TOOLBAG TUESDAY

I imagine people in long-term relationships find themselves from time to time mortified by their significant others. 

Like…YOU’RE…REALLY WEARING PENNY LOAFERS TO DINNER!?!?!?

LOL

…Or maybe it’s mortifying when your significant other is too arrogant, too flirty with the server, too drunk, too crass.

It’s even worse when it’s clear that their behavior bothers their significant other, but they don’t seem to care.

I remember when I was a server in college, and this guy customer wouldn’t let me open a bottle of wine table side.

“LET…ME,” he said angrily, as I came up to the table with the bottle he ordered.

“Ummm…” I handed him the bottle, confused.

“Sorry…” his female date said, on his behalf. “He’s a wine rep….and he’s really anal about opening bottles. It happens every time…”

Then she gave me this pathetic apologetic look, and I wanted to punch him with the wine key.

But that pales in comparison to this guy I met last week WHEN I WAS IN GUATEMALA.

YES!!!! WELCOME back to the United States, ME!!!

ED NOTE: At this time last week, I was swimming in a river in GUATEMALA, an absolutely gorgeous and completely underrated country.

Hands down, Guatemala was THE most beautiful country I’ve ever seen. It was so beautiful I can’t believe my eyes have seen what they’ve seen. I’ve never seen anything so pure and so green and so undeveloped.

Guats up??!?!

…But I’ll write more about Guatemala’s gorgeousness later.

Today is Tuesday.

I met a lot of people in Guatemala at various hostels and collected some new Toolbag Tuesday stories from ladies from several countries. (“Toolbags without borders”)

But the toolbag I actually came face-to-face with in Guatemala was a man from the Netherlands.

This 62-year-old man (he told me his age) had a particular disgust for America, and Americans in general, which doesn’t necessarily make him a toolbag, but his tirade about us “dummies” was so over-the-top that his wife was mortified.

It was clear that this wasn’t the first time he’s gone off about Americans to an American, and it was not the first time that she was mortified by her husband.

Exhibit A: His temper escalated to the point that she physically kicked him and cursed at him in their native Dutch tongue to shut the F up.

HAHAHAHA

It was mortifying.

There were seven of us strangers piled into a shuttle from Antigua to Guatemala City at 9 a.m., where I was headed to the airport to fly home.

I struck up a conversation with a nice blonde girl from the Netherlands about something, or nothing, I can’t remember.

The girl and this couple then began speaking to each other in Dutch from across the aisle about where they were from, and what appeared to be casual pleasantries, when the man looked at me.

“American?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“And I bet you can’t speak any other language besides English can you?”

“Hablo un poco Espanol,” I said perfectly.

That’s when he lost it.

“You Americans are so dumb and lazy,” he started.

His wife immediately looked up from her book and laughed uncomfortably, apologizing for him, shushing him.

“No, this is important!” he said, dismissing her. “I can’t believe it’s NOT REQUIRED for people in your country to learn Spanish!”

“I studied Spanish in college,” I said.

“Well, my wife and I know Dutch, German, French, English AND we took Spanish classes when we were here in Antigua,” the man said.

Then he looked at his book, disgusted. 

“I would PREFER to read a book in another language, but there are only ENGLISH books in these little libraries.”

(Yes, he was complaining about the free book he swiped from a free library.)

His wife told him something in Dutch, then nervously laughed in my direction.

“I told him to go back to reading his book and be quiet,” she told me.

“...AND ANOTHER THING!” He said loudly, ignoring her, so that everyone in the shuttle heard him loudly ignore her.

“You and your guns! I met an American at a bar and he said it wasn’t fair that cops have guns in Guatemala but citizens don’t!!! How stupid are you Americans, just waving your guns around like PENS.”

Or did he say penises?

(It was hard to tell with that accent.)

“AMERICA! HAHA! ‘BETTER THAN EVERYONE,’ BUT BEST AT NOTHING!” he concluded.

His wife then KICKED HIM hard from across the aisle and told him, again, to shut up.

Then she reminded him about the "very nice people from New York" who had offered their Netherlands sailor friends a place to stay when Hurricane Sandy hit.

“No one back home would just offer strangers the keys to their vacation home,” she pointed out.

It was a nice story, but nothing—not her being mortified or kicking her husband—would deter him from ripping me a new one.

 “…AND I BET YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE INTERNATIONAL HEALTH INSURANCE!” he yelled.

More Dutch pleading by his wife to stop.

“NO, NO,” he shushed his wife again, looking at me. “WHAT IF YOU HAD A HEART ATTACK HERE?”

“Well…I’m 33 years old…” I said.

“IT DOESN’T MATTER! YOU DON’T THINK YOU COULD GET SERIOUSLY INJURED?”

I then thought about how rickety the shuttle was, how easy it would be to tip over.

“IF YOU GET HURT, WHO’S GOING TO PAY FOR IT?”

I wondered why on Earth he was so upset; he certainly wasn’t going to pay if I broke my leg.

The whole shuttle was silent.

I wanted to die.

“I’m sorry, he gets very angry, please don’t be upset,” his wife APOLOGIZED to me as the shuttle mercifully pulled into the airport entrance.

Ugh. This is her life.

“And ANOTHER thing…your country wouldn’t let me get off my sailboat when I came to the Florida Keys from Cuba!” he screamed. “I AM A GUEST IN YOUR COUNTRY!"

I mumbled a “good luck” to his wife as I got out of the shuttle and walked into the airport, watching her yell at him some more, wishing that the only mortifying thing I would have witnessed that day were penny loafers.

And then I bought myself a Coca-Cola.

-Jenny

I Heart NY

To an outsider, we appeared as we do every summer: our whole family’s annual summer vacation to visit our brother Franklin.

This year, however, we didn’t fly to Los Angeles. We flew to New York because Franklin and his girlfriend Allison are living there while he edits several episodes of the second season of an amazing TV show called Mr. Robot. (WATCH IT!)

And in that way, everything was different.

But that wasn’t the only thing.

My twin sister Joy has a husband now.

My mom is officially retired.

And I have a boyfriend!

!!!!!!!!

I’ve been meaning to write about my boyfriend, Daniel, for months now, and what better introduction than how he was thrown head-first into our loud, boisterous family’s annual vacation last month??

“Did he read your other blog posts about our family vacations?” my mother asked nervously when I asked if he could join us.

“Does he know it will be all of us? And that five of us will be sharing an AirBnB, including your Aunt?”

Joy and I laughed.

It turns out Daniel had read my other blog posts and, because he lives in New Orleans, had already met my whole family and didn’t blink twice at booking a flight.

In fact, he was the only one who appreciated our mom’s constant stream of emails leading up to the trip entitled “tentative itinerary.”

Since our family has always had an affinity for loud productions, it was fitting that our first night in town, we all saw a Broadway play.

Joy played her part exceptionally well when she took the wrong subway, got lost, and arrived at the play with one minute to spare, hungry and yelling at everyone.

Hahaha

And then our mom gave us the expected side-eye when we ordered double vodkas at the theater bar. 

The play Fiddler on the Roof (thanks mom and dad!!!) was the most memorable play I’ve ever seen. 

I didn’t get lost following the play ONCE and enthusiastically gave it a standing ovation.

(I then Googled the lead actor Danny Burstein when I got home because I have never seen anyone command a stage like he did.)

Hmm maybe it was the double vodkas…

After the play, we walked up the street to Times Square, a landmark which never changes, unless you count the changing number of chain restaurants.  

On the “tentative itinerary,” our mom had listed: “Take family Christmas photo at Times Square.” 

Drunk on theater, I felt like leaping there, like the Russian dancers from the play.

We quickly realized that we didn’t need a flash for our photo, as Times Square was literally lit up like a concert.

Beautiful models, iconic logos and other American consumerism shone down on us as we took group pictures but then Franklin got annoyed with the “same photo being taken over and over,” my mom sang show tunes, Joy re-announced that she was starving, and my dad and Allison snuck off to buy ice cream cones from a truck.

And in that way, everything was the same.

The next day, we went to the Natural History Museum, which I hated because it somehow made dinosaurs boring.

Joy laughed at me.

“Where is the skin? Where are the scales???” I asked staring at skeleton after skeleton.

I didn’t know which ones were actual bones or reproductions of bones.

(Most of the real bones were behind glass cases.)

“So WHAT is hanging from the ceiling? Plastic???”

Joy’s husband, who has his masters in biology, was not impressed at my ignorance.

(Also a “water giraffe” is not the proper name for an ancient platypus, nailed to the ceiling.)

Anyone wanna race me around the display?? #michelletanner

A photo posted by Genevieve (@jennyjenny504) on Jul 3, 2016 at 11:38am PDT

At the museum, we sat in a planetarium show narrated by Neil De Grasse Tyson about the universe which was also the most boring thing I’ve ever heard, and I promptly fell asleep in the dark theater with stars over my head.

Thankfully, Daniel still held my hand, despite my snoring in the theater.

:)

Joy and I laughed again when our mom kept quizzing us on what “black matter” is after the show and Joy fielded every question to me knowing full well I was in R.E.M. cycle.

Fresh from a nap!! 

Daniel and I then paired off, and I found out something NEW I like about him—his navigational abilities.

There’s a simple comfort in following someone around aimlessly, not having to navigate for yourself, knowing you’ll get where you’re going safely.

:)

(It’s also hard to concentrate on what’s ahead of you when you’re too busy looking up at the tall buildings and pausing to clap for subway performers pole dancing in the train cars.)

We met my NYC friend and walked to Daniel’s friend’s apartment, the chic-est apartment I’ve ever been to in the inappropriately-named DUMBO neighborhood 

(inappropriate because no one who lives there is dumb).

You could see the Statue of Liberty from the living room.

We all walked along the DUMBO waterfront, where thousands of people were out playing beach volleyball, basketball, cooking out, dancing, biking, running, walking dogs.

I especially appreciated the Hasidic Jewish family playing beach volleyball, a father mother and son, all dressed head to toe in traditional garb, not caring about rules or points in the game, just rolling up their pants and playing around.

That is not something you see in South Carolina. 

Or in Fiddler on the Roof.

We ended the night at Franklin and Allison’s Brooklyn apartment, where we had drinks overlooking the New York City skyline from their balcony (swoooon!) and when it got late, I followed my navigator boyfriend back to our Air BnB, without taking my eyes off of him.

:)

The next day, July 4, I decided that I wanted to get a milkshake that I discovered on social media.

It was at a restaurant called Black Tap and there was a big line and the only person who humored me was my mom.

Some people (Daniel) don’t LIKE MILKSHAKES, other people like Joy got on the subway late and made us wait in line longer.

But my cookies and cream milkshake was perfect and I have never had a frozen treat so delicious and, yes, I’m including Dairy Queen blizzards.

We then all walked to Chinatown, and saw fascinating, unidentifiable fruits and vegetables and what appeared to be green onions that were so long and heavy that a vendor was slapping them onto a table from out of a box, like tentacles.

We saw fireworks from Franklin and Allison’s apartment (number “4” on the itinerary) and even though it was raining, we all squeezed in to their kitchen and talked about everything and nothing at all.

The rain stopped right as the fireworks started, almost as if it was just for us.

(Our dad watched the fireworks on the TV inside hahahahahahha)

Seriously...that view! Swooooon

The rain started again after the show and we walked home soaking wet, me feeling very much like a character in a TV show or movie set in New York, brownstone after brownstone passing as I hooked arms with Daniel and my mom.

On our last day in New York, we explored Brooklyn by foot, my boyfriend's idea, and the one who led me and my aunt to the cutest little restaurant I have been to in recent memory.

There was something quite magical about sitting in the café, eating breakfast at noon on a Tuesday, the buzzing of the barista making coffee drink after coffee drink, watching people through the window heading towards a little park.

…on their way to something, on their way back from something, having the best day, having the worst day— talking to themselves (in several languages.)

I felt that sense of anonymity too, even though it was a significant holiday for me.

If anyone looked over, no one would have known that it was our last meal of a special vacation for our family, one where everything was the same, yet different, and wonderful, all at once.

And I didn’t have to worry about finding my way home.

-Jenny

Bucket list: Washington D.C.

I went to Washington D.C. for the very first time a month ago, and stamp “I’m old” on my forehead because I checked off an item on my bucket list (I HAVE A BUCKET LIST, I’M OLD) and I spent hours upon hours enjoying the shit out of museums.

(I know...who is this girl??)

I really, really loved D.C. and 100 percent plan on returning because I only saw a fraction of the Smithsonian Natural History Museum and I need to see all of it. 

24,000 pounds of elephant!!

I went to D.C. because my friend Byron and his girlfriend Kelly just moved there from Charleston and JetBlue flies direct for under $100 round-trip.

!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, and Byron is a Marine, and he got me a ticket to the Marine Corps Ball.

THE MARINE CORPS BALL!!!!

I WENT TO A MARINE CORPS BALL!!

 

 Marine sandwich!

AHHHHHHHHHH!!!

But let me start from the beginning.

I got to D.C. on a Saturday morning and Byron took me straight to the White House, since seeing the White House is on my bucket list.

Mind you, it wasn’t “going inside of the White House.” Just seeing it, period. It’s the most American thing you can do!

It looked exactly like it did in the TV show House of Cards. Byron pointed out all the cameras on the top of the building, there were scary dogs on leashes walking around the perimeter.

I saw the people that have been protesting outside the White House 24/7/365 since 1981 (!!!!) because they don't want nuclear weapons to exist.

From what I gather, the couple live in a tent on the pedestrian mall avenue right across the street from the White House and no one can legally arrest them.

‘MERICA!!!

(I wonder what they did with them during House of Cards filming.)

Other D.C. observations: There are runners everywhere on a Saturday morning. Granted, it’s a gorgeous trail along the bank of the Potomac River, but I was in awe at the sheer number of runners that early in the morning.

DON’T THESE PEOPLE DRINK MIMOSAS??

It looked like a marathon.

Byron and I walked around to all the monuments within walking distance of the White House (Jefferson, Lincoln, Martin Luther King) and I read all the signs and quotes, and it did not go unnoticed that the statements said by leaders long ago are still important, relevant words for a functioning and free society.

Nice one, T. Jeff!!!!

(I photoshop underlined it. There is no graffiti at the monument)

The next stop was the Natural History Museum, which was FREE admission (what kind of city is this???) but we only had time to walk through the mammals exhibit.

(The human population section was really, really crowded. Haha)

"How can anyone go through this museum and still not believe in evolution?” I asked aloud.

Look at how giraffes didn’t used to have very long necks, but do now because the trees they eat from got taller and they had to adapt to survive!!! 

(No really, look at them. The entire exhibit is taxidermy animals.)

Look at the black bears that accidentally ended up in the Artic that died because they couldn’t hunt prey by blending into the snow!! 

And now they’re all white because those are the only ones who lived long enough to procreate!!! (White fur started out as a birth defect.)

This was the first mammal on Earth. This is your father.

“HOW CAN ANYONE GO THROUGH THIS MUSEUM AND NOT BELIEVE IN EVOLUTION???”  I asked again.

“People who don’t believe in evolution don’t go to museums,” a stranger replied.

LOL

LOL

That night, we went to the Marine Corps ball.

THE MARINE CORPS BALL!!!

WITH REAL MARINES!!!

The ball was held at a hotel and it was a fancy dinner and party for the Marine Corps’ 240th birthday.  

Before dinner, Marines did a lot of synchronized marching and symbolic carrying of flags and a bagpipe played Amazing Grace and every time I hear that song on a bagpipe, I get teary-eyed.

Then, I got more teary-eyed at the video we watched from the Marine’s Commandant (the guy in charge) with recorded interviews with retired Marines about fighting for country and sacrificing for each other and I was proud to even be sitting in their company.

And then everyone got drunk and danced around.

AND A MARINE PROPOSED TO HIS GIRLFRIEND ON THE DANCE FLOOR.

(She said yes.)

The next day, Byron and I went to a Saints game, since their schedule happened to have them playing the Redskins and tickets were pretty cheap, but I don’t want to talk about that game.

(Silver lining: it was the prettiest NFL stadium I have ever been to in my life.)

On Monday, I had the day to myself and went to more museums: the Newseum, a nod to my profession, and the International Spy Museum, recommended by Byron, and 50 percent off admission THANKS Groupon.

Since these museums were in China Town, I Yelp’d the best Chinese restaurant (China Boy) and ate delicious shrimp stir fry on the street on the way to the Newseum, which predictably made me depressed since no one reads newspapers anymore.

But then, I got to visit my dear friend Katy who works for the Wall Street Journal at her office, and saw all the editors and reporters on the entire floor and it restored my faith in journalism.

Never forget. 

Newseum. 

At the Spy Museum, I got to pretend to be a florist from Sweeden going to London for a fake mission.

I LOVED the spy museum and now feel foolish not knowing we have so many government spies. 

I saw professional lock picks, cameras the size of a quarter, cyanide pills actually issued BY THE C.I.A. and holy shit, we REALLY didn’t get along with Russia in the 1960s, did we???

                                                                        

Issued by the CIA in the 1960s!!! #ohmyyy #dontgetcaught

A photo posted by Genevieve (@jennyjenny504) on Nov 16, 2015 at 12:41pm PST

Sooner than I wanted (I didn't even have time to see the parade of James Bond cars!! Rude.) it was time for me to leave D.C. 

I took the subway to the airport (PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION ---WHAT A CONCEPT!) and seamlessly checked in and boarded in under an hour -- another thing I had never seen before!!

Well done Capital City! 

The city of Marine dreams and White House bucket lists!

Bonding with strangers at the overcrowded human population exhibit over evolution.

And rectal spy kits.

That is not a rectal spy kit. 

Thank you Byron and Kelly!!!

\

 -Jenny