I don’t normally fret too much about my clothes, but it’s my first hanging and I want to make sure I’m dressed appropriately. Do I go casual/comfortable—tennis shoes, khaki shorts and sweatshirt—or sexy, which for me is knee-length jean skirt, button-up three-quarter- sleeve blouse with first button undone, and flip-flops? I decide on an in-between: jean skirt, hoodie and sandals. I layer, in case it gets hot. This seems like a reasonable approach.
I am in Calcutta with my attorney friend Charlotte. We’re trying to be tourists. If we can be tourists, then we’re not failures. We’re not the people who couldn’t convince a village of teenage prostitutes to join a class-action civil rights lawsuit. Who couldn’t make the case that water, electricity, and education would outweigh the drawbacks of standing up to the local mafia. We’re staying at the Hyatt, washing off three weeks’ grime and dirt and the discouragement of a job undone, mission-not- accomplished. We […]
It is so hot. I am crying on a pay phone in the burning sun on the corner of 18th and Columbia Road, the center of the Adams Morgan neighborhood in Washington DC; I am eating a McDonald’s cheeseburger and telling my friend back in Chicago my world is falling apart. I can still smell the mustard that is running down my arm. I am feeding quarters like mad into the phone to keep the call alive. I had just […]
We hung out at Taco Bell. Mikey, Ned, Jim, and I. We were 14. We were annoying as fuck. We rode our bikes everywhere. By everywhere I mean Taco Bell, McDonald’s, Hollywood Video. But Taco Bell was where we spent most of our time and allowance.
For me, being a kid was the best thing ever. I know for a lot of people that is not the case at all and I’m really sorry, but for me it was great. I’m pretty sure my happiness peaked at around seven years old. My mom was a schoolteacher and my dad was a farmer, so I grew up around all of this open land with nobody else around. I lived like a fucking animal. I could just run […]
Around September of 2014 I stopped lying to myself. I stopped the charade of not wanting a relationship and “loving the single life.” I stopped convincing myself that my one-sided friendships were fulfilling enough for me, and I was happy without a significant other. I also stopped believing that it was socially acceptable to go on dates with people I met on Tinder. If you take anything from this, please, I beg you, don’t go on any more Tinder dates. […]
Fifteen years ago, I was starry-eyed to glide up where the air was rarefied. After a lengthy string of mundane office and restaurant jobs, becoming a flight attendant was like winning a prize. Finally, I had landed a job that combined adventure and career potential. I would race through the cabin to hand out snacks with the spirit of a caffeinated poodle, while my grumpy coworkers eyed me with disdain.But my starry eyes glazed over with time. I now sport […]
Dear Erica with a C, I hope this letter finds you well. I would have sent it to you directly, but you seem to have refused my Facebook and Twitter adds. That’s fine. I understand your reticence completely — I usually don’t add strangers, either! I’m sorry if I creeped you out. I’m sorry if this letter creeps you out. It’s just a gag, obviously. Mostly.
It’s a coincidence that I’m here tonight. Coincidence – a word often abused and misused. The guy who’s been hanging around outside your work is now hanging around outside your house. Not a coincidence. Call the police.
