Feb. 24th, 2005

taratemima: (Default)
I've wanted to tell about my trip to New York, but I am tired. Oh God I am tired.

Highlights:

Panic getting tickets and getting to Lucky Cheng's. Had a drink while waiting. Good stuff.

Finding out that they took the long way too. We didn't have time for dinner, so we took off to Carnegie Hall.

Hearing Dark Floruence and trying to decide whether I am hearing tumbleweeds or air raid sirens. Realizing that I am hearing gamelan hemitones and squeeing.

Running into Steve Bartek at the cafe and asking him to sign my program. He did.

Hearing Serenada Schizophrenia and wondering what is the Spanish lyrics and liking the interplay.

Having a decent dinner at Lucky Chengs 10 minutes before the kitchen closed. It was more low key than I expected, but I liked it. Did not drink with the guests--I am the elder, I am to set an example.

Panic getting to Port Authority. Long long to the bus. It turned out to be overbooked, as some cackling ladies in the back pointed out. One rider left, and I didn't have to wait for the next bus.

The guy sitting next to me touched my thigh a lot. I flinched and moved around to stop him, since threatening to elbow him in Spanish would get me thrown off the bus. Speaking of which, I must improve my spoken Spanish. "No matter what you think, I am not that kind of girl." "Move your hand off my thigh." "I am not your wife." "My boyfriend is very jealous." Well, the last one is a lie.

Ate McDonald's at South Station. Snoozed on the way to work. Got in half an hour early.

Workity work. I am so tired.

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