(a deluxe sort of) june 17

tonight at 9, i picked up maisnon and we decided to tryst.  lest you think she was shirking her barbri duties, rethink.  armed with barbri publications, a barbri pen and a barbri SWEATSHIRT (!) she was ready to bar-ty.  we got to tryst minutes after they shut off the wifi, but that ended up being a good thing; i polished and tumbled something i'd been working on a few days before.  had i access to the interweb, i'm sure i would've listlessly surfed and neglected creativity. 

tryst makes the most sublime cappuccinos.  i had three.  maisnon had spinach dip, i later ordered cheesecake (tryst makes the only cheesecake i'll eat-- i normally hate the stuff).  it was more of a courtesy vs hunger thing, since we were sitting there for a while.  during those dimly lit hours when we "studied" by candlelight ("hello, little cafe on the prairie!"), we both got stuff done, much to my immense satisfaction.  to my utter DISsatisfaction, i also got accosted by a jackass who opened with, "my friend and i were talking.  he thinks you're guyanese.  you guyanese?"

something snapped within and i went mute.  i looked balefully at D.  then i looked back at him.  it was deliciously awkward.  "where are you from?", he attempted again, slightly perplexed.  turning to D, i blurted out, "ennike avan'd english areethilla".  without missing a beat, my girl was all, "her english isn't very good."  he got mad skeptical but our fave barrister-to-be wouldn't back down.  "neither is mine" he shot back.  "well, she doesn't feel comfortable speaking it, that's that."  he got annoyed.  i just let wide eyes do all my talking.

he walked back to his jackass friend and they regarded me with derisive looks and said snide things.  i relished the opportunity for improv, really getting into my character of the shy foreigner who was fascinated by these odd little cookies shaped like animals that were garnishing my coffee saucer.  i chewed one thoughtfully, gazed off into space while considering how challenging it was to be here when i don't speak retard and then went back to typing on the i.

when they left, i turned to deepa and said, "aaaaand i get to speak english again."  she puts up with so much, i blog you.  our waiter was adorable, too.  he was "fresh" enough and saucy enough.  at one point, i was going off about something as we divided framboise-spiked fromagecake and he stopped at our table to scold me for pointing with my fork.  i was sooo chagrined.  he gave me a free capp, though, so i adored him despite the embarassment. ;)

we left for amsterdam and then the REAL idiots appeared.  walking down the clogged, teeming sidewalk is enough of a difficult feat that you have to really focus on not tripping on uneven sidewalk, colliding with a drunk (it's a major bar/lounge/cafe strip), colliding with the sober-but-clumsy...i forgot that i had to be on asshole-patrol as well.  out of nowhere i felt a clammy interloper grasp my right elbow, yanking me backwards as he muttered, "hey, can i tawk to you?" horrified, i jerked my hand away just as an outraged deepa (who had been a few steps behind-- congested sidewalk and our bookbags meant walking side-by-side was impossible)  grabbed  HIS arm.

"NO, you do NOT do that."  the look of consummate astonishment on his face was worth millions.  "excuse YOU," i hissed in to the visage of one shocked dullard.  deepa had stopped him cold, but she pushed forward, leaving him in our pissed-off wake.  "can you believe that?" she asked.

"i fucking SWEAR this shit ONLY happens in DC.  in CA, NO ONE touches you like that."

"did you see the look on his face?  i wanted to be all, 'oh, so that doesn't feel nice, does it?  then why should SHE enjoy it'??"

"honestly!  what.  the.  FUCK.  you know, this is such a DC thing-- i'll never forget my first semester at GW, i was in the main eating area and this caramban gets in my path and yanks me towards him.  as he's pressing me into his nasty self, he puts both of his hands on MY ASS.  i shove him, and i'm all, who the fuck do you think you are?? his genius reply?  'i'm play basketball here.', as if that gave him license to assault!"

thankfully, we reached amsterdam by then.  i focused on the bliss that is well-done frites and calmed down.  by the time we were done with our ridicu-delici food, the two slightly drunk lawyers next to us had started to charm us silly (which i found extra amusing b/c 30 mins earlier, i mocked one of them in line after he tried to hit on the blonde bombshell with the $2000 LV bag behind me.  he got rebuffed and then he turned to me, at which point i sweetly replied, "i ain't no sloppy seconds, ya HEARD?")

they ended up being VERY cool guys, a fantastic antidote to the retardery that i had experienced on the street.  unfortunately, they were the LAST good guys we'd meet.  don't be mistaken-- nothing too awful happened, i got called a fucking bitch as i walked down the street with deepa on our way back to the car, b/c i had glanced at someone.  i have good peripheral vision and i get distracted easily.  i saw an unnatural movement and so i briefly looked to my left where some trifling malibu's-most-wanted dipshit had half his torso out his friend's back window so he could ogle an abandoned/driver-less escalade that was blocking traffic b/c it's owner's shit doesn't stink.  i did NOTHING to this guy.  i had had it, though. 

"what the FUCK did you just say to me?  YOU'RE the bitch, motherfucker."  as soon as i pronounced that last linguistic gem, a guy who looked like a much cuter michael stipe smoothly was at my side, taking my hand, rubbing it lightly and saying, "hey, don't let them affect you.  they're just flies attracted to honey.  don't pay them any mind."  he was initially so kind and guileless, i was charmed and touched.

"your...eyes...match your flower," he said, somewhat awkwardly, pointing at my shoulder.  i was wearing urban decay's "air guitar" glitter eyeliner along my upper lashline and the applique-flower on my top had similarly-coloured sequins for leaves.  i looked at him and then thanked him slowly.  of course, then he started being weird, talking about how he had thrown out the opening pitch earlier (?!) as he suddenly produced a baseball from out of nowhere to rub between both hands.  he went on to disclose that his 6'2+ friend in the pink untucked dress shirt and premium denim was mentally-challenged, so he had to look out for him and before i knew it, deepa and i were rolling our eyes towards each other.  he was only around for a few minutes, but it was more than enough.   his friend was leaving him in the dust. 

"i think you should be concerned; if you're responsible for your friend, he's getting away."  deepa murmured similar and the guy left.

d and i walked in silence for a few seconds before i looked down at my camouflage-printed skirt with the ruffle at its hem.  i was so gleeful when i had snagged it just eight hours before, at hecht's mega-sale for a whopping FIVE BUCKS, down from $34.  was it the source of all my persecution?   i shook my head to clear it and then muttered to her, "remind me to wear a burkha the next time we go out."  she just looked me sympathetically.  our discussion about Ulta that dominated the ride home was the perfect cure for what had slightly ailed me.  shopping for makeup is therapeutic; if it's 2:30am, at least you can TALK about doing it. ;)

Comments

[Theo]

A fresh badmash, just for you:
http://www.badmash.org/comics/89.gif. Guess it's going around ...

[julie]

it's not a dc thing. when i lived in ny, i'd be constantly accosted by obnoxious guys. one even took it upon himself to PICK ME UP and TWIRL ME AROUND. i was thinner then, but still not a lightweight so this was no easy task, mind you. so don't feel so bad about dc, i think it's an east coast thing in general.

[Fasilidas]

I'm an east coast guy born and bred but I had no idea that this "east coast thing" was going on! Even in my drunken early twenties it would never cross my mind to behave that way. Then again, I'm in my late thirties now and maybe this is a younger generation's affliction.... Call the cops if someone does that. I'll have to ask my younger female relatives if they've encountered this while out carousing.