Just in case someone from work comes across my site and sees that previous entry, thus putting my job in jeopardy, I’d like to clarify that I really was sick. My stomach had been acting up all weekend and Monday, and yesterday’s rest was much needed. I can feel the productivity coursing through my veins now.
So, last night, after spending the better part of the day in bed, I managed to drag myself into Chelsea for my Volunteers of America meeting. Yes, I’m actually donating my time to a good cause.
The meeting was spent brainstorming ideas for possible events for the homeless, people living with HIV, victims of domestic violence, at-risk youth, etc. Of course, I had to venture my personal favorite suggestion.
“Um, how does everyone feel about baseball?”
“Oh, yeah, baseball. We go to a lot of games. We actually have a good relationship with the Mets,” our group leader says.
“Oh, wow, really. That’s cool,” I squeak.
“Yeah, Tom Glavine and Cliff Floyd actually do a lot of charity work with us. We also have an event where ten players come to Morton’s Steakhouse and treat some kids to a steak dinner.”
“Wow, that’s really cool.” At this point I’m tightening all the muscles in my stomach to keep it from bursting and spraying my innards all over the twinkle-eyed volunteers.
Besides being my link to my future husband, the Volunteers of America do a lot of really cool/fun charity work, and I encourage everyone to join. Unless you’re an attractive female. In which case, don’t.
Moral of the story: volunteer work = cool
Despite the cost involved, I can’t say enough about the upgrade in your commuting experience when you take the Long Island Railroad. I was all set for a relaxing, enjoyable ride home on the LIRR, oblivious to the fact that the Rangers game had just let out.
In two words: absolute chaos
In three words: absolute drunken chaos
I settled into my seat, headphones blaring, when a throng of drunken, raucous Rangers fans swarmed into my car and engulfed me in the stench of cheap beer. Thank God for noise-cancelling earphones.
I consider myself a very friendly person, but like most New Yorkers, I don’t like it when people speak to me on the train. So of course the two middle-aged gentlemen sitting next to me just had to engage me in conversation.
“What are you listening to?” Man #1 asks.
“What kinda music?”
“This is Pat, by the way.” Man #1 gestures to Man #2.
“You listen to metal?” Pat asks.
“No, not really.”
At this point it became clear that they weren’t going to leave me alone, and as a person who despises rudeness in any form, and because I was honestly curious, I asked, “So, did the Rangers win?”
“No,” Man #1 says, “it was a close game though. Are you a Rangers fan?”
“Are you a sports fan?”
“What’s your sport?”
“So, who won today?”
“The Mets, naturally.”
“What pitcher won today?” he challenges me.
“Oh! You really are a Mets fan! Who’s your favorite player?”
“David Wright. Obviously, I’m a girl.”
Here we talked some more about this season, the new players, etc. etc., then proper introductions were made, but I don’t remember his name. Finally, the Bayside stop came up and I said good night and got off.
Moral of the story: sports fans = good peoples