farts, cars, and bars

Thursday night after class S and I wandered around the parking garage for 30 minutes before we found someone who could help us find our car (for some reason I remembered the four digit number of our parking space and once the garage guy pointed us in the right direction we were able to find it). When we got to the car we discovered someone had keyed the driver's side door. Nice.

We had dinner at Il Porto even though S hates Italian food. Our waiter was Palestinian and he and S had a conversation in arabic, I assume part of which was making fun of me and my hair. Then we went to Union Street Public House for a glass of wine. I was saddened to find my favorite book shop, which I used to visit once a week when I lived in old town, is now a starbucks. Those fuckers.

For some reason everyone was staring at us in the bar. I wonder if it's in part because I get giggly when I drink and S was telling me a story about hiding a fart making machine in the cube of this uptight woman he worked with. He and his boss would go into a glass walled office so they could watch her reaction when they made the machine fart. I was laughing so hard that I couldn't hold my wine glass.

The next morning I woke up with a slight hangover and met S out in the parking lot. We walked over to the rental car and the back bumper was smashed in and the tail light broken. I started unleashing a string of curse words but S found a note on the windshield. It said "sorry I hit your car, please call". We couldn't figure out how the woman had hit the rental car. We were parked in the last space and there was at least 40 feet to the other set of parking spaces. Idiot.

S asked if I made up curse words or learned them. I answered both. Thank you and bless you US Marines.

The two days of classes went really, really well. We even managed to make it to the airport on time. I had to fill out a form about the car accident and the guy servicing the car at Hertz drove us to the airport because, he said, "you don't want to take that bus".

Somehow S manages to get people to do all kinds of stuff like that for him. I need to get his skills. Oh, except for the guy in the office where I was teaching who got upset because S asked him to make a copy. I bet he would have done it for me.

And, to cap off the whole weird trip, at the end of class this kid named T who sat next to me and was always the first to answer my questions (most of the time, incorrectly) walked in front of me, bowed down with both hands clasped in front of him, and said "thank you, your highness, for this class". Awkward. A sales guy from my company started laughing (as did the rest of the students) when T left. He said "I've never seen anyone do THAT before."

S says I should become a writer for a tv show.