Impatience on subway...

The other day I was walking up the staircase at the subway and -

On the left was this *huge* (black) guy whose ass took up that whole half of the staircase

- and -

On the right was this totally out-of-it (white) (mid-20s) girl in an expensive coat lollygagging up the middle of the stairs, oblivious to everything since she had her iPod stuck in her ears.

I was sprinting to reach the train, but they blocked me, and I just missed it, the doors closing as I reached them.

I didn't get that pissed, and another train was along within 5 minutes, but people who take up staircase (or sidewalks!) like that really tick me off, they're so inconsiderate.

Addendum.

I forgot -


At some point I was asking about politics in Bulgaria, too, to find out if they had an anti-clerical ultra-left youth party, and I mentioned how Poland had one gay and one transsexual parliamentarian.

She was like, "That is good, that is how it should be, this is a modern world, everyone needs a voice."

Honestly, young Slavs are so cool, they are so open-minded and wonderful, in my experience.  

Bulgarian Bartender Story (3 of 3): Fresh produce.

Right before I left, somehow we got to talking about fresh produce, which she misses.

I said that as soon as I get money, I'd like to get a share in a community-supported agriculture, and she said she did that for a while, but she gets food at the restaurant and it was too much for her and her boyfriend even if they give some food to their neighbors, but in the summer sometimes on her day off she take a short trip up just across the state border to a farm that she likes.

"Oh," she was like, "The corn, and the tomatoes, and the cucumbers, it is so good.  And they always give me more, I try to pay, but they give me more.  Last time, they gave me two huge watermelons, and I put them in the trunk of my car with the rest, and it looks like the produce section, there is so much."

Bulgarian Bartender Story (2 of 3): Bulgarian at a southern gas station.

Later, we were talking about the American south, and I said I hated it, and she said she liked it for the most part, except for one experience.

"I was driving back from Florida and I was in Kentucky or Tennessee, somewhere like that," she was like.

"I was at a gas station and I was talking on my cell phone with my mother, and then this old man, a white man with a beard, you know, a hillbilly, says to me, 'Excuse me, but we speak English in this country.'  I could barely understand him, because of his accent, but I listen and understand, and I say, 'Excuse me, but the last time that I knew, the United States has no national language.  And, I am talking on the phone, so you are very rude.'"

"Good for you," I was like.

"I am a person like that," she was like.  "You are nice, I am nice, you step on my feet, I step on your feet."

At that I nodded, and she continued on, "He looks like this" - and she mugged and made the guy's head go back and his eyes open up - "And he says, 'Pardon me, but I did not understand you', so I say, "Fuck you."  He did not say anything, so I say, "Fuck you, did you hear me, do you understand that?'".

"Good for you," I was like.

Then she said that she continued to talk on the phone with her mother, paid up for the gas, and left.

Bulgarian Bartender Story (1 of 3): Bulgarian at the movies.

So the other day after teaching I went out to hit up some bars, and I ended up at this Italian restaurant-bar that's a local chain (3 restaurants), and not only did I run into the owner, who I had met at another of the restaurants, but I also had this great conversation with the bartender, a shorter mid-30s woman with big blonde hair and a huge rack and a curvy butt jammed into a tight black shirt and black tights.

When I found out she was Bulgarian, I was like, "Kak si?" ("How are you?"), which she did not acknowledge beyond a "Very good."

After a while, I told the story of how 2 Bulgarian friends of mine from college were on a bus and talking Bulgarian, and this funny-looking little kid kept staring at them, and one of them was like, "Why is that funny-looking little kid staring at us."

"Because that funny-looking little kid speaks Bulgarian," the kid had said.

"Oh, that happened to me!", she was like.

"I was at the movies at [a theater near city limits where the city is turning suburban already] with a girlfriend, and a guy who was in line before us had a great ass.  I said this about his ass and that about his ass and my girlfriend agreed, and then, he turns and says, 'Take it easy, girls.'"

(And she said "Take it easy, girls," in a very low - suave - macho voice.)






Then, she was like, "Seriously."

Comment from my redhead in class: Flirty fishing.

So my class is starting to read Miriam William's "Heaven's Harlots", which in large part covers her days "flirty-fishing" as a sacred prostitute in Monte Carlo for the Children of God.

Before class, I was chit-chatting with my one redhead student, and she was like, "I didn't realize that Monte Carlo needed missionaries."

2nd year of barhopping congratulations: Various text messages.

Many people who I know are enthused by my barhopping project.  Because I love to text, I send out mass notices to 50+ people at my major milestones (e.g. 1^st year of barhopping, 1000 bars, 2 years of barhopping).

These were some of the responses back I got to my text notice (in order of reception):

1) From my one soft-spoken Ph.D. student friend from Iowa:

Congrats !!!!

2) From my one (Puerto Rican) professor friend:

!Extraordinario hermano!  Eres todo un pro.

3) From my one minister friend who’s a stand-up comic and who I co-taught a church class with a few years ago:

You’re a madman.  Stay strong.

4) From my one (Puerto Rican) friend who studies political science:

Felicidades.

5) From my one friend from Missouri who I know through my one lawyer friend from Missouri:

Congratulations, [the initials of my 1^st and last names]!!

Then, in a follow-up text:

V impressive

6) From my one friend from college who did her Ph.D. in public health:

Wow!

7) From an (originally from Wisconsin) friend who used to date my one friend from Buffalo:

Holy shit.  How are you not an alcoholic.

8) From this radio guy I’m friends with because he was dating my one (Irish) artist friend:

Holy shit!  Congratulations

9) From my one friend from college who’s an actuary:

Sweet congrats!  So are you retiring now?

10) From my one modern Czech literature professor friend:

That’s a good record, but you can do better!  Drop and give me 50!

11) From my one Ph.D. student friend who’s a short story writer and very fervently intense and also loves to hang out and drink in bars and meet people:

Damn.  1203 unique bars.  How many are there in the greater [name of the city I live in] area?  What a fucking city.  What a fucking gauge of life!

. . .

I love texting.  I can hear each and every one of their voices in their texts.