“It’s time to go home”

It’s WoopsieDaisey Wednesday!

I always have trouble thinking up a tale for these days, even though I’ve had so many ‘Woops’ moments in my life… however, today it just came to me. In my most recent blog, about SinkinShip, I referenced a particularly crazy night and I feel that it most definitely falls under the Wednesday category and therefore, should be completed today.

As is the case with a lot of these stories… please keep in mind that my memory has been blurred by that devil alcohol. So try to keep up.

So the day I am referring to is the day/night of my college graduation. My high school graduation has many a fun story attached to it as well, but again, that must be saved for yet another of the never-ending blogs.

As I mentioned in my previous blog, I was dating Ship at the time of my college culmination. This was more or less, right smack dab in the middle of that relationship, and if you will recall, I was pretty much desperate for his attention and affection by that point. So just throw that in the back of your mind and keep it there.

The day started out like any other busy, important day of one’s life. I woke up early at Ship’s house. My family was in town, as well as my ex boyfriend, LemonBass, and so there was literally no room at my house for me. I’m sure that that is the only reason Ship agreed to having me over to his house in the first place, but that is neither here nor there. We woke up to a call from Ship’s superior on the Naval base. Apparently, Ship was supposed to be on base that day but had filed his paperwork either incorrectly or too late because there was definitely a communication error. He yelled, they yelled, and basically he decided that he was right no matter what they said, and he wasn’t going to go in, regardless. This was great news to me, because it meant that he was ‘choosing’ me over work, but even still… I would never have talked to my boss the way Ship spoke to his. And, well, because he was in the mood to yell, he decided to bring up AGAIN the fact that my ex boyfriend was in town to come to my graduation. I said it had been an argument between the two of us, but I didn’t mention that it went on and on. So after getting the brunt of his anger on that subject, I decided that the day was off to a great start.

I got up, got dressed and headed home. The original plan was for me to get ready in time to go see one of Ship’s MMA fights down in Pacific Beach. I’m not sure if I mentioned that in the previous blog… he was a Mixed Marshall Arts fighter… doesn’t that just add to his douche bagery? Anyway… so of course I started out the day stressed out, on a timeline, and nervous. It ended up, with all the showers of all the people in my house, that there was absolutely no way that I was going to be able to make it to his fight. This worried me very much. I really, honestly thought that if I didn’t go to this one fight, there was no way in hell he was going to show up for my college graduation. As if the two are even comparable. So I begrudgingly gave him the news that I was just running too late to make it to his fight. He didn’t even answer me back.

Side note: The cap and gown… totally not flattering. It doesn’t matter how big or little or tall or short or cute or whatever you are… it just doesn’t look good. And how the hell are you supposed to wear those hats anyway?? Hell if I know. I mean, I really struggled. This was supposed to be a day that would be photographed and looked at for years to come, and I couldn’t figure out one suitable way to wear that damn hat so that my hair didn’t look hideous.

Alas, I opted for the curly hair, down, and the hat pinned back on the skull of my head. Still not cute, but at least it didn’t smoosh my bangs.

So I headed, with my beloved roommates DMo and KayTown, my mom, he-who-must-not-be-named (Step dad), Lemon, D’Monk and my cuz to graduation. No sign of Ship.

We got to COX Arena on the SDSU campus about an hour before the ceremony, and there were quite literally 100 million people there. I think that was the official count. And it was right around 100,000 degrees as well. Again… what’s with the heat retaining, black bag that they call a gown?? So hot! Kay and I, and the rest of the graduation crew headed down to where our major was gathering, while the rest of my family- sans my noticeably absent boyfriend- headed to their seats.

The actual graduation ceremony at COX Arena was very impersonal. There were hundreds of us crowded onto the floor, where the basketball floor would normally be, and hundreds more ‘fans’- so to speak- in the stands. Out of all of those hundreds of people… no Ship.

We heard from speaker after speaker, all off which had a similar message: Shit gets real, starting now. And then we each stood up, as a major, and switched our tassels from one side to the next. We went through the motions, we followed protocol. The guy sitting two seats down from me was so moved, he fell asleep. It was magical. And all through the 20 hour long ceremony, Ship did not make an appearance.

However, the real ceremony, the one that mattered to me, was the one that followed the giant, impersonal one. It was JUST for MY major, which of course, was theatre. So after we were released from COX arena, and after I found my family and friends in the masses, we made our way across campus towards the second ceremony. Maybe Ship would show for this one? In truth, it was the only one that counts in my heart… even now.

And sure enough… there he was. He showed! I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to be SURPRISED when your boyfriend shows up for your graduation, but I really was. Kay and I had to go into a special room before the ceremony began, so that we could all make a breath-taking entrance as one graduating unit. And as soon as I walked into the room, I did what every other girl does on any special day in her life… I looked for my Mommy. And there he was, sitting right next to her. He was standing and cheering and grinning, ear to ear. I was in heaven.

So this ceremony, unlike the first, was totally moving. DMo, and three other great friends of mine sang ‘For Good’ from Wicked, which if you’ve never heard it… is the PERFECT song for a graduation.

It was so beautiful that I ugly face cried.

Another good friend of mine was class speaker and her speech was very pointed. It was totally different than any of the first speeches at COX because these were MY friends. They were people I had gone to class with. They were MY teachers. These lessons were really MINE to take. It was really a great ceremony and I’m very sad to report that due to the economy, these separate major ceremonies no longer go on. I think that cheats the grads out of a very memorable experience. I remember looking over at KayTown and laughing at the inside jokes. Jokes that were ours. And I cherish the fact that our house, the party house, was brought up more than once by the speakers. It felt very personal and real… like we were really moving away from something, reminiscing. I’ll never forget it.

But either way, after this second, magical ceremony, I again reunited with my family and friends. I was given a sash to hand to the person who had most influenced my life during my college years and I gave it to my mother. We cried some more. At that point I was really wondering why I even bothered to spend any time on my hair. My face was a giant, sloppy mess.

After pictures…

… we headed to dinner at one of my favorite Mexican food places in Old Town San Diego. What better place to celebrate? When we got there, Kay’s dad pointed out the sign leading into the restaurant which announced mine and Kay’s names and congratulated us on our success. I thought that was very special and I just love to feel special.

The only down side about celebrating anything at a Mexican restaurant is the margaritas. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love myself some margs but when they come in pitchers… well, that’s where things get messy. And so we began. We took shots, we had mixed drinks, and we had many a pitcher of margs. Needless to say, by the time Kay and I left the place, we were more than special… we were ‘special’. It was scary.

First stop: Home. Or so I think. We had large plans to go out on the town, but for some reason I remember heading home first. Perhaps there needed to be some dropping off of things. Perhaps some changing. Again, I asked you to bear with me on this so I hope you are. In any respect, at some point in the evening we were at my house. The house where Kay and I both lived, and the house where everyone who was anyone was staying. And by that point, the emotion of the whole event was hitting me. We were done with college. We were all moving on. A lot of us were moving AWAY. Kay was nearly packed and she wasn’t just moving out… she was moving to NEW YORK! I am talking about the soul mate who had lived just across the hall from me for 4 years!! (Figuratively). It was very difficult. And we hadn’t really allowed ourselves to talk or even think about it. But the time had come for no more time. I hate it when that happens. Kay and I were closing a chapter. And all of a sudden, drunk as all get out, it hit me. And what did I do? I broke down crying, climbed into my mother’s lap and insisted on her rocking, and singing to me.

I’m not crazy.

I just reverted back to my childhood years. This is exactly what she needed to do for me when I was upset as a child. And apparently, it still worked. I felt much better afterwards. Ship, however, might have been thinking twice. Too bad he had no room to talk because I’d seen him far more intoxicated than needing to be rocked by his mother.

So after I was settled down, and keep in mind it is possible that this portion of the story did in fact take place prior to us coming home, we went down the street to a little bar called Bourbon Street. If you’ve never been there, let me just say… it’s a gay bar. It’s not just a gay bar, but it’s a gay bar that shows gay porn on all the tvs. Now, of course this didn’t bother Kay or I, or even my mom or sister for that matter, but my step dad, cousin, ex and Ship… they felt somewhat out of place. Ship felt even more awkward when I handed him my purse to hold onto.

Why did we choose this place? Can’t be sure. I know that I had gone there on my 21st birthday and had a blast. I never had to deal with getting hit on but at the same time, men still bought me drinks. And, quite frankly, I love myself some gays. I think it was just one of those things.

So at the bar, as I mentioned, men were just lining up to buy the two grads some shots. And of course I felt it necessary to accept. I had just graduated from SDSU- one of the largest party schools in the country! How could I turn down a free shot? I only remember taking one, a blow job shot of course, but I’m sure I took many. The thing I do remember best about that place was this: As soon as I finished my shot, I reached over with shot glass, and dropped it right on the floor as if I were placing it gently on the counter. Nope. No counter… just a long drop to the floor. So it shattered of course and no one was more surprised than me.

At that point I decided that I had to use the restroom, and as is the case with most drunk girls, I didn’t decide that early enough to hold it while I waited in a line. And what a line there was. At a gay bar, they don’t actually see the need to have a girls restroom other than the law, and so the line was absolutely astronomical for the one stall. And I just could not wait. I asked my friend, a gay man of course, for assistance and he opened up the empty boys room and said,

“Not like anyone cares in here.”

So true.

In most mens room- and not to insinuate that I’ve been in many- there are a few urinals and generally only one stall. I don’t understand this. If anything, men are much more likely to crap in a public place than women are, and yet they only get one option. And of course!! A guy had to be taking a poop just as I was in desperate need of a stall!! SO again… what did I do? I did what I think anyone else would do in my situation… I popped a squat over the urinal. Luckily for me, it was one of those floor ones. And my good friend helped hold me up so my bum didn’t touch the porcelain.

It was yet another ‘bet you haven’t done that’ moment that I can add to my long list of moments.

We might have been there an hour, it might have been 5 minutes, there is no way of knowing. But either way after the urinal, it was time to move to the next place. Truth be told, it was time to get my butt to bed, but no one likes a quitter.

The next stop was Tripple Crown which was also in walking distance of my house. Actually, it was on the way BACK towards my house so at least we were moving in the right direction. And although I was unsure earlier about the order of events, I know for a FACT that this bar was last.

Tripple Crown is a good, solid pub-like bar. It was close to our house so we knew it well, but at the same time, it was always packed with new people. And that night was no exception. The place was jumping. And again, it could have been 1am or maybe it was noon, but it was packed and we were ready to have a good time.

I sat down next to my mother, at the bar that faced out into the street. That was the other cool thing about Tripple Crown. There was a bar that faced out towards the street, and there was a huge sliding door that was open so that we could just reach out and touch the passers by- if we so chose. I always thought that was very cool. And so my mother and I hopped up onto the bar stools that were facing out towards the passing cars. Ship, who was a smoker (strike 100 against him), was standing on the other side of the bar- actually outside on the street- smoking. He was chatting with LemonBass, ironically enough, who he just so happened to really like. Go figure!

We hadn’t been sitting there more than 5 minutes and we hadn’t been in the bar more than 7 when I fate-fully reached for my mom’s Bud Light (aka B minus). I remember this part very clearly. I reached for the beer, which was positioned just out of my reach to the right and directly in front of my mom, when the most outrageous thing happened. I can’t explain it. I was reaching to my right and suddenly, without warning, I fell straight backwards off my bar stool. I was leaning right…….. and fell backwards. Still don’t get it. And don’t worry… I totally blame this trick of gravity for my fall and not my alcohol consumption.

But don’t let me sugarcoat this fall for you.

I fell backwards. Head towards cement. Legs sprawling for the ceiling, still in my graduation dress no less. And I slammed down on the ground. I broke a record-breaking THREE glasses during this epic tumble. One was the beer in my right hand, which had caused the whole fall to begin with. One was the glass in front of me that I had kicked whilst falling. And the third was my cousins. He was less intoxicated than me at that point and so he had seen me start to fall from across the bar. He made it all the way across the room just in time to get his drink knocked out of his hand by my passing arm. I broke that glass by FALLING on it.

Amazingly, I did not have a scratch on me. And also AMAZINGLY, my mother managed to SAVE MY LIFE. She saw me start to go- it must have been in slow motion… or at least that’s how it felt for me- and so she grabbed my two hands at the last minute. She knew there was no saving me. My feet were well over my head by that point. But her intention was simple: Keep my head from slamming into the cement.

And although I did break 3 glasses, one by falling on it, at the last minute my arms extended to the max and my head was saved. I had a wicked case of whiplash the next day, but my brain was intact! Or at least mostly.

Now, this is where I did what most people wouldn’t do. Instead of being embarrassed and mortified… I laughed. I started laughing my ass off! People were encircling me, strangers were picking me up off the ground, my mother was pulling my dress back down over my crotch and I just thought it was the funniest thing to ever happen.

At that point I looked at Ship who was standing directly in front of me, still outside the bar, and I’ll never forget what he said:

“It’s time to go home.”

And so it was…

Once we got home, it was as if nothing embarrassing had happened at all. I was causing quite the drunken scene. I was very insistence upon Ship taking me home and home meant his house. As it stood, my mom and step dad were sleeping in my room, the fold out couch had already been claimed and the only thing left for Ship and I was a blow up mattress in the dinning room. I found that totally unacceptable. But Ship refused to drive me because he had been drinking and he didn’t want to make a bad impression on my mom. (Way to see that through). And so he did everything in his power to keep me laying down on the mattress. And trust me, I was putting up quite the fight. I was yelling at him and I was calling him every name in the book. I kept telling him that he was the worst boyfriend ever, when in fact, this might have been the ONLY night in our entire relationship where he actually was a good boyfriend.

And to top it all off, I went off on my step dad about how much he had been drinking. Apparently, he hadn’t had anything. Nope… just me. Great.

So that is the story of the night I graduated from college. It would appear that the only thing I learned in my four years… was how to party.

Life is full of falls

Life is full of Woopsie Daisey Moments; namely, the classic fall. And let’s all be honest right up front here… on those few and far between moments that we are so very lucky as to bear witness to an epic fall… it’s freakin hysterical! Don’t lie. It is.

I mean, of course it’s always important to make sure the person is okay, but really that’s only if you a) know the person who has suffered the fall and b) you happen to be standing close enough so that you can not logically act as if you haven’t seen the fall. Otherwise, you pretty much just enjoy having caught a glimpse of this brilliant backfire of gravity.

For example, when I happened to be running on the treadmill next to the unfortunate student who met her untimely end-of-run when her feet caught the tread… I had no choice but to attempt to help her. I was right next to her and there wasn’t a person in the gym at that moment who didn’t catch the play by play of that fall so there really was no way that I was going to be able to sit back and enjoy that moment without stepping in. (For more information on that fall, please check out “The dangers of running indoors”, also in this category!)

Don’t get me wrong, when I fall, it’s a completely different situation! Of course I would prefer to fall on an abandoned island where no one could have possibly seen my walking malfunction, but that is rarely the case. So… when I do happen to fall, I do try to make the most of it and allow those around me to enjoy the fall as much as I would if I were them. I suggest you do the same. It just makes it so much  more fun for all parties involved. (Again, check out my blog about falling in the hole in my front yard…).

So with that lead in… I give you a collection of a few of my favorite falls!

In college I had the privilege of performing in Lysistrata. It was a student directed production that was to be performed on what is known as the ‘Free Speech Steps’ at SDSU. I guess, in our own way we were attempting to protest the war with a new, fresh spin. We rehearsed from 10pm to midnight only to throw on costumes from our own closets and try to block off a ‘stage’ so that students (and in our case, an armored truck) would not be able to pass through the middle of our performance. Either way, if I haven’t spelled it out for you, it was a very haphazard show.

KayTown, one of my nearest and dearest friends, was also in the production with me and on the day of the performance, we were rushing around trying to throw everything together because the unorganized director just so happened to also be our roommate. Basically that meant that she and I were stand in assistant directors, costumers, prop mistresses, etc.

About fifteen minutes before show time, KayTown made a run for her car to get something that we had forgotten. And just in case you’re thinking that she might have gone unnoticed moving quickly through the crowds of students, please do remember that she was in full costume and make up.

As she was scuttering across the uneven pavement, somehow one of the blocks of cement managed to jump up and grab her foot, sending her plummeting forward, surprisingly not towards the ground, but parallel to the ground. In her rush, Kay had managed to pick up enough speed to actually take flight!

Her fall can best be described as a ‘SuperMan.’ She SuperManed through the air and belly-flopped onto the ground.

She escaped with nothing more than a pretty severe raspberry on her wrist and the unforgettable sensation of flying… but you can be sure that someone somewhere is telling the story of how a girl was just walking across campus and then, without warning, took flight.

Or there was the time when another good college buddy of mine decided that the fastest way down a flight of stairs was head first.

A cement flight of stairs in a parking garage, no less.

But don’t worry. A miracle occurred during this particular fall. A miracle that very possibly saved my friend’s life.

Hill-B (will be her name), was just minding her own business, walking along and chatting with her friend, when she happened upon the stairs that would ultimately lead her to her waiting vehicle- or so she thought. Hill-B did not even stop or hesitate as she began the decent that would quickly go horribly wrong.

About two steps in, things went awry. I can’t say that anyone knows for sure exactly what happened, but before anything could be done, Hill-B was tumbling, head over heels, down the cement steps.

This is where the miracle took place. Hill-B, fatefully happened to be wearing a JanSport backpack that day. Thank the Lord they were still in style back then. Every time Hill-B’s head took it’s turn as the impact site, her JanSport backpack magically slipped up over her neck and head to cradle her and take the brunt of the thrashing. Of course it was the same JanSport full of books that kept her fall propelling forward and downwards, but at least it seemed to have a plan.

When Hill-B got to the bottom and stood up, completely uninjured, everyone around her who had witnessed the fall knew for a fact that God existed.

And then there is one of my favorite ‘Almost Falls’. It’s quite possible that these are even better than actually falling completely to the ground. When someone is able to pull themselves out of a sure-thing-fall, it’s not only impressive, but you don’t even have to go through the whole ‘Are you okay?’ thing! Yes, this might be the best type of fall.

I just so happen to have one of the more impressive ‘Almost Falls’ under my belt. Surprise, Surprise! And I take no credit for this. Again, this was a miracle. Gravity and Physics will tell you that what I am about to say is Scientifically impossible…

Around lunch time one day, again at SDSU, I was walking from the commons area to ‘the benches’, which if you don’t know, is where us theatre kids always hung out. I had a foot long sandwich in one hand and an oversized soda in the other hand, and the infamous JanSport on my back and I was only about ten steps away from my destination.

I went to take the first step up those final ten steps and my foot landed ever so slightly off balanced on the step…

As you can imagine, it didn’t go well from that point on. Every step following that first step was equally as minimally off as the first one had been. And as I continued to stumble upwards with nothing but steps in front of me, that damn JanSport backpack threatened to force my face into the oncoming stairs. But something inside me was screaming: FIGHT! And fight I did. I was not going to fall down without a hell of a battle. And I kid you not, by the time I made it to the top of that set of stairs, my teeth were no more than one foot from irreparable damage. I was literally hovering diagonally over that stairwell. It was quite impressive.

But even more impressive than that, is that I actually made it to the top of the stairs without succumbing to the fall. AND I succeeded in maintaining my hold on both the sandwich AND the soda. Needless to say, my almost fall stopped all conversation at the benches and my successful arrival at the top was met with a very relieved applause. Of course there was the fair share of laughter as well, but this almost fall was more impressive than it even was funny! If you can imagine that…

So as you can see, life is full of falls! They are everywhere, all the time, and they are amazing. Embrace them, don’t fear them. Unfortunately, they are inevitable… especially if you happen to be wearing a JanSport.

So the lesson here is: Just go with it.  Feel the fall. If it serves you well to fight it, do so. Maybe you will end with your teeth in tact. But if it’s better to just tuck and roll and let the backpack do the rest… so be it.