Greetings from New England Pt III

The title of this is a bit misleading. I am now actually back in Denver. Turns out once the CT/wedding portion of the trip got underway, things started getting a little whirlwind and left no time at all for updating. Which might be better as it will spare my readers from hearing every excruciating detail that I have now forgotten. Before moving on, I should include the pictures that rightfully belong on Day II:

Worshipping at my shrine. It occurred to me I once saw a pair of teenyboppers at the Mall of America taking a similar shot in front of Guess, and I remember thinking that was so gay. This, in contrast, is unutterably cool.

My cool new Pirate Devil Duckie. I'm too lazy to take a picture of the actual item.

For an image of that neato cool magnet, you need look no further than my new icon. It so rocks my socks.

Day 3 was actually my second day after flying, which is historically when my jet lag hits, so I spent the entire day in a stupor. We did go to the first of my planned restaurant stops, Dunkin Donuts. It will sound crazy to folks in the East where they have one literally every 50 feet or so, but they closed them all down in Denver and I have yet to find a donut shop that even comes close (and this includes Krispy Kreme (uch) and Winchell's (uch uch)). Not to mention they've expanded their menu and now sell a fabulicious slushy drink called a Vanilla Bean Coolatta. This beverage combined with my mostly sedentary lifestyle would ensure that I would gain 300 pounds before long. I got this rather than the hot chocolate, which my friend Jeffy from England used to refer to as the "nectar of the gods," but it was just too damn warm for a hot drink. As far as donuts, even though I knew I wanted a Bavarian creme, I was trying to peek behind the counter to see what other choices there were. It was 9 am, the joint was hopping, and if you strayed within 3 feet of the counter four employees would jump all over you to take your order. I unknowingly teased them like this a few times before ultimately settling on my original goal anyway. The donut was everything I remembered...super soft, super tasty, super moist. The Dunkin Donuts Revisited Experience: A+

Amy wanted to take us kayaking on the Charles River. She had been before and told us how fun it was. Tery was reluctant, not wanting to get hurt before the wedding. The place offered kayaks, canoes and paddleboats. Tery was pushing for a canoe, but I pointed out that they weren't going to send untrained amateurs out if it were the slightest bit dangerous. She relented and Amy was right; kayaks were much more fun than canoes:



( ::more watery fun:: )

The water was so calm it was more like a lake than a river. Amy and I grew up with a lake as our backyard. It might be stretching it to say that we could swim before we could walk, but not by much. I've spent many a happy summer of my childhood rowing out to the middle and falling asleep in the boat under the warm sun. So I was slightly amused when I noticed another kayaker sort of...lingering around us, obviously a chaperone. But he disappeared when he was satisfied we weren't going to drown. As you can see from the pictures it was quite beautiful, and reminded me strongly of those summers on the lake. Take special note of all the trees on the banks. It was perfect. It made me wish I lived there so I could buy a kayak and do this every day. But it wasn't to last (at $14 an hour per boat) so we begrudgingly paddled back to the dock, but not before engaging in some goodnatured splashing, racing, and further mocking of the Boston accent. "The Chahhhhhles Rivah" I called it, and asked Amy if they deliberately added R's to all their words just to take them out again.

After that we dined at a very fancy Mexican restaurant with Amy and her boyfriend, also on the Chahhles Rivah, where the waitress felt so bad for forgetting my Coke that on every subsequent visit she was careful to cater to my needs first. Very nice, considering I didn't much mind the missing soda to begin with.



In front of me, my very girly, wussy drink, a Virgin Strawberry Daiquiri, which actually wasn't very good. Behind me, the Chahhhles Rivah.

We went back to Amy's to watch her new Scrubs DVD (which of course I now have to get for myself) and that was it for Day III.

Day IV (coming VERY soon) promises to be quite lengthy, so I'm chopping them up a bit.

Greetings from New England, Pt IV: The Gathering Storm

Day IV: The Gathering Storm

Friday, and it was time to head down to CT for the wedding portion of the trip. We were hitching a ride with LS (the reasons for protecting her true identity will become clear before very long), who also lives in Boston and was a bridesmaid. I mentioned before the dangerously crazy driving that is the norm in Boston. My sister drives a Jeep Wrangler and is the perfect blend of careful, aggressive and for the most part alert. LS is only aggressive, which without its companions is scarier than if she had none of these traits. She also drives a VW Jetta; I know I rant about SUVs, but there was a definite difference between braving those streets from Jeep height vs. Jetta height. Needless to say I had some serious trust issues. First she parked smack in front of a fire hydrant to run in for coffee, leaving us sitting there while pedestrians glared at us for our flagrant disregard for the law. She pulled out of this stop without looking and almost got us all killed. At the second stop she narrowly missed taking out a cyclist who flew by within inches of us; she turned to us to laugh about it and tried again, narrowly missing taking out the guy's buddy who was right behind him. At this point Tery explained that rearview mirrors are intended for more than just cosmetic touchups. My god, what a ditz. She did better on the open highway and I slept almost the whole ride down.

Some back story on LS: She has known Tery's family since childhood but is exceedingly and unhealthily neurotic and sensitive, so not surprisingly the 5 Dombrowski children, once they realized how easily they could destroy her, have not stopped picking on her since. She moved in with Tery's sister Michelle when they went to school in Boston, where she developed a very "Single White Female" kind of crush on her that sadly has left her scarred to this day. Michelle is 100% straight and has been steadily trying to push her out of her life (we suspect she only made her a bridesmaid out of fear of LS slitting her wrists had she been excluded). LS claims to have moved on, making new friends, getting medicated, officially coming out of the closet and carving her own niche, but as you will see she still has a long road ahead of her.

Unfortunately LS was our only ride for the whole weekend...unfortunate because she is scatterbrained and kind of selfish on top of being a complete Looney Toon. Friday wasn't too bad but Saturday, the Big Day, started out rather unpleasantly. LS had saved her leftovers from the rehearsal dinner, a very expensive plate of fish, which Jason, the youngest brother, had taken out of the fridge to make room for his Jello shots, spoiling it. I had to take her side on this one, I thought that was unbelievably thoughtless of him, but that's how he is and always will be because there are never any consequences for him. The point is we then had to spend the morning getting grinders (another New England specialty that I will now miss until my next visit) because who knew when we'd get the chance to eat again. I ate mine en route at some point, but the other three we bought (for LS, Tery and Michelle) ended up sitting in the car all day and night. We put them in the fridge before the party and they ultimately got eaten by Tery's father, who rapaciously devours anything in the house that isn't nailed down. It's a very dog-eat-dog, kill-or-be-killed family, and frankly I have no idea how she lasted hanging around them as long as she has.

Between the ceremony and the reception, LS claimed Michelle had forgotten her lipstick at home and we needed to stop for it. This turned out to be a lie...actually LS and Jason wanted to stop for a quick Jello shot to tide them over. Because for some reason the day was so stressful for THEM that they needed a buzz to cope. Meanwhile Tery, the maid of honor, was with us and desperate to get to the hall for the professional photo shoot. She was so anxious she honked the horn to get their asses in gear, which is not like her at all. Her stress caused me to be stressed, which made LS nervous because she thought I was mad at her. I explained I was only mad on behalf of Tery. Her whole attitude was still a little too "Chill out, will you, what's the big deal?" for either of our tastes. Later speculation was that she just couldn't stand for Michelle to have a day when it wasn't all about LS, and I'm inclined to agree.

We had all decided on the way over that I was most definitely to be the designated driver later. So it was mystifying as to why LS, who herself was carrying a purse, gave her keys to someone else to hold, who had left to get Benadryl for her daughter (the person in question was Tery's sister-in-law, who is addicted to 12-step programs (or "her meetings" as she calls them) to the point of tragically neglecting her three children and husband. Thus when she couldn't be found, Tery wondered if she hadn't grabbed "a quick meeting" in between the ceremony and the reception). We left all our camera equipment in LS's car thinking the professionals would have it covered, but then decided it would be nice to get some shots. For an hour we couldn't get to the cameras and it was making Tery and me crazy. When we finally tracked down the keys and I went out to the car, whoever had used them last had left the front door unlocked with our camera and camcorder sitting plain as day on the backseat. Very nice. Luckily the hall was a very hoity-toity place whose clients would probably see our "high-end" stuff as good enough only to give to their kids as toys.

My last straw with LS came after the reception, when there was an after-party at the Dombrowskis. I remember well how much this family enjoys partying; big, loud, drunken revelries that last well into the following morning. Back when it was a monthly thing I had built up a tolerance, but I'd been out of the game for 5 years at this point and I decided a few hours alone at the empty bride and groom's house sounded far more appealing. Tery assured me it was fine, LS was well on her way to being trashed out of (what little remains of) her mind, I should just take the car and head back. I didn't even get the key into the ignition when LS appeared out of nowhere, screaming at me, "Where the FUCK do you think you're going with my car????" My first thought was "Where the FUCK do you THINK I'm going?" I mean, it wasn't like I was going back to Boston. But she was clearly unhinged and I didn't want to make this even uglier. I told her the party was too much for me and Tery said it was alright. "No, no, no. You are NOT taking my car anywhere," she slurred at me, and lunged for her keys. I yanked them away and said, "Well you certainly aren't getting these keys from me in your condition" and stormed into the house. Tery sat down with her, talked a little sense into her, and she calmed down. She followed me back out, saying it would have been nice if someone had asked her (I agreed, but we all thought she was utterly wasted) and making me promise not to wreck it. Ellen, Tery's cousin, was on the porch watching all this and called out to her, "You want me to drive, L? I mean, I've had a few drinks. Elaine hasn't had any, but I'd be happy to drive your car." Oh, this didn't help. I got out of there as fast as I could.

I got back to Michelle and Michael's and hadn't even taken my sandals off when the phone rang and I recognized the Dombrowskis' number. It was none other than LS, wanting me to come back and pick her up. Oh, you motherfucking, spiteful, lunatic bitch. It was only 10 minutes away, not a big deal, if not for the fact that I knew damn well she was just playing games with me. So I don't feel so bad that I was completely unaware of two large boulders off at the edge of the driveway and I accidentally backed over them so the rear tire temporarily got wedged and the undercarriage of the car made a godawful scraping noise going over them. Perhaps Ellen SHOULD have driven. Oh well. LS lives in Boston. She'll never notice.

I got back to the Dombrowskis and acted nice as pie with her. The problem seemed to be she had loaned her pajama bottoms to another woman who was even drunker than her and refused to leave without getting them back. Ah, the logic of the debilitatingly inebriated. We thought the woman had left and LS had a mini-fit of hysteria on the spot. "You don't understand!!!" she shrieked for all the neighbors to hear, "I LOST MY VIRGINITY IN THOSE PANTS!!!!!!" Oh sweet baby Jesus, WHEN would I be left alone tonight? I didn't even ask why she would loan someone something that obviously had such enormous sentimental value to her. Tery was at her wit's end. She was saying things like "They aren't going to vaporize if you don't get them back tonight." Very true, but clearly Tery has no experience reasoning with people as drunk as LS. We finally found the woman passed out in her husband's car and got the damn pants back.

Then, the drive home. I learned too late that LS creates this high drama for the sole purpose of then being able to analyze it, and re-analyze it, and discuss it, and deliberate about it, and analyze it some more until she's sure you understand every imaginable nuance of the situation from her perspective. To her tonight was just the culmination of a lifetime of abuse and harassment suffered at the hands of the Dombrowski family. Ellen's snide little remark earlier was just another nail in the coffin, just another example of how they all gang up on her. She was thankful that this was the last big event she would be attending. I tried to be sympathetic, hoping it would get her to shut up. I pointed out that, although it was way too late now, perhaps if she didn't let them know how much they got to her they would have given up picking on her a long time ago. This concept was a bit too evolved for her in her current state. The Dombrowskis made her realize that people would walk all over her her entire life unless she stood up for herself. She's probably right, however I really have no interest in getting involved in a relationship that might take years of therapy to recover from (for her, not me). Once back at the house it took forever to get to bed because when you are that drunk, a closed bedroom door (or for that matter multiple "Good nights") apparently isn't an adequate deterrent to continuing a conversation that was already well and truly beaten into the ground. Oy vey.

In between all this nonsense there was actually a beautiful wedding with a radiant bride and groom. See for yourself:

Have you ever seen a more perfect-looking couple?

The family invited me to be in the portrait of siblings and spouses, which made me feel tremendously honored. At the reception I asked Michelle if she minded if Tery and I danced the Anniversary Dance (where married couples are dismissed from the floor until the one with the most longevity is left) and her face crumbled. She couldn't believe I even felt the need to ask. She said we had better dance it, and then she dissolved into tears as she thanked me for taking such good care of her sister. I didn't cry so much at even my own sister's wedding. I will try to forget that our special dance was ruined by the Pajama Bottom Drunk, who broke in to make it a threesome so she could drag us into the center to find her son and daughter-in-law. Thanks, Pajama Bottom Drunk. Maybe at the next party you should stick to club soda. I thought I had met most of the Dombrowskis, but they were just coming out of the woodwork. I told Tery next time I would need a slideshow presentation and an opportunity to study first, because they all knew me (from stories), leaving me at a distinct disadvantage.

It was a very long day and no one could have been more thrilled than I was when it was over (except possibly Michelle and Michael).

Next: Lebanon Revisited

Stop the Presses

Before I continue with my popular vacation series of posts, I have to write about this. I just got a call from Amazon.com (who I now love with all of my heart instead of just most of my heart) asking if I had purchased a laptop computer from them today for $2400. I absolutely had not, and so it is that I enter the ranks of the victims of credit card fraud. Of course I called my bank immediately and put a lock on the card. They will issue me a new one and hopefully that will be the end of the matter.

The only way I can think that it happened was just before leaving for my trip, I received an email from PayPal requesting me to update my account information or else they would suspend me. I was linked to a site (all very official-looking, mind you) and filled out every field until I got to the PIN number. PayPal doesn't need my PIN number and I forwarded them the mail. They quickly confirmed it was a scam and I thought THAT was the end of the matter.

I have to wonder, is it worth it? If I were to steal someone's number, I certainly wouldn't make some big huge purchase that threw up warning flags immediately to everyone. I would buy small things at common stores so the victim would just dismiss them as memory lapses on their part. But of course small, discreet purchases are hardly worth risking jail time. If I were going to steal from bank accounts, I'd do it like the guys in Office Space and set it up to take pennies from everyone. And if this person is clever enough to steal my number, shouldn't they be able to get into my bank account and see that I have no money?

Whatever. I just hope the cops are halfway to this fucker's house by now.