Monday, May 28, 2007

Hot water with lemon?

What is this frightening new phenomenon? I work as a server to support my writing habit,…and my working-for-a-nonprofit habit. Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I hate it. What I really don’t get is this new “hot water with lemon” thing. Is there some new diet that I’m not familiar with these days?

Where we used to be able to rack the bill up with cappuccinos, hot tea and dessert, we are now bringing four FREE hot waters to the table and refilling them for people who sneer, “I’d LIKE some more HOT WATER, please?” I want to say, “Oh, I would LOVE To bring you more FREE hot water. In fact, I would REALLY LOVE to come over to your house and do all kinds of thing s for free for you. Do you have a pool? I’d like to clean it. Need a foot rub? Sign me up! For now, I’ll just run back to the coffee station between my 8 four-tops and get some more FREE hot water for you before I put my other orders in.

I could probably save time by making a public announcement in the middle of my section; (clears throat loudly) “I am NOW going on my FREE hot water run. Would ANYONE ELSE like some FREE hot water? No tipping necessary. It is my pleasure!”

I’m probably in hot water now.

“If all the world's a stage, I want to operate the trap door. “ -- Paul Beatty
http://www.publicradioquest.com/audio/7689

Thursday, May 24, 2007

What is this Public Radio Quest thing?

Sometimes when James isn’t with me I turn the dial to 91.5, Chicago Public Radio. He says that public radio puts him to sleep, and he sleeps enough as it is, so I try not to risk it. As I was listening one day I heard them say that they were looking for new and unusual talent. I thought…”I’m unusual.” I don’t know if that’s exactly what they said, but I’m certainly different than the “usual” suspects.

I actually wrote the website down on a receipt that I found on the floor while I was driving…typical Highland Park behavior (see related story). I rushed home, checked it out and bought a mic at Best Buy. I always thought it was weird when people had mics for their computers because computers are for WRITING, not talking. Anyway, my teenager installed it a matter of seconds and opened up sound recorder. I was so excited.

I started recording the two minute monologue I wrote during M*A*S*H* commercials the night before. It was the episode where Henry Blake is discharged. I’m so glad that it only took me two commercial breaks because that ending is one of the saddest moments in television history. I digress. I tried to upload the file for three days and failed to make the deadline because of a traffic issue on the site. These people actually contacted me and allowed those of us who failed initially to reenter the contest. It was all so democratic. It’s late in the game, but HEY, at least I’m there.

So, I’ve entered this American-Idol-like contest on the air. It’s got so many interesting people. It’s like My Space for academics. I’m not in that group, but I’m faking it. This is where my acting training comes in handy. There are some VERY interesting forum topics, and I’m thrilled to say that I submitted a perfect elementary 5-7-5 haiku on one of them. Check it out and vote for me if you have a chance. You can get to the site with the green banner on the right, or follow my link to my audio file. I’d much appreciate it. I’m thinking in haiku right now.

The dog is barking
Cats sit on couch staring wildly
Dog must be on crack

Anyway, here’s the link…

http://www.publicradioquest.com/audio/7689

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

"How I Learned to Drive"...in Highland Park

I lived in Indonesia for a semester back in 1988. The first thing that I learned there was DO NOT ATTEMPT TO DRIVE. The only ‘rule” seemed to be that, like the U.S., you drive on the right side of the road, but you move quickly to the shoulder if a vehicle larger than yours is coming toward you. Yes, there are becaks, bikes, motorcycles, Bemos, and trucks that look like giant Star Wars transport vehicles everywhere. If Norman Rockwell had been Indonesian, he would have had a wholly different perspective, and probably would have chain-smoked Djarums.

It wasn’t unusual to see bikes riding past with squawking chickens tied to the handlebars; huge clouds of black smoke, billowing from the backs of the tiny Bemos, and helmetless motorcycle riders tooling along with the big trucks. When they taught us about “defensive driving” in drivers ed, no one mention “aggressive driving.” I was not prepared for this, even as a passenger.

Now, I enjoy a thrill, just like the next person. Anita, my classmate, and I traveled from Hawaii together. When we arrived in Denpasar, Bali, for our layover on the way to Malang, Java, we decided to cab it into town for some horrid tourist-like curiosity. Let me just say, I will never forget that ride. While Anita sat with her head in her lap, eyes covered, I clamped my white knuckles onto the back of the front seat, and grinned from ear to ear. There isn’t a ride at Cedar Point more exciting, more frightening, or more shocking than the ride with that Balinese cab driver from the airport.

The beautiful thing about driving in Indonesia is that everyone pretty much follows the rules. There are few accidents, and when there are, people simply drag the offending driver out or off of their vehicle and beat the living crap out of them. This is how it’s done. It’s all very Zen-like. It’s similar to a giant game of Rock Paper Scissors. Bike beats lady walking with water buffalo; Bemo beats Motorcycle; Giant truck beats everything. Chickens don’t really stand a chance unless tied to handlebars.

Now, when I moved back to the U.S. everything on the road was as it should be. People drove a little fast in Holland, Michigan, but for the most part people yielded to the rules we’d learned at 16. Highland Park, IL is a different story. I am truly not sure how these people acquired licenses, but I presume their daddy’s either bought them or FAO Schwarz has some terrific prizes in the bottoms of their special Crackerjack boxes.

Even in Indonesia, I didn’t witness the kind of aggressive, frightening behavior as we have here. Like Los Angeles, people drive to every destination, even if their destination is a block away. People are in a hurry. They have to get to their manicure appointments, the stylist, the plastic surgeon, and the all-important “play date.” Rock Paper Scissors is different. Ducati beats Vespa; H1 beats H2; and mom driving Lincoln Navigator beats everything. I just put on my seatbelt, set my angry face, and pray that I survive driving the three blocks to work.