Bus Boys Love Me

I find that professional men are not attracted to me.

I really don’t know why. I’m certainly cute enough.

But no bites from doctors and lawyers.

And since I’m a highly educated professional myself, I would like to date within my group. I mean, I’m not stuck up about it or anything, but I deserve something good, don’t I?

But, ya know who’s really into me? Bus boys.

And parking garage attendants.

Oh, and food take out delivery boys.

It just happened yesterday. I was walking into my building and as i walked through the front doors, a delivery guy was walking out. He looked at me. Then, as I passed, he hissed at me!

Do you know what that is?

Well, they don’t whistle anymore. They don’t do kissing noises either. They hiss. “Ssssss.”

That’s the kinda guy that I like. A guy that hisses at me.

Why me God?

Now, a doctor or lawyer that hisses at me. Well, that’s a horse of a different color!

Blue shoes and Obama, sittin in a tree

It was President Obama!

That’s right. He was meeting with Al Sharpton.

I wish he would have stopped. I’m sure he could have hooked me up with a Gucci make-up case.

I have no time for this! I have to get to Saks!

Finally, one of the cops yells, “Ok, you can cross. But do it now, because the street’s going to be closed for the next 20 minutes!!”

I thought, “I better go, go, go before I’m stuck here all night. Without Gucci.”

“Bye. Bye. Obama! I’m off to Saks.”

Saks didn’t have any Gucci, Prada, or freakin’ Coach for that matter, for under 200 bucks. And the customer service sucked.

Everyone was telling me I should buy a scarf, while yawning and avoiding eye contact.

Ugh!

Still no word from Angelina.

I decided to leave Saks and head back to Gucci. Forget this! And forget Angelina! I’ll just buy the make up case for $190 and I’ll pay the difference, I thought.

I finally got to Gucci at 7:03 P.M.

Try to open the door.

Pull. Pull.

It must be stuck.

Pull. Pull.

The big Gucci-suited bouncer grunted, “We’re closed.”

“Go away and come back tomorrow.”

Now what? All this, and nothing to show for it but a tryst with the Prez.

I looked right. Do I just go get the bus home?

I looked left. Or should I walk back to Saks?

I walked right, to the bus stop, empty handed, and waited 25 minutes in the rain and cold in my fabulous turquoise spring coat. A lady at the bus stop complimented my blue coat.

Ring, ring.

It’s Angelina. I updated her. She still wanted to get handmade jewelry from her friend. She didn’t think designer accessories were very JWOW anymore anyway. Whatever the fuck that means.

Do we really care anymore? It’s crunch time! We are not shopping for the freakin’ Queen of England here. Let’s just buy something and she can just exchange it for the love of God!!

But I was nice. Angelina said she’d go shopping tomorrow on her day off.

This is ridiculous.

I think I wanna buy my own gift.

I bumped into President Obama racing to Gucci

I’m invited to a birthday party for a work girlfriend, JWow. Another co-worker was invited as well, Angelina. Angelina and I thought we’d go together. And perhaps go in on a birthday gift together as well. Sounds pretty basic. Yes?

No.

We had a budget of $100.

Weeks prior to the event, I started coming up with gift ideas. I asked Angelina, “How about a gift certificate to Ouidad curly hair salon?”

“No. She got a treatment.”

“How about a hand made knit scarf?”

“No. Spring is coming.”

Angelina has a friend who makes jewelry. She suggested that, but I didn’t feel it was enough from two people.

So, she said she’d go shopping on her day off.

… But she didn’t.

I was coming up with more ideas.

“Gucci?” Online, the cell phone case or the make-up cases were $150.

Angelina agreed to the make-up case. So I was going to go to Gucci to pick it up. By then, it was the Wednesday before the party. There was no time to order online, which would have been much simpler.

I planned to go over to Fifth Avenue after work. I got on the bus to Bergdorf Goodman. They have Gucci AND it’s my favorite store. It took forever to get there. What’s up with the traffic today?

Got there and they didn’t have the make-up case. But they suggested I buy a scarf for my budget. I stopped by the Chanel counter on the way. This was a very dangerous venture for me, but I survived unscathed.

Off to Gucci!

Walked a block over to Gucci. Jeez! Nothing was under $200 there. Not even the make up cases I saw online for $150!

They suggested I buy a scarf.

Now what do I do?

Off to Saks Fifth Avenue.

I began to walk the seven blocks to 49^th Street and 5^th Avenue, in the rain.

I’m hungry.

I’m tired.

I called Angelina to get her input. No answer.

Bitch.

As I approached 53^rd Street, there were police and a motorcade. And they weren’t allowing anyone to cross the street.

Damn! Don’t they know I need to get to Saks!!

It was President Obama!

I’m Late for a Very Important Date

This is the largest mall in the US. The Mall of America. I’m in Minneapolis.

I have a rented car and a 9:20 AM flight to ,,,

wait for it ,,,

Omaha, Nebraska.

What a thrill.

My mentor suggests I leave the hotel at around 7:30 AM to make it on time. I figure, she’s done this before. She knows what she’s talking about. I thought it might be cutting it a bit close, but I thought I could do it.

So, I woke up at 6:30 AM to begin the metamorphosis, which takes an hour. And I leave at 7:30. No coffee. No breakfast. I’ll pick something up at the airport.

I’m driving to the airport, reversing the written directions given to me by my mentor. The GPS Hadassah loaned me didn’t work. But that’s another story. I’m doing good. Then I start to see signs for the airport. There was an exit. I took it.

Hmmm. This doesn’t look familiar. I was lost.

I checked the directions, I checked Google Maps, but you need an address for that to work and I didn’t have a street address for the airport. I asked directions and got back on track.

I find the airport. But which terminal am I? Terminal 1 or Terminal 2? It didn’t say on the signs along the way. So, I just picked one and then tried to find the rental car return. The women then tells me I’m in the wrong terminal. So I drive to the other Terminal to return my car.

Done. It’s now 8:40 AM, which was boarding time.

I followed the directions of the woman at the rental car area to the tram which was supposed to get me to the gates. I waited for the Tram. Once on, I saw a pilot and asked him if this was the correct Tram after the doors closed. He said, “No. We just left the area you need to be at.”

“What the fu--?”

Now I’m starting to get the sweats. I’m almost crying on the damned Tram.

“What do I do?”

He’s like, “Get off at the next stop and go across the tracks and get the next Tram back.”

“Thanks.” Sniff, Sniff.

“Maybe you’ll make it.”

The next stop, I get out and wait. It’s 8:55.

I was supposed to meet my mentor at the gate. I’m not there! I reach for my cell to try and call her, but I couldn’t get a signal.

I saw some more pilots and stewardesses. I decided to follow them. Then I decided to ask the woman what to do and where to go when we get there. The stewardess was really nice and receptive.

I had a voicemail. It was my mentor leaving a message. She told me that she realized that something happened since I was not at the gate, but that I could take the next plane out if I missed it. She was pretty calm. Then she had to go since the plane was boarding.

The stewardess said, “Don’t worry. Stay with us. We’ll get you through. You’ll make it.”

The Tram came. We all got on. Me and the Delta staff.

9:05.

My heart is beating out of my chest.

The nice stewardess prepped me on our approach to the terminal. Once we got there she led me toward security and let me go first. I zipped through. All they pilots helped me quickly pass through the metal detector checks as well …

… And I was off to the gate!

9:10

I’m running now, to the gate. Did I mention what I’m wearing? I’m wearing my grey Tahari dress, Gucci pumps, Dior oversized sunglasses, carrying my silver Yves Saint Laurent handbag and my blue and purple leopard Betsey Johnson carry on luggage. Can you picture me running through the airport in that get up?

Then I started getting out of breath and my legs started to hurt, because I’m so out of shape due to my back injury. I was loosing steam and my muscles were hurting. But I had to keep going. It was 9:15. The plane was leaving at 9:20.

I see the gate. I’m getting closer! Oh, it hurts. Keep going! Don’t stop! You CANT miss this plane because you are out of shape!! You can rest later. Run, Blue Shoes, run! Go, go, go!

As I approach the Gate 14C I hear an overhead announcement that this was the last call for the flight to Omaha. I got to the gate.

Out of breath, I handed the boarding pass to the attendant.

“Go right through."

“I’m in!!!”

“I MADE IT!” I thought, as I boarded the plane. Still out of breath. I got on and found my seat waiting for me.

I was sweating and still out of breath. I settled in and prepared to take off. Then we waited.

And waited.

And …

,,, Waited.

Ironically enough, we then sat in the aircraft for two hours waiting to take off.

I just lost two years off my life.