Saturday, November 14, 2009

A photo-free trip away part one

I haven’t really written all that much about my trip overseas apart from the wallet-stealing fiasco I know, but let me share with you some of the things I got up to...

When I got to the States, I had to wait at the airport for Jami. Jami is my friend from when I went to University in upstate New York 5 years ago and she’s wonderful. Except when you want to be picked up immediately after your flight gets in and you’ve been travelling for almost 24 hours…that’s about when she is not so wonderful.

I waited for maybe half an hour and was hit on pretty constantly by this rather large black man who told me that I should ‘spend some time with him’. Hmmm, thanks but no thanks.
It didn’t stop him trying for the entire half an hour though. I guess it’s nice to know that someone found me appealing despite being all jet-lagged and smelling like plane!

Jami and I hit up the Bodies exhibition which, while being kind of gory, was oddly compelling. They have actual cadavers on display and you can see the ligaments and sinews beneath the skin. Jami however, was particularly preoccupied with the scrotum. Actually, she’s usually preoccupied with the scrotum if I’m not mistaken;)
Anyhow, you can see that they actually start all the way up near the pubic bone. Kind of weird to see. Also found out that lungs naturally have black bits all through them and that smoker’s lungs are super black. For every pack of cigarettes you smoke, you lose 3 hours and forty minutes from your life. Take note smoker friends.

And I loved that the catch-phrase was ‘The Body never Lies.’ They even had it in Japanese as well ‘体はうそつかないです’ just in case you’re curious.

I went on a Sex and the City tour, where I shopped where the girls shopped, ate a cupcake from Magnolia, the famous bakery and more importantly, got to try their amazing banana pudding (seriously, I’m drooling now just thinking about it), saw the sex shop where Charlotte bought ‘the Rabbit’, the bar where Carrie and Big had their engagement party and Sophie (who I made friends with on the tour) knew where Carrie’s apartment was so she took me on my own private tour! It was great fun.

I went to school with a girl named Roxy from when I was 6 right through until I was 17 (bear with me, this will make sense soon). We had a rather tumultuous relationship as most teenagers do, but managed to stay friends throughout high school and after we graduated, we’ve gotten closer. Anyhow, Roxy conveniently planned a trip to NYC for her 25th Birthday (Happy Birthday by the way Roxy) that coincided with my overseas jaunt. I figured that she’d come all the way from Mexico to stalk me, so I should at least make the effort to meet up;)

Roxy is a dancer (no, not the kind you’re thinking of) in Mexico and she brought her Mexican dancer boyfriend B with her. Mostly to carry all of her shopping I secretly think;) and we did loads together. We hit up Central Park, walked down 5th Ave and ended up at Tiffanys where both Roxy and her friend Jessie treated themselves to new rings. Sensible Chelsea meanwhile decided to save her money and found a much cheaper and also bigger ring at Madison Garden. Eat your heart out Roxy;)
We went up to the top of Rockafeller Centre and the view was phenomenal. I’ve been up the Empire State Building a few times before, but this was so much more impressive. The view of Central Park was spectacular. Of course Roxy and I did lots of silly poses leaning on the Empire State Building. We did some especially for Amber who we knew would have loved to be getting up to mischief in NYC with us.

Because both Roxy and B are dancers, they decided to go to the Broadway Dance School for a dance class. I declined. Not that I don’t enjoy a good dance, but no way would I ever be able to keep up and move like they were doing! It was great to watch and even better to be sitting down and resting my poor old feet;) The day ended in booze – rather a lot in fact and half naked drag queens serenading us as we dined. Our day ended as all good days must end really;)

The following day I headed up to Montreal to meet up with my good friend C-dog from Japan. So named because she has this amazing affinity with dogs. Seriously, dogs come bounding up to her as though she has just rubbed doggie treats all over her body. No, she doesn’t smell like a doggy treat I hasten to add.
C-dog is Canadian (obviously), has Australian parents and we met in Japan when she decided to live over there for awhile with her Kenyan/Japanese boyfriend of the time. Random right?
Did I mention that C-dog is beautiful? Beautiful enough to have been on the cover of a national magazine. She’s all blonde hair, blue eyes and killer cheekbones, but is one of the smartest girls I know and she’s going places! Watch this space.

So to get up to Montreal I caught a train for 11 hours. Yes, you read correctly, 11 hours! But it was over $1300 dollars cheaper than a one-way flight would have been. So there.
And I made a friend. Sorry for those who read the email that I sent around for all the repetitions here, but I’m sure you’ll survive;)

I was lining up for Canadian check-in when I saw this pretty blonde-haired girl who had heaps of bags. Despite my exhaustion and crankiness, I smiled at her. Not a proper smile mind you, more of a no-teeth grin. She responded with the brightest mega-watt smile ever. And when she sat next to me on the train, Pixie the Kiwi and I sat beside each other for 11 hours and we bonded. I think it was more out of necessity on her part. I suppose you can’t sit beside me and watch me drooling for 11 hours without starting to feel something for me...pity perhaps?

C-dog met me at the train station. She jumped about joyously, gleefully ran up to me, wrapped me up in a hug that nearly knocked me off my feet and made me feel perhaps the most welcome that I’ve ever felt upon entering a new country. Yes C-dog, you win the first prize in the competition in my head. I may well send some Australian goodies your way;)

C-dog had a house party in my honour. Nothing like getting somewhere new, having a hot, steamy shower with awesome water pressure, then being handed a glass of vodka and having a party where people come specifically to meet you. Ah. I got to meet loads of C-dog’s friends and predictably, they were just as lovely as the C-dog herself. We drank, danced and chatted into the early hours of the morning. It was a perfect start to my stay in Montreal. Made even more perfect by the poutine (thick cut fries, beef gravy and cheese that melts over the top) that we ate at the end of the night. Or rather, the poutine that we fed to a drunken C-dog while she napped.

I loved Montreal. I loved that people effortlessly switched between French and English, I loved that while it was cold, inside there was sufficient heating (unlike Japan with the decided lack of insulation), I loved that the food was hearty and delicious, but mostly I loved the people. The people that I met were warm, sweet and friendly and didn’t seem to care overly that my French language skills were nonexistent. It felt so refreshing after the abruptness of New York.

When I think of Montreal I think of C-dog, of hot, fresh poutine when I was chilled and drunk, of three friends all wearing newly bought suspenders on a night out on the town, of C-dog and I having our tearful goodbye cut short by the stern ticket-collector who told us that ‘now is not the time’ (when is the time exactly?). Unfortunately I also think of my camera memory card being accidentally bent on my final night in Montreal. So for the first week and a half of my trip, I have no photos. It sucks, but what can you do really? Apart from complain, which doesn’t help anyone. But if anyone has any brilliant ideas for fixing it apart from a data recovery place, feel free to let me know. In fact, anyone practising witchcraft is welcome to have at my memory card. I will show no bias to anyone who can get my photos back from my days with Roxy and Montreal!

More on the rest of my trip later;)

Hope your weekend is as fun-filled as mine is right now:)

Friday, November 13, 2009

Chelsea the scaredy-cat

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA’ I screamed as loudly as I could at 12.30 in the morning.
My brother (who’s staying with me at the moment), came stumbling into my room.

Danny: ‘What the fuck?’ He said as he rubbed his eyes.
‘What happened?’

Me: ‘There was a big bug.’
Danny: ‘Where?’ He turned on the light and started looking around for it.
Me: ‘I don’t really remember.’
Danny: ‘You don’t remember? Was it a dream?’
Me: ‘I think it was on this wall up here?’ I pointed. ‘I just remember that it was really big and it scared me.’
Danny: ‘Is that why you screamed bloody murder? God Chelsea, it must have just been a dream. There’s no bug in here.’
Me: ‘Are you sure?’
Danny: ‘Go back to sleep Chelsea.’ He said as he went back to bed.
Me: ‘Can you turn on the hall light please Danny?’
Danny: ‘Why?’
Me: ‘So that if the bug comes back it will go towards the light instead of towards sleeping me.’

Danny turned on the hall light.
Danny: ‘You’re lucky you’re not bad-looking Chelsea, cause you are nuts!’ He muttered as he went back to bed.

Maybe I am a little nuts? That bug was scary regardless of whether it was a real or a dream bug though I'd like to point out.

Happy Friday to you all nonetheless and watch out for the big bugs!

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Hotter than Ash Wednesday...

‘You’re magnificent.’ He slurred at me as he wrapped his arm around my waist.
‘Um...thanks?’ How exactly does one respond to that?

Very drunken man: ‘Yes you are. You’re magnificent and I’m gonna-buy-you-drink.’

Ah Melbourne Cup. I love that it’s 5 in the afternoon and I’m the soberest person in this bar...not for long it seems.

Me: ‘I was actually going to buy a drink for my friend as well.’
Very drunken man: ‘She’s pretty alright too, so I’m gonna-buy-you-both-drinks.’ He mumbled his words together.
Me: ‘Oh you don’t have to.’ I didn’t want to take advantage of this super drunk guy.
VD man: ‘But I insist. You’re magnificent and I wanna-buy-yous-drinks.’
Me: ‘Ok then, sure.’ Can’t argue with that really can I?

He whipped out a fist full of $100 dollar bills. Must be nice to have that kind of money. Sachiko’s jaw dropped and she said to me in Japanese

‘He has so many hundred dollar bills! I’ve never even seen one since I’ve been here.’
Me: ‘I know, it’s crazy right? And he’s going to buy us a drink as well.’
Sachiko: ‘Really?’
Me: ‘Really. Because we’re magnificent...apparently?’

Magnificent translated into Japanese just isn’t as cool as it is in English. Or at least I don’t think it is.

VD Man: ‘There you go girls. Enjoy.’
‘Thank you’ We chimed as one.
VD Man: ‘In particular (although it sounded more like patikuya) you because you’re fucking hotter than Ash Wednesday.’

Woah. Hotter than Ash Wednesday - I know that the Ash Wednesday fires were a tragedy and it’s probably not the most politically correct pick up line...but I loved it.

Clearly I should wear dresses more often. Or maybe hang out with very very drunk people.
I think the latter might be more likely though;)

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Braless Tuesday;)

It's Melbourne Cup today, the race that stops a nation and I, predictably, won nothing.
I did however, wear a dress, some heels and these awesome new stockings that I personally feel make me a better person. Thank you Montreal for your awesome shopping.
So now I'm off to have a drink with Seb who is currently jobless (and from the sounds of it, a little bit drunk), and Sachiko from work.

We'll see how much mischief I can get up to - especially considering that I don't even need to wear a bra with this dress;)

Billy

My heart dropped as though I was on an amusement park ride when I realised and I bolted outside and ran. I ran oblivious to the pouring rain, and pushed through the sea of umbrellas to find him. I could feel Luke behind me but I was focusing instead on the man with glasses who had disappeared into the night. Adrenalin was coursing through my veins like a drug so that I felt nothing, not the rain, not the coolness of the night, not even a shortening of breath as I pounded the pavement

I stopped at a corner.
‘Have you seen a guy with glasses come running past?’
Security guard: ‘I’m sorry ma’m I haven’t.’
I turned to Luke. I felt so lost.

‘What should I do?’
Luke: ‘Go back to the bar and tell them to call the police. I’ll keep going.’ He said as he ran off.
I ran back the way I’d come and went into the same bar.
‘Excuse me.’ I called to the bartender.
‘Could you please call the police? Someone just stole my purse.’
I think it was right around now that the adrenalin stopped...
‘And I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to cry.’ I announced pitifully as I put my head in my hands and wept.

My last nite in New York City and a friendly drink ended up like this.
Both Luke and I had placed our wallets on the counter beside our drinks. Mine was water I’ll have you know. Then in walks this random guy, who ‘drunkenly’ runs into me and knocks my water all over the bar and at the same time sort of touched my legs. I was grossed out enough that I pulled back and was all ‘Ew, don’t touch me.’ So that when he said sorry and ran off, I was relieved. Until I realised what was missing.

Now I know that I cry easily and that I look pitiful when I do but I had no idea quite how pitiful I looked until...

Bartender: ‘Aw, don’t cry, can I buy you a drink?’
Me: ‘No, I don’t think I even want to drink.’ Followed by more pathetic weeping.
Luke walked in to see me sobbing.
Luke: ‘Chels, what are you doing?’ He laughed.
Me: ‘I’m sorry but I’m sad. My wallet had everything in it.’
He wrapped me up in a big hug.

Luke: ‘Are you ok though?’
Me: ‘Yes.’
Luke: ‘Do you have travel insurance?’
Me: ‘Yes.’
Luke: ‘Are the police coming?’
Me: ‘I think so, I asked the bartender to call them.’
Bartender: ‘I called them and they’re on their way.’ He interjected.
Luke: ‘Then you’re fine. Let’s get you another drink.’
Bartender: ‘This round is on me and I’ll even throw in some dessert for you guys.’
Me: ‘Thank you.’ I said as I continued my weeping.
Luke: ‘And I found out a name – Billy.’

I was sad to lose my wallet, too much money, my cards, my license, a necklace that Seb had given me and a pendant from Jami. But I was crying for my friend C. C had written me a letter before she died that I’d kept in my wallet. I knew that the letter would never bring her back, but it was all I had left of her...and now I had nothing.

The bartender (Scott, as I’d now discovered his name was), placed down more drinks and this apple dessert in front of us.
Scott: ‘I know this doesn’t make up for it, but I hope it distracts you.’
Me: ‘Thanks.’
After he’d walked away.
‘Luke I don’t think that I can eat this I feel too nauseous.’
Luke: ‘Don’t worry, I think it’s divine. I’ll eat it.’
Me: ‘Oh.....good.’ I felt as though I couldn’t even speak properly.
Luke: ‘This is so exciting.’
Me: ‘Exciting? What do you mean?’
Luke: ‘Exciting things like this never happen to me. You’re right, drama totally follows you around.’
What a miserable drama queen I’m feeling like now.

I called my mum and she cancelled my credit cards. And then the police rocked up in their impressive police car. One lady – Jessica and a man whose name I forget drove both Luke and I to the station in the cop car. The tourist in me was so so thrilled that I was in the back of a cop car and wasn’t in trouble myself. But the me who realised that she had had her wallet stolen was heartbroken. Luke loved it all of course. We got to the station, made our statement, then headed up to the Detective section of the 10th precinct. Our Detective was a little harsh, even on me who was the wronged one here so of course I cried some more, bloody emotional thing that I am.

Detective: ‘Chelsea, I’d like you to tell me which of these men it was who took your purse.’
Me: ‘Can Luke come with me?’
Detective: ‘He can come after. I just want you to look at this screen and tell me who it was that fell on you and took your purse.’

I studied the screen. It was waaay harder than it looked in the movies. I could only vaguely remember sandy, wavy hair and thick black glasses.

Me: ‘I think that’s this one...or this one.’
Detective: ‘Can you be sure of that?’
Me: ‘It’s either of those two.’
Detective: ‘Ok then. Luke, could you come in here?’

Luke bounded in joyfully as though he’d waited his entire life to see the inside of a police station and choose men out of a line up on a computer screen.

Luke: ‘I think it’s this one.’
Detective: ‘Ok, thanks.’
Luke came back and sat down.
Luke: ‘I love this, it’s so much fun..’
Me: ‘Sure, fun!? Right up there with the dentist.’
Luke: ‘But I wish that I could do a line up of clothes, I know that he was wearing a denim vest and corduroy pants.’
Me: ‘I have no clue what he was wearing. I only remember his glasses and the feel of his hands on my legs.’ I cringed.

Detective: ‘Chelsea, could you look at this screen and tell me who it was?’
I looked carefully, there was a different order of people, but I could still pick him out.
Me: ‘Um, I still think this guy.’
Detective: ‘Well that’s Billy, but you weren’t 100 percent certain and you have to leave the country tomorrow don’t you?’
Me: ‘Yes.’
Detective: ‘So that means that you’re no good to us as a witness.’
Fuck then what am I doing here?

Me: ‘Will you still look for him anyhow?’
Detective: ‘We will, and if you’re lucky, maybe your wallet will get posted back to you. I mean, sometimes once they’ve got the money, they’ll send back the wallet...’
Me: ‘You think?’
Detective: ‘It could happen.’
Me: ‘I don’t think he’d bother sending it all the way to Australia...’
Detective: ‘You never know.’
Me: ‘If you do get to see Billy, could you please be just a little meaner to him for me?’ I asked as I wept a little more. Not loudly, just the silent tears that fall down your face. I knew by now that I looked horrid and didn’t care anymore.

Detective: ‘I will Chelsea, just for you. Now you take care.’ He said as he waved me off. I think he was glad to see the back of emotional, weeping me.
Luke: ‘I’ll look after her.’He announced.

We left to forage in the bins close to the bar to see if he’d dumped my wallet. No such luck and also one of the more unpleasant experiences I’ve had. Luke then decided that we’d go back to the same bar and have some drinks. Which then turned into even more drinks, followed by some rather strong mojito cocktails, both Luke and Scott unsnapping my bra through my shirt (which still impresses me to no end – seriously, how come they know how to do that?), and culminated in me snogging Scott the bartender out the front of the bar after we closed the bar down.

I then caught the wrong subway home for awhile, but was set back on the right track by Wayne, one of the big money-makers on Wall Street who went with me all the way back to my station in Queens.

Wayne: ‘So did the bartender make it up to you for letting your wallet get stolen?’
Me: ‘Well, we made out before I got on this train, so yes, I think so.’

What a night. Granted, I have no wallet, no cards, no money, no receipts...but if I hadn’t lost my wallet it would have been a marvellous nite.
Guess I’m blaming it on NYC instead of the GC this time – and specifically Billy.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Jetlag is kicking my arse

I’m back in Australia after over 24 hours of travel - 2 plane trips and 7 hours of joyful waiting about in airports to make my way back here to the southern hemisphere. I lost an entire day (no Monday for me this week), and jetlag is kicking my arse. It’s 4 in the afternoon here but 2 in the morning in my mind as well as in New York City...I hope my mind and surroundings get in sync soon because I’m so dopey and tired out that I’m practically sleepwalking through the day.
I also seem to have lost my self-control. Normally when people are dull I can suppress my boredom, but not at the moment. Jetlagged Chelsea will just yawn right in your face regardless of how inappropriate it is. Oops.

And being back at work...not nearly as much fun as my overseas travels. Obviously, I know, but perhaps I need a change of vocation if I’m sick of work on my very first day back after a three week holiday?
Or I could just be very very tired and longing for an interrupted sleep.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

The same harbour as me

Amber and I are similar in a lot of ways. We’re both tall, brunette (although her hair is straight where mine is curly), 25 and oh yeah, we’re both single. We were discussing how Lana recently got herself a boyfriend.

Amber: ‘It seems that everyone has a ‘special other’ lately. Lana, George.’ She complained.
Me: ‘At least you and I are in the same boat though.’ I consoled her.
Amber paused with her sushi poised on the end of her chopsticks.

Amber: ‘We’re not in the same boat at all.’ Amber declared.
Me: ‘Really? I thought that both of us being single meant we were in the same boat?’ I wrestled with my tuna sala ship. Yum. I love tuna.

Amber: ‘Yeah we’re both single, but we have completely different boats.’ She used her chopsticks and emphasized the ‘different boats’ part by pointing.
Me: ‘Really?’
Amber: ‘I want someone to share my boat. I want cuddles and companionship and love.’
Me: ‘Ick. Oh we are totally not in the same boat at all then.’ I swallowed too much of my tuna and started coughing.
Amber: ‘See, I told you.’
Me: ‘I would prefer to have my own boat thankyou very much.’
Amber: ‘Nope, I want to share and I want all that comes with that.’
Me: ‘But I do like to ‘bump boats’ with other boats occasionally.’ I decided after careful thought.

Amber: ‘Ooh, and while I don’t have anyone to share my boat, I think I’d enjoy a good bumping in my boat.’ She grinned gleefully.
Me: ‘Gee, we’re really enjoying this analogy aren’t we?’
Amber: ‘Maybe a little too much. And hey, even if we’re not in the same boat, I think you might be in the same harbour as me Chels.’
Me: ‘That’s lucky then for when we want to go and have sushi isn’t it?’
Amber: ‘That’s why we’re in the same harbour. To keep each other company and enjoy the view.’

Either Amber and I spend too much time together in ‘our harbour’ or that all just made perfect sense?
 
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