Under the category of “little victories,” I finally got a parking spot that doesn’t blow too hard. I remember when I interviewed at new MRU, the person who drove me around parked right across the street from the building. His parking was so clutch. When I started, I got a parking space that was 1.5 miles away and was told there’s a waiting list. One of my colleague gave me a tip – put myself on the waiting list for every better parking lot. Last week I made it to the top of one of the waiting lists and now my parking spot is only 0.75 miles away from my office. I feel so money…
New MRU town and this shit parking situation have really destroyed my shoe game. All but five ridiculously boring and practical pairs remain packed away, but for now I will take my improved parking as a victory. So money.
Also, the scabby smell of my office has improved. A colleague on Teh Facebooks suggested that something might be rotting behind my office wall. I am mildly disgusted to think that the decrease in the smell means that the rotting process is almost finished, but I will count it as a victory that it doesn’t smell so bad anymore. Sorry, little critter. Whatever you were.
Today I am in Bethesda at a society meeting and I had my first experience flying out of the new MRU town airport, which is hilariously situated in many, many acres of cornfield. When I arrived at the airport, I discovered that my flight had been delayed. I decided to live it up, inspired by the incomparable @PHLane, and have a bloody mary for breakfast. I saddled up to the airport bar…
I ended up next to an older couple that was supposed to be headed to Cabo San Lucas for vacation, except that their first flight was delayed several hours. This had left them more than slightly salty. They were drinking rum and coke, which I would like to think made the husband more uninhibited than usual, but I suspect this was his default setting. The following conversation was had…
Dr. Isis: Oh, you’re going to Cabo. That’s cool. Cabo’s cool.
Wife: We went to Jamaica a couple of years ago, and it was nice but we had to stay in the fences.
Dr. Isis: I bet you’ll find some fences in Cabo too, but it’s beautiful.
Husband: I’m not worried about fences. Those people jump our fences and walk all over our country, so I’m going to do the same to their country.
Wife: Honey, you’re with people.
Dr. Isis: How’s your breakfast burrito?
Husband: It’s good. Those beaners are good for something.
I figured I could deal with this one of two ways – 1) I could get all offended and try to change hearts and minds at the airport bar or 2) I could order them a round of drinks and try to figure out what the craziest thing they’d say was. I went with Option #2, and I assure you the results were hilarious. I learned about how tractors and combines are made and how you need to bring a weight for the seat if you want to stand and pee into the corn because the equipment has a kill switch to turn it off if the seat’s not weighted. By the time I was done with our interaction, I’d was literally full of bloody marys and glad I’d worn the stretchy pants, knew all I needed to know about “those Mexicans,” and was confident that if my career in academia doesn’t work out, I have the skills required to plant corn straight and knew all the inside tips about how to pee and plant corn straight.
I realize that some people simply cannot help all of the racist and sexist stuff they need to say. If they don’t say it, they’ll burst. So, I have a solution. I would like to propose “3am Racist Hour.” At 3am, you can say whatever racist shenanigans you have in your heart, but you can only say them. Not write them, not put them on Facebook, not tweet them. Just say them aloud. But, the bright side is you can say whatever the craziest thing is that’s right on the tip of your tongue. Hate Bulgarians? Let the world know. Because, clearly, the world *needs* to know.