So, back in high school Rae and our insanely-obviously-homosexual classmate got into the habit of talking about rating people. Naturally, their narcissistic personalities lead to them rating themselves as 10s on a 10-scale. They said it jokingly, but everyone in our class knew they were at least partially serious about it.
When I called Mina last night with my great news about finally finding employment, she responded with enthusiastic support and joy and passed on her equally exciting news: not only had she been accepted by a top-tier law program, but they had agreed to supply her with a $90,000 scholarship.
Even if you remembered that law programs normally run well into the 100K-120K range, 90 thousand is still a pretty amazing number. I squealed into my phone, she cheered into hers, and we both simultaneously agreed:
“We are freakin’ awesome!”
“Fuck that! We’re beyond awesome! We’re beyond the 10 Club.”
“Yeah! We’re the 20 Club!!”
And we thus decided that, as the founding (and only members) of the 20 Club, we needed to go out and celebrate. Luckily, we’d already planned to attend Art Deco Weekend in South Beach on Saturday, so it seemed like fate would bring us together for some fantastic fun on a very culture-y event.
Unfortunately, our little jaunt for joy started off pretty badly: we ended up stuck in traffic for 40 minutes since MLK weekend inevitably brings a horde of tourists that just don’t seem to grasp the concepts of how to abide by traffic lights and pedestrian walkways.
THEN, we found ourselves in a dinky, creepy alleyway where, after about 5 minutes of realizing that the car ahead of us wasn’t going anywhere, we attempted to back out of.
Note: Backing up is infinitely more difficult when you have to avoid hitting buildings, dumpsters, other cars that are also attempting to back out of the standstill traffic, and homeless men in a narrow-ass alleyway. Just sayin’…
In any case, once we finally managed to get out of the Hellhole Alleyway of Death and Homeless Guys,
we actually enjoyed ourselves. The next two hours blew by without a care as Mina and I walked down Ocean Drive, closed down for the Art Deco Weekend. The weather was perfect and cool, made even better by the shade provided by the beachfront hotels, with the right amount of sun splashed between the street and the beach where people strolled and played volleyball.
We passed a lot of booths all displaying arrays of jewelry, clothing, prints, and a few…alternative art-forms, including soy-based candles [with one scent of actual frankincense and myrrh], silhouette carvings that would look beautiful in front of a light source,
earrings that don’t need a post or a hook,
mosaic furniture
and hanging candleholders made out of vodka bottles.
At some point, after missing each other maybe about three times, we finally managed to meet up with Nicky, Lin, and Dita, who’d entered at the opposite end of the street and kept passing us. Nicky greeted us with the same enthusiasm as she did when I dropped off her scarf a few days before; but Dita and Lin hung back and seemed a little aloof. I thought it was odd, but seeing as how Dita and I never talked before and Lin has pretty much avoided all my messages and attempts to revive the weekly calls we used to have while I was in another city, I figured it probably wasn’t that odd. In any case, we talked briefly and had a stranger take our picture before parting ways; the three of them wanted to watch the drag show that was set to start and Mina really wanted to drink something warm before she froze [“unthinkable” you must imagine since it was South Beach, but below 75 is considered “freezing” to us natives].
It was, without a doubt, a wonderful time. I fell in love with the work of a Jewish artist in Maryland and tried on too many hats, while Mina gravitated towards booths with big, chunky jewelry and avoided the majority of the dogs that seemed to be everywhere. We took a picture in front of the Versace house, Mina pointed out a saying she loved on a plaque,
I pointed out a funny sign on a food stand,
and she helped me lose my cappuccino virginity.
On the way back to her place, I started to feel fuzzy. Around that point, I began to remember that I’d eaten maybe half a meal for the last four days and Mina reported that my face was unusually flushed. So, when we arrived at her home, Mina insisted that we eat. I had dahl with rice and chicken, and what I believe was an assortment of chickpeas, potatoes, cauliflower, and just about every spice and seasoning known to mankind.
It was delicious; so delicious, actually, that I didn’t even mind having to drink three glasses of water just to finish my meal. Spiciness aside, it was good time.
After our dinner, the Sister called and said that, while she didn’t need the car, she wanted a chalupa meal. Seeing as how she funded most of my meals, alcohol, and much of my closet between 2007-2010, I said yes. Mina and I sat around and talked for the rest of the evening.
She showed me her beautifully decorated saris and I showed her the ugliness of Filipino cultural wear. Seriously: shoulder-pads/blinders went out of season once the Spanish left PEOPLE!!!
We talked about our travel plans, old memories (Funnily enough, I found myself remembering much about Darren, my high school boyfriend of a sum total of maybe 20 days. But that’s another story…), how crazy our parents are and how crazy we hoped we would never be towards our own children [a failing hope I’m sure]. As we chatted about Mardi Gras and the cherry blossoms of Washington, Mina changed into her pajamas, I gave her a massage (something that I used to do every 2nd period of senior year for my classmates), and she painted my nails.
It was a lovely “date”. The rest of the dates for the year have a lot to live up to. <3
Oh! I also fell in love with a Harley. That was pretty sweet too.
Written 1/16/11
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