Travel Chronicles: Dudes Gonna Dude

Dude on train *asks me how to get to Penn Station*

I respond that I don’t know.

Dude sarcastically : You don’t know where you’re going?

Me patiently, following Rule 62 of what to do when dudes be duding: I know exactly where I’m going I don’t know how to help you get to where you’re going.

5-6 random femmes of all ages and nationalities *jump in to help him, Whip out phones, point to diagrams.*

Dude: I can’t take y’all seriously y’all don’t sound secure.

All of us femmes except one *glance over phones, smirk, sigh, roll our eyes, make eye contact that says Gurl, return to our bubbles*

The remaining femme, the one who seems to be most over his shit *continues to help him figure out his directions*

Dude *continues to be super whack.* Thanks his helper in a manner fitting of being a dude on a train with a huge ass suitcase.

Of course I have six different stories on the reason why he’s on the train with this huge ass suitcase in the first place. At least 2 being that some femme got sick of his Dudely ways.

When The Driver Says Fxck Your Life and Means It.

I’m in a shuttle traveling from NYC to Stamford CT. The driver is rude or maybe he’s just “I don’t give a fuck about you.” but whatever it is I’m impatiently counting the seconds until I get out of his vehicle. Weirdly enough I’ve heard him be rather nice to customers who call and request his services over the phone even using his professional -read white- voice.

He drives like Fuck your life is his motto. Within the first 5 minutes of being in his death vehicle I began praying to all of the ancestors and all of the Gods. ALL OF EM. Especially when he said Fuck the bus and just drove in front of it. 

(In case you can’t tell what you’re looking at the red and white stripes are on the bus mirror that he drove in front of who had the right of way.)

His breath smells like when you leave organic waste in your trashcan for too long and it gets wet. Which isn’t the only reason that I’m happy he’s not a talkative friendly driver but it’s at the top of the list. But when he blows his breath at the other drivers my life passes before my eyes. He’s an angry driver so this has happened quite a bit on this 50+ minute drive. 

I guess he is who people are talking about when they say “Rude New Yorkers” he eminates his rudeness from his pores. I knew it from the second he walked up to me at the airport as if the mere fact that I needed his shuttle (which he gets paid for) was the entire bane of his existence. And though I HATE not tipping people it’s not looking good for this dude. And although I REALLLY dislike tipping people who treat you like they think that you’re not going to tip in the first place brother man from the dumpster has like 20 minutes to at least act like he has some customer service or imma have to keep my pennies in my purse. 

My travel day has been pleasant up until this point but now I’m really wishing I would’ve bought some Tequila in the airport. 

Mantra for today: That was then this is now. The past is the past and the future is everything.

Hell Yes to Working Vacations!

If you ask me how my vacation is going I will tell you AMAZING. If you follow that up with “Oh yeah, what have you guys been doing?” You will be surprised at my answer: SLEEPING, EATING, RELAXING…WHATEVER THE FUCK WE WANT.

For most people traveling to foreign countries is all about being a tourist; exploring, taking in the sites, sounds, and experiences of the regions. And,  don’t get me wrong we’re doing that too, but really we’re doing WHATEVER THE FUCK WE WANT. Which is mostly to sleep, take long baths, wake up when we’re ready and watch movies. (All of which we don’t have the privilege of doing often at home.)

And because we’re (AB and myself) serial mompreneurs with two auto repair shops and a business services start up, and I’m a writer with a new book floating around the world, we’re working many hours of each day on our businesses. But there’s something about employees having to figure shit out on their own without calling, texting, or slacking you every five seconds, that makes working remotely so much more FUN and Productive.

There’s something very powerful about being reachable but unreachable at the same time. About sleeping in and still waking up 6 hours before your employees. About decreasing the screening process for potential new employees and realizing that all of the time you spend vetting people over the phone is a waste of time. That removing yourself from the process and letting the manager find out that people are either qualified or unqualified or batshit crazy once the person shows up for the interview, is a much better use of everyone’s time. Especially yours.

So far I’ve been to Amsterdam, France, and Germany and I’ve enjoyed each place tremendously while still getting shit done so YES, HELLLLLL YES to working vacations. If it weren’t for the boy, I would think twice about returning home. I lie it’s cold I need to eventually go home but I’m going to be a changed entrepreneur when I get back.

Travel Chronicles 1.12.16: Tip Your Waiter 

Eric at the airport bar isn’t here for your shit. He is fancy and efficient and he will serve you but if you’re looking for all of that flowery language look elsewhere.

What is it that you want? How can he help you? If you wanna be walking all around the bar like there aren’t perfectly good and sturdy chairs all up and around this bar he’s going to need you to start a tab. “If your butt’s not in the seat I’m going to need a card.” I’m paraphrasing but you get his drift.

The check you asked for 13 minutes ago, it’s there in front of you. Pay it and leave or don’t, but next time don’t be so demanding for things that aren’t an immediate need. He has things to do. Like upsell people half price shots with their beers. Everyone loves a good drunk plane rider. Right? Or at least it’ll help chill everyone’s frazzled nerves. Cause nerves are frazzled. People are shooting up Airport baggage claims and stuff like they have nothing better to do. I mean most people do. I mean Chris does. And he’s good at it. Efficient. Fancy. Just not flowery. So don’t forget to tip your waiter. 

Travel Chronicles Act I

Laguardia Airport. There’s a Spanish lady white shirt, black pants, sensible black shoes. She’s driving a Toyota SUV. She’ll get you to wherever you’re going. It’s going to cost you $75. She doesn’t give a solitary fuck if you take her up on this offer. 

Her face says “Don’t give me no shit. Take it or leave it. The price is the price.” 

She’s appealed to a woman who follows behind her like a puppy waiting for her to get enough riders to make this trip worthwhile. The group of Asian ladies are not here for this lady, her brash demeanor, and they’re really not here for the $75 a piece. $75 times 5? No.

There’s a guy. White. Black suit, white shirt, leather computer bag. Typical New York business man. He’s not here for her shit but he needs a ride. 

“Sir, it’s gonna be an hour ride. I’ll get you there. You wanna go or Not?” She pauses in her steps barely momentarily as she allows him to make up his mind. She has shit to do. He follows. They leave. 

Taking Flight

It’s 8:09am and my flight just boarded to my first official writers conference.

 The fact that it’s LGBTQ centered makes me think of intersections, a topic I’ve been pondering quite a lot lately. I am so many things that intersect at  so many intersections.

I bumped into Sheree at the airport. She has been dragging me along for the last couple of years, urging me to write, urging me to publish, urging me to realize that there is power in words, that my words have power. 

She helped me to understand that this writer’s life is not easy and that if I wanted it I would have to actually do the work. 

So I’ve been doing the work. Unlocking myself. Gaining a sense of self confidence that is required to embark upon this journey. And I’m on it. 

 So it’s 8:14am and I’m sitting on this plane feeling like my life, my #writerslife is finally taking flight. 

Live Out Loud

Live Out Loud

I don’t wear a watch because I march to the beat of my own drum.

That’s not to say I don’t respect other people’s time. 

I do. 

But in my mind:

There are no clocks. 

There is no time. 

There are no limits except the ones you’re imposing upon your self. 

Stop. 

Love. 

Live. 

Be free. 

You don’t have to have it all figured out today or next week. 
You have your whole life ahead of you. 

So stop with all the planning

The “by 25 I’m going to be here”

“By 29 I would have accomplished all of this”

“By 35 I’m going to be that.”

Stop

Stop

Stop doing that

And start doing it

Start living, 

start giving, 

Stop and smell the roses.

Run a foot race down the street in your bare feet.

Plant a tree.

Kiss some chick you do not know.

Fuck any and everybody you want to fuck.

-use protection-

Just do it.
Do the whole world a favor; 

Stop planning it out and start living out loud.  

 Things I wish 25 year old me had known.