It's no secret that I am slightly particular about where I go for lunch. Seriously, I spend all day working at a lab bench, and lunch is my hour escape for the day. I want to spend it somewhere nice, and not near the lab or any semblance of work. Thus, I usually go off campus. I have found a few places which I enjoy and regularly frequent, but the trick is to space out how often you go to one restaurant. I don't want to become a "regular" at a place, because then the people who work there begin to feel as if they know you, and then they try to initiate social interaction, and that just leads to a whole different can of worms. Casual conversation is nice, but having a waitress come up and ask for the 793rd time if everything is alright followed by a serious conversation about her boyfriend's erectile dysfunction and it's impact on their relationship and thus global warming is where I tend to draw the line.
Recently, aside from the usual places (Chipotle, Foronomo's, Rincon Market, etc.), I have recently added Quiznos subs to the list. I first went to Quiznos quite some time ago and I remember not liking the food that I had ordered. This lead to a dry spell between me and Quiznos...my loyalty so Subway could simply not be shaken). This changed however when I went back with some people at work. I tried a sandwich and decided that it was probably the best sub that I had had in quite some time. Since then, I have frequented the restaurant many times. Recently, I was watching the rain fall down from a streetlamp inside Quiznos when I noticed that it began flying sideways and fluttering to the ground. It was snowing. And that brings me to my story.
Surrender to Quiznos...mmmm, your disposable income is TOASTY!
I was standing in line waiting to take home dinner. I wanted Quiznos for a quick grab and go dinner, and was trying to beat the clock home so I could catch Grey's Anatomy (priorities, people!). Anyway, the moment that I walked in I knew that I was in trouble. Now, I'm all for cheap labor. Seriously, I'm a graduate student (the literal secondary definition of cheap labor). But I do find that the High School age work force leaves something to be desired. I went to the back of the line and waited for my turn. In front of me was an extremely heavy-set teenager who was having a strange conversation with the kid who was making his sandwich.
"I'm not harassing you, I'm a paying customer." the kid was saying to his sandwich maker. A lively exchange followed: "Don't forget, six pieces of cheese." "Not that sauce, the other one...". I soon found out that the guy ordering his sandwich not only knew the kid behind the counter, but worked at the Quiznos himself. He was off that night. Now, if I worked at a restaurant, I certainly wouldn't eat there. I would be so sick of the food by that point that eating there would be out of the question. Ten minutes later, the guys gargantuan sandwich was in the end-stages of completion. "Don't put any tomatoes on it...I'm allergic to them, remember?" If I were making his sandwich I would be intently eyeing the Ketsup by that point.
About once every four or five years, a momentous even in Tucson happens: snow. This may not sound like a big deal to those who life in places that actually have seasons, but to those of us who inhabit the land of perpetual sunshine, it's kind of a huge thing. Anyway, I was sitting in a restaurant attempting to read some paper for work, when I looked outside and began watching the rain fall. It had actually been raining all morning (although I was asleep for most of it), and it was really nice just laying in bed and listening to it. I decided that it was time that I made peace with the rain since I had left Seattle, and in a strange moment of Zen and strong painkiller side effects from the aspirin that I took a few hours before, I did just that. Anyway, the rain has a funny way of apologizing, but it was really great at the same time. Sitting in the restaurant I noticed that the rain drops began falling slower, and then even slower. The next time I looked out the window, the snow was falling. That's the peace offering I get from mother nature: 1/2 an inch of show and people who can't drive in it. For the disconcerting out-of-towner (Snowbirds they are [not so]-affectionately called here), 1/2 inch of snow is nothing that interesting. However, we have closed schools for less in Arizona.
Traffic accidents are a curious thing. Whenever I see one on the freeway or wherever I am headed, I'm not 100% sure how I should react. Part of me wants to pull over, ask if anyone needs help, and then offer up my cell phone so that the people involved can call the police/ambulance/ex husband/rabid lawyer...whatever suits their fancy. Then, part of me just wants to get to where I need to be going because (more often then not) I'm really late and cannot be bothered by the likes of roadside carnage. Then, there is the obvious part of me that lurks within us all...the watcher. Yes, the one who is going along on his merry way at a good pace, and then...wham, slams on his breaks to get a better look and the path of destruction which sits before him. This inevitably causes the rest of the traffic to slow down, but I consider it a favor to them so they can get a better look. Seriously, who doesn't want to see burnt out tires and blood during their morning commute?
UPS really takes that "eliminate the competition" thing seriously. What can Brown kill for you?
The other thing about traffic accidents that makes me a horrible person is the fact that I have a need to see exactly who's fault the accident was, and what types of cars were involved. For example, if a Dodge Neon hits a Ford Excursion...yikes that will ruin someones weekend. But if a Porshe hits a Lamborghini...well, que sera sera. It's strange, but I feel oddly vindicated when I see fancy cars in wrecks, and I don't know why. The insurance premiums are high enough on those type of cars that I feel as if I simply don't have to care about the people involved because I'm sure they will be flown first class to a wonderful hospital and be treated in a hospital gown designed by Versace. Still however, what makes me even worse is the fact that I feel the need to compare every car to my own involved in an accident. If I see my car (a Chevy Equinox) involved in a fender bender, I feel immediately compelled to side with the driver my car. Screw the other guy! Who cares if the Equinox got hit doing 75 in a 45 while turning left at a red light! The other fucker should have been watching what the fuck the Equinox was going and gotten out of the way! Ass!
Why is it when two people are together that everything becomes a struggle? Sometimes, even the most simple decisions (i.e. whether or not to take a trip) inevitably turn into hour long debates. The approval of the other person in the relationship is needed so much that simple decisions cannot be made with out it. Hopefully, eating is not one of those decisions, but if the survival of the species hinged on the ability of couples to perform simple tasks and decision making skills, then we would be extinct in six months. And after all the decision making and schedule tweaking is over, it seems that couples oftentimes complicate the issue so much that they sometimes forget about what they actually were discussing in the first place. It's frustrating for me and all being an outsider, and I pride myself on being able to keep the simple things simple.
Advertised as "perfect for any couple"...yikes.
I think it's the cohesiveness of couples and all that simply seems to bother me so much. When the phrases "I feel like" and "I want to" become "We feel like" and "Do it now or I want a divorce" is when you know you are in deep shit. That's also when I begin to loose interest in people. I should write a mathematical proof for it or something. When I becomes we...then go fuck yourself. Still more annoying are those that are connected at the hip and refuse to do anything by themselves. Some comic I heard a long time ago summed it up best: Your girl or boyfriend as the case may be is sort of like a tattoo. When you first decide you want one, you're not sure exactly what kind you want. Then when you get one, you are all excited and can't wait to show it off. Then it gets annoying, infective, and you finally have to get it surgically removed later.
The worst is when one member of the couple decides that she is going to do her best to change the other (I normally don't like to use he or she in such an accusation, but let's be honest). If you can't function with one person maintaining his own personality, then something is seriously flawed with the relationship. I know there are people out there who attempt to do this to their partner, and I simply think to myself, "stop it...we don't need another you in the world, we already have one and that's enough."
I think this one is more to the point...
So why all this bitterness toward couples? Philosophically, I have absolutely no problem with them. It's when they start effecting my life that I get annoyed. Currently, I am waiting for a call back from one of them to find out if I am going anywhere this weekend. I could very easily climb in my car, drive off, and have a very pleasant time by myself, but company always makes the trip better. However, when you have to wait 20+ minutes for people to finally get their act together and simply make up their mind as to whether or not they want to go, that's 30 minutes of my life that's wasted. Was there a good reason for wasting my time...no. They just can't make up their mind. Ahhh, there should be serious consequences for such a thing.
I haven't seen 6 a.m. in quite some time. Don't get me wrong, I've seen 5 a.m., but that is usually because I am on my way to bed from the night before. I don't know what it is, but there is simply something disheartening about 6 a.m. that simply freaks me out. Whether it is the fact that you know that you have set yourself up for a long day's work, or that you aren't leaving the office until 6 p.m. thus completing a marathon 12 hour day. My 6 a.m. day started as most with the alarm going off. Since most of my stuff is still in Seattle, I have been reduced to using my cell phone as an alarm clock. It's not bad, except for the fact that it is very easy to turn off, roll over, and go back to sleep. This happened to me the other day, so I decided to put it on the other side of the room in the hopes that I would have to get out of bed to turn it off, and then I would get my lazy ass out of bed.
Need some motivation to get out of bed? How about this shnazy alarm clock shaped like the AIDS virus?
I honestly believe that I am at my most brilliant when I am sleeping. Sleep is where my best ideas are formed. Naturally, my asleep self was easily able to outwit my awake self this morning. The alarm did indeed go off, and I indeed did get out of bed to turn it off. However, I was so tired that instead of getting up as planned, I just went back to bed. However, it was the way I went back to bed that really irritates me. I decided while half asleep "ya know, the bed is all the way across the room, the the floor here by the bathroom looks really comfortable. Yep, there's some good sleeping to be had right here..." Needless to say, I went back to sleep right there on the bathroom floor. I guess I'll have to wait another day to see 6 a.m.
I simply couldn't sit and look at the old Life In Transit posts anymore. That was a part of my life that I am done with. Moved away, learned a lot, came home, and now I am a stronger person for it. That's it, it's done...and let us never speak of it again. Some may see it as a step in the wrong direction, but I see it more as a step in the right direction. I learned more about myself in four months than I had in the past two years, and that's really something. I learned that seventeen inches of rain in the month of November is a lot to deal with (especially when you come from a land full of perpetual sunshine), I learned ever to cross girls with an ivy league education and Daddy's MasterCard, and I learned that there are exactly seventeen Starbucks locations in the downtown Seattle area which encompasses approximately 10 city blocks (3,566 individual stores in the greater Seattle area according to Google). Instead of focusing on the negative...the fact that I've been forced to make some of the toughest decisions of my life over the past few weeks, and I'm still not 100% sure how everything is going to work out, I have decided to focus on the positive, remain calm, ditch the proverbial map, and see where I end up on this road of life over next few months. That's what I'm all about this year, trying new and different things. Things that I wouldn't try before. That was my resolution this new year. And now that I have gotten though my self-exploration rant...let the Starbucks bashing continue!
Look mom...I went to Foothills!
Seriously though, I shouldn't be so bitter toward Starbucks. After all, it is the Mecca for all college students studying for exams, caffeine addicts, and just about anyone with a hankering for overpriced shitty coffee. I myself find myself drawn toward the non-coffee drinks as I find that coffee has a tendency to taste a bit like chalk. The Caramel Apple Cider is particularly good, and it works better that caffeine (or even crack) to wake you up in the morning. Seriously though, if Starbucks wanted to, it could seriously take over the world. They are everywhere, and I'm beginning to think that they may employ a good 5% of the population of the U.S. Also, their product placement is impeccable. They're everywhere. At high schools, college campuses, and even grocery stores such as Safeway and Target. I know that when I am shopping at the scary target in town (so named the Targetto), there is nothing more that I would want then a nice frappachino. Nothing says class like shopping at Target with a Starbucks in one hand and your newly purchased Wrangler jeans in the other.
