Remember, remember the end of November and the start of December
It’s been a chaotic few weeks. On top of coming to the disappointing realization that my internship at Housing Works’s PDC had ended, half of my family were coming and going. My sister took her trip to California for the first twelve days of November, then my mom left for Ecuador and arrived back home the Sunday before Thanksgiving. And getting used to the new way of life: Mondays at NYU Langone, searching for work. The cycle of looking up “office assistant” or “file clerk” positions, finding ones that might fit, sending my resume and cover letter,hoping for a response. The sum of these efforts: one definite no, several “No responses” and a registration appointment with Good Temps that went better than expected considering it started off horribly. It was a relief to have Thanksgiving weekend arrive.
It was the rare convergence of Thanksgiving on Thursday, my birthday on Sunday. The last time it happened was in 2002 and the next time it’ll align like this will be December 2019. There was one event over the weekend that I was looking forward to: my friend and assistant floor manager at the PDC’s birthday party on Saturday night. I had initially responded to the invite as “Maybe”, as it was in Brooklyn, far away from where I live in Queens. But after the events of the month, I needed to end this month on a high note, so I changed it to “Going”. The hard part was trying to get my parents not to give me the 3rd degree when I told them.
I first told my mom about it and she was okay with me going out and enjoying life. I waited until after Thanksgiving dinner ended before telling me dad and I was shocked by his initial reaction of no reaction. Saturday night had finally arrived, and after being told to be careful by my mother and sister, it was time for my dad to drop me off at the Roosevelt Avenue subway station. But along the way, he expressed his concerns and was slowly killing my enthusiasm in going as he drove. I made it to the Wilson Avenue stop of the L train, but couldn’t find her apartment. So I make it back to the subway station and cross the next block and see “234 Moffat Street” and give myself a bemused look.
I make it to the apartment door and soon enough, we see each other and the beaming smile each time I posed for pictures with her returned. There were a few people around when I arrived. It felt like it was a combination of the first day at Housing Works and the alumni reunion. In both cases, there were a lot of people I didn’t know. I was nervous being introduced to all of her friends but the food and three beers steadied my nerves. Most of the night was spent in an awkward silence, trying to scan the room for any conversation to get into. Around 11PM, the shop manager of the PDC as well as a few co-workers arrived and at that point, all of the awkwardness went away. At 11:30PM, the dance floor started to get crowded to the strains of “Blurred Lines” and “We Can’t Stop” as images of “Saturday Night Fever” projected on the wall. The clock struck twelve and I was no longer a 27 year old, but now I was 28 years old with a shot of Jager to mark its passage. It was 12:45AM and it was time to make my long journey home just as I started to spring to life after “Get Lucky” and “One More Time” started to ring out. I would’ve stayed longer if not for the possibility that if I stayed out any longer, my dad would’ve been scouring Brooklyn trying to find me, he was that worried. I arrived at 74th Street around 1:45AM and decided to take a taxi home instead of waiting for the bus. I arrive at the front door in one piece five minutes after 2AM and give him his much needed peace of mind.
All of the fears had about how this night would go were completely unfounded. I had such a good time, despite the fact that I’m not a “people person”, struggle with keeping a positive self-image and my people skills are seriously lacking. Thank you everyone for making me feel welcome even if I was the odd man out. Sunday morning dawned to a flood of Happy Birthday wishes from family and friends and I was touched by each and every one of them. On Sunday night, the four of us went out to dinner at Olive Garden in Westbury. I made a mistake, I didn’t bring my ID and it was the one time in recent memory that it was asked for. Just as well, I had enough to drink earlier in the day. As I disappeared amongst the conversations my parents and sister were having, I couldn’t help but be bummed out that this weekend had come to an end. This weekend validates the fact that there are two different sides to me, that haven’t pulled themselves together.
Saturday night was a reminder that just because life is in a rut, doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it as much as possible. That I need not to be so tethered to my past and focus on getting on with my life. This year is quickly coming to its end. But before I say goodbye to 2013, there’s time for one last moment. Next Saturday night, I’ll be back in Brooklyn for the Queens of The Stone Age concert at the Barclays Center. After that, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day will come, then my mom’s birthday and finally New Year’s Eve.