JANUARY 6TH
I bought my ticket back home today. I leave January 27th at 3:45 am.
I feel okay about this. I think. I mean, the options are better in the states for making money. I have a job waiting for me—a book to adapt to a screenplay, screenwriting classes to take and a place to live and my car! But…I said goodbye to that—to my work especially. And it’s hard to go back. How can I go back?!
But it’s time—my frozen check card dictates that it’s time to go back… of course my ticket back cost almost as much as I had saved because I had to buy it so quickly… which means when I return I will have pretty much no moola to my name.
Back to doing the nose to the grind.
I arrive at Chicago O’Hare at 6:55 pm. My friend Jess said she would road trip down to get me. Arriving in O’Hare saved me 300 bucks. Gotta tighten the belts here!
JANUARY 7TH
Puke, puke ahhhh! Vomit! I’m just in shock—so *******-what! WTF?! What is wrong with this city?! ******* disgusting bullshit! This city is driving me crazy!!!
At internet café—PORN CAFÉ! This guy exposes himself—yep whips out his ****** and w***** off on my leg! I didn’t realize at first—I mean his face and most of torso is covered by a little wall but oh no—his ****** was there for the whole world to see! His leg and thereby p**** were like centimeters away from me—I’m going to be sick.
I freaked out—I tried to get K’s attention but I couldn’t say what the effing problem was—she just kept asking, “what-what-what?” I pointed and pointed—I’m sure I looked like I was having a stroke—and then she looked down past my leg—her face went disgusted and I jumped up to pay my internet tab—K followed!
I wouldn’t look at the man’s face—cause I was afraid he would have some sick ass smile on his face. He saw me when he walked in. F***** PERVE.
I feel dirty—this place is dirty—I am sick of the hoots and hollers—the whistles, the men who stop talking the moment they see you and stare until you walk past—JUST STOP IT!
Sigh. I guess this explains why the keyboards were always sticky and there was white stuff on the chairs… and come to think of it, men would go in the bathroom all the time. Ooh and they would look at me before they went in. Oh gross.
I need a drink. I need to get out of here.
LATER
I tried to drink it away but I have no alcohol tolerance. I was done by one—one drink that is. We watched "Amelie" trying to get lost in the purity.
It didn’t work.
I bought my ticket back home today. I leave January 27th at 3:45 am.
I feel okay about this. I think. I mean, the options are better in the states for making money. I have a job waiting for me—a book to adapt to a screenplay, screenwriting classes to take and a place to live and my car! But…I said goodbye to that—to my work especially. And it’s hard to go back. How can I go back?!
But it’s time—my frozen check card dictates that it’s time to go back… of course my ticket back cost almost as much as I had saved because I had to buy it so quickly… which means when I return I will have pretty much no moola to my name.
Back to doing the nose to the grind.
I arrive at Chicago O’Hare at 6:55 pm. My friend Jess said she would road trip down to get me. Arriving in O’Hare saved me 300 bucks. Gotta tighten the belts here!
JANUARY 7TH
Puke, puke ahhhh! Vomit! I’m just in shock—so *******-what! WTF?! What is wrong with this city?! ******* disgusting bullshit! This city is driving me crazy!!!
At internet café—PORN CAFÉ! This guy exposes himself—yep whips out his ****** and w***** off on my leg! I didn’t realize at first—I mean his face and most of torso is covered by a little wall but oh no—his ****** was there for the whole world to see! His leg and thereby p**** were like centimeters away from me—I’m going to be sick.
I freaked out—I tried to get K’s attention but I couldn’t say what the effing problem was—she just kept asking, “what-what-what?” I pointed and pointed—I’m sure I looked like I was having a stroke—and then she looked down past my leg—her face went disgusted and I jumped up to pay my internet tab—K followed!
I wouldn’t look at the man’s face—cause I was afraid he would have some sick ass smile on his face. He saw me when he walked in. F***** PERVE.
I feel dirty—this place is dirty—I am sick of the hoots and hollers—the whistles, the men who stop talking the moment they see you and stare until you walk past—JUST STOP IT!
Sigh. I guess this explains why the keyboards were always sticky and there was white stuff on the chairs… and come to think of it, men would go in the bathroom all the time. Ooh and they would look at me before they went in. Oh gross.
I need a drink. I need to get out of here.
LATER
I tried to drink it away but I have no alcohol tolerance. I was done by one—one drink that is. We watched "Amelie" trying to get lost in the purity.
It didn’t work.
I don't know if you were in a touristy internet café, but I think many pervs like that prey on unsuspecting tourists. They figure that the tourist will be too embarrassed or that their Spanish isn't good enough to report it to the police.
ReplyDeleteA college friend of mine went to Mexico for a semester abroad. On her way to the university, every day she passed the same man lurking in a doorway. One day, he exposed himself to her. Little did he know that she spoke excellent Spanish. She laughed at him and said, "Ha! That's the smallest one I've ever seen!"
He ran off in the opposite direction and she never saw him again.
It's very true!
ReplyDeleteAfter the attempted apartment break-in I realized that we were very much on our own. The police came to take a statement but couldn't help us.
That lack of power over my own safety, the not knowing the rules or even if there were rules that could help made me want vigilante justice...I didn't, but I sure kept my fight face on.
I believe it wasn't touristy--I HOPE NOT! I should've known something was up because they didn't charge for use of the bathroom...
-Nerissa
Hmm...Sounds like you missed an opportunity to make some much-needed cash! Dude probably would've paid good money for you to just watch and cheer him along. Just sayin.
ReplyDelete