed again. Sigh.

We ride for a while before  it starts to fill up in central London. I am sitting awkwardly straddling a huge suitcase with my legs so it doesn’t roll and holding onto my huge backpack that is on the seat next to me. At one stop a guy on the platform looks in at me and waves enthusiastically through the window. I kind of look around in a who else can you possibly be waving at kind of way before I halfheartedly and very confusedly raise my hand a bit to acknowledge this.

My other airport friends from across the way (who are the only ones left from the heathrow troupe) laugh as they watch this kid chat me up for the remainder of his ride. He sat down two seats over and immediately began talking to me about I don’t even know what. He’s sloshed. Which of course explains the rest of his behavior. He asks me what I think of his friend James, who went and stood some 7 feet away at least, and then proceeded to try to get me to admit he was a ‘sexy beast.’ As in ‘isn’t james there a sexy beast?’ “hmm. Well I don’t know james,’ I say ‘ you seem interested though, perhaps you should talk to him? Want me to get him to come over here?’ He of course states ‘oh I know him. I’ve had him many times.’  Don’t you just love drunk british men? Because I do. He gives up on his james mission for a while and then all of the sudden lights up again and asks about the election.. “it’s got to be obama right? it’s got to be” Did I vote, he asks? ‘Yes’ I say, ‘absentee ballot before I came over.’ Then he goes on to say “it will also start a fun game of when will he get assassinated.” Then he apologizes a bit and says he’s sorry, that it’s an awful thing to say but it’s true. This is a common thing I found. I had several Brits say to me that they were both extremely excited about obama and that they think he is going to get assassinated within a matter of time.

I ask him why Bush hasn’t been assassinated then, clearly enough people hate him. He then explains ( I keep saying he because I don’t actually remember my new friend’s name. he may not have told me. Though we did shake hands all formal like)… he then explains that it’s because rednecks love bush. And that’s who will do it. the rednecks. The US is not gonna let crazy fundamentalist terrorists get to your pres, he says, but the rednecks will do it. He’s got a point, unfortunately.

Towards the end of this subject his friend james the sexy beast comes over and apologizes profusely for his drunk friend. To which my new friend says ‘ nah she loves it. you’re alright, aren’t you? I’m sorry’ then apologizes more. And I just laughed and said ‘no no it’s fine’, and the people across the way can hardly contain themselves.

I should point out that NO ONE else on the tube was talking. Granted it is fairly loud as the old trains squeak and creak as they rush along the tracks, but still, there was no other conversation. Most people do not talk on the tube. And you particularly do not speak to strangers. Unless that stranger is me. Lots of London rules seem to be broken for me. But anyway, that adds a little to the visual of this true spectacle that was occurring.

Then my new friend continues with the politics saying things like “obama. Yeah, so abortions, they’re cool? Making love to everyone ? ‘ and as I said um and began to formulate how to respond to this and the word ‘cool’ being used with ‘abortion’ , not something I had heard before. But before I could respond in any way he switched over to asking if I could do him a favor.

I did not say yes. Because by now I knew my new friend well. And I think he has pretty lofty ideas for favors. So I say,’ well, it depends on what you need because I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.’ He made a sad face. And then said ‘call me friend james over here and tell him you want to make love to him’ . ha! I knew it kid. No way. So I tell him no, and after much discussing and puppy dog face making, he still did not win. Too bad. Maybe if everyone on the tube wasn’t watching us like their favorite episode of Footballers Wives… but no.

His stop comes, he wished me luck with finding my friend and her place ( I explained the no address no phone situation to which he replied ‘ ooh that is scary’ nice. Thanks.) and said nice meeting me and then walked off.  I had not even truly arrived in London and I already let a possible british husband slip away. Sigh. He’s probably an alcoholic. But he was a charming alcoholic. If only I had propositioned his friend…

Well anyway, Chalk Farm comes up, I get off the train and go to the stairs where a concerned woman asks if I need help carrying my suitcase up. No thanks I say, and I continue to insist that I am fine (of course I was not really fine, but for some reason I cant accept help in these situations). She looks skeptical but in order to prove myself I just happily trudge up the stairs trying to look like I do this every day. I reach the top of these stairs only to see a sign leading to ‘emergency stairs’ , where everyone seems to walking. I look around quickly. Surely there is another way. And there it is. An elevator! But what’s this. Two really sketchy guys are loitering right outside it..and I just saw one girl almost do an about face in order to avoid these guys and take the stairs. Now normally I am ok with sketchy, but I had so much luggage that I really wouldn’t be able to fight anyone off. Ugh. Stairs it is. So I haul up I don’t even know how many spiral stairs, and pause at the landing thinking my heart is going to explode and wondering if I will ever make it to jenna’s alive, when I look up and see a very nervous looking jenna butler Esposito who looks down and then gets very excited.’ I THOUGHT YOU DIED ‘, she yells. Yeah. I am the worst friend ever. I am an hour late and had no way to contact her. But there she was. What a friend. Despite the fact that the immigration man yelled at me for not having the full address of where I was staying and asked what I was going to do if she didn’t meet me at the station, she was there. That shows you, mean immigration man. maybe he needs better friends. Maybe I should have offered to be his friend.

We get to her apartment down the street at about 1215 am. We check online to see if we have a new president (nope), as we proceed to drink a considerable amount of strongbow. I understand Jenna’s complaints about that drink now. It is too sugary. It will be a while before I choose strongbow again. But anyway. We go to bed in a good state of mind, good enough for me to ignore the fact that there was ivy growing from her skylight (think of the bug possibilities) and that she told me there were loads of spiders in her room.

 But hey. I am in London. and nothing can ever beat the happiness that comes with that. Not even spiders and hang overs and gas leaks.

What?