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A ME$$AGE
___________________________________________
WRITTEN
BY
BRANDON
SINCLAIR
Goldstein
Publishing Group
_____________________
Gone
to Europe, Leave a Message
All
characters appearing in this work are fictitious.
Any
resemblance to real persons, living or dead is
purely
coincidental. The wording of this disclaimer
differs
from jurisdiction, and from country to
country,
as does its legal effectiveness.
Copyright©
2011 by Goldstein Publishing Group, llc
All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be
reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any
means
without written permission from the author.
ISBN
(978-0-615-48495-2)
2
First,
I would like to thank God, in which all
things
are made possible. Next, I have to
thank
my mom and dad for their unwavering
love
and respect.
I
would also like to thank my
grandparents,
Jessie and Bernadine, for their
love
and guidance, of which I will always be
grateful
for. Additionally, I would like to
acknowledge
my publishers for taking a
chance
on me as well as for their patience. I
am
so very appreciative.
Furthermore,
I owe a great deal of
gratitude
to Dean Fox, Brahn Jenkins,
Meagan
Sweeny and Noelle Harper for their
expertise
and technical assistance. And
certainly
a very special shout out goes to the
Howell
family for their constant love and
support.
Last
but surely not least, I must
acknowledge
my alma mater, North
Carolina
Agriculture and Technical State
University
for the invaluable life lessons it
taught
me in which I could not function
without.
(AGGIE PRIDE!!!)
3
Acknowledgments
4
McKinnon,
Norman “Billy Red” Whitaker,
and
Aaron “And1” Smiley.
“Weeping
may endure for a night, but joy
cometh
early in the morning.” —Pslam 30:5
5
This
book is dedicated to Linda
6
“Mel!...Hey
Mel! Wake up!
“Huh?”
“Dude,
Wake Up!”
“I’m
up, man!”
“Did
you feed the dogs yet?”
Like
really, how could I have fed the dogs if
I’m
just waking up? I never feed the dogs
and
go back to sleep. To be in his trimester
of
med school, my brother asks the dumbest
questions.
He was just getting off of his
second
job at the soda plant.
“You
need to hurry up and get dressed if
you
want a ride to the subway” he said
before
walking back to his room.
“What
time is it?” I asked.
I
looked at my half-broken alarm clock and
saw
it was almost 7:30. I had to be at work
in
an hour and my train took at least 35
minutes
to get there. I hopped up and took a
7
Chapter
1
three
minute shower, totally skipped ironing
my
clothes and grabbed my laptop. As I
walked
in to the living room I could hear the
dogs
whining. I put my laptop down and
went
to get their food out of the laundry
room.
One
cupful each for badass #1 and
badass
#2! Of course that wasn’t their real
names,
but there was no greater description.
All
they ever did was eat and tear shit up. I
mean
what the hell is a Labradoodle
anyway?
Some sap out there thought it’d be
cute
to mate their Labrador Retriever with a
Poodle,
only to create the most annoying
dog
on Earth. Why would I speak so harsh
about
my dogs? That’s just it, they weren’t
my
dogs. Although one would assume so
seeing
that I was the only one that looked
after
them. They were my brother’s fiancés’
dogs.
My brother spoils that chick rotten.
She’s
probably the reason why he works so
many
damn jobs. He got them for her
because
she just “haddd to have them”. Her
apartment
doesn’t allow her to have any pets
so
Jeff, my brother, being the shmuck that
he
is, told her it would be okay for them to
stay
here.
He
was only two years older than
me;
people that know us say that I was born
8
with
the looks and he was given the brains. I
suppose
I got the short end of that stick. I
mean
who needs looks when you’re about to
be
an M.D.
Jeff
met his fiancé at a Sorority
probate
two years ago. I have no idea what
she
does for a living but I do know that she
was
hardly ever here to take care of these
damn
puppies, and neither was he. There’d
been
plenty of afternoons in which I came
home
to an apartment heavily scented with
piss.
Fortunately for me, I was moving out
at
the end of the month so that the love birds
can
have a hearth of their own before
jumping
the broom.
Badass
1 and 2 both scarped down
all
of their food without looking up or even
taking
a breath. The girl dog (Badass #1)
came
over to me and looked me up and
down
and started to bark.
“I
don’t have time for this. I’m going to be
late
for work” I said hovering over her.
Her
small puppy bark turned into whining,
which
triggered the boy dog’s (Badass #2)
whining;
which absolutely drove me nuts! I
grabbed
my jacket, “fine let’s go and make
it
quick.”
9
I
led them outside, and to my surprise the
neighborhood
kids were just now getting on
to
the school bus. I suppose everyone was
running
a little behind this morning. After
several
minutes of sniffing trees and licking
dirt
they finally used it. I hurried them back
inside
and directed them to their crates. The
boy
dog trotted in to his crate to play with
his
bone. The girl dog then sat down in front
of
me and stared again.
“What
is it now?”
She
leaped up and bit me on the hand with
her
sharp puppy teeth, then walked back to
her
crate as to say next time don’t take so
long.
Damn she’s rude. One of these days I
was
going to call the humane society on my
brother,
but for now I needed a ride to the
metro.
I ran in to his room to find him
sleeping
on the floor with his shoes still on.
“Hey
Jeff, Wake Up! Let me get a ride to
the
metro station.
He
turned over and in his sleepy tone said
“did
you feed the dogs?”
“Yes
mannn, now let me get a ride. I can’t
be
late.”
I
arrived to the metro station noticing
everyone
running to catch the 8:00 train. As
I
walked towards the door the old man
passing
out newspapers told me to hurry
10
because
the train was leaving in two
minutes.
I ran down the escalator but just
remembered
that I needed to add more
money
to my smart trip card. I ran up to the
machine,
scanned my card and entered a
five.
I then said excuse me as I ran pass an
old
lady carrying a big bright yellow
shoulder
bag. I scanned my card to pass the
turn
tolls and ran up the steps to get to the
train.
The doors were closing as soon as I
got
to the train. I stuck one arm in the train
car
just as the doors closed. To my surprise
they
shut and clasped on to my arm—which
they’re
not supposed to do. I quickly pried
my
arm out and stood back from the rail.
Luckily
the doors opened back up allowing
me
to enter.
At
a seat near the back of the train
car,
I sat and took a deep breath. All I could
do
was pray that the day got better. As I
looked
down I saw a big bright yellow
shoulder
bag next to a woman. It was the
same
old woman that I ran pass just a
minute
ago. She was sitting back in her
chair
sleeping. How peculiar. Looking at her
bag
reminded me that I forgot my own
laptop
bag. Frustrated, I thought to myself if
it
wasn’t for Badass 1 and 2, I wouldn’t
11
have
to go through this shit every day. Ten
feet
beyond the platform out into the tunnel
and
the trained stalled.
“Oh
Lord, please get this train moving”
said
an old man sitting behind me—which is
exactly
what I was thinking. After about five
minutes
it began to move again. The NYC
transit
system can be so unreliable at times.
I
put my head phones on and
cranked
up my iPod. I closed my eyes but
not
all the way. This was in fear of falling
asleep
and missing my stop like I did last
week.
12
train
was ahead of schedule
that
day. It only took twenty five minutes to
get
to the city. I hurried up the street
towards
my job; I had nine minutes to walk
four
blocks.
“Awesome,
plenty of time to make it,” I
assured
myself.
I
walked so fast that there was double the
cold
smoke from the breaths I took. Finally,
I
got to my building and upon entering the
doors
one of the security guards stopped me.
It
was Mrs. Rosa, an eccentric but nice,
older
dame that always spoke to everyone
that
entered the building.
“Son,
you’re about to be late! Ooh and
you’re
breathing so hard. Have you been
running
in that cold air out there? You gon’
get
walking pneumonia.”
“Yes…I’m
running late” I responded
trying
to walk around her.
The
13
Chapter
2
“Hey
look… I’ve been listening to that cd
you
made me and I love it…It’s so soulful.”
Her
speech seemed to accelerate by the
second.
I didn’t want to be rude to her
because
she was probably the nicest person
in
the entire building, but I had to do
something
in order to make it in on time.
I
smiled and quickly responded “I’m glad
you
like it. I like it too; as a matter of fact
I’m
going make you another one right now,
I
gotta run. See ya later. Have a good day.”
I
caught the elevator doors opening
just
as I approached. When I got in I glanced
at
my watch and saw that I had a minute
left.
Damn this elevator! It was stopping on
every
floor on the way up to mine. Finally,
the
doors opened and I gave a quick hello
nod
to the receptionist as I walked straight
to
my desk. I looked over and luckily my
supervisor
wasn’t there yet. Thank God. I
sat
down and caught my breath as I logged
into
my computer.
“MEL!
IS THAT BATCH READY
YET?!!”
Ms. Schmidt screamed from across
the
aisle. “I have to post some stuff before
noon.
I need all of those docs on your desk
taken
care of before lunch! Can you do
that?!”
“Sure
thing Ms. Schmidt”, I responded.
14
“Oh,
and these too.”
She
strolled over to my desk and dropped a
huge
stack of papers on top of it, causing the
previous
pile to now resemble a jenga tower.
I
was no stranger to hard work but this was
just
plain ridiculous. How the hell was I
supposed
to get this done before noon?
“I
have a meeting with Peterson so mind
the
phone calls too” she added.
Staring
at the towering stack of documents
that
stood before me, I refused to let the fact
that
my four foot cubicle was starting to
make
me claustrophobic hinder me. I
refused
to let the fact that my computer ran
slower
than a 1988 Apple computer, deter
me.
I refused to let the fact that my boss’s
cubicle
was right behind mine, pressure me.
I
had to get it done, and I was going to get it
done…before
noon!
I
reached in to my desk drawer and
pulled
out a stick of gum, although I would
have
preferred cigarette instead. One by one
I
took every document from the pile and
processed
them. When my desk phone rang,
I
sent the calls to voicemail. All morning I
worked
without so much as inching away
from
my desk; not even to take a bathroom
break.
15
Halfway
through the pile my fingers
began
to cramp from rigorous typing. I
worked
through the pain. Finally, I was
down
to the last few. I made sure to save the
batch
just as a precaution. Not too soon after
that,
with three docs to go, the system
locked
me out—total shutdown. I looked
about
the room and everyone else’s
computer
was working fine.
“She’s
coming back” I heard my co-
worker
Sharon whisper from across the
room.
At that point the only thing I could do
was
send the reports without including the
three
remaining documents. Of course I’d
catch
hell about it later.
Ms.
Schmidt walked in with a look
of
frustration on her face. Peterson, her boss,
was
an asshole but in a polite kind of way.
(Kind
of like the boss in that one movie,
Office
Space) He must have
chewed her out
and
now, here she came to take it out on
everybody
else.
“Mel!
Why didn’t you answer your phone
I’ve
been calling you. Where’s that batch?
Did
you finish it?!”
“Yes
Ms. Schmidt I exported it to the
database,
I answered.
I
looked over to see Sharon and Ellen
giggling
at their desks. Fourteen data entry
16
clerks
in our department, and she rarely
gave
anyone else a hard time. Perhaps being
the
only black person on our team granted
me
that privilege. If it weren’t for the temp,
Saleem
from Mumbai, I would swear she
had
some sort of grudge against minorities.
Ms.
Schmidt was the most fucked up
boss
anyone could have. Egotistical,
verbally
abusive, and childish, she was the
typical
adult bully. I’m no psychologist but
it
was well apparent that she suffered from
repressed
feelings of being teased for being
overweight
much of her life. She had gotten
lap
band surgery and a breast reduction
around
this time last year. It was a good
thing
she was starting to gain some of her
weight
back; with a head of that capacity,
her
body was disproportioned to the point
where
she resembled a realistic bobble head
doll.
Her voice was irritating to say the least,
and
her hygiene was morbid. She smelled as
if
she’d gone for a swim in the East Harbor
along
with the application of cheap perfume.
Secretly,
everyone called her Ms. Shit
behind
her back because her breath was the
equivalent
of a city landfill, or better yet
New
Jersey’s drinking water.
17
It
was twelve o’clock, aka break
time.
I went to get a drink of water and to
the
restroom. My hands ached something
terrible
from typing. I went to wash them
and
found myself gazing in to the mirror
with
the three remaining docs on my
mind……
Returning
to my desk all I could hear was
someone
shouting my name.
There
was absolutely no surprise as to
whom
it was.
“Mel!
Where have you been?”
“I
went to the restroom.”
“There
are three docs missing from this
report
and THOSE ARE THE THREE I
NEED
TO SUBMIT TO CORPORATE
FOR
REVIEW, she screamed.”
I
thought to myself, then
why the hell did
she
put them at the bottom of the stack.
“I
got locked out of the system as I was
putting
them in” I responded.
“Don’t
give me excuses. I need those
entered
right now!”
“Yes
Ma’am.”
I
took my seat and tried my best to log back
in,
but nothing was working. I could hear
her
on the phone shouting at someone from
IT.
Her voice was starting to annoy me so I
put
my headphones on and turned up the
18
volume
to block it out. Finally, the system
let
me back in. I entered the last three docs
and
began resending the report. Before I
could
finish she tapped me on my shoulder
and
pulled my earphone out.
“Hey
dummy…I’ve been calling you for
the
past five minutes! I need you to enter
these
docs that just came through the fax!”
She
dropped a stack of damn near a hundred
papers
on my desk and walked back to her
desk
talking shit. I stared at this stack for
about
30 seconds, which simultaneously
was
the time it took my blood to reach a
temperature
twice that of boiling point. All
thoughts
of a promotion in the near future
escaped
my mind. I
know this fat bitch
didn’t
just call me a dummy!
My
blood temperature began to rise 3 times
beyond
boiling point, in fact, to the point
where
I was about to hulk out of my shirt.
Enough
was enough. I pushed away from
my
desk so hard that my chair hit the back
part
of my cubicle knocking the plant from
her
shelf over on to her desk. I grabbed the
stack
of documents as I got up and turned to
face
her and her “delayed” reaction of
shock.
19
“TO
HELL WITH THESE FUCKING
DOCUMENTS…YOU
DO IT!!!” I shouted.
I
held the stack square in both hands and
punted
them across the hall as if I was field
goal
kicker, Jason Elam.
“If
you say one more word to me, I swear
I’m
going to staple your fucking mouth
shut!”
I
grabbed my jacket and my work
keys
off of my desk and knocked the papers
off
her desk as I passed. [Yea, it was a little
immature
but it was the next best thing to
punching
someone.] I headed straight to
Peterson’s
office. I could see that he was on
the
telephone so I quietly entered and
slammed
dunked his 5 foot toy basketball
goal,
managing to purposely bend the rim.
He
looked up at me in bewilderment as I
smiled
while giving him the finger, and
quietly
exiting. I made sure to close the door
behind
me. Suddenly, I was tackled by the
other
security guards, and then tossed out of
the
building like Jazzy Jeff from Fresh
Prince
of Bel-Air…..
Interrupted
by a flush from the next stall, I
awoke
from my temporary delusional state
of
liberation. I rarely had the time to day
20
dream
but when I did this one was always
my
favorite, minus the getting tackled and
thrown
out by security part. For some odd
reason
I could never make a smooth exit in
that
dream.
When
I returned to my desk (for real
this
time) I held my head in sorrow and
began
to think about what was keeping me
at
this Hell hole. This place didn’t suit me at
all.
It was as if I were a slave that had been
set
free and decided to stay, out of some
unknown
fear. But then again, there was
also
the fear of letting my mother down.
Remembering
her face when I got the job,
she
was so relieved of not having to share
the
burden of helping me pay back my
student
loan.
As
strong willed as I thought myself to be,
I
couldn’t quit. After all, there were some
pros.
Over three years of work experience,
okay
health insurance, and not to mention I
had
saved over ten percent of the purchase
price
for a down payment on a condo in
Brooklyn.
Although,
how I wound up in a data
entry
job is still a wonder to me. Four years
prior,
I’d graduated from Penn State with a
dual
degree in English and World History.
21
Currently,
I chose to blame it on the effects
of
a screwed up economy rather than lack of
ambition
on my part.
Although
I couldn’t call my job a
desirable
career, I’d have to be a fool to quit
now.
I considered the advice my brother
gave
me a week ago: “Sometimes you have
to
make the sacrifice now in order to be
where
you want to be later in life”.
But
with all of this stress would there even
be
a later? And would it really be worth it?
Since
working here I had developed a
smoking
addiction, bladder complications,
and
let’s not forget about the shingles I
contracted
from stress following last year’s
close.
What was next, a stomach ulcer? Or
even
worse, going bald? I hated this place.
At
the moment I would rather take Spike
Lee’s
advice from the early 80’s and burn it
down.
In
the middle of my self-pity, I could hear
Ms.
Schmidt tromping down the hallway
rattling
the cubicles as she walked.
“MEL!!!
This batch is incomplete! Do you
not
have the sense to complete ‘the’
simplest
task!?”
“Ms.
Schmidt I tried to complete it but the
system
crashed.”
22
“Well
the minute…No the second, that it’s
back
up and running I want this report
completed!”
she said crotched over and
shouting
at the side of my face.
“I’m
going to lunch and there’d better be a
completed
report on my desk when I get
back.”
“Yes
Ms. Shit…I mean Ms. Schmidt.”
She
gave me a stern look and then walked
away.
This
should qualify as harassment.
Her
breath smelled like soiled baby diapers.
No
one should have to endure that kind of
persecution.
I could only imagine that this
and
her foul attitude were the biggest
contributors
to her not having a man; or a
woman
in any case.
Sharon
and Ellen giggled from
across
the room. They often stated how
much
they hated this job, but seeing how
amused
they were I really couldn’t tell.
I
needed a cigarette…like now.
I
took the stairs up to the outside
terrace
for a quick smoke. Perhaps the cold
air
would do me some good. My usual
melodramatic
day dream of me quitting was
constantly
interrupted with visions of the
ridicule
that had just taken place. Maybe one
23
day
the Lord will give me the courage to
quit
or perhaps a sign that it’s time to move
on.
I
wrapped up my smoke break and
headed
back feeling a little better than
before.
Suddenly, I felt a wave of depression
sweep
over me the closer I approached my
desk.
I then took a few steps back and the
depression
started to disappear. Slowly I
walked
forward again, and again I felt the
presence
of sadness. Finally, a voice in my
head
said “keep going”.
Assuming
that this was my conscious, I
decided
to listen to it and continued to walk.
I
noticed an instant change in my mood. I
proceeded
to the elevators; continued from
the
elevators to the bottom floor, and then
towards
the exit.
I
saw Mrs. Rosa ahead holding her walkie
talkie
as I was leaving.
Just
then. “OH FUCK!”...Not now.
Really?
Ms.
Schmidt had just walked through the
revolving
door holding a bucket of chicken
in
one hand and her hand bag in the other.
“That
batch report better be complete” she
chimed
across the lobby in a polite but
obnoxious
tone.
24
“Um…yes
they are” I hesitated. “I’ll be
right
back.”
As
Ms. Schmidt passed, Mrs. Rosa called
me
over.
“Is
that your boss?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“She’s
a bitch” she whispered.
“You
have no idea” I responded.
She
smiled and said, “Have a good day
baby.”
I
smiled back and strutted outside. As I
approached
Radio City Music Hall, two
blocks
down, I couldn’t believe what I had
just
done. I just walked out on the job.
Although
I could just turn around and go
back,
I made a conscious decision not to in
spite
of uncertainty. Was I having a quarter-
life
crisis? Or was I having a mental
breakdown?
Irrational was it? Probably so
but
whatever it was, it felt pretty good.
Walking
down the street seeing everyone
having
lunch, reminded me that I hadn’t
eaten.
I stopped at a street vendor and got a
hot
dog. After paying for it I noticed that I
was
low on cash. Immediately I realized it
was
Thursday (payday). I headed up the
street
to the bank to check on my direct
deposit.
25
I
withdrew a hundred dollars
because
I imagined that I’d be doing a lot of
drinking
when this so called wave of
liberation
wears off and the depression of
being
jobless in a recession sinks in. Still I
felt
I deserved to treat myself, to some
degree,
especially after gathering the
courage
to do what I did. But on the
contrary,
I couldn’t help but feel as if I were
ditching
school for the first time and was
bound
to suffer the consequences later.
I
passed by a new bar that had just opened
up
earlier this week. Many of my co-
workers
that had gone there for happy hour
raved
and carried on about the how great
their
cocktails were. The patio was uniquely
decorated
with adjustable glass tables and
chairs
made of wicker and cast iron. From
the
outside I observed the low hanging
chandeliers
although it remained dim
throughout.
Calm jazz music cascaded from
the
opened windows—making the place
even
more inviting. I debated whether or not
to
enter—glancing at my watch as if I had
some
place to be.
Suddenly,
a hostess wearing a white
blouse
and black trousers approached me.
She
appeared to be of Latino ethnicity and
26
she
spoke with a heavy yet endearing
accent.
Her spew was the epitome of sweet
talk.
In a moment’s time, I found myself
sitting
at the bar with a pint of pale ale.
While
pretending to watch the muted
CNN
program on television, I went over
different
scenarios in which to tell my
family
and friends that I quit my job.
Although
undecided, I kept coming back to
the
idea of changing my work profile on
Facebook
to unemployed.
I
ordered a shot of scotch whiskey.
“What’s
the occasion?” the bartender
asked.
“I
just quit my job.” I responded.
“Ouch,
tough break fella. In that case I’ll
have
one too.”
He
introduced himself as Andre. He
was
an older brother Jersey that sported a
short
afro with sideburns. Andre was a beer
connoisseur,
or something to the likes of it.
We
sampled the newest lager on tap that
was
from Germany.
“There’s
nothing like the taste of a stout
lager.
Germany has some of the best tasting
beer
in the world” said Andre.
“I
agree.”
“Have
you been there?” he asked.
27
“Germany?...
Nah”
“Ah
man, you absolutely have to make a
trip
there at least once. I was stationed there
back
in the 90’s and enjoyed every bit of it,
from
the beer to the food…and I especially
miss
the women, if you know what I mean.”
“It
really sounds like a lot of fun.”
“It
is…I’m not sure about how much it
cost
to get over there now, but it’s most
definitely
worth visiting.”
“Well
I suppose,” I said looking down into
my
empty glass, debating whether or not to
have
another.
“Look
fella, not having a job is not the end
of
the world. Don’t sweat it too much. Just
know
that as long as you abide by the LLC
you’re
doin’ alright.”
“Yea…wait…huh?
LLC? Limited
Liability
Company?”
“No.
Listen young man, in time you’ll
come
to find out that life is all about the
LLC.
That is living, laughing, and crying”
he
said counting them out on his fingers. “If
there’s
a time when you’re not experiencing
any
of these three, you might wanna check
your
pulse.”
“Oh
okay, well I hope more so the first
two
than the last.” I replied.
28
I’m
not sure if I understood what
Andre
meant by the whole LLC motto, but
there
was something assuring in the way he
said
it so I went with it.
Shortly
after I paid my tab, I walked
to
the metro station and took my time
getting
on it. It felt good not to have to rush.
My
stop was last on the route so I had a lot
of
time to think about my future, but I
elected
not to. I got off at my stop and rather
than
walking home like I normally do, I
took
a cab.
29
30
relief
I felt was short
lived.
Upon
checking the time on my cell, I
discovered
a text from my girlfriend Lisa.
She
was reminding me of our dinner
reservations
at Zanthara.
Ordinarily
we ate out, and especially on
Fridays,
but never made reservations; unless
of
course it was a special occasion, but
which
one? It wasn’t her birthday.
Definitely
wasn’t mine. No gift-giving
holidays
at the beginning of November.
Think,
think, think… I
pressured myself. It
has
to be our anniversary, right? But then
again
there’s no way I would remember that.
Regardless
it has to be something important.
I
thought it to be necessary to bring a gift
just
in case. But no ordinary gift would do if
I
were to bring about the bad news of me
quitting
my job.
The
time now was four o’clock. Seeing that
the
mall was 20 minutes away in the
31
TheChapter
3
opposite
direction of the restaurant, there
was
no way to achieve this during rush hour.
I
had to think of something, and quickly. I
began
playing the guessing game:
Ooh
tickets to a Broadway show!
What
the hell am I thinking? She hates
musicals
and so do I.
Well
maybe a concert! Nah still wasn’t big
enough…
Ten
minutes later, my brain was exhausted
from
all of the guessing; and I hadn’t even
gotten
dressed yet. Trying to calm things, I
stepped
out on to the balcony and lit a
cigarette.
With all of this stress I was in dire
need
of a vacation.
Hold
on, that’s it! A vacation! Hell yea!
Why
didn’t I think of that sooner?! But
where
would we go? She’d been almost
everywhere
within the western hemisphere.
Wherever
it was, it had to be someplace new
and
exciting, and clean. Lisa was slightly
mysophobic.
Suddenly,
I recalled Andre the
bartender’s
suggestion to visit Germany.
Although
I wasn’t so sure if it was a place to
plan
a couple’s vacation, I remember Lisa
telling
me her parents took a tour of the
32
castles
in Germany when she was in college.
As
well as how upset she was that she
couldn’t
go due to her having a serious case
of
mono.
I
decided to scour the junk mail on
my
laptop for offers and discounts on travel.
I
came across a package deal to southern
Germany
for less than seven hundred
dollars.
Before proceeding, I skimmed a
page
on things to do in southern Germany.
According
to the page they were
known
for their automobile makers, beer
factories,
museums, castles, festivals, as
well
as shopping malls. The trip featured
was
for one week in Stuttgart, Germany and
included
a five night stay at an above
average
hotel. I had to admit, it sounded like
a
very attractive deal. For starters, I took a
German
language course in college and
loved
German beer; and in addition, Lisa
was
obsessed with European fashion. A
match
made in heaven.
Besides
if she didn’t want to go I could
always
cancel it. [Let’s face it, it’s the
gesture
that counts, right.] I booked the trip
for
the first Friday of December, exactly 1
month
away. I then got dressed and headed
out.
33
Zanthara
was a very trendy
restaurant
that specialized in Scandinavian
food,
though in the two times we’ve been
here
we’ve only tried the salad. Lisa brought
me
here on our second date. Apparently, I
screwed
up by taking her to Captain Ray’s
Seafood
Dock on our first date where she
hurled
at the sight of crawfish in her salad.
From
that point on, I was no longer allowed
to
pick the restaurant.
Upon
entering the restaurant I
received
a text saying that she was pulling
up
to the spot. For once, I had arrived before
she
did.
When
I first met Lisa she was
interning
at the C. L. Gates Convention
Corporation.
The following year she was
hired
there as a Sales Associate. Two
months
later she was promoted to manager,
and
now receives quarterly bonuses three
times
my pay check. I mean she was the
perfect
sales person; a twenty-four year old
petite
Jewish girl from Hartford Connecticut
and
a recent graduate of Princeton
University.
Her body was very slim and she
quite
frequently used her charm to get
whatever
she wanted. I sometimes wonder
how
it is that I’m even with her. She’s
allergic
to cats and dogs so naturally she
34
never
came to my place, and I’d only been
to
hers twice. The only time we really saw
each
other was out in public or at a hotel.
My
brother swears out she’s cheating on
me;
yet on the contrary, his relationship was
the
exact same but less glamorous. [If that
even
makes any sense]
On
several occasions I can recall
Lisa
bragging about how jealous her
colleagues
get when she shows up with me
at
networking events. Was I trophy
boyfriend?
In the middle of my thought she
walked
in.
“Mel,
why haven’t you gotten our table?
Is
there a problem?” She asked.
“No,
no problem, I just figured I’d wait
for
you so that you wouldn’t have to search
for
the table.”
“Don’t
be silly I wouldn’t have to search, I
made
the reservation.” She then walked pass
me
and gestured to the hostess. “Excuse
me…I
have a reservation for two under Lisa
Silver.”
It
was rare that she greeted me with a hug or
a
kiss, but no greeting at all? No hi, hello, or
anything.
That’s just rude. She walked at a
35
very
quick paste as if she was in a hurry to
sit
and eat. I figured, like me, she’d had a
rough
day. I pulled her chair out for her as
she
took off her trench coat. She
immediately
opened the menu before I could
sit.
The server walked over with a basket of
fresh
bread. Lisa hated bread.
“Oh
no, we won’t have this. You can take
that
away but before you leave we would
like
to have two mineral waters and two
Caesar
Salads no cheese and non-fat Caesar
dressing
please.” After obliging, the waiter
walked
away slightly shocked.
“So
how was your day?” I asked.
“It
was pretty average; I had to attend the
Colonial
Wine Mixer this afternoon and I
ended
up winning the company a multi-
million
dollar account. Later this evening, I
have
to accept the Carnegie sales person of
the
year award.”
“Wow,
that’s fantastic! Are you excited?”
“Thrilled”
she said in an un-thrilling tone.
“So
this is a celebration dinner, right?”
“What?
Of course not, we make
reservations
here all the time [by all the time
she
meant once a year]. I wouldn’t celebrate
anything
here.”
36
“So
you just wanted to get a bite to eat
before
going to the award ceremony?” I
asked.
“Uh
yeah, I didn’t have time to eat lunch
and
you know how dreadful the food is at
these
types of events. Enough about me how
was
your day?” she asked while reading her
blackberry.
Before
I could answer the server showed up
with
our food. It was probably a good idea
to
break the news to her on a full stomach
anyway.
Throughout
dinner she constantly
spoke
to and texted her clients, which gave
me
a lot of time to admire the historic
looking
drapes in the restaurant. They had to
have
been over twenty feet tall. How often
could
you even clean something that
enormous?
I
imagined the amount of dust that would
fall
if someone were to shake ‘em.
“MEL!”
She startled me. “Are you coming
or
not?”
“Where?”
“With
me to the ceremony… I need to
know
now so that I can have Cynthia
37
reserve
you a ticket”, she said while cradling
her
cell up to her ear.
“Ummm…yeah?
“Cynthia,
please reserve an extra ticket for
me.
Thanks”—finally hanging up the phone.
“So
babe, I didn’t tell you about my day” I
said.
“Please
don’t call me that. I hate when you
call
me that” she replied.
“Okay,
‘Lisa’ can I tell you about my
day?”
“Yea
sure what happened?”
“I
quit.”
“Quit
what?”
“My
job!” I responded excitedly.
“Well
great it’s about time. That place was
a
complete waste of time. So where are you
working
now?”
“Nowhere,
I just quit today.”
“What?
You don’t have another job lined
up?
You’re unemployed?”
“Well
yea, only for right now.”
“Hold
on…I understand that it was a shitty
job,
but who quits their shitty job before
finding
a better one? Have you lost your
mind?
“Well…”
“No
really, who does that?!”
38
“Well
of course I’m going to get a new
one.”
“Look
Mel, this country is in a recession.
It
takes some serious time and planning to
get
a good job. And frankly, I don’t have
that
kind of time to wait for you to get a
job!”
“Huh,
what do you mean you don’t have
time
to wait? Hold on…are you breaking up
with
me?”
“Listen
Mel, you know the type of work
that
I do, and how important my image is. I
can’t
very well go around with an
unemployed
boyfriend on my arm in front
of
my clients.”
“What
the hell? Oh, okay so I am a trophy
boyfriend?”
She
began putting her trench coat on as she
got
up from the table with a look of pity on
her
face. I was outraged at the fact that she
didn’t
answer the question. She then opened
her
purse and left ten dollars on the table.
“I’m
sorry, I have to go,” she said.
I
couldn’t believe what’d just happened.
Talk
about kicking a man when he’s down.
The
server, right on cue, then dropped off a
sixty-one
dollar tab and two mints. There
goes
my cab fare.
39
To
top off a shitty evening it began
to
rain, drenching me as I moped to the
subway
stop. On the train ride home I
started
to rethink things. Maybe Lisa was
right.
Perhaps I had lost my mind. I was
twenty-seven
years old with no sense of
direction
for my life. I’d brought this on
myself.
And
as for the basis of our
relationship,
I suppose that deep down I was
hoping
that in some way her brilliance
would
rub off on me; besides it wasn’t too
bad
being a trophy boyfriend.
40
The
next morning I woke
up to the
most
irritating bark from badass #1 and the
most
obnoxious whine from badass #2.
Although
I’m against animal cruelty, I
wouldn’t
mind having one of those shock
collars
right about now.
I
rolled over to check my phone.
Surprisingly
there were no missed calls from
work,
but I did have a new voicemail from
my
mom. She left a message to remind me
to
get fitted for my tux tomorrow. My mom
was
the self-appointed planner for Jeff’s
wedding,
which was to occur mid-summer
of
next year.
I
gave the dogs some slippers Jeff
had
left in my room, to chew on so they’d
shut
up. On the table I observed a note he’d
left.
It said to leave my portion of the rent
on
the counter and to take the dogs for a
walk.
41Chapter
4
Wow
I was starting to like being jobless. It
gave
me time to do the things that I never
wanted
to do in the first place. At the
moment
I was struggling to figure out why I
felt
like shit.
Hmm…I
didn’t drink much last night, and
from
the looks of it I got at least 10 hours of
sleep.
Oh yea, Lisa broke up with me. Nah,
that
wasn’t it either.
After
several minutes of scratching my
head,
it dawned on me that I purchased
those
plane tickets yesterday. I searched
about
the room for the flight details in order
to
cancel it.
Upon
viewing the printed out
itinerary,
I discovered that I’d booked the
wrong
date. It was for this Friday—as in
today.
The flight was set to leave this
evening.
I scrambled to find my cell phone
in
order to cancel them before it was too
late.
I dialed the number and spoke with a
sales
rep., who must have been having a
rough
day because he was being a real prick
over
the phone. Because I didn’t get flight
insurance
he was only able to refund me for
one
of the tickets. The hotel offer included
in
the trip was completely non-refundable.
[That’s
what I get for buying on impulse]
42
I
stepped out on the balcony to smoke a
cigarette.
The neighborhood was calm and
quiet
(well at least for New York anyway).
After
heavily weighing the pros and cons of
actually
going on this trip, I came to the
conclusion
that I needed to get away from
NYC
as soon as possible. My life was
depressing.
After all, I had absolutely
nothing
to do; it wasn’t like I had a job to go
to.
Moreover, it was a nice day for flying.
Without
further discussing it with myself, I
packed
my luggage with the necessities and
left
my rent check on the counter on my way
out.
Upon
arriving at JFK via train, I
checked
my bags in and picked up my
boarding
pass. I then stopped at one of the
stores
and bought a magazine, a pack of
small
cigars, chewing gum and some pills to
help
me sleep. The flight time on the ticket,
was
a horrifying 8 hours, which is way too
long
to be up in the air. I boarded the plane
but
not before praying. As the plane began
to
ease on to the runway and prepare for
takeoff,
I started thinking to myself that
maybe
this was a bad idea. But either way
there
was no turning back now.
43
I
read my magazine for much of the
first
hour until we started to experience
turbulence.
At this point I reached in my bag
and
pulled out a few sleeping pills. Clearly
I’d
underestimated the effectiveness of those
pills
because the next thing I remember is
the
pilot saying that we have arrived at
London
Heathrow Airport. The time was
now
8:27 am.
I
woke up having to piss so badly.
As
soon as we exited the plane, I spotted a
young
American teenage girl speaking to a
flight
attendant about her connecting flight.
It
was to Milan, Italy and it was set to board
in
ten minutes. The flight attendant told her
to
tell the shuttle operators so they could
rush
her along. We boarded the shuttle
outside
the plane and headed to arrivals. I
could
hear the young girl’s conversation
with
the shuttle operator. She showed him
her
connecting ticket. He then replied to her
in
a smug English accent “there’s no way
you’re
going to make that.” The eager and
hopeful
look she once had on her face was
now
unenthusiastic and hopeless as she
opened
her cell phone and started to call her
parents.
Suddenly
a Scottish speaking
gentleman
standing next to us, that smelled
44
horrific,
asked to see her ticket. He then said
“don’t
worry they don’t know what they’re
talking
about, you’re going to make it. I’ve
had
a ten minute connect time here before
and
I made it.”
She
looked up with a few grams of
hope
left and in a child-like voice said
“really
I can make it?”
He
responded, “Of course you are, just show
the
operators at the security terminals your
ticket.”
The
shuttle finally docked at the terminal.
As
the girl skipped away with her ticket in
hand,
I couldn’t help but think of Charlie
and
the Chocolate Factory. A tear almost
came
to my eye. But with all of this talk
about
connecting flights I had forgot to take
a
look at mine. I reached into my coat
pocket
to take a look. I had 30 minutes to
get
to my gate.
I
paid a quick visit to the restroom
upon
getting to arrivals. Afterwards, I
ventured
towards my gate. The airport was
fucking
enormous! I walked the moving
sidewalks
with haste in an effort to prepare
for
the unexpected. I passed the bottle check
point
and started up the crowded staircase.
When
I glanced over I saw the young girl
45
skipping
up the deserted escalator next to
me.
She had a huge grin on her face and
yelled
“I’m going to make it! I’m going to
make
it!” [Before it was cute, now it was
getting
to be obnoxious]
Ten
minutes later, I made it to the
peak
of the stairs and found myself in the
longest
security check point line ever. It was
set
up like a maze and there was no sign of
progressing.
I felt as if I were waiting to ride
the
Avalanche coaster at Adventure Land.
Next
to this line I spotted an empty no wait
line
for preferred customers. My flight was
now
boarding and set to leave within twelve
minutes.
Starting
at the bottom of the
escalator
was a group of guys carrying
instrument
cases. They wore black p coats
like
mine, but with the collar turned up. I
looked
down at my ticket and had an
epiphany.
I turned up my collar and walked
over
to the guy carrying the guitar case and
asked
him a few questions about his band;
this
quickly turned into a conversation as we
walked.
When we got to the beginning of
the
no wait line we flashed our tickets to the
guard
and kept walking. Ironically, we were
boarding
the same flight to Stuttgart,
Germany.
46
The
plane was definitely a lot
smaller
than the one I boarded in the states.
Luckily
it was a three hour flight.
Yes,
an aisle seat!
As
I approached my seat, I spoke to the
gentleman
sitting near the window. He was
reading
some sort of soldier’s manual. He
was
dressed in U.S. Army fatigues and
resembled
an older Jean Claude Vandamme
with
a buzz cut. He introduced himself as
Phil
and then went back to reading his smart
book.
The
middle seat between us was
vacant,
and I hoped it stayed that way. After
putting
away my carry on, I looked up and
saw
a tall and skinny blonde-haired girl
board
the plane while talking on her cell
phone.
She was walking towards me. With
the
majority of the plane already full, I
could
only assume she was going to sit in
my
row, and she did. She smiled at me with
a
sigh of relief as she approached. I stepped
aside
to let her in.
“Okay
mom I’ll call you when we
land”…she
said as she hung up her cell
phone.
From
her deep southern sounding accent I
could
tell she was American and not British.
47
She
introduced herself to me and Phil the
army
guy as Sharnay from Indiana. As the
plane
prepared for takeoff, I noticed her
clasp
tightly on to the arm rest.
When
the plane finished its ascent, I felt a
strong
need to break the awkward silence.
“So
Sharnay, why are you flying to
Germany?”
I asked
“I’m
going to visit my boyfriend. He’s
German
but he lives in the states now. He
had
to go back home to fix some type of
machine.
He’s an engineer and since his job
is
keeping him here for two months, he
thought
it’d be a good idea if I fly out to
visit.”
“That
sounds nice.”
“Yeah…by
the way I love your hat. When
I
saw you I was telling my mom on the
phone
that I was okay because I was sitting
beside
a Yankees fan.”
“Oh
so you’re a Yankees fan too?”
“Hells
yeah! I got the actual Yankee
Stadium
seats in my apartment. They were
hella
expensive but I love ‘em. What brings
you
to Germany?” she asked.
“Uhhh
going to see some friends” I
hesitated.
(I mean who vacations in Europe
by
themselves?)
48
“Ah
sweet. Do we get free alcohol on this
flight?
I don’t like to fly so much. It’s only
my
second time. Heck, I’ve never even been
out
of the country before today.”
“I
don’t like to fly either. To answer your
question,
I think we get a choice of a
complimentary
beer or wine with our meal”
I
replied.
“Good,
I need something strong.”
When
the flight attendant came around we
ordered
two small bottles of Jack and a beer
for
Phil.
Sharnay
told us the story of how she
graduated
from college, got a waitressing
job,
met her boyfriend and became a blues
and
jazz singer. Although she was only a
year
younger than me she was living an
interesting
life to say the least. When I told
her
about the type of work I was in,
ironically,
she expressed how much she
envied
me because I had a “real” job.
Candidly,
I couldn’t help but to envy her. I
missed
having a part-time gig, getting shit-
faced
with my friends, sleeping in late, and
doing
it all over again the next day.
As
we talked, the alcohol continued
to
flow. Our first round had quickly turned
in
to 2 cups of wine, 6 beers and 3 small
49
bottles
of Jack. Sharnay and I debated with
Phil
on why the New York Yankees were
America’s
team and why Boston blows. In
our
inebriated state, we made several toasts
to
the U.S. on a plane filled with a majority
of
Europeans; at the time it made perfect
sense.
I
took a glimpse at my watch, and
noticed
that we were just an hour into the
flight.
I
returned my attention to notice Sharnay’s
hand
rubbing my leg while she spoke with
Phil.
As her hand inched closer up my thigh,
I
heard my pants unzip before I could even
conceive
what was going on. Anxiety met
excitement
all at once spurring a familiar
sensation,
yet not quite the one I was
expecting.
All of the drinks I consumed
were
beginning to work their way out. I
promptly
called a time out for a bathroom
break.
My quick steps down the aisle to the
back
of the plane came to a screeching halt,
when
I was met with two long separate lines
for
the lavatory.
Several
minutes later I returned to
my
seat wondering what damage I had done
in
upsetting the mood. To my surprise she
was
slumped down in her chair unconscious.
Phil
was also asleep, up against the window
50
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