...At least in my 'hood it can.
Today is a beautiful day - 83 degrees and the leaves are changing - summer and fall together, the best of both worlds, at least in my book!
It was a beautiful evening for a run, but this was no ordinary run. It was more like an obstacle course. An obstacle course that could have killed me.
It all started when a little boy on a bicycle decided to ride next to me as I was running...and I do believe he called me "shawty" - they start 'em young in my neighborhood. I had my earphones in and just tried to ignore him until I finally turned the corner and, presumably, turned out of he radius where he is allowed to ride his bike.
All was good until about mile number two, when I passed the Triangle bar, one of my lovely neighborhood dives. I love a good dive bar, but this one is so bad I have never stepped foot in the place. Thanks to the smokefree air law, smokers are forced outside onto the sidewalk when they want to indulge in a cancer stick...I enjoy this except when I am running and have to run through a haze of smoke. Every time I pass the Triangle I have to face the haze. Today was no different, several smokers were congregated on the bench puffing smoke right at me, and the horrid stuff sent my lungs into spasm.
I was just clearing the haze when out of nowhere cama van pulled out of an alley onto the sidewalk and almost ran me over. I had to stop so we didn't collide. He just smiled and waved at me like "no big deal."
Up next, the Dairy Queen. Now, the DQ is a hazard for a couple of reasons, the first and foremost being that I LOVE ice cream, especially a really good Blizzard (side note: Dear Jesus, Please give me strength in October if the Blizzard of the month is Pumpkin Pie - it's my second favorite after Pecan Pie which, thankfully, is a like one month a year thing. Thanks- Jen). The other reason is crazed DQ goers often park their cars on the sidewalk, forcing me on to the road. That happened today but thankfully I did not have any sort of near miss with a car.
Up the block from the DQ, a curly haired blond three year old tried to play chicken with me while scooting down the sidewalk on his mini razor. That was special. Oh yes, and on that block a dog lunged at me but thankfully he was firmly tethered to his front porch.
And then, the scariest part of my run...a young kid walking toward me clearly packing heat. He looked like a thug out of a movie, complete with gun. I thought about yelling something about my colors (my turquoise and navy running outfit) NOT being gang colors....or yelling that though I have dark hair I am neither a Latin King of Mexican Mafia Member (two big rival gangs in this city according to my local NBC affiliate) In the end I did the smart thing by keeping my sunglasses on and my mouth shut. He just walked past me. He looked like he could be no more than 17 years old - just a kid. A kid with a gun. Scary.
Thankfully, the rest of the run went off without incident. Even Crackhood (the area on my run where Crackfest took place and where the police are constantly arresting people for selling / buying crack) was quiet today. This is where I normally get called "shawty" so I really enjoyed the peace and quiet today.
My neighborhood really isn't that bad...just another day here in "paradise!"
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
This is how I remember it....
I hate tomorrow.
I hate the numbers 9 & 11, particularly when they are together.
I did not know anyone who died during the terrorist attacks on 9/11/01 but I remember feeling like the world was coming to an end. In a way, it sort of did. On 9/11/01 I woke up after going to sleep at about four in the morning on a couch in the apartment of some sorority girls at Towson University just outside of Baltimore, Maryland. It was my second year working as a professional sorority girl and it was recruitment (rush) week at their school. I flew in to Baltimore from Indianapolis via Chicago on a US Air flight the day before. Exhausted from lack of sleep, I woke up at 8 a.m. or so and put on Good Morning America. Two of the girls had left for work or an 8 a.m. class and it was me on the couch and a third girl asleep upstairs.
I remember it like it was yesterday. My friends Charlie and Diane reported a "small commuter plane" had crashed into the World Trade Center. Silly pilot, I thought! Who could miss one of the Twin Towers? I had just made my first trip to New York City less than a year earlier and remember marveling at those towers as my plane flew in to LaGuardia. It was a beautiful site.
Eventually, GMA had video of one of the towers with black smoke billowing out and I remember thinking that sure looked like a big hole in the building. Conflicting reports were coming in...but how could it be anything but an accident? The thought that it could be anything sinister never even crossed my mind. Until it happened. Right there. Right there, while the cameras were focused on the tower on fire, a plane smashed into the second tower.
Chaos.
Confusion.
Panic.
I called my mom in Michigan.
I let her know I had arrived in Baltimore the day before and was safe.
There was talk of missing planes and other potential targets.
Suddenly, reports a plane crashed in to the Pentagon.
America is officially under attack.
Suddenly I started to fear for my safety...after all...I was just down the road from DC in Baltimore.
My phone rang. It was my co-worker, who told me our boss was on a plane that was grounded just as it was taking off and that she was calling all of my traveling colleagues to make sure we were safe. No one beside my boss (thankfully) was flying that day. What a relief.
I woke up the sleeping girl upstairs and told her what was happening. We sat on the couch, enthralled in what was unfolding in front of us.
Then, the unthinkable. The first tower fell. It just disappeared in a plume of smoke.
I tried to call my mom - on the East Coast it was impossible to use a cell phone - all circuits were busy for hours. I never felt so alone or so scared. I wondered if I would ever see anyone I loved again. I wondered how many planes were out there, and if this was just the beginning of an even bigger attack.
Another plane crashes, this one into a field in Pennsylvania.
The second tower fell.
Then it all becomes a blur. Phones weren't working, and the other girls returned home as classes were cancelled and we all just sat there staring at the television for hours in shock.
Eventually I was able to talk to my mom, some of my friends at home in Michigan and some of my traveling colleagues. One of my co-workers was also in Baltimore at UMBC, so we met for dinner to get away from the TV and just to take comfort in seeing a familiar face.
That night I couldn't sleep. Since I was stuck on the couch in the living room I had easy access to the TV. The girls had all gone upstairs to sleep, and I just laid on the couch watching Peter Jennings on the air and crying. Crying, crying, crying. When I closed my eyes all I could see was that second plane flying in to the tower. The footage of the planes crashing, the Pentagon burning, and the towers falling repeated throughout the night.
I was stuck in Baltimore for days....and was among the first to actually fly once air space re-opened in the U.S. I remember going to the Baltimore airport and standing in line for hours. I was scared to death. It was the first day commercial aircraft would fly again, and I couldn't help but worry something would happen on my flight. If I had a flight, that is. BWI was packed, but you could hear a pin drop. Police and bomb sniffing dogs were everywhere. I felt like I was in a military state, not the United States. Hundreds of us stood solemnly in line and watched on the boards as flight after flight was cancelled. I was trying to get back to my base in Atlanta. As the crowd thinned due to cancelled flights, an elderly lady wound up behind me who was also trying to get to Atlanta to see her family. As we got close to the desk to check in, the announcement was made that the flight to Atlanta would be going - one of the only flights to actually fly that day. We looked at each other, hugged and started crying.
I remember after we checked in and made it through tight security, we walked to our gate. The lights were off, and we were the only two people in the hallway. It was eerie. We made it to the gate and there were three or four nervous looking passengers seated. Eventually, a few more showed up and we boarded the plane, welcomed by an apprehensive looking flight attendant. There were maybe ten of us on the plane. I remember being scared, relieved and thankful for a wonderful flight crew who acknowledged the events of 9/11 and took good care of us on the short flight from Baltimore to Atlanta.
I'll never forget the site of my co-worker when I arrived in Atlanta. I hugged her so tight - and was so grateful to see her.
The days and weeks that followed were difficult. I continued my job flying every four or five days, despite threats of additional attacks, Anthrax, having to arrive at the airport four hours before a flight to get through security, etc. It was scary and for many months, I was one of few brave souls who took to the skies.
Nine years later, flights are consistently oversold and America is happily flying again (of course now we have to pay for an aisle seat, to check a bag, for a water and probably soon to use the loo, but we're still flying). I hope we never have to go through a day like 9.11.01 again....and I hope we never forget.
I hate the numbers 9 & 11, particularly when they are together.
I did not know anyone who died during the terrorist attacks on 9/11/01 but I remember feeling like the world was coming to an end. In a way, it sort of did. On 9/11/01 I woke up after going to sleep at about four in the morning on a couch in the apartment of some sorority girls at Towson University just outside of Baltimore, Maryland. It was my second year working as a professional sorority girl and it was recruitment (rush) week at their school. I flew in to Baltimore from Indianapolis via Chicago on a US Air flight the day before. Exhausted from lack of sleep, I woke up at 8 a.m. or so and put on Good Morning America. Two of the girls had left for work or an 8 a.m. class and it was me on the couch and a third girl asleep upstairs.
I remember it like it was yesterday. My friends Charlie and Diane reported a "small commuter plane" had crashed into the World Trade Center. Silly pilot, I thought! Who could miss one of the Twin Towers? I had just made my first trip to New York City less than a year earlier and remember marveling at those towers as my plane flew in to LaGuardia. It was a beautiful site.
Eventually, GMA had video of one of the towers with black smoke billowing out and I remember thinking that sure looked like a big hole in the building. Conflicting reports were coming in...but how could it be anything but an accident? The thought that it could be anything sinister never even crossed my mind. Until it happened. Right there. Right there, while the cameras were focused on the tower on fire, a plane smashed into the second tower.
Chaos.
Confusion.
Panic.
I called my mom in Michigan.
I let her know I had arrived in Baltimore the day before and was safe.
There was talk of missing planes and other potential targets.
Suddenly, reports a plane crashed in to the Pentagon.
America is officially under attack.
Suddenly I started to fear for my safety...after all...I was just down the road from DC in Baltimore.
My phone rang. It was my co-worker, who told me our boss was on a plane that was grounded just as it was taking off and that she was calling all of my traveling colleagues to make sure we were safe. No one beside my boss (thankfully) was flying that day. What a relief.
I woke up the sleeping girl upstairs and told her what was happening. We sat on the couch, enthralled in what was unfolding in front of us.
Then, the unthinkable. The first tower fell. It just disappeared in a plume of smoke.
I tried to call my mom - on the East Coast it was impossible to use a cell phone - all circuits were busy for hours. I never felt so alone or so scared. I wondered if I would ever see anyone I loved again. I wondered how many planes were out there, and if this was just the beginning of an even bigger attack.
Another plane crashes, this one into a field in Pennsylvania.
The second tower fell.
Then it all becomes a blur. Phones weren't working, and the other girls returned home as classes were cancelled and we all just sat there staring at the television for hours in shock.
Eventually I was able to talk to my mom, some of my friends at home in Michigan and some of my traveling colleagues. One of my co-workers was also in Baltimore at UMBC, so we met for dinner to get away from the TV and just to take comfort in seeing a familiar face.
That night I couldn't sleep. Since I was stuck on the couch in the living room I had easy access to the TV. The girls had all gone upstairs to sleep, and I just laid on the couch watching Peter Jennings on the air and crying. Crying, crying, crying. When I closed my eyes all I could see was that second plane flying in to the tower. The footage of the planes crashing, the Pentagon burning, and the towers falling repeated throughout the night.
I was stuck in Baltimore for days....and was among the first to actually fly once air space re-opened in the U.S. I remember going to the Baltimore airport and standing in line for hours. I was scared to death. It was the first day commercial aircraft would fly again, and I couldn't help but worry something would happen on my flight. If I had a flight, that is. BWI was packed, but you could hear a pin drop. Police and bomb sniffing dogs were everywhere. I felt like I was in a military state, not the United States. Hundreds of us stood solemnly in line and watched on the boards as flight after flight was cancelled. I was trying to get back to my base in Atlanta. As the crowd thinned due to cancelled flights, an elderly lady wound up behind me who was also trying to get to Atlanta to see her family. As we got close to the desk to check in, the announcement was made that the flight to Atlanta would be going - one of the only flights to actually fly that day. We looked at each other, hugged and started crying.
I remember after we checked in and made it through tight security, we walked to our gate. The lights were off, and we were the only two people in the hallway. It was eerie. We made it to the gate and there were three or four nervous looking passengers seated. Eventually, a few more showed up and we boarded the plane, welcomed by an apprehensive looking flight attendant. There were maybe ten of us on the plane. I remember being scared, relieved and thankful for a wonderful flight crew who acknowledged the events of 9/11 and took good care of us on the short flight from Baltimore to Atlanta.
I'll never forget the site of my co-worker when I arrived in Atlanta. I hugged her so tight - and was so grateful to see her.
The days and weeks that followed were difficult. I continued my job flying every four or five days, despite threats of additional attacks, Anthrax, having to arrive at the airport four hours before a flight to get through security, etc. It was scary and for many months, I was one of few brave souls who took to the skies.
Nine years later, flights are consistently oversold and America is happily flying again (of course now we have to pay for an aisle seat, to check a bag, for a water and probably soon to use the loo, but we're still flying). I hope we never have to go through a day like 9.11.01 again....and I hope we never forget.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
The horror, the horror (in other words, the best birth control ever)!!
Side note before I begin: I am currently watching "The Holiday" on TBS. I adore this movie. I so understand Kate Winslet's character and want to be her, except I want to go to England and not L.A. in a house swap. Anyway....
Disclaimer: If you are currently pregnant, especially if pregnant with your first baby, you may not want to read this! Wait until you experience the miracle of childbirth for yourself!
My oldest and dearest friend welcomed her first baby to the world last week! I finally spoke with her this evening and when I asked how it all went she replied with one word, "Horrible." Eek. She then described in excruciating detail her 20 hours of labor, which eventually led to a C-section. I won't go in to details, but I am thankful she shared the nitty gritty details because I will remember this story the next time I see a cute baby and start to feel those motherly yearnings. I mean, I definitely shuddered several times and may have felt some sympathy pains in my nether-regions and all but it sort of made me thankful I don't have to endure that sort of marathon of pain any time soon. I have plenty of friends who have children, and most describe childbirth as this wonderful, almost mystical thing. Not this time. In fact, I joked she should go visit high school health classes - I bet she could single handedly drive down the rate of knocked up teens at area high schools.
I called my mom to report news of the baby's arrival, and after she asked how big he was when born (I know this is something I am supposed to ask new moms but I never do. I don't really see how it's relevant. Seven pounds, eight pounds, who cares?) I told her about the "horrible" experience and she responded in only the way my mom can...."Well, you know, the older you are, the more difficult it is. I mean, my experience with you was similar and I was only 26."
Gee whiz, thanks, mom! She might as well have told me to just give up because by the time I have a baby I will probably die in childbirth. It may be her way of encouraging me not to reproduce, who knows. After the story I heard today, I am thinking reproduction is not high on my priority list for the immediate future anyway. So there!
Disclaimer: If you are currently pregnant, especially if pregnant with your first baby, you may not want to read this! Wait until you experience the miracle of childbirth for yourself!
My oldest and dearest friend welcomed her first baby to the world last week! I finally spoke with her this evening and when I asked how it all went she replied with one word, "Horrible." Eek. She then described in excruciating detail her 20 hours of labor, which eventually led to a C-section. I won't go in to details, but I am thankful she shared the nitty gritty details because I will remember this story the next time I see a cute baby and start to feel those motherly yearnings. I mean, I definitely shuddered several times and may have felt some sympathy pains in my nether-regions and all but it sort of made me thankful I don't have to endure that sort of marathon of pain any time soon. I have plenty of friends who have children, and most describe childbirth as this wonderful, almost mystical thing. Not this time. In fact, I joked she should go visit high school health classes - I bet she could single handedly drive down the rate of knocked up teens at area high schools.
I called my mom to report news of the baby's arrival, and after she asked how big he was when born (I know this is something I am supposed to ask new moms but I never do. I don't really see how it's relevant. Seven pounds, eight pounds, who cares?) I told her about the "horrible" experience and she responded in only the way my mom can...."Well, you know, the older you are, the more difficult it is. I mean, my experience with you was similar and I was only 26."
Gee whiz, thanks, mom! She might as well have told me to just give up because by the time I have a baby I will probably die in childbirth. It may be her way of encouraging me not to reproduce, who knows. After the story I heard today, I am thinking reproduction is not high on my priority list for the immediate future anyway. So there!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Don't buy me Old Maid cards, ok?
This month I will turn thirtysomething....my math is a little fuzzy here and that's intentional.
Lately I've been feeling a little "left behind." No, I am not talking about "The Rapture" unless you define "The Rapture" as a time when Jesus comes and steals away all your single friends, and you're left dateless and friendless on a Saturday night.
Because I am admittedly a smidge self-centered, I can't quite wrap my head around the concept of planning my life around someone besides, well, me! These relationship people are killing me! If I hear, "Oh, sorry, Mr. X has that day off work so I can't (fill in the blank)." or "Oh, sorry, Mr. X and I have plans with (fill in the blank of a couple) for that day," or, the one that's really irking me these days, "Oh, sorry, I can't talk right now. Mr. X and I are watching tv together on the couch." Really? Gag.
Let me say, I have plenty of friends who are able to function like normal human beings while in relationships (and I heart them, I do - and appreciate the fact they can have a relationship and friends!). But, for those who are not I have a question: Why do you people continue to put all your eggs in these relationship baskets (no reproductive pun intended)? There are two possible outcomes for your situation: A). You two will break up and then you will come running back to your friends for entertainment. B) You two will get married and be stuck with each other for the rest of your lives, and eventually you will come running back to your friends for entertainment as an escape from your beloved.
At my "advanced age" I should be totally used to couples, I've been surrounded by them since middle school. I suppose I just need to find some new single friends in my age bracket (because really, it's easier to find new friends than to find a boyfriend - at least when you are me!)....but that's much easier said than done (but still easier than dating).
Tonight I decided an episode of my all time favorite TV show would cheer me up. So, I popped in "Luck Be an Old Lady Tonight" (Season 5 of SATC). The girls couldn't get together for Charlotte's birthday because of boyfriends, babies, etc. and Carrie took matters into her own hands, delivering the best line of the episode: "Are you telling me the four of us can't get together to celebrate Charlotte's thirty-faux birthday? This is bull shit!"
Amen, Carrie. That IS bullshit. This year, like Charlotte, I am sticking to my age. I don't need to get any older. In fact, I'd rather celebrate my 25th or 26th birthday again but I suppose I will have to go with sticking. I don't think I can pass for under 30 anymore anyway.
And while I loved the card game "Old Maid" as a child, I would prefer not to receive any decks of "Old Maid" cards for my birthday. After all, "old maid" is a "game" I play daily!
Lately I've been feeling a little "left behind." No, I am not talking about "The Rapture" unless you define "The Rapture" as a time when Jesus comes and steals away all your single friends, and you're left dateless and friendless on a Saturday night.
Because I am admittedly a smidge self-centered, I can't quite wrap my head around the concept of planning my life around someone besides, well, me! These relationship people are killing me! If I hear, "Oh, sorry, Mr. X has that day off work so I can't (fill in the blank)." or "Oh, sorry, Mr. X and I have plans with (fill in the blank of a couple) for that day," or, the one that's really irking me these days, "Oh, sorry, I can't talk right now. Mr. X and I are watching tv together on the couch." Really? Gag.
Let me say, I have plenty of friends who are able to function like normal human beings while in relationships (and I heart them, I do - and appreciate the fact they can have a relationship and friends!). But, for those who are not I have a question: Why do you people continue to put all your eggs in these relationship baskets (no reproductive pun intended)? There are two possible outcomes for your situation: A). You two will break up and then you will come running back to your friends for entertainment. B) You two will get married and be stuck with each other for the rest of your lives, and eventually you will come running back to your friends for entertainment as an escape from your beloved.
At my "advanced age" I should be totally used to couples, I've been surrounded by them since middle school. I suppose I just need to find some new single friends in my age bracket (because really, it's easier to find new friends than to find a boyfriend - at least when you are me!)....but that's much easier said than done (but still easier than dating).
Tonight I decided an episode of my all time favorite TV show would cheer me up. So, I popped in "Luck Be an Old Lady Tonight" (Season 5 of SATC). The girls couldn't get together for Charlotte's birthday because of boyfriends, babies, etc. and Carrie took matters into her own hands, delivering the best line of the episode: "Are you telling me the four of us can't get together to celebrate Charlotte's thirty-faux birthday? This is bull shit!"
Amen, Carrie. That IS bullshit. This year, like Charlotte, I am sticking to my age. I don't need to get any older. In fact, I'd rather celebrate my 25th or 26th birthday again but I suppose I will have to go with sticking. I don't think I can pass for under 30 anymore anyway.
And while I loved the card game "Old Maid" as a child, I would prefer not to receive any decks of "Old Maid" cards for my birthday. After all, "old maid" is a "game" I play daily!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
