It was on a flight from Los Angeles to Denver that I was lucky enough to get a front end seat (not necessarily first class, for Southwest notoriously simply packs people like sardines). Being the type of traveler that enjoys getting off the airplane as soon as possible, it was an opportunity I could not pass up. However, there was only one catch: my neighbor was a mother and two small children. At first glance, the benefits of getting off the airplane and ditching the rest of the passengers seemed to tremendously outweight the prospect of sharing a two hour flight with small children. Unfortunately, I was sadly mistaken. Within moments, I was caught in the ramblings of a 4 year old girl who claimed could speak Spanish, a mother who spoke at the level of her 4 year old daughter, and a baby who cried at will. I am not particularly against parenting. In fact, I am a firm believer that children are wonderful gifts that will one day build a better world. Regardless, I immediately moved to the closest seat I could find and made a middle seat (away from any children) my Home Sweet Home.
I was willing to trade an aisle seat for a middle seat. It was at that point that I had two epiphanies. First, I hate children. In today’s society, who really has the time and energy to care for other people’s children? Second, and more importantly, being in the middle sucks.
Virtually everything about being in the middle stirs strong emotions of discomfort and anxiety (unless, of course, you are ditching a crying baby). For example, sitting in between two people in an airplane. You might feel claustrophobic, cramped in space, and having your personal space deliberately invaded. How about a mid life crisis, where you look back at life and begin to question our selfworth and accomplishments? And what about that war in the Middle East? It seems like sometimes the only thing we really enjoy is looking up to the heavens and throwing our middle fingers. Being interrupted in the middle of something? Being a middle child?
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Eating out
Wednesday specials at Bella's were never disappointing. That particular evening was no exception. Carlos had the mushroom tortellini with pesto sauce drizzled with white truffle oil and sauteed shrimp while Amanda, or Mandy as she preferred to be called, simply had a small side of fresh fruit salad and Earl Grey tea. Carlos thought she should have asked for some "real food", but she insisted that was all she wanted to eat. Of course, deep inside he knew she'd get hungrier later, evidenced by the small portions of pasta she'd always help herself with. They also shared a triple berry cake, which was devoured probably in less than two minutes.
Carlos and Mandy looked at each other in an awkward silence as the waiter brought the bill, placing it on Carlos' side of the table. They knew what the other was thinking; each was waiting for the other to take the initiative and get the bill.
In the beginning of their relationship Carlos was a true gentleman who lived up to his expectations. Whenever he'd take Mandy out on a date, they had an unspoken agreement. He'd pay for the meal and she'd take care of coffee shop afterward. Of course, living in Hollywood, that really translated to him paying for a lot more than he felt entitled to.
They were deeply in love, and splitting the bills meant they loved each other even more. Or so, he thought. Mandy, of course, had a much different perspective. To her, Carlos was as cheap a guy as they come. "Going Dutch" never really seemed like an option. Having a part time job barely helped him maintain his chivalry, but he had no problem doing it for she was the most beautiful woman he had ever loved.
Mandy was a real petite doll with great genes. She had a glowing smile that had a tendency to slightly grin and forced her eyes to take the shape of two small rainbow arches, long dark hair, and a slim physique. Nobody had ever approached her to be a model, but Carlos was certain she should had been one.
Carlos and Mandy looked at each other in an awkward silence as the waiter brought the bill, placing it on Carlos' side of the table. They knew what the other was thinking; each was waiting for the other to take the initiative and get the bill.
In the beginning of their relationship Carlos was a true gentleman who lived up to his expectations. Whenever he'd take Mandy out on a date, they had an unspoken agreement. He'd pay for the meal and she'd take care of coffee shop afterward. Of course, living in Hollywood, that really translated to him paying for a lot more than he felt entitled to.
They were deeply in love, and splitting the bills meant they loved each other even more. Or so, he thought. Mandy, of course, had a much different perspective. To her, Carlos was as cheap a guy as they come. "Going Dutch" never really seemed like an option. Having a part time job barely helped him maintain his chivalry, but he had no problem doing it for she was the most beautiful woman he had ever loved.
Mandy was a real petite doll with great genes. She had a glowing smile that had a tendency to slightly grin and forced her eyes to take the shape of two small rainbow arches, long dark hair, and a slim physique. Nobody had ever approached her to be a model, but Carlos was certain she should had been one.
Friday, January 1, 2010
New Year's Day
A well dressed man in his late 20's made his way through the airport terminal with a brisk, fast walk. His steps were so wide as to stand out among the crowd. Seeing a coffee shop with a moderately shorter line and an attractive cashier girl he made his way to the line; however, $2.67 for a small coffee and $3.26 for a large was more than he was willing to pay for a cup of coffee. Politely he made his way to the boarding gate. It was early morning Friday and the waiting seats were almost completely filled with people and more often than not carry-on luggage. Normally he would had asked someone to yield the seat for him, but that morning was special. It was New Year's day. He contemplated going back to the coffee stand. Surely, the cashier girl would had given him a better time than the passengers standing by. He looked at his clock and thought the time was favorable. He had an hour and a half until his flight took off. So he made his way back to the coffee stand, and took his place in line.
Ahead of him in line there was a black couple and a family of four who looked like they were making their way to a soccer game. It seemed they were having a hard time choosing what to order. "For crying out loud!" the man exclaimed in his thoughts after the cashier called for a next customer without a response. The man hesitated for 2 seconds and with an irritated and almost cocky presence, he made his way through the front of the line. He ordered a Tall Cappuccino and then asked the cashier, then a different girl, what muffins they had. She directed him to the display window where from a far he could just barely see the pastries. The man considered going to the window, but as he saw the people he had just cut in line ordering with other workers, he made up his decision and ordered with the breath of a king, "I'll also take a Blueberry muffin, please."
So after picking up his breakfast, he marched back to the boarding gate waiting lobby. While juggling two bags, one large and one small, boarding pass in hand, a muffin and Tall coffee, he focused his attention to the crowd where he looked for an available seat without having to deal with asking people to move their belongings. He found a seat in the corner of an aisle. He Finally felt a bit of luck as he squeezed through the crowd; after all, aisle seats are the most desirable. Unfortunately, as he put his bags down as if carrying a really heavy load all day, he accidentally dropped his muffin, which in the man's head fell in slow motion to the seat and rolled down to the carpeted floor of the airport.
It was at that moment that his world came crashing down. He felt defeated, humiliated and going through all the stages of psychology - denial, anger, depression and acceptance. Normally he would had picked up the muffin and eaten regardless had nobody witnessed such a pathetic display. He picked up the fallen breakfast, placed it back in the paper bag, which by then was slightly ripped, and in frustration smashed the muffin with all his might in his hands like a writer in misery. For a second as he took a deep breath, he looked to the crowd, and took a sip of his coffee, which frankly to him tasted like glorified chalk. The man was not much of a coffee drinker and he began to wonder why did he pay over $5 for a small cup of coffee on a plain white Styrofoam cup and a muffin that to him looked as small as his pride at that moment.
It was that instant, where in desperation to salvage the rest of his day that he decided to not allow that muffin ruin his new year. He got up, slowly picked up his bags, grabbed his coffee and muffin and walked towards the trashcan. He did not, however, throw away anything. That was simply a facade. He walked in that direction to purposely give others the impression that he'd throw away his fallen muffin when in reality he walked across the lobby, behind a wall where no one from before could see him, and enjoyed his breakfast. The year was just about to start, and the man was already tired and ready to move onto the next.
Ahead of him in line there was a black couple and a family of four who looked like they were making their way to a soccer game. It seemed they were having a hard time choosing what to order. "For crying out loud!" the man exclaimed in his thoughts after the cashier called for a next customer without a response. The man hesitated for 2 seconds and with an irritated and almost cocky presence, he made his way through the front of the line. He ordered a Tall Cappuccino and then asked the cashier, then a different girl, what muffins they had. She directed him to the display window where from a far he could just barely see the pastries. The man considered going to the window, but as he saw the people he had just cut in line ordering with other workers, he made up his decision and ordered with the breath of a king, "I'll also take a Blueberry muffin, please."
So after picking up his breakfast, he marched back to the boarding gate waiting lobby. While juggling two bags, one large and one small, boarding pass in hand, a muffin and Tall coffee, he focused his attention to the crowd where he looked for an available seat without having to deal with asking people to move their belongings. He found a seat in the corner of an aisle. He Finally felt a bit of luck as he squeezed through the crowd; after all, aisle seats are the most desirable. Unfortunately, as he put his bags down as if carrying a really heavy load all day, he accidentally dropped his muffin, which in the man's head fell in slow motion to the seat and rolled down to the carpeted floor of the airport.
It was at that moment that his world came crashing down. He felt defeated, humiliated and going through all the stages of psychology - denial, anger, depression and acceptance. Normally he would had picked up the muffin and eaten regardless had nobody witnessed such a pathetic display. He picked up the fallen breakfast, placed it back in the paper bag, which by then was slightly ripped, and in frustration smashed the muffin with all his might in his hands like a writer in misery. For a second as he took a deep breath, he looked to the crowd, and took a sip of his coffee, which frankly to him tasted like glorified chalk. The man was not much of a coffee drinker and he began to wonder why did he pay over $5 for a small cup of coffee on a plain white Styrofoam cup and a muffin that to him looked as small as his pride at that moment.
It was that instant, where in desperation to salvage the rest of his day that he decided to not allow that muffin ruin his new year. He got up, slowly picked up his bags, grabbed his coffee and muffin and walked towards the trashcan. He did not, however, throw away anything. That was simply a facade. He walked in that direction to purposely give others the impression that he'd throw away his fallen muffin when in reality he walked across the lobby, behind a wall where no one from before could see him, and enjoyed his breakfast. The year was just about to start, and the man was already tired and ready to move onto the next.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
In the end, it's only business
It was a beautiful Friday August afternoon, and the streets of Pasadena were filled with a pleasant stillness among the usual sound of cars strolling by. Suddenly, behind the wooden doors of a Catholic church, the muffled sound of a wedding march broke the pleasant silence. Lila had just walked down the aisle, newly wed with her new husband and the people were already whispering among themselves, "how do we get to the reception room?" They seemed rather apprehensive about it, and with sound reason since a good portion of them had skipped lunch on that day and were starving. It barely felt like dinner time on such a bright afternoon.
"Good Lord, it is almost 7:00 PM," Rachel exclaimed. "Have you gotten the directions yet, Paul?"
"No. We'll just follow dad."
But dad was too busy still counting the money left in the gift box. There were close to 120 guests, and thankfully no children. Rachel made her way to the church entrance where dad was still counting the checks. Being at a cousin's wedding ceremony has its perks. You get to sit in the front seats while not necessarily bound to being someone's bride's maid and having to spend a shitload of money on an event you care little about, especially if it's someone's second marriage.
"Good Lord, it is almost 7:00 PM," Rachel exclaimed. "Have you gotten the directions yet, Paul?"
"No. We'll just follow dad."
But dad was too busy still counting the money left in the gift box. There were close to 120 guests, and thankfully no children. Rachel made her way to the church entrance where dad was still counting the checks. Being at a cousin's wedding ceremony has its perks. You get to sit in the front seats while not necessarily bound to being someone's bride's maid and having to spend a shitload of money on an event you care little about, especially if it's someone's second marriage.
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