Over the weekend I accompanied Miss Charming Melodee up to New Haven, Connecticut, to see one of her friend's art show. Said friend is in the Master's program at Yale, and this was the Master's thesis show for the 2nd year students. I wasn't particularly looking forward to going, but I wasn't dreading it either. I just don't like packing for overnight trips. As it turned out though, packing was a breeze. This was due to the fact that before having a chance to pack on Saturday morning, Miss CM and I went out to pick up breakfast. We went to separate places, and when I got back, she was sitting in front of the door eating her sandwich. At first I said "Aw, you're waiting outside for me. You didn't have to do that." Then I realized. "You don't have your keys, do you." On the way out of the door, five minutes earlier, I said "Do you have keys? I didn't bring mine." This wouldn't have been a huge deal if her friends weren't picking us up in an less than an hour, and I didn't have my bike. So we called the super, who informed us he wouldn't be back for three to four hours. When of our neighbors showed up, and I followed her in, but not until she tried to bar me from the building, bruskly saying "No, you can't come in," like I was some non-English speaking crazy person just following strangers into their homes. After (barely) convincing her that we lived there, Miss CM and I assessed the situation at the front door. I tried using my NYU ID card to open the door, to no avail. Still waiting for that damn NYU experience to pay off somehow. This would've almost redeemed the many thousands of dollars gone. Then I went up to the roof and climbed down the fire escape, probably alarming several neighbors, and tried to break into my own apartment. This is somethind I had to do all the time in college, so it's old hat. But I'm sure some other neighbors looked on suspiciously, wondering what kind of burglar would be attempting a break-in under the shadow of the noon sun. Anyway, the good news is my apartment is harder to break into than I though. The gate on the fire escape is extremely secure, and the only thing I succeeded in doing was slicing up my palm in three places. Right along the lifeline, actually, if you believe in palm-reading. I think. For a moment I considered vaulting over to the ledge of the Rumpus Room window where there was no gate. But it was a pretty long fall, and I briefly imagined Miss CM coming out back to look for me and seeing my broken body crumpled in a heap 30 feet below. She volunteered to climb down the fire escape, since I was convinced that her smaller hands could fit through the gate, but I myself found the climb down scarier than I'd thought, and if she'd fallen I never would've forgiven myself for putting her at risk just so we could avoid going one day without a fresh pair of underpants.
If there was any consolation to the whole locked-out disaster, is that it gave me a few "I told you so"s to lord over Miss CM for a change. usually I'm the one who screws something up. Usually we both have to pay the cost for my carelessness. But this time, I got to talk to her like she was a five year old. Shortly before leaving the apartment, I told her to turn the tv off, but she was all "we'll be back in a few minutes." We were not, and Dweezil and Lisa played all afternoon. Plus, I was a bit upset about the increase in the power bill this would cause. And of course, her saying she had her keys was the biggest chip to play. Of course, in the grand tally I'm still in the red versus her.
Anyway, luckily, Matt was home and we took my bike over to his house, where I also cleaned up my hand and borrowed a jacket. As I joke, Miss CM and I both wore shirts featuing lightning bolts on them, thinking we could change before leaving for Yale. Instead, we showed up looking like a couple of jerks.On a side note, I've had more than one conversation over the past week with more than one person about how distasteful we find it when people say they went to school in "New Haven" or "Boston," since it's abundantly clear that they mean Yale and Harvard. Just fucking say it! Even worse is when someone says they went to school in Cambridge. I don't know why this is such a sore point. I guess it only came up because I was noticing the fact that I was telling people I was going up to New Haven for the weekend, and didn't just say Yale. My experience with both New Haven and Yale, however, was limited to a three block stretch, as we didn't go anywhere but the friend's house and art buildings.
The experience itself was pretty enjoyable. I do enjoy art openings and whatnot, not least of all because of the wine and cheese and vegetable dip. I have a real problem when it comes to these things, where it's a real chore to turn my attention from the foor table. It's the same problem I have in bars where there's a TV playing. No matter what, it's a struggle to keep my eyes off it, not matter what's playing.
After the showing there was a party in the studio building. It reminded me very much of a fraternity party, minus the fraternity people. Or most of them. Maybe because it was held in a university building, so it had that kind of look. There was a lot of bad dancing, some shirt removing, so uncomfortable moments, and some warm punch. But overall, a fun time had by all. The highlight of my evening was probably the chicken fingers I ate at 2AM in a pizza place down the street. Less than 24 hours were spent in New Haven, and I could barely say a thing about it or about Yale (my previous verbosity notwithstanding).
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