I've had a problem with being on time to things ever since I was little. This issue, like most issues of children, was probably a direct effect of my parents' parenting. Whenever we were going somewhere, my mother would rush around the house picking up every little thing she could have possibly forgotten and stuffing it into her purse, while my father sat on the couch and watched football/basketball/soccer/ping-pong/competitive eating until the very last second before we had to leave, going as far as to let my sister and I start the car and "let the engine heat up" as we waited for him.My problem with punctuality has not affected my life all too negatively because I make it a point not to be late to important things--I have never shown up past the hour for an interview, a meeting with a teacher, a plane (except for the ONE time they shut down the entire Belt Parkway on the way to JFK...sorry if I had to get a pedicure for $12 from the Asian place down the block instead of shelling out $25 in Nashville, I thought allotting one hour for the 20 minute trip to the airport would do), a test, etc. But when it comes to smaller things--classes, dinners, dates--I am completely hopeless. Anyone who knows me moderately well knows that I operate on "Nikki Time," and thus knows to lie about the time of our dinner reservation (this Friday: Choice Kitchen & Cocktails), the movie (this Sunday: 500 Days of Summer (!)), the Hamptons jitney, etc etc. The one minutely irritating thing about this habit is that my friends tend to overestimate Nikki time and tell me to be a half hour early to things, when really I am usually only about 10 to 15 minutes late, but this is a small price to pay as it usually gives me the chance to read menus in detail, enjoy movie posters and popcorn, and people watch leisurely, so I have never had a real issue with my punctuality problem. Until now.
Yesterday I was watching the episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry thinks that someone stole his plane tickets and the search for them causes him and Cheryl to get to the airport late and miss their flight to her sister's wedding. There's a scene in the episode where they get to the airport and try to skip the security line to catch their flight and the people in the security line throw a fit, not allowing them to pass.
This scene shed a phenomenal amount of light on my lifestyle. As a cute teenage/20-something traveler in big sunglasses, Juicy sweatpants, and matching luggage, I have always been allowed to skip the security line. In fact, when going to the airport, I deliberately allow myself enough time to get on the plane but not have to wait in the security line--that is, I get to the airport early enough to catch a flight but late enough to pull the "Sir, my plane leaves in 30 minutes, do you think you could possibly by any chance of kindness and empathy allow me to skip you in line?" (Blink, blink). And it has always worked. There was once a close call flying from Lisbon to Milan with my dear friend Stacy where were told by a mean airport employee to ask every single person in line if it was okay if we skipped the line (apparently my cuteness doesn't transcend the Portuguese cultural border). We proceeded to ask the first ten people in line before she realized that we absolutely would snake our way down the line of hundreds to get on this plane, and let us pass.
I do this with not only planes but restaurants ("Ma'am I was SURE I said 830, not 8...I am leaving to move to London tomorrow and this is supposed to be my last dinner with my boyfriend" (Sniffle, Sniffle)), and thanks to Larry David, I've come to realize that in about ten years I will no longer be cute enough to pull this shit. So I've come to a resolution here and now. I will be on time to things.
Starting this day of July, Thursday the 30th, I will be a person who is not lied to in fear of her constant lateness. I will arrive punctually, if not early, for every event I schedule. I will never make a disgruntled friend tap on her watch face in front of the restaurant/club/theater/platform again. I will not run from the train station to work/yoga/meetings. I will not try to trick myself by winding all of my clocks to show a time that is 5 minutes later. I will simply be on time.
It can't be that hard...right?
In other news:
Train offender of the day: This morning, I saw Penn Badgley's identical twin on the C train. That is, he would have been PB's identical twin if ever thought that someone of Penn's bloodline would have the audacity to be wearing a yarmulke over his peyas and reciting from the Torah at 9am. Now I love my Judaism and my Jewish bretheren, but if you are that hot, why oh why must you be Hasidic? I decided to channel my commuter boredom into inching as close as possible to Badgley Bro until he moved away. It didn't take too long. Probably because Hasidic Jews aren't allowed to even touch women until they are married.
Thing I am excited for this weekend: brunch and/or dinner at Essex (three free Bloody Mary/Mimosas with your meal or unlimited half price drinks till 10pm...which to choose), a day of exploring Williamsburg for cheap eats and vintage clothes, and a Foley and Corinna sample sale.
I really really hope it doesn't rain. Did you hear that, God? As first karmic retribution for my resolution to be an on-time adult human being, it better not rain this weekend.
