You would’ve thought I won the lottery the way I hollered after snagging two 11:30 am timeslot tickets. I was aggravated seeing hundreds of tickets suddenly become available. Surely, all weren’t cancellations. Even if some were holds, hundreds of suddenly available timeslots? Just the week before, every day was grayed out as unavailable. Think of how many people’s hopes were dashed thinking they had to wait another month (or year(s)) for a visit. Had I been a quitter, not getting a ticket in advance could’ve derailed my whole trip. Luckily, that wasn’t the case!
I alternated between dessert and finishing my delicious omelet, potatoes, and big ol’ piece of buttered and jellied toast, a $7 small glass of grapefruit juice. Menu claimed fresh-squeezed. The dessert was complementary, but I scribbled a thank you note on the check and tipped almost the entire amount of the original bill. It was the most expensive solo breakfast I’ve ever had my entire life, but worth it. I’m all about creating memories and experiences.
Full belly and backup portable charger in tow, I was ready for tourist mode after receiving more calls and texts in my room.
Per usual, I had taken photos when I first entered the hotel room. It wasn’t a threat when I told customer service I had done so. They took me seriously when I said I did not feel safe. Within an hour or so, I was fully refunded for my non-refundable room AND received a $50 coupon from Expedia, which I used to book my next hotel.
My Lyft driver said, “ooh, fancy,” when I told him where I was going and asked why I had been at my previous hotel. During my ride, he told me that it had been on the verge of being shut down several times. I usually prefer to ride in silence, but I loved every minute of my conversation with Emanuel whose parents were originally from New York, and whose car and girlfriend were both named Samantha. I suspect he was somewhere on the spectrum, which endeared him to me even more.
I upgraded to The Darcy in the heart of downtown D.C. It had a semi-circle driveway upfront–no parking lot in sight.
Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson is one of those memoirs, like The Glass Castle written by another Jeannette but with the last name Walls, that leaves you feeling flabbergasted, angry, and sad at the way grown folks who choose to become parents treat their children. In the case of Winterson, she is the adoptive daughter of a woman whom she refers to as Mrs. Winterson. Jeanette writes: “Books, for me, are a home. Books don’t make a home–they are one, in the sense that just as you do with a door, you open a book and you go inside. Inside there is a different kind of time and a different kind of space.”
King’s Hawaiian rolls can be enjoyed with or without butter. Straight out of the fridge or warmed slightly in the toaster. More often than not, I’m too greedy to wait for the toaster and eat it chilly. A bad habit I have is putting a smattering of butter, taking a bite, then adding more butter to take another bite. Unhealthy, I know, but we all have our vices. It could be drugs!
I don’t care if the last episode I watched was the season finale or the series finale, I’m missing the characters, plot twists, great dialogue, writing, cinematography, lighting, bomb outfits, enviable hair styles, steamy sex scenes, stuck-in-your-head soundtrack, relatable themes, podcast recaps, WTF moments, and group text chats about these shows.
No real self-respecting book lover abuses books. By abuse, I mean crack the spine, mark it up, rip pages on purpose or by accident, toss around carelessly, and most definitely do not dog ear pages. Only monsters do that.
Biggie. Tupac. Lauryn Hill. Lil Kim. Hip Hop. Late 90s. Let Me Hear a Rhyme was published in 2019 for today’s youngsters, but it was a trip down memory lane for this child of the 80s and 90s.