Musical Memory Lane

I was running along the lake last week listening to my iPod shuffle.  There aren’t many songs on my shuffle, and I basically know the playlist by heart, but I hadn’t listened to it in a while, so one song caught me off guard.  It was one of Beyonce’s songs from her latest album, 4.  While the song is an upbeat and fun song, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with a déjà vu-like feeling.  Of course for the rest of my run I was stuck thinking about this post, and how much I associate music with different situations.

 

I have a bad habit of becoming obsessed with songs and albums.  You know how when you turn on a top 40s radio station you can count on one of three songs being played at any moment?  That top 40 radio station is my life.  I don’t only listen to top 40s hits, but I do obsess over songs and albums.  At any time in my life, I can pinpoint the three songs I was listening to. 

I had a coach in college who told me about life soundtracks she made.  For certain semesters, seasons or years she would make a soundtrack.  As soon as I heard this, I wanted to steal the idea.  But as soon as I went to put it into action, I realized my problem.  I couldn’t create a soundtrack, I could create a single, and an EP if I was lucky.  I quickly gave up that plan, and went on with my music obsessing ways. 

When Beyonce’s beat started filling my ears, I was in Garden City.  I was running.  I was running as many laps as I could before I absolutely had to go into John and Jane’s house to shower.  I didn’t want to get ready for another funeral.  I didn’t want to wear another black dress.  I didn’t want to be in St. Joseph’s again.  And I really didn’t want to cry anymore. 

It’s a bummer, because I loved that album.  I loved that album until I ruined it.  At the time, it was the best thing that could have happened to me.  I must have listened to Schoolin' Life on repeat over 15 times while I ran one morning.  It kept me from crying, but now it makes my heart hurt. 

I have songs that remind me of everything.  And it’s what makes putting my iPod on shuffle so much fun.  So, let’s take a little trip down Meaghan’s Music Memory Lane.

The Ben Folds Live album:

This album will always remind me of the summer after my junior year in high school.  I am sitting in Jen’s black VW Cabrio.  The top is down, and I don’t know where we are going, but does it matter?  We are in high school in a convertible, and there aren’t parents around.

Milkman:

Milkman is what is known as a mash-up artist.  Take completely unrelated songs and mash them together and you ended up with some of the most awesome and fun music to party to.  Josh introduced me to Milkman while I was in Thailand, and of course I went through my obsession.  Now I cannot listening to a song without being transported to my 625/55 house in Piman Chon 1, listening to the music especially loudly on my impressive sound system and drinking Leo beer with Cait and Paul. 

James Taylor's New Moon Shine Album:

This is the song that Garvey and I had a dance to.

This album throws me back to Annapolis, dancing in the family room.  I can feel the afternoon sun beaming through the windows as Garvey and I performed our choreographed dance that he refused to remember the steps to, in hopes of making my parents laugh, and infuriating me.  Then there was the JT concert the family attended at Tanglewood, and one of my favorite weekends in my entire twenty-five years. 

Brett Dennan:

Somehow I came across Brett Dennen immediately before I began traveling alone last fall.  I had four albums downloaded and loaded on my iPod before I took off for Koh Lanta.  As I lounged on the beach, studying for my scuba exams Brett Dennen filled my ears.  And now I cannot listen to that red headed artist without seeing the Thai coastline, tasting the plastic of a regulator in my mouth, feeling the sun on my face, and glancing down at my arm hoping to see freckles that have long gone since my return to a non tropical locale.

Like a G6:

There was a brief period of time in Thailand when I had a cool phone.  Cool is a relative term as my students with iPhones quickly began to outnumber those without.  I thought my telephone was cool because it held music and had a small speaker.  So, when Paul and I both became obsessed with the song Like a G6 it only seemed logical to illegally download it and put it on my phone.  When Paul and I got into his Suzuki Caribbean on our way to pick up Cait for a coworker’s party with our matching telephones and playlists, the stereo wasn’t working.  What else was I to do than play Like A G6 on repeat from my phone?  And when the car broke down, I continued to repeat the same song.  Looking back, I’m surprised that Cait continued to be my friend after being forced to listen to that noise in a AC-less car for over two hours...

Call Me Maybe:

This is our HBB version, check it out.

I was first introduced to this song through facebook stalking.  Heather had posted the video on Cici’s wall, and, well, the rest is history.  I was quickly obsessed with the song along with the rest of the world.  And in similar fashion, I preferred the Justin Bieber lip syncing version to the actual music video.  When my boss at Hot Blondies Bakery began talking about her love of Justin Bieber, I immediately shared the video.  Who doesn’t love the Justin-Selena romance?  Sure enough, Laura was hooked.  And when Lorin returned from vacation she was thrilled to jump on the bandwagon.  When the cinco de mayo party rolled around, it only made sense to create our own music video, German videographer/ commentator and all.  For the rest of my short-lived career as a baker, the song was a constant presence in my brown sugar- filled life, and will always be associated with my days at HBB.

Fergie's The Dutchess:

I went through a ridiculous time during my sophomore year in college.  As though taking 18 credits and rowing for more than 20 hours a week wasn’t enough to keep me busy, I began working at the Starbucks on campus.  I absolutely loved my job.  And when I developed a minor crush on the fitness center’s evening supervisor, I would do anything to pick up hours.  And when my minor crush became a serious flirt fest, I would do anything I could to stick around the fitness center after I had closed the coffee shop.  Naturally, I took to working out even more.  After I would finish closing up I would bat my unimpressive eyelashes and head to the locker room to change into possibly my third workout outfit of the day.  I would then jump on the elliptical and listen to Fergie’s album, The Dutchess.  I would sweat a little, jam out to Fergie a lot and hope that Matt would come to “check on the floor."  The album played a pretty big role in the rest of my life that year, from dance parties to driving to practice, but from the moment I hear one of those songs begin I am transported to the same elliptical, crushing hard on a completely unavailable boy.  I think I’m still crushing…

I have many more songs to add to this post, but I think that is enough for now.  Maybe a second installment?

The Next Stage in Our Relationship

Madison and I have entered the next stage of our relationship.  We are now at the point in our love affair when I can give someone directions.

Whenever I move to a new city, I have a fear that someone will ask me for directions before I know the answer.  I must subconsciously send out a vibe to people in my immediate area that screams, "please, oh please, ask me for directions!  I am too nice to ignore you!  And even though I am avoiding eye contact, it is just my coy way of getting you to talk to me," because people ask me all the time.
Someone in NYC would ask me for directions on a daily basis.  At least.  I was fortunate enough for most places to be tourist traps, and therefore I knew exactly which direction to point people in.  You want to know where Times Square is?  No problem.  The High Line?  I got this.  The Empire State Building?  Grand Central?  The Williamsburg Bridge?  Come on, give me a hard one!  By the time I left New York, I felt confident.  Driving played a huge role in that confidence, and it was a great feeling to have.  Oh, Philippe....

Living in Madison was a whole new can of worms.  Where is the Square?  Good question!  Because if I can't see the Capitol building, I don't know.  Where is the Terrace?  The what-ace?  Where is the lake?  Ooh ooh!  I know this one.  Oh, the other lake?  It's, uhh, that-a-way... I think.

Walking Wilbur around the city has helped me to learn my way around.  I try to take different routes on our walks.  We walk to the dog park one way and a different way home.  Sometimes we get lost, but we always end up back at the apartment.  And I end up with a few new streets added to my ever-expanding mental map of the world.

But walking a dog makes you an obvious local.  I'll admit that technically I am a local, but I don't feel like one.  So every time I walk past the obvious tourists in town, I drop my gaze, talk to my dog, and keep on walking. 

Over the weekend, everything changed.  My eye-contact-averting tactics didn't work, and the man on the bike asked me if I could point him in the direction of a street.  My eyes lit up and I said "oh my gosh!  Yeah!!"  I think I probably came closer to yelling it than saying it based on his reaction, but I was so excited I could say yes!

Sure enough, the biking tourist wanted to go to my street!  Of course I know where it is, because I live and walk on it every day!  With an ear to ear smile I pointed him down the hill and to the left.  He rode away and I walked in the opposite direction, becoming increasingly more confident in my relationship with Madison.

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My Carless Life

No, not my careless life, my carless life.

My mom and sister stole my car.

They flew into Chicago, forced me to drive over three hours to pick them up, let their suitcases vomit their belongings all over my apartment, and then left with my car.

This has been planned for a long time, but oh my goodness, these have been some long days. 

My mom and sister took my car to drive to Jackson, WY.  Two ladies on the road in a sexy convertible...  Am I jealous?  Absolutely.  Am I excited for them to come back to Madison?  You know it!

The only issue right now is the silly bus schedule.

There is a direct bus that goes from Capitol Square to my office, but its schedule is quite limited.  With class all last week, I had to be on the 6:10 bus every morning.  As a shout out to my time in Thailand, I will say that it was "supahh suppah early!" 

For five days I was at work from 6:49 am until 5:37 pm.  This really means that I was out of my apartment from 5:45 am until 6:45 pm.  They were very, very long days.  My poor puppy has not been happy with me.  I was used to waking up at the crack of dawn to take him for a long walk before I left for work.  But, this past week I was waking up at the crack of dawn just to catch the bus, and the long walks were saved for after work.

I got a lot done at work, but I have felt trapped.  Even yesterday, Saturday, I wanted to go into the office for a few hours to finish a project, but I couldn't.  I was on a roll Friday evening, but I had to leave it to catch the bus.  When I arrived home, I realized my internet wasn't working.  And so I was stranded.  No internet, no chance to finish my project, and no car to run errands left me with lots of time for walking with the pup.

Wilbur and I spent the entire weekend together.  We walked, played, tried to learn new tricks, did laundry and broke the iron.  Well, Wilbur only participated in the tricks, playing and walking, but he was close by for the rest of the thrilling weekend.

I felt a bit trapped this week, but I know this next week will be much better.  Without class at 8 am, I can take the 7:40 bus.  That gives me more than enough time to go for a walk in the morning and take my time getting to the square.  It also gives me the opportunity to get to work after 8 am and not have to worry about a parking space!

The bus schedule may not be perfect for my 8am mornings, but so many things about taking the bus are wonderful!  I love that I can read on my way to work.  I love that I don't have to think about parking.  I love that I don't have to worry about traffic.  And gosh, I love how inexpensive it is!

I will love having my car back, but I'm not giving up this whole bus thing yet.  I'm a mass transit lover, and so far Madison's is just fine with me.

Garvey, think of all the gas I'm saving!  And I didn't buy a Prius to do it!  Aren't you proud?

Let's Rehearse

Last Wednesday evening Nicole drove to NYC for the night.  She and I had planned to drive to Mathews, VA together, and to pick up Laura Beth at the Richmond airport along the way.  It was going to be a full day of driving, so Nicole decided to break it up by spending the night at my apartment.

Early Thursday morning I helped Erin to her bus bound for Saratoga, and Nicole and I were on the road by nine.  We drove to Virginia listening to songs from Tulsa and reminiscing the good ol' days.

Of course, I needed some crab chips when we entered Maryland. 

This license plate says "IMSHAMU."  I think that if I paid for a vanity plate, it definitely would not proclaim to the world that I am a whale.  Just saying.

We took our time and arrived at the Richmond airport to wait.  As we were pulling in, we knew we were a few minutes early and I told Nicole that we should just wait in the Cell Phone Lot.  Nicole had never heard of that.  I thought I was crazy.  I know that there is a CPL at the Albany airport, but I thought that maybe that was a silly name that us Upstaters used, and was not yet commonly accepted.  I explained the beauty of the CPL as a waiting area.  Nicole was sure she had never heard of one.  But, lo and behold, Albany is not the airport, and I am not the crazy one, Richmond has a Cell Phone Lot.  Nicole and I waited, preparing the perfect song for our Laura Beth pickup.  And when she called, we were ready, Garth Brooks blaring and all.

The three of us delirium, giggles and all, continued on our journey to Mathews County.  We finally arrived around 7 pm to pizza and beer waiting for us.  It was perfection.

Allie, Joe, Nicole, Laura Beth and I stayed up for a while, enjoying the calm before the storm.  At around eleven Joe went to bed.  He had to work early in the morning, and though he didn't admit it, I think he was all done with the girl talk.  Around midnight Nicole and Laura Beth retreated to the guest room in the newly finished addition.

Nicole got tired of waiting, and fell asleep in the chair.

Allie and I struggled for the next hour or so to stay awake for Stacey and Angie.  Stacy and Angie are from Alberta, Canada and San Diego, California, respectively, and rowed with all of us at Tulsa.  When they finally arrived I had just enough energy to say hello before going to bed.

The next morning we were up and at 'em by 8 am.  We had to stop by the Piankatank Ruritan Club to drop a few things off before driving forty-five minutes to the nearest nail salon.  Oh, to live in a small town.

The blank slate of the Ruritan Club!  Let the reception transformation begin!

Photo shoot in the back of Allie's car!

When we arrived at the nail salon the other half of the bridesmaids were well into their treatments.  So after debating our nail and toe colors, we sat down to enjoy champagne and snacks.

Apparently, this rule didn't apply to us!

Snacks and beverages galore for the bride and bridesmaids!

With eight bridesmaids and the bride getting both manicures and pedicures, the entire process took about 5 hours and 7 bottles of champagne.

It wasn't until 2 pm that we were back in Mathews.  And after another quick stop by the Ruritan Club to check on the progress, we headed back to the house to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.

The lights were in place....

Fortunately, Angie and Stacey had already showered when we returned home, so Nicole, Allie, Laura Beth and I took our turns and the primping began.  There were hairdryers, hair straighteners and products strewn throughout the house.  Poor Joe.  His own home had been taken over by six women, and the seventh, Jack, was on her way!

We finally piled into cars and headed to the church to rehearse.  It went surprisingly quickly and smoothly, and it wasn't long before we were at the dinner.

The dinner was delicious, and the evening went perfectly smoothly.  There were two slideshows and Allie and Joe gave a brief speech, but it was just that, brief.  It was short, sweet, and fit the evening perfectly.

As the majority of people left the rehearsal dinner one of the groomsmen began talking about going to Damon's.  Being an out of towner, I had no idea what that meant, but I knew I was in, and I did my best to rally the troops.  I managed to get a handful of people together, including two responsible designated drivers.  Before we left the rehearsal dinner I asked Carla, a friend of Allie's who I had met during Bachelorette Weekend, if going to Damon's was a good idea.  Her response was, "well, let me tell you, you will be the best dressed person in the bar... BY FAR!  You are going to stick out like a sore thumb, but yes, it'll be an experience that will be well worth it."  That was all the convincing I needed.  And a staggering hour later, we had made it to the nearest bar.  Oh, to live in a small town.

When Carla said we would be the best dressed people at the bar, she wasn't kidding.  This was small town country, if I have ever seen it!  There was even a trash barrel fire on the back patio!  You can't make this stuff up!

We spent a few hours dancing, drinking beers, and hanging around the trash barrel fire before heading the hour back to Allie's house, smelling like dirty ash trays.  Eww.  I still can't get used to smoking.  Gross.

Someone wore his Goin' Out Boots!

We made it back to Mathews just in time for us to sleep for a few hours before the primping began all over again!

Am I too nice?

Am I too nice?

After my crazy day of Wal Mart greeting, hotel drop offs and car loading, my boss, Phillipe, was kind enough to drive me home. He lives near Wall Street and said that the least he could do was drive me to my apartment after my 14+ hour day. As it turned out, he didn't drive. I drove myself home, while he rode in the passenger seat.

As I drove through the city at 10:30 pm the roads were still littered with idiots. I was being cut off here, there and everywhere. Bicyclists were riding the wrong way down one-way streets. Cabs were cutting across three lanes and jamming on their brakes to pick up or drop off passengers. Every time it happened I slammed on my brakes, put on my blinker, checked my mirrors and went around them.

I could tell Phillipe was becoming frustrated as he muttered inappropriate language under his breath.

When we were on Houston, and about halfway home, Phillipe turned to me and said, "if I were driving I would be on the horn, careening around these people and giving them the finger!" With that, he flipped off the person who had just cut me off while I passed him. Then he said, "I think you are too nice. How do you stay so calm?" I was taken back by his comment but simply replied, "I'm nice because I haven't been driving here long enough" Phillipe chuckled and said, "don't worry, I'll teach you how to drive here."

We drove for the last part of the trip discussing the NY Auto Show and the dates he would need me to work. We discussed baking, which I recently discovered is a passion that we share, until I parked in front of my apartment building. We said goodnight, he jumped into the driver's seat- anger and all- and I went inside.

Was he right? Am I too nice? Is there even such a thing?

Even while we discussed baking, I had been distracted by his comment.  Being nice is good, but when does too much of a good thing become bad thing?

Phillipe seemed to think I was too nice because of my attitude while driving through the city and the way I had carried myself all day.  I was required to drive a few guests around the block, which is ridiculous, but I did it with a smile on my face.  It's my job for goodness sakes!  I wasn't going to put up a fuss about it.  When I had to drive two cases of wine around the block and make a grocery store run I did those things with a smile on my face as well.  Like I said, it was my job.  I like my job.  I like my bosses.  I like the people I work with.  Why should I not be nice?  But, all day long Phillipe thought I was being too nice.

Am I just nicer than him, and therefore he notices it?  Or am I really too nice?  Am I leaving the door open to be taken advantage of?  I honestly don't know.  But, I do know that I'm not going to start swearing at other drivers in NYC.

Not yet, at least.

Walmart Continued...

This is a continuation from my post "Hello, and welcome to Walmart!"

The air conditioning brought my body temperature down a bit and the tissues in my purse helped to absorb the sweat that was dripping from my hairline.  The thermometer read 75 degrees.  I turned up the XM radio and continued to refresh the Delta application on my telephone for the most up to date flight information.  Luckily, the flight was pushed back to 3:03 pm.  That gave me an extra two whole minutes!  But, the traffic was not as forgiving.

We inched along as the minutes ticked away.

I knew I was headed for terminal 3.  As the road swerved into the airport I carefully read the signs, while driving as quickly and safely as possibly.  I followed the signs for parking.  The parking lot was for terminals 1, 2 and 3.  This wasn't going to work for me.  I need my car to be close.  I need my car to be perfectly situated so that these passengers don't have to walk far.  I wove up and down every aisle of the parking garage.  I saw a woman with a suitcase walking towards her car.  I sat in the ready position and put on my blinker.  She unlocked the doors and put her jacket in the back seat.  She then popped the trunk and took her sweet time loading a suitcase in.  After she finally closed the trunk she look at me and shook her head.  She wasn't leaving.

What?!  Who is parked at an airport, puts a suitcase into the car and isn't leaving?  I don't understand.

I didn't have time to question this woman or her sheer confusion on what happens at an airport, so I went upstairs.  I skipped the second and third floor and went straight, well, in circles, up to the top level.  I parked in an impressively close terminal 3 parking spot.  I had my telephone, iPad and keys in hand, and I took off in a sprint.  I know that in the last post I talked about sprinting, but I don't think I knew what sprinting in heels felt like until it was 3:01 pm and I was running down the stairs to greet the guests.  (Oh, and do I need to remind you that I was wearing a pencil skirt and adorable- and high- peep toe heels?)

I ran across the three lanes of traffic, dodging between the cabs, and running against the instructions of the red hand.  While I was stuck on the median, waiting for more cabs to whiz by a foreign couple asked me, "is dis dee way to zee terminal sree?  Go down, no?"  First of all, why do I look so approachable?  Listen, people I'm super new to this place too!  And secondly, I have no idea!  I'm looking for "terminal sree" as well!  So, I said, "Yup!  This way!"  The white walking man was on the screen, and I was running.  There was a hill, there were more lanes of traffic to cross, but I was inside.  I checked the screens, looking for the status of the flight.  It said "At Gate."  And next to that it said baggage claim E2.  I looked to my right and saw baggage claim D2.  I looked to my left and saw baggage claim D1.  I looked behind me and saw a sign for baggage claim E with an arrow to the left that said (Terminal 2).

Expletive.  Expletive.  Expletive.

I didn't actually vocalize those words, but oh boy, I sure as heck thought them!

I took off running.  Back out the doors, across the lanes of traffic and up the hill.  I followed the sidewalk to the left, ignoring the blister that had formed on my third toe.  When I got to the next 6 lanes of traffic to cross there were cabs and cars littering the crosswalk.  The red hand said "no," but the traffic jam told me "yes."  I wove between the yellow bumpers, honking horns, and swearing men, only having one near- fatal encounter before making it to the other side.  I went up a hill and down a set of stairs.  I crossed two more lanes of traffic before making it inside.  I could almost hear the music playing as I saw the sign for baggage claim E2.  I opened the iPad, and I assumed the position.  The time was 3:08 pm, and I couldn't stop sweating.  

I got my four passengers, and we headed outside.  My perfect parking space was no longer perfect.  So, we rode the elevator up, and I told my passengers to wait for me to pull the car around, and I took off running.

Everyone piled in and started grilling me about the big secret.  They decided to say things and I could just say yes or no.  The woman in the third row made an announcement.  "Women preview new GMC Terrain Denali.  It's the headline that a friend sent to me."  The man in the passenger seat turned and looked at me accusingly, "is that why we are here?  For a Terrain Denali?!"

I kept my cool.  "Like I said earlier, I am not authorized to give you any information regarding this evening.  I'm sorry."

Well, that was why they were there.  I'm just glad I wasn't the one to ruin the surprise!

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And there it is, the brand new GMC Terrain Denali.

I helped with breaking down the event, bringing guests back to the hotel, bringing wine back to the hotel, loading the cars into the truck, and making late night runs to the grocery store, but those are just minor details.

The cars.  Inside of the truck.  Headed back to Detroit.

My day ended at 10:30 pm.

Hello, and welcome to Walmart!

I spent Wednesday as a Walmart greeter.  If you follow me on twitter, you probably saw my tweet about it.  And if you don't follow me, well, you really should.

A few weeks ago Phillipe had asked me to work a GMC event taking place on the 14th and 15th.  I knew I would be working at the bakery on the 15th, but I agreed to Wednesday.  Phillipe asked if I felt comfortable driving between Manhattan, LaGuardia and JFK, and any and all combination of those three places.  Like always, I said yes, then quickly googlemaps-ed it to find the best routes.

Tuesday evening I received a color coded chart of airport arrivals.  I took note of the times, the airport, the airline, and the company each person worked for.  As I arrived at the bottom of the chart I saw the key to the color coding- each driver had a different color.  Matt was yellow.  John was blue.  Jeff was red.  Roy was green.  Where was my name?  Oh, found it!  In a white box it said: "Meaghan- Airport Greeter."  Uhmmm, excuse me?  I would be spending my day as a Wal Mart greeter, standing at the airport.

That evening I received a flurry of text messages and emails from Phillipe regarding the details.  I was told to dress nicely.  I was asked if I owned an iPad.  I was told to meet at 14th Street at 8:30 am.  And then I was told to meet at the garage at 8:15 am.  I was informed of "super VIPs" and "REALLY SUPER VIPs."  I went to sleep that night thinking of what I would wear the next day that would look nice with a blue apron draped over it.

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I woke up bright and early the next morning, and headed for the garage, donning a black pencil skirt and peep toe heels.  I was looking pretty good.

I was given an iPad, loaded with a GMC slideshow, and headed out to LaGuardia.  I parked the car, and then myself, at the Delta terminal.  I was over an hour early for the first flight, so naturally, I was harassed by the other drivers.  I ignored the comments and continued reading my book and checking the flight status.

When the first flight landed I took position among the scummy drivers with folded and crumpled paper signs and the more advanced whiteboard-around-the-neck signs.  I whipped out the iPad, turned on the slideshow, and waited.  Another driver joined the crowd a few minutes later, late enough for word of the iPad to have spread through the fraternity of drivers.  He came up to me, looked at the screen and said, "oh!  I'm GMC."  Good one.

The first passenger came off the escalator and locked his eyes on my iPad heading right for me.  As he passed me he said smuggly, "well, that's a pretty elaborate sign, don't ya think?"

iPad Comment Count: 2

Eventually my passenger saw the iPad and came towards me.  But he wasn't alone.  I double checked my color coded chart, and noticed that yes, Roger was supposed to be my only passenger.  Roger introduced himself, I did the same, and we shook hands.  Then the second man introduced himself.  Pat.  Oh. No.

Pat told me he had arrived at the airport early and jumped on the flight with Roger.  Ahhh!  Pat is one of my "REALLY SUPER VIPs!"  He wasn't supposed to come in until later.  He wasn't supposed to come in until I had at least one practice round of greeting!  I texted his driver, the red driver, and sent the two of them off to the hotel.  I immediately called Janice, the GM coordinator at the hotel, warning her of their upcoming arrival, and went back to wait with the fraternity.

The next arrival was only one man.  He was not a GM employee.  He was not a VIP.  He was, however, an issue.

I held my iPad, chuckling at the comments people made.  One man even took out his iPhone, wrote his girlfriend's name on it, and held that while standing next to me.  Ha.  Ha.

As the reporter came down the escalator he saw the GMC logo, nodded his acknowledgement at me and headed my way.  I shot a quick text to the yellow driver.  We introduced ourselves, shook hands, and I asked him to follow me outside.  As soon as we began walking the man asked me, "do you know why I am here?"

"Excuse me, I don't think I understand what you are asking."
"Well, the invitation said the event is a secret, so I don't know why I am here.  Do you?"

Yes, I know.  I know.  I know!  I probably shouldn't know...  Oh my gooodness!  This is a secret?!  Why did Phillipe forget to mention that detail?!  He mentioned every other detail, but this he decides to leave out?!    

"Yes, I do know why you are here.  But, I'm sorry, sir, I am definitely not at liberty to tell you."
"Oh, come on!  I flew all the way here!  I'm here already.  I'm going to be seeing the surprise in only a few hours, you can tell me."
"I'm sorry, but I would like to keep my job, and therefore, I am going to keep this secret!"

The car pulled up, he got in, I called Janice, and then I took a breath.  I was sweating bullets.  I walked back into the terminal with my elbows raised, doing my best to keep any pit stains at bay.  Gosh, that threw me for a loop.

The next few arrivals went off without a hitch.  Yes the iPad commentary continued as well as the  questions about the big secret, but I was prepared for all of them.

 As my two last LaGuardia flights flashed "Landed" on the arrivals board I gave my drivers a warning text, and assumed the position.  Both flights stated "At Gate" when my phone began ringing.  It was Phillipe.  I hastily answered the phone.  Phillipe asked, "has Jeff's passenger arrived?"  I told him yes.  Phillipe very loudly said an expletive in my ear.  But, I'll censor it for you.

"Why?  What's wrong?"
"Okay.  Listen.  Roy isn't going to make it to JFK.  We are stuck here doing prep.  You have to do the pick up from JFK, but it's four people.  Your car isn't big enough.  You need to switch cars with Jeff.  He only has one passenger, correct?"
"Yes."

I started sweating again.

"This is what you need to do.  Call Jeff.  Have him park his car.  Have him meet you inside.  Then...."
"Okay, Phillipe, I got it.  Goodbye."

I dialed Jeff's number.  It seemed to ring for an eternity.  Finally he answered and told me he was in the ready position, directly outside the terminal door.  I quickly barked the orders at him, telling him to park his car and meet me inside.

Sweating....

The passengers for Matt's car arrived one by one.  When Jeff arrived, I asked him to hold the iPad as I ushered the four passengers outside.  I ran back inside, calling Janice mid- sprint.  I took the iPad and told Jeff to get my car and pull it around.

His passenger arrived, Jeff pulled the car around, and they were off.  I called Janice while I ran for parking lot 5.

By the time I got into the car it was 2:26 pm.  The flight at JFK was to land at 3:01.

I left the airport, hoping that my googlemaps study session had worked, and headed for JFK with the iPad on the passenger seat.  About ten minutes later, I hit traffic.  I blasted the air conditioning, raised my elbows, and hoped that I would make it...

To be continued...

Models

I may have made my boss out to be a little crazy in my post about the interview, but I swear, he is a really great guy.  And, his crazy thing with the meat?  Those were mostly just orders passed down from Frank.

So, when, Phillipe asked me on my second day if I would be willing to work a special event, I immediately said yes.  He told me that the night before he received a phone called from GM China, asking him for drivers for Fashion Week.  Uh oh, I was beginning to regret my uncontrolled eagerness to work.  Before I could take it back, I was slated to work for the weekend as a driver for a Chinese model, taking her to fittings, shows, and castings, here, there, and everywhere.

As we zipped to New Jersey in yet another sparkling new car, Phillipe took the time to ask me how well I knew my way around the city.  I hesitated, afraid of showing what I newbie I was in town.  He took the silence to continue his question with, "well, how well do you know Soho?  If I gave you an address downtown, could you drive me there?"

I could feel the sweat beading up along my hairline.

Then I had a bizarre out of body experience as the words came out of my mouth ...

I said, "well, fake it 'til you make it, right?"

Oh, no.  If it wasn't enough with the lying, the anorexia or the fact that I'm just an unnecessary employee at this time, that line surely just got me fired.  Phillipe is going to kick me out of the car right now.

Phillipe laughed.  Oh, thank goodness.

His response: "yes, I guess you're right.  And there is navigation in the car.  Use it."

Yes, sir.

Friday night, at around 10 pm, I received an email, saying my call time would be 8 am the next morning.  It would be early, but that wasn't what I freaked out about.  I didn't have a copy of the schedule!  I was told I would be given the schedule the night before.  I had every intention of studying the addresses and times, knowing which lefts and rights to take, which streets to take in which direction and which to avoid.  This was all part of my grand "fake it 'til you make it" plan!  Phillipe sent me a text saying, "your model will give you the schedule tomorrow.  Good luck!  And try not to cry."  Oh, no.

Phillipe had warned me I would cry on my first day, but I thought my plan ahead and study secret would keep the tears at bay.  Now, I was not so sure.

I arrived at the garage a little after 7 am and arrived to the model's apartment in plenty of time in my awesome Cadillac CTS.  Can you say suede steering wheel?

When I called her at ten-to-eight to tell her I was downstairs, I woke her up.  Look at me, already failing!  She told me in broken English that she didn't need me until 9.  Well, luckily I brought a book to read and there was a parking space nearby.

When my model got into the car at around 9:30 she had a videographer with her.  I asked her where we were going, and her response, "oh, you don't have szchedure?"  And, look at me failing again!  She found the email on one of her three iPhones, showed me the address, and we were off.  Well, first I entered it into my telephone's googlemaps, but then we were off.

While stopped at one of the lights, she emailed the szchedure to me, and we made it to her first appearance without a hitch.

I spent the next 14 hours learning to drive in NYC.  I learned how to keep up with cabs, how to pass cabs, how to park illegally, and how to trick the traffic police into thinking you aren't parked illegally, by simply driving around the block.

I saw Anna Wintour!  (Editor-in-Chief of Vogue)

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And, I didn't read very much of my terrible book.

At around midnight I finally made it to a bar to meet up with Liz, McKenzie and Jen.  When I explained to them what I had spent the day doing, they all laughed.  Yup, I'm a cabbie, I just have a much cooler ride.

Jen then asked me who I had driven around all day.  As I started to say her name, Sui... Jen interrupted me.  "Sui He?!  No way!  She is super famous!  She was on the cover of the Ralph Lauren look book last season!"  Well, shows you what I know about fashion.

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Jen asked me if she could come along for the ride the next day, but I knew she wouldn't be up for my early morning call time.  I headed home, just in time to not get my schedule for the next day again.  I would be back to fakin' it.

You know you have been driving too much when...

You know you have been driving too much when you hear a sound from behind, and glance to your lower left corner, towards the sideview mirror .... while walking down the street on the sidewalk.

I have been driving A LOT lately.  And, boy oh boy do I have stories for you.  My pedestrian attempt at looking in the sideview mirror is only the beginning.  Get ready!