Never Give Up

I drove my car all the way back to the mechanic at the Bronx in traffic with heavy delays due to construction (all and all it took me 2 hours to drive 20 miles and shot my whole day) only to have him tell me that my car is allergic to New York. More or less, he told me my car is old and it doesn't do so hot in hot weather, so to lay off the air conditioner and head somewhere less congested. I could have told myself that. On the bright side, I saw some crazy ass road rage in the bumper to bumper New York style traffic. This middle-ager hops out of his car, proceeds to walk to the van behind him, open up the driver's side door before screaming "Fuck You" before closing the door and returning to his car. It was wild. I'm just glad he didn't have a gun, and I'm really glad it wasn't my car door he was opening. But then and again, I'm a bad ass at driving in big city traffic (gasp! who would've thought), so he would have no reason to assault me. I really don't mean to have my blogs so automobile centric. I promise I'm doing plenty of other things besides breaking, fixing and cursing my car. I'm racking up all kinds of conversation starters: There's always the statue of liberty, museums, plays, bars, restaurants to talk about. But I am on a road trip. Therefore, my car is often at the core of subject material, as it does get me or prevent me from getting to where I need to be going.

I'm going to be heading to Maine on Tuesday, which I'm quite thrilled about. Actually, I'm going to take a Chinatown Bus to Boston to meet Catherine, a friend and ex-Oxford American-colleague and then we're going to catch another bus up to Maine (just in case you need the gory details). I'm hoping to give a shout out to Jared while in Boston. Any of you Heifers have requests for me to send to him in this shout out? Let me know. There's probably not going to be as many people in Maine, which will be a change of scenery for sure. There's just tons and tons of people here in New York. Tons. Everywhere. Always accidentally bumping someone's shoulder. I think the crowdedness of New York is its best and worst attribute. Something for everyone and no one.

Speaking of somethings, I attended a drag show last night, which starred one of the roommates I've been staying with: a Miss Violet Temper (stage name), who performed a number from Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. It was hot and sexy and overall a very cheap and safe evening, as far as being absolutely sure no guys, no matter how beautiful or ugly, but mostly beautiful were in the least bit interested in me--once again, a best and worst. Not that I've been having all that much trouble with beautiful boys hitting on me in straight bars. Come on, fellas: I'm exotic. I'm from Arkansas. Although, I did get a little accidental play. In the subway on the way home, the train took off a little more suddenly than usual, which sent me tripping almost to the ground. Impulse reached my hand out to lighten the fall, but instead a snoozing man's crotch caught my hand and my fall. Boy, did he jump. Boy, did I apologize: "I am so sorry." I guess it wasn't that good for him. He just nodded and went back to sleep. Some things never change, but that's no reason to give up.