Thing of the Day: Mistakes

Things that bother me: when you order something to go, bring it home, and find that you have been given the wrong order. For instance, when you have been craving a cup of delicious soup in cold and altogether icky weather and get up from your desk at work to go down 11 floors to Panera, make the effort to pick the perfect soup by sampling both the black bean and the summer corn chowder, finally decide on the classic and hearty french onion accompanied by a whole grain roll, go up 11 floors, sit down and find that not only has the fool who has prepared your french onion soup given you the tiniest morsel of cheese (think finger-nail sized rather than delectably spread across the entire surface) but he has given you an apple instead of a whole grain roll. Who would ever want to dip apple into their soup? Altogether infuriating to the point where I actually considered re-making the trek for the sake of perfecting my soup, alas, I have found some questionably expired wonder bread in the break room and am trying to make do. Also, my first lunch today (3.5 slices of Pizza Perfect, Nashville's only pizza place that even slightly challenges New York thin crust, consumed on my couch while watching the last episode ever of the O.C (on that note--why hasn't any television network managed to make a teen drama as wonderful as the O.C in the past four years? Gossip Girl doesn't even begin to compare. And 90210? Melrose Place? Spare me. Give me a relationship as wonderful as Seth and Summer's or as screwed as Marissa and Ryan's and then we'll talk. And Julie Cooper as the evil villianess that you love/hate? Georgina Sparx has nothing on Julie. And Blair Waldorf would be beat down by Marissa Cooper in a second. Josh Shwartz--I really did expect better things of you after this soap opera of staggering genius) and reading gossip magazines was absolutely wonderful so I decided to allow this imperfect soup experience.

But not before broadcasting my deep disdain to the internet. Duh.

Other questionable/mistaken occurencesthat have happened today--the little boy and hot air balloon incident. WTF. I spent an hour literally clutching at my chest almost in tears thinking about this six year old and how cold and scared and lonely he must feel and burst out into actual hysterics of joy when the balloon gently landed only to find A LACK OF CHILD IN IT. I'm thinking one of three things has happened here:

1)The little boy and the sibling who reported he climbed into the balloon decided to play a really funny joke on America. Thousands of dollars and 10 texts from Momma Bogo later, oops, no one ever climbed into the balloon in the first place!

2)The family of the boy, who are storm chasers who like to "conduct experiments" and "search for extraterrestrials" in their spare time and have been on Wife Swap, wanted some free publicity for their really cool UFO/balloon structure and decided to say that there was a child in it.

3)I am a huge bitch and this boy is actually missing. I reaaaaaaaally don't know though.

I am hoping that there will be a lack of mistakes in the latter half of my day--off to see O.A.R , Asher Roth, and Pitbull in concert and enjoy a typically wonderful and wonderfully typical Nashville Thursday. Also--I have been spending the majority of today reading current students abroad in Copenhagen blogs, and I have found one that I really like (no creepy when you Google yourself, stranger--Hi! (also, upon Googling myself the other day I have found that my Google hits have expanded from 347 to 502 since this summer...I'm goiiiiiiingg places, world. Hire me.): Travel Unraveled, by a girl who goes to Tufts and is studying with DIS. After hours of looking at pictures of Nyhavn, Radhusspladsen and Tasingegade (yes, these are real places in Copenhagen) , I have come to two conclusions: one, that I am really really really excited to host my three Copenhagen friends this weekend, and two, that I really want to go back to Europe as soon as possible. Extensive g-chat with a best friend who is studying in Paris next semester (hi, little one!) and active search for a graduation gift has led to the conclusion that I definitely want to travel for a month or so right after graduation. I got to see most of Europe's major cities, but would love to spend several weeks traveling throughout all of France, Spain, and Italy by train, drinking wine, taking photos, and gaining somewhere between 5 and 15 pounds. My Eurotrip experience was very AMAZING to say the least, but it was rushed and I never really got to spend more than a few days in most cities. It would be phenomenal to get the chance to just relax, record, and take it all in.

Researching flights and ways of hinting to the parentals. If you do read my blog, Margarita, please keep this in mind.

Happy weekend!

Thing of the Day: Taxis

Things I dislike: cab drivers who do not have change for really small bills. What the f? How can a cab driver, a person who by profession picks you up, drives you to a location, accepts your payment, and does virtually nothing else (except perhaps the rare breed of excellent cab driver friend--that which consoles you when you are intoxicated and sad, tells you stories of their homeland, blasts pop music and allows you to smoke out the window while encouraging you to find Jesus), not have change for a FIVE dollar bill? This morning, I hopped into my usual Allied Cab, prepared with Starbucks and cab cash (for those of you who do not go to Vanderbilt--cab cash: a genius Vanderbilt University invention that allows you to charge multi-colored Monopoly money to your student account and then pay cabs with this "money") to go to my internship. $6.90 later, I arrive at my destination, hand the driver two cab cash fives, and ask for two dollars back. To which he responds, "Oh, no, I do not have change." SIR. Are you joking. How is it possible for you not to have TWO DOLLARS in change? I may be gullible and impatient, but I was not about to let the scheming no-change driver keep my ten dollars. So I sat at the corner for at least a full minute, scooping dollar bills, quarters, and even dimes out of my purse. I would have considered this a low point had I not found a twenty dollar bill neatly stuffed behind my ID card in my Blackberry case (on this note, I think I am going to start hiding monetary surprises in all of my belongings for such low-point situations). I paid the man, got out, and am now left with a sense of disappointment in Nashville cabbies, impressment (word?) with the amount of money I found in my purse/pockets/Blackberry case, and reminiscent of cab rides past.

So, despite the fact that I love and miss my subway commute and will always be a huge and devoted fan of public transportation, a list of my favorite cab experiences to date. In no particular order.

-Last week, on my way back to campus from my internship, an Allied Cab driver asked me if my weekend plans included church. When I explained to him that I was Jewish, he enquired politely whether Jewish people a)go to church, and b)believe in Jesus Christ our Saviour. My answer of "no" really didn't strike a pleasant chord with this man, who then turned abruptly and demanded I explain how I think we all came to be in the first place and do I believe in anything and don't Jews go to "Jew Church?" After five minutes of explaining/arguing the Big Bang theory in broken English, he accepted my cab cash, hugged me, and encouraged me to find God as soon as possible. Then he gave me his card.

-This summer, en route to meet a friend for cheese fries at 3am, I got into a yellow cab and explained to him that I had no money and really high heels, so if there was any way he could just drop me off at Pomme Frites and call it a night, I would really appreciate it and be sure to send good Karma wishes his way. He did. And waited outside while I entered the glorious french fry establishment to make sure that I was okay.

-Last spring in Rome, when my friend Geneva and I took a cab from the airport to our hotel in Campo di Fiori, the cab driver used the hour-long ride as a guided tour to the city, taking us past all the major monuments in the city and explaining their origins, history, and key details. He then dropped us off at our hotel and recommended a restaurant on the corner that served giant glasses of boxed wine with massive portions of pasta for 8Euro per pasta/wine dish. I believe we got two each. And then free tequila shots which Geneva's friends requested in Spanish, because "they don't really care what language you speak if you're pretty."

-Not a single experience but does anyone remember the Disco Cab? It used to drive around campus freshman and sophomore year decked out in strobe lights, Mardi Gras beads, and surround sound blasting the lastest hits and allowing you to cram as many people as you wish into it's comfy leather seats. I believe our record was 14 girls in two rows of seats, with two crammed into the front, loudly singing/screaming "I'm bossyyyyyyy" while en route to Bar Car. Ugh, on that note, does anyone remember Bar Car?!

-Last winter in Copenhagen, when a cab driver allowed me to not only stop for a gyro (oh, the pre-vegetarianism days of smoked meats, assorted sausages, prosciutto by the slice, greasy fried chicken and onion-ring smothered steaks...despite almost taking a bite out of a tailgate hotdog this weekend, I have held out for almost four months now and feel great about it), but proceeded to let me eat said gyro in the front seat while discussing the Danish system of socialism, universal healthcare, and free education and its' many benefits over the American system. He was a really young and attractive cab driver (due to the Danish system of socialism, 20-somethings often hold jobs they never would in the United States), and I gave him my Danish phone number. I'd like to think that I gave him the wrong number, or perhaps he was just playing me like a fool, but I never heard from Sven(?) again.

-The time in high school where my best friend Rachel and I sat in the backseat and dangled our feet out of opposite windows while our driver stopped at every red light to pray over the wheel--upon third or fourth prayer we realized that in addition to being a religious fanatic, our cabbie had NO FINGERS on one hand. I miss high school.

Off to a delicious lunch at Cantina Laredo with the roommate. We will be driving ourselves, thank you very much.