6-30-02, 9:22 PM

Wow. Good gravy. I shall now recount to thee the tale of an epic struggle of such Herculean proportions that Women's suffrage pales in comparison. Shortly after I finished my last weblog entry, I went out to meet my sister for lunch and shopping, as the list of things missing from my room was growing faster than an especially enthusiastic jackrabbit population, running the gamut from trashbins to a fan to toilet paper. After completely failing to catch a cab (standing in the blazing sunlight for about 15 minutes), my sister called me again and said that she'd come to me, rather than the previous plan of me coming to her. We ate at a pocket-sized eatery on 6th Avenue, where I consumed a delicious Caesar salad with the most amazing chicken I've ever tasted, then we were off.

We walked three blocks to a subway station, bought month-long Metro passes, realized we were in the wrong station, exited, saw a Duane Reade (pharmacy-ish thing), bought lots of junk, found the correct subway station, and came up at 22nd Street. We walked down to 18th Street, where Melissa was told we could find a "Bed Bath and Beyond". Good stuff.

Although I only really went for a fan, a blanket, and a pillow, We ended up spending about three hours there, where my sister's fashion-addicted personality leapt at every accessorizing opportunity. As we approached the final stretch, I was ready to collapse into my pillow-infested shopping cart. Finally, I was able to pry my sister away from another of thousands of miscellaneous displays and warn her that, although I wasn't sure, I was afraid I had to be somewhere around 6:30. It was then just past 6:00. We managed to check out and hail a cab without much fuss, despite the fact that our cab driver was Satan incarnate. He acted as though the traffic disturbance over the Pride Parade was our fault, as I had to be dropped off at 5th and 8th, which was frankly impossible, from his point of view. Meh. Anyway, we dropped my sister off first, as her dorm was closer, and we managed to hop out and separate our bags before--as our driver warned--an officer could give him a ticket. My turn.

Of course, as luck would have it, because of the Pride Parade, the closest he could take me to my dorm was the corner of 6th and 9th, which is actually about three blocks from my building. Goody. I was left at the side of an incredibly busy street in the blazing hot sun with four gargantuan bags, together weighing as much as the Sears Tower. Blazing hot sun, you ask? Let's put it this way. I'm from Texas, and I say the sun was blazing. Ye gods. I had the express priviledge of towing these four bags three city blocks, shady-looking teenagers and sniggering shop clerks in my wake. One such boy, leering at my futile struggle, grimaced at me and said, "I can help you with that for ten dollars." I said no thank you. He grinned evilly and said "Twenty Dollars?"

Fat chance.

I finally arrived at Marlton, radiating relief and sweat from every pore. I must have looked like hell. I could feel my left shin bruising prettily, as the metal trash bin had slammed into my leg at every step. My left arm, which had been carrying the box with the fan, was shaking. I noticed that neither of my roommates had arrived yet, so I got to work, feebly putting things away, then eventually starting to work on the fan in hopes of cooling off my boiling room. Despite my shaking arms and lack of any physical strength whatsoever, the body went together fairly well. Until, of course, I got to the actual fan itself. I was supposed to take the face apart and reassemble the interior, which required a screwdriver. A screwdriver? Where was I supposed to find a screwdriver? Downstairs, probably, but that would require actually going downstairs (from the 8th floor), and I had difficulty crossing the room. Joy. Hurrah, hurrah for dehydration. The fan could wait. I took a shower.

And so ends my story. Life as a melodrama is so much more exciting. I got to meet some of the people on the floors below me, one of which looks exactly like a male version of former carpoolmate Paulette Abbas. We were led up and down 5th and 6th Avenue, our RA pointing out drugstores and eateries, all the while discussing aspects of life in New York. Good stuff.

And now, I'm going to get some ice cream.