4th of July

there's really nothing like crashing a party on the fourth of july with good friends.

we'd gone to newport for the evening to have dinner and watch the fireworks by the water. Always underestimating the stupidity of rhode island drivers, the roads leaving newport were grid locked, so we decided to stay by the water drinking wine until the traffic died down. of course, drinking alcohol always leads to someone needing to pee, BAD. and that person, obviously, was me. we were basically in a park that ran along the water,and clearly, there were no bathrooms to accommodate the thousands of people visiting in Newport every summer. but across the street from the park were some houses. One of these houses was having a party, with music and people talking and singing on the front porch. It sounded like the typical college ripper.

me and seth set out to find a bathroom and figured we'd stop by there and see if we could get in, because after a few drinks it seemed like a brilliant idea. as we got to the side of the house to look for a door, a middle-aged man in dress shorts and loafers walks out, startling us. "you coming in?" and he gestures warmly to the open door. I looked at Seth and he and I say "uh, yeah, sure!". So we walk up the stairs armed with our beer and wine, and there we are, not in some college ripper, but a family fourth of july cook out, complete with grandma and baked beans. I made a b-line for the bathroom while seth went out to the front porch to mingle with the family members who were listening to some of the other family members (dressed in kilts) playing the bagpipes and drums.

After using their facilities and saying hello to the hostess (who didn't question my presence at her family party for a second)we listened until the end of the song, said our thankyous and left. All in all a pretty outstanding party.

public trasportation

what is it with people always wanting to sit next to me on the train when there are plenty of other open seats? isn't everyone else, like me desiring little to no human contact before 10 o'clock in the morning? I'm also beginning to believe that i'm some sort of magnet for the psychotics using public transportation. Here are a few of my favorite moments.

Nathan-one morning on the worcester/ framingham line, i was attacked (verbally ofcourse) by a man who i presumed to be mentally handicapped. As it turned out he was an accountant, which explained everything. I generally try to sleep on the train, but this clown jumps into the seat and yells "howdy". Clearly this was not going to be a good start to the day. As I plastered myself to the window, he inched closer, ranting about why he thought Whoopie Goldberg should be the next president, and demanding to know my opinion, all the while covering the left side of my face in mucus. Needless to say he didn't understand body language and after an hour of torture, I got off at Back Bay while he still screamed to me, feeling violated and in desperate need o a face cloth.

RIPTA Bus- Every time i've ever rode the bus to Newport, RI, there has been at least one individual drinking a 40 oz. out of a paper bag. On this particular occasion, an old, deaf, mute, gets on the bus and sits with a man drinking alcohol out of a bottle in a paper bag.This, of course is all conveniently located directly across the aisle from me and my friend. The two men either know each other, or alcohol is the truly the greatest social lubricant, as the two quickly develop a way to communicate via hand gestures, grunts, and a series of smiles fit for a pedophile. Suddenly, I had become part of the conversation, and the old man was gesturing at me. Smiling, the young drunk said "he thinks ya beautiful". The old man then looks at my friend, frowns, and gives the thumbs down. " But he thinks ya friend is ugly" the young drunk translated.

I had been drawing in my sketch book when the old man gestured for my pen. reluctantly I gave it to him, but it was only a Bic and I just considered it a loss. He took the pen and started scrawling on the palm of his hand, which, when he shows to me, resembles some ancient cave drawing found in the ruins of a lost village. He wants desperately for me to understand the secret message scribbled on his hand..."A buffalo,...eating a peach?". "that's his phone numbah" the young drunk grinned at me, "he want ya ta cahll him". I smiled politely and got off at the next stop, walking the 45 minutes home.

sudoku woman- Getting on a train a back bay is a shit show. Everyday, it's like there are giant rats threatening to disembowel us, and if we don't all cram on the train fast, they're gonna get us. I've learned that throwing an elbow will get you a long way, but when my friend blatantly cut off an old woman with a suitcase, I had to question her.

As it turns out, this woman wasn't exactly your usual traveler. It began when Sudoku was all the rage with 30 and 40 somethings, the craze that swept the public transportation nation. This woman got a sudoku book, scrawled secret messages into the squares ( she didn't quite grasp the concept of sudoku), and waited for the train. When the train would come, she would fight people to get on first, then, once reaching the train door, would turn around, and walk back against traffic, to the platform, where she would sit down and not board the train. She did this every day. Longing to feel even more like a real commuter, she went so far as to buy a rolling briefcase with the wheels and retractable handle. I justified Alison's elderly cut off, and continue to cut her off daily, without remorse.

and that, my friends.....is public transportation.