Oh What A Night

Friday, February 8, 2013

Strange things happen in New York.  Just when you think it's really a nice, normal, quiet life just like anywhere else in the world, the crazy comes out.  Nice reminder that it is the largest, loudest, most insane place of residence you could really ask for.  Most days, the crazy is just annoying (if it's even there at all).  And then sometimes it's really extra crazy, during the same week The Chief is visiting, and I think that leaving New York might not be the worst thing in the world...

The Chief (a.k.a., mom, if you're just joining us) came to New York for a conference this week (on an unrelated note, I have learned that investment people are generally not quite as fun as student affairs folks).  Our week started off nice and quiet and full of New York fun, like Schiller's brunch and Jersey Boys.  If you ever want to make me happy, take me to Schiller's please.  It's a happy place.

We found some baby doughnuts at Chelsea Market.  I love doughnuts.  A lot.  New York isn't really a doughnut town at all (we're bagel people), so it's especially impressive to find good doughnuts. And minis don't even count, right?

And then the crazy started.  Poor Chief.

First, we got on the 1 train at Houston (pronounced how-ston) one night.  Crazy drunk homeless lady gets about six inches from my face and starts telling me how ugly I am.  Seriously.  I am not making this up.  So this lady is harassing me, and then won't leave me alone until I wish her a happy new year. I, of course, refuse to do so.  Chief is worried.  We get up and move to a different part of the train.  Then the lady gets off at 14th street (three stops later).  But before she leaves, she comes to find me and starts in again about happy new years.  New Yorker Katie comes out, and I just glare at her.  Thanks to MTA, that was the exact moment they chose for a train delay, giving me extra minutes to ignore the lady.  But then...this other lady who got on the train starts in on my for being judgmental and how you never know what led someone to that circumstance.  I got yelled at for being too judgmental of the woman who repeatedly called me ugly.  This city.

The next morning, The Chief is getting ready and I'm in the shower when the fire alarm goes off.  Now, for purposes of student safety, our fire alarms are industrial, insanely loud, panic-inducing alarms.  So at 8:15 a.m., I throw on a bathrobe without really drying off, grab shoes and keys, and run down 10 flights of stairs with my mom.  Both of us have wet hair, she has no coat, and don't forget...I'm wearing a bathrobe.  Gray fluffy robe with leopard print ballet flats.  Didn't even have time to brush my wet hair.  Classy.  

Now, our policy is that the first Res Life staff member on the scene is in command, whether it's an RA or the associate dean.  Of course, it's always me.  Remember that time this summer when I got caught outside in my pink boxers for three hours?  Better than a bathrobe.  I corral the students to another residence hall, manage to get my mom keys to my office down the street, and check in with public safety, bathrobe and all.  Luckily, they took pity on me and sent me to warmth, where I end up entertaining a toddler, holding someone else's baby, and wrangling about 200 students.  Don't forget...still in the bathrobe.  There is absolutely no such thing as work/life separation when your work/life is Res Life.

Poor Chief...her image of New York as this nice, safe place for her daughter to live has just totally been shattered.  And don't forget, we're now fully immersed in Nemo, NYC's "historic, crippling" blizzard of 2013.  But more on that soon...

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