Category Archives: new york

Dear Newark Airport…

To my tens of readers, I apologize for being so lax on my postings. I went home for Christmas and had a dandy time but before I divulge into that pot of goodies I have to recap my flight home. It’s been a day to face rape all other days.

So it starts off that I get my flight wrong by an hour because my phone switched time zones when I flew into Austin, thus making the departure time I had programmed into my google calendar, incorrect. But that was fine because I got a new iPhone (my HalleBerryBlackBerry was one of the many casualties of New Years Eve) so I had a lot of fun little apps to play with while I waited. (Words with Friends is the greatest thing ever… my username is MoneyOvahBitches… and I will school you in some scrabble.)

So finally we board the plane and all is fine and dandy until we begin the descent into New Jersey (yeah, I realize that my first mistake was flying into Newark instead of any other New York airport). Ummm I thought we were all going to die. Now I can sometimes exaggerate a bit here and there but I AM NOT EXAGGERATING right now… we came towards the ground at a 45 degree angle (slight exaggeration). As we were nearing the ground the entire cabin tensed up and everyone’s eyes were plastered to the windows so we could gauge how NOT STRAIGHT our plane was. Finally, when we touched down the entire cabin… and I do mean the ENTIRE cabin… let out an audible sigh and started freaking out about how we almost died.

So we’re on the ground. Great. Oh wait… no it’s not because the captain gets on the intercom or whatever its called in planes to inform us that all of Terminal C is closed down because of a security breach and that the airport has been shut down. Apparently some mofo came in through the exit and they couldn’t find him. So everyone that boarded a plane or was in the terminal had to go back through security and be re-scanned.

After sitting in the plane, on the runway, for AN HOUR AND A HALF, we were moved to Terminal B and were told that our baggage was going to be at Terminal B, Carousel 4. So we all frolic out of the plane just so excited to be able to stand, get to Carousel 4, wait for 30 minutes for our bags, until some biznatch comes over to tell us that we’re going to have to get on the AirTrain to go back to Terminal C to get our bags. This is a picture of what Terminal C looked like:

When I finally get to Terminal C, the Austin arrival isn’t even listed on the Arrival screen so we have no idea where our bags are going to be placed. Meanwhile, I’ve befriended a nice old man from New Jersey named Don who told me of his woes of catching something called “Cedar Fever” while in Austin which, oddly enough, involves neither cedar trees nor a fever. So Don and I are making our way through the masses trying to find our baggage until I finally decide to go rogue and search. Miraculously, I run into some people who I sort of recognize from the plane and they’re grabbing their bags from the ugly stepchild carousel in the corner. I verify that they were on the same flight as I was and then I see my lovely luggage come hurtling my way. I found Don, told him what was up and decided to go find my SuperShuttle.

Oh yes… I can’t find it. So I say to myself, “Eff this shit in the A!” and decide to take a taxi. I get in the cab, tell him where we’re going and we’re off. 15 minutes into the cab ride I ask him if he takes credit card and he starts FLIPPING OUT. Apparently he doesn’t take credit card and keeps on yelling and yelling. I haven’t eaten since 11am so I REALLY don’t care what he’s saying to me. After informing him that there’s an ATM across the street from my apartment he chills out and starts offering me candy. I wish I was making this up. I refused him 5 times (all the while trying to remember what that policeman taught my sorority in college about self defense) and kept telling myself that I am a grown ass woman and I WILL NOT cry.

Finally, I make it home, look through the fridge to find that the only food I have is frozen corn, whip myself up some corn and salsa and go to check on my cat only to find that her automatic litter box has broken.

Then I couldn’t close my drawers.

So I took a shot of vodka.

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Hit On By A Holy Man

So I was walking to my beautiful East Village apartment to write down the apartment owner’s address so I can send them my hateful letter regarding the possible mold infestation that’s happening in my place of residence that no one is doing anything about, but this is beside the point.

So we live next to this bizarre combo-church as I’m going to so lovingly dub it. It’s like the #5 combo meal of churches – free salvation with every juicy piece of gossip you spill to the reverend. It is called El Divino Maestro – Iglesia Pentecostal and has a giant Star of David inside of it.

So I’m passing it and this man outside is singing “Blessed be the Name of the Lord” and trying to usher people into the sanctuary. This is all great and dandy but when I passed him, he starts hitting on me and yelling things at me like I haven’t been yelled at in a fortnight or two. “Oooh damn look at her! Check out that backside in those jeans!” Etc, etc. I knew right then and there that I was just “eye fucked” by a man singing church hymns. I was so shocked and repulsed by this that I turned and looked at him and said, “Wait, what the fuck?!” – which on second thought might not have been the best thing to say to a “holy man” but my mom’s a priest which means I get a free pass because I’ve got connections in higher places.

So then I rushed into my apartment and ate two pieces of the cake I made the other day and sat on my floor crying while listening to the Carpenters casually left and returned to work.

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