I’ve been home from Myrtle beach for exactly one week and my chin up bar for the P90X extreme home fitness workout is still in bits and pieces lying on my un-vacuumed bedroom floor.
I’ve been working non-stop. Yesterday I got out at 8pm beaten and bedraggled, just wanting a nice evening to relax and to finally build my chin-up bar. Then I get a text from my friend Sarah whom I havent seen in a while asking me to meet her out at Billy O’s for a drink or two. How can I possibly refuse? Besides, a couple of beers won’t hinder my ambitious workout plan. I’ll only have two.
I get to Billy O’s and the first beer goes down way too easy. I feel really sober, really thirsty, hungry and tired – all things that can be cured with another beer. I call over the bartender, Christine, who happens to be a friend of mine and she pops me open another bud light. Bud light is my drink of choice when I’m trying to be a responsible driver. I start to feel relaxed and happy. The band was good and my friends had some interesting gossip to share, so I settled in and figured one more brew couldn’t do any harm. Three is a healthy number of beers to consume on a Friday night.
Sarah and I make friends with the guys sitting on the stools next to us. One guy was an old, cool biker dude with an Irish flag tattooed on his neck. And his friend, a wannabe cowboy with the boots, belt buckle and hat to match. Sitting next to Sarah was a drunk, creepy guy who bought us a round. What’s one more? It’s free afterall.
We all go outside to smoke. We meet another guy with tatoo’s on both sides of his neck. Chinese symbols meaning pride and freedom or some shit like that. A girls car breaks down in the parking lot. It’s Sarah’s co-worker who is dating a guy I graduated high school with. We all help to push the car into a parking space then went back inside the bar to get warmed up again.
Sarah and I chat with Christine while she mixed up a few yummy tasting shots on the house. What’s a shot going to do to me? It’s a girly shot anyhow and wont effect me in the least. Besides, its free.
It was around this time I told Sarah about my plan to join the Navy and not only that, but I told her about this blog! Nobody before her knew this blog even existed.
Five minutes before the bar closed, I finally throw in the towel. “I gotta go home. I have six clients back to back tomorrow morning.”
“Oh just stay, the bar’s closing in five minutes anyway.” Sarah and I have a similar thought process.
Despite the logical sense it made to just stick it out until we got kicked out, I still left. I bequeathed my fifth or sixth empty bottle of bud unto a sticky table top and said my farewell’s. I miraculously made it home unscathed, ate a huge bowl of pasta, a slice of garlic bread and crashed around 4am.
I woke up at 8am super groggy. After showering, I made myself 3 eggs over easy, a slice of toast, coffee and a huge glass of orange juice. Some experts believe that a huge glass of O.J can cure hangover’s. I wanted to drink several of them, but was too lazy to go upstairs to get more.
I get to work at 10:45, have my first client at 11:00, my second client at noon, my third was a no-show, so I go next door to Zoup for some soup and ate it there while reading Waiter Rant. When I was done with my mushroom barley I go to Starbucks for a $4 grande vanilla latte. I feel wealthy because I can afford a four dollar cup of coffee. I look around at my fellow Starbuck patron’s with a sense of comaraderie for us being in the same fortunate boat. Well, my boat is a little leaky dingy clinging for dear life on the side of a luxurious ocean liner. From time to time people throw bread down to me like I’m a duck.
I look at my cell phone to see I still have one hour until my next client. I go to the gas station to fill up my ford escort so I wouldn’t have to do it later. A woman comes up to me while I’m at the pump begging me for change. She said she forgot her wallet at home and is now stuck without gas. I think about all the cash tips I just made, plus the Starbucks coffee sitting comfortably in my cup holder and suddenly get fearful of losing that safe feeling that comes from having a little extra. Greed was the feeling, but I was too shameful to reckognize it.
“Well, I only have my debit card for gas……” I search my leather coat pockets for change and luckily found 75 cents. I hand it to her and notice her hands are all chapped up and scabby. I wondered what choices in her life went horribly wrong that led her to become a beggar with scabby hands at a gas station. My soft massage therapist hands grazed hers and felt the roughness of tree bark. My first thought was, ‘what if she has a disease? I just touched her open sore!’
She says thank you, I say you’re welcome and then she trolley’s off to her next gas pumper. Has the gas station attendant ever told her to leave? Does she go from one gas station to another? I don’t know, and luckily my greediness lets me not worry too much about it. I hop in my car, open up a crisp new pack of American Spirits and light my fourth cigarette of the day. After two drags, ME calls and tells me a woman just walked in for a massage. I have to hustle back to work and chuck my cigarette before the smoke saturates my hair. I spritz fragrance over me and suck on an altoid.
I give the woman her one hour deep tissue. She says I’m very good at what I do and gave me a lousy $10 tip that I accepted with a huge toothy grin. I massage two more people. Then finally my last client. A big rugged man with a booming voice. From the look of him, he’s a deep tissue and a snoozer. I take him into my little room. His back is hairy and sheds all over the front of my shirt. Hair gets stuck under my finger nails, slathered to my skin by the gel I use. He snores. I ease up on my pressure and he starts to wake up, so then I go as deep as I can again and he falls back to sleep. We repeat this cycle over and over for the next 40 minutes. He just wanted his back done.
After the massage, I’m sweaty, tired and hungry. I just want to go home. Its closing time at the parlor, so I help close up. I collect my cash tips that been left in front with the sales associates. Four clients left me $20 each. Not bad. One left me $10 and the last one left my tip on a credit card. I didn’t inquire how much it was for.
I slide into my driver’s seat and notice that I still have my latte from 3 hours ago still resting in its comfortable position in its cup holder. I never even got a sip out of it. I light a cigarette, jump on the highway and chug my coffee.
I have 6 new text messages from Holly. I call her instead of reading them. We are all going to see the play, Forbidden Broadway at the Connecticut cabaret theatre. It starts at 8 and my clock said 6:30. I am to meet at Kristina’s.
We all had to bring some type of food for the theatre. Caberet’s usually mean dinner and a show. Holly brought food for me. A big veggie platter she got at cosco. I pay her $10 for it, plus the $30 for the show. We are to meet Holly’s fellow history teacher friends there.
It was my first time at that theatre. I’m jealous because everyone else been there so many times without me. I wonder where I’ve been when they went without me. The play was a parody about a bunch of broadway plays. The four girls I went there with seen most of the plays they were referring to. This made me feel inferior and uncultured. Making matters worse, I was the only person who didn’t go to college.
That is how I get when I’m tired. I can feel the chemical imbalances taking place in my exhausted head. Lack of dopamine maybe? I dont know.
After the play, we sit and finish off a second bottle of wine. Kristina know’s one of the actors and he joins us at our table, devouring whatever free food he could eat. Him and Kristina talk very energetically together. Expressionate, loud and clear. Kristina talks so fast that I sometimes zone out to her. Holly and I exchange glances and smile. It’s entertaining watching actors talk to one another.
We finally leave the theatre and go back to Kristina’s. She pops me open one of her Dads beers and pours her and Holly some wine. I feel floating like on drugs at this point. We keep talking and talking. 12:30 rolls around, my beer is gone and its a matter of survival that I must get some sleep.
Kristina wants to go see her boyfriend and needs a ride. I tell her we can take my car, but she has to drive. She drives fast and unsteady without her seat belt on, but we make it to Dan’s in one piece. I transfer myself over to the driver’s seat and go home.
I sleep. I woke up today at 1pm. Nice. Now it’s almost 3.
I’m supposed to go over to Kristina’s again. She’s having some kind of family gathering and Holly and I are both invited. I’m too beat. I want to nap. Its my aunts birthday and my mom wants me to go to the store to buy a birthday cake. I would like to be left alone for a while.
I massaged 23.5 clients this week. That equals out to be $352 in my paycheck. If those 23.5 people left me at least $10 each, that’s an extra $235. So I made about $587 this week for working 23.5 hours. Thats not bad. I dont even have to worry about putting up with a crummy boss. My boss loves me and even writes sweet notes on my pay stub.
I’ve done nothing this week to prepare for the Navy. Its 2:59 pm. I should start my day.