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1 39 pm est I suppose I should start at the beginning [of yesterday]. I went to bed at 4 the night before, and had hoped to sleep late, but the super came to look at the oven (which he has no clue how to install) early, and he woke me. Ok, so I knew it wouldn't be a late evening. I did whatever I did yesterday [translation: see yesterday's entry, because I'm too lazy to recall] and then I went to the Metropolitan Museum in the late afternoon. I went an hour before closing, but I figured an hour of art would be delightful. Oh my, was it! I had an incredible time. There were so many beautiful works I was breathless. There was a Japanese indoor garden thing (I think it was called a moon viewing terrace) and a small section of pyramid you could walk around in. I spent the most time in the Asian art section and in the Egyptian art section (which I loved because the shelves were so overflowing with artifacts), and I made a quick tour of the Greek art at the end. I was on cloud nine. I had had leftover broccoli for my late lunch and I was on a serious natural high from all of the eye food in the museum. I couldn't stop smiling. I walked the three blocks back home and slipped into my favorite dress and shoes. I knew I was going to be overdressed for the evening, but I figured this way I would have the option of going out dancing later on, and I have never minded standing out. Because I don't own any, I didn't put on any make-up, and I clipped back my hair in a loose style I have been wearing nonstop since I went to France. I decided to wear a light jacket with my money purse [a small Chinese purse that I have been using for at least 5 years] in the pocket, because I didn't feel like carrying a purse, and I didn't feel like dealing with a heavy coat. I was going to be indoors all night anyway. I decided to take the bus there and a cab home. I walked out to the bus stop and hopped on the first one, not paying attention to which one it was. I asked the bus driver where he was turning off 5th Ave, and he said 8th Street. Perfect! I was going to 5th Street. So we're riding along and I'm people watching. Then, while the bus is stopped in the middle of the street at a light [he wasn't even in the lane closest to the sidewalk] some guys bang on the door and tell the driver to let them in. I've seen this happen before, and the driver is always adamant about not doing so, but this driver lets them on. I can see from their jackets that they work for the transit system. They get off a block later and they say to the driver, "Nice job," and he mumbles back some pleasantry and then mumbles, "Fuck you," under his breath. I couldn't help it; I burst out laughing. The bus driver acknowledges me with a nod and a smile and says, "You can read minds, huh." Later on in the ride, when the bus had cleared out more, the driver said to me, "You should work as a translator for the government." He kept talking to me about those guys (I think he said that they filled out accident reports for buses) but I could barely hear him, so I mostly just nodded and smiled where I guessed it was appropriate. I told him I wanted to go to 2nd Ave and 5th Street, and he said that at the end of the line I should wait for the M8 which would take me down to 2nd and 8th Street. Three short blocks would be nothing to walk, so I decided to do that. It was rather cold, and I ended up having to wait for the M8 for a long time, so that was pretty stinky. But I finally got out at 2nd and was on my way. I walked one block, and I could hear some guy whistling at me somewhere behind me. I was determined not to turn around or acknowledge him. I hit a red light, and I walked a few steps into the street, as everyone does in New York (and Berkeley) so that I could cross as soon as possible. There was a taxi parked to my right, but I was looking in the other direction, waiting for a lull in traffic. All of the sudden, I hear the whistling guy yell, "Hey! Watch out!" The taxi began backing up into me. I quickly moved out of the way as soon as he bumped me, but it really surprised me. I didn't know that you could hit someone with a car without hurting them. I always figured that much metal hitting your leg in a way that it wasn't meant to bend, would injure you, no matter how slow the car was going. But it was just a tap. I was shaken, but nothing else. By this time, the whistling guy and his friend had caught up to me. They began walking with me, one on each side, but they weren't creepy, so I figured I could walk and talk with them for two blocks. The whistler told me I should have laid down when the guy bumped me. I told him I was from Los Angeles, and thus didn't need any advice on how to make a lawsuit. He said I could have made some easy money., I told him the easy way is never any fun. We walked on, and I finally arrived at my destination. I walked in, and thankfully recognized people right away. Ivette greeted me and said that we should go upstairs. That is where the party was, but everyone was downstairs to catch the last half hour of Happy Hour. I asked her what she wanted (Cuervo Gold margarita on the rocks with a little salt) and told her I would get us each one and meet her upstairs. I wedged myself in at the bar but the bartender told me I was going to have to wait several minutes. So I just soaked in the overloud music and atmosphere and watched everyone as I so love to do. Then this very good looking man who was sitting next to me with a woman, asked his date if she had a single. She said no. I pulled one out and tried to hand it to him but someone else had already given him one. He thanked me, and then said, "You're John's friend with the website, right?" I was a bit surprised. He said his name was Eve, with a smile that convinced me he must be a model. He asked the dreaded question, "So why a diary on the web?" "It's my obsession," was all I could come up with. I added, "I look at my site as one big résumé since I do professional website design." That answer seemed to satisfy him. I went back to people watching. Everyone was moving upstairs, but the bartender was still busy helping other people (and flirting with two lovely blondes), so I had to wait longer. John came over and gave me a hug. I think men are so adorable in suits! He was in excellent spirits. Finally the bartender asked me what I wanted. "Two Cuervo Gold margaritas on the rocks, one with a little salt, and one with none." He told me they were out of salt. Fine, Ivette would have no salt (I never do). He came back and said, "Straight up, or on the rocks." "On the rocks..." I repeated. Then he came back and said I was going to kill him, but he had no Cuervo. I said to give me something else yummy, so he said, "How is Sausa?" "Fine." He had told me that his happy hours were getting a bit famous (this was to explain why he was so busy) but all I could think is that they were famous for bad service. Twelve dollars later I had my two drinks and was on my way upstairs. I gave Ivette her drink and plopped myself down on a little stool. Ivette began introducing me to myriad people, and I was self-conscious because my hands were cold and wet from carrying the drinks and everyone I was introduced to wanted to shake hands. The bartender told me the drinks were strong, but I couldn't taste a hint of alcohol, so I was sucking it down like a soda pop [except for the fact that I don't drink soda]. I realized that everyone was wearing black. It's fall and I was wearing a cream colored jacket and brown dress. I never knew that people actually paid attention to the rules of fashion; I never have. I looked so different (hair, make-up, and dress wise) from everyone else there. At least, I felt different. I realized that I had never been with so many gen x-ers in one place in my life, except in the college setting. These were young adult professionals -- a world I know nothing about and am not at all part of. Well, it was going to be an adventure as usual. I was watching people again, and I told myself that I was not allowed to sit in the corner and observe all night long. Sometimes I am a total extrovert, but sometimes the filmmaker in me takes over and I find a comfy sofa and begin composing stories in my head. I talked to Jonathan for a brief time, in which he told me he had had "a brilliant time" the other night. He said that he had read my diary, as had several others in the office. This was rather surprising to me. I had never met anyone who had read my diary before meeting me until last night. My URL is in the signature file of my e-mails, but I guess it never occurred to me that John had looked at it since he hadn't mentioned it. I began zoning again. John was talking to three guys in suits and signaled me over. I thought everyone there was in the advertising industry, but I was to learn that John had brought several of his friends in the insurance industry, and they were the ones wearing suits. I got introduced to Donovan [no idea how to spell that], Josh, and Sam. John got me a second drink and I began chatting with the men. I told them that I was considering going dancing later on "if I felt inspired" and I asked where the good clubs were. No answers from any of them. I asked Josh if he liked to dance, and Sam said he was taken. What silliness! I tried to pay for my drink, but John insisted. [This is something I need to work on. I need to graciously except a guy buying me a drink, and know that this is what normal people do. When I go out clubbing I usually tell guys that I don't drink when they offer to buy me one, because I don't want to feel obligated to them or anything. Yet another Rachel issue to be dealt with...] I got flushed and took off my jacket, and to my delight I was getting a bit of attention. I love you, brown dress! I started to dance while talking to the gentlemen, and once I started I couldn't stop. Several of the guys wandered off and I ended up talking to Sam for a long time. Donovan said Sam was 6'4, but with my platforms on I didn't feel so terribly short. Sam was a total peach and we had a lovely talk about sports and music and singing. I didn't want him to feel obligated to talk to me, so I asked him twice if he wouldn't prefer to mingle with others. People were milling about and all was lovely. I grabbed John and said, "I am really smashed; will you make sure that I get in a cab and go home?" He teased me, since last time I had been so insistent on getting myself home, but last time I had been sober. He agreed to do so. Then I felt bad about making him responsible for me, so I apologized, but he said it was fine. So I was back talking to several guys when this blond guy named Will comes over and, I have no idea why, puts his hands around my neck. I ripped them off. It was a horrible uncomfortable feeling that makes me squirm just to think about it. I was upset. He made some crack about me overreacting, but the other guys were also asking him what his problem was and why he did that. I asked him how he would feel if someone did that to him. He told me he would snap their neck. I flicked him off and walked away. It always baffles me why some people have to be so cruel, and with no provocation... I started talking to a woman named Pat. She is one of the sweetest people I have ever met. I asked her what it was like to work in such a male dominated industry, and we were talking about all sorts of stuff. Sam came over and offered me a third drink. I had told several of them that I had no tolerance and that I had only been drunk a few times in my life, but in general when I drink, I get sober really fast because I have such a high metabolism. So I figured, I could have one more to "maintain". Ha! I sort of failed to realize that I had not eatten dinner. I offered to pay for my drink but he said no, and so I wound up sipping down my third margarita. Pat and I talked more, and then I sat down. I asked her to sit on my lap (because there were no more seats) but she laughed and shook her head no. I pulled her down on my lap but she popped back up. I really hope I didn't embarrass her or make her upset, because she was such a doll, and I had such a lovely time chatting with her. Pat squeezed into a seat on the couch and told me she would have crushed me. She said she weighed a few pounds more than me (which I didn't believe, because she was really small). We went back to talking. Then Will came over and sat down. He's gave me this, "What's your problem?" tone of voice and asked why I had been so upset. I couldn't deal with his attitude. I told him to leave. He didn't. He pestered me more. Just thinking about that disgusting feeling of his hands around my neck made me upset, and yes, I was very drunk at this point in time. I started to cry. I couldn't help it. Now people were looking at me. i didn't want to cause a scene, I just wanted this idiot to go away. He did. John came over. I asked for a napkin. Someone brought me some water. I dried my eyes and everything was fine, except I was really smashed. Several minutes later, Ivette came over and asked me why I had been so upset. She said I was causing a scene, and I felt bad. She told me I should leave if I wanted to, and although she didn't say it in a mean or rude way, I read it as "I want you to leave." Fair enough. Then she accidentally spilled the greater portion of her drink on me -- right in my lap! She offered to help me to the restroom, so I grabbed my jacket (with my money pouch in it) that I had left on the couch, and I made my way downstairs to the bathroom with Ivette. I asked her if she minded if I peed while she was in the bathroom with me, and she said no, so I did. Then I threw up, which was unfortunate, but I was in the bathroom, and it was in the toilet, so it was ok. I can't remember if Ivette had left by that point. I made my way back upstairs and asked for another glass of water from the bartender. I drank a good portion of it, and then Sam came over. I knew I was out of control at this point, so I asked him if he would get me a cab. I didn't want to feel embarrassed anymore, and my dress was soaking. He was kind enough to consent to doing so. I didn't have the presence of mind to tell anyone that I was leaving, but I did manage to double check that I had my money and keys. The bar was on the corner of a one way street going the wrong way, so I asked Sam if he would be so kind as to walk me one block so I could get a cab going up town. [I have never drank to the point of not remembering what happened, but parts of last night are very surreal and hazy, and I suppose that is what people mean by not remembering.] We were standing at the corner when several of the gentlemen from the party called out that there was a cab and pointed to it. I thanked Sam and got myself in. I told the driver my address. I was really sick at this point. I couldn't focus on anything, but if I closed my eyes I felt too nauseous [spelling?]. Every time I got worried, I would repeat my address to the driver. He was trying to talk to me, but all I can remember is him saying that he had to work until five in the morning. I asked him what time it was. He said ten. I was shocked that it was so early. I promised him I wouldn't throw up in his cab. At some point though, I felt as though I should throw up, so when we were stopped at a light, I opened the door and did so into the street. The light must have turned green and the driver didn't move because I could hear people beeping. He asked me to close the door. I did. He got me home. I gave him a $20 for the $10 fare. The doorman opened the taxi door, and I said to him, "I am drunk; can you please help me to the elevator?" He did, and I got to my floor. I reached into my money pouch and pulled out my my hair clips, which I had taken off at some time during the night. Then I found my keys. Now my grandfather is really big on locking both locks on the door, even though it is a private building. So I stuck my key in the first lock, and heard it unlock, and then couldn't get it out. I was flustered, and every time I tried to turn the key back to disengage it, the door would relock. I was frustrated, so I sat down on the ground to calm down. I sat for a while. Then I tried it again, and finally got both locks open. I went inside and fell asleep. At midnight I woke up. I changed into my flannel PJs and tied my hair back. I wondered where my clips were, and finally located them outside the apartment on the welcome mat. And then it occurred to me that it was only 9 California time, so I called Matthew and I was really happy to be able to talk to him for an hour. Free advice to anyone who has done too much drinking: do not eat a spring roll, even if you only have one. After talking to Matthew and eating my spring roll, I decided not to go back to sleep until I felt a bit better, so I turned on the television and booted my machine. At 5 in the morning I got sick again, and went to the bathroom to rid myself of the spring roll. [I know, I know... This is all more information than you wanted to know...] After that I went to sleep. Matthew says that the reason I've never done any drugs is because I am a control freak. He may be right. I don't like being out of control because I become very self-conscious and I get so worried that I will embarrass myself or someone else. In conclusion [and I really can't believe anyone actually read this far], I will probably never seen any of those people again. I can't imagine John or Ivette inviting me anywhere ever again. In addition, I probably won't drink on New Year's, which is fine, because I plan on making a movie then anyway. Where ever I am, I hope I am recording. |
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10 52 pm est Today is 19 November 1999. The numerical format for today is 19-11-1999. All of the digits are odd. The next Odd day will be 1-1-3111 - which is well over a thousand years away, which we will never see. Days such as 13-4-89 have both even and odd digits, thus, it is neither odd nor even. The next even day will be 2-2-2000 - the first one since 28-8-888. So, now you have a reason to celebrate this Friday as it will be your last odd day on Earth! |
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