Earn your sneakers!

I’m having one of those weeks. It’s the kind of week where the sole purpose of my apartment is to allow me a place to sleep for 5 or 6 hours. It’s the kind of week where I can’t put my clothes away fast enough before I have to grab the next outfit for the day to follow. It’s the kind of week where I can’t make my own lunch because a) I’m too tired in the morning and b) my dishes are piled so high in the sink that I’ve run out of Tupperware. It’s the kind of week where I look forward to next week’s empty calendar.

On Tuesday I had a client party to attend at Sky Studios (www.skystudios.com). The space was amazing and I’m convinced it was used for a scene from the movie Hitch. Although the rain dampened my ability to fully enjoy the penthouse deck, I still explored the indoor area wanting nothing more than to curl up by the cozy fire and nap. Client parties aren’t my thing. I’ve been with this division of my company for more than a year and I have yet to feel like I fit in. I’m not a sales person, I’m a people person. But don’t you need to be a people person to be a sales person? Yes, this is true, but you also need something to sell, which I don’t. I’m just there to…fill space. Very gratifying.

It amazes me that although I work for a very influential company, all the connections I’ve made have been completely created on my own. There is nothing about my paying job that helps me meet the people I’ve met outside of it. Outside of ____ Ent, I’m just Elle J and people seem to like that, embrace it. That is, people who aren’t at these client functions. At these things, no one makes eye contact with me, and because I am not there to sell I have no material with which to start a conversation. How do I, the chatter box, encounter moments where I have nothing to say? Amazing.

I lasted at the party for an hour before calling my car service and dipping out right as Carmen Elecktra walked in. Into the pouring rain I traveled, dying to just get home and not have to deal with anyone but my cozy pillow and the sleep fairies. But, it was only the beginning of a crammed week, early sleep was only going to come for this one night.

On Wednesday, I hightailed my ass out of my office by 6pm to meet Waffle outside of my building. He had been asked by a student organization to speak at my alma mater. Waffle at Rutgers? You know I’m there. I offered to give him a ride knowing that he lives on Metro Cards and cabs. The engagement was to begin at 9:15pm, we had 3 hours.

We hugged and he asked me, “We got some time, right?”

I thought of the transformation I HAD to undergo before heading out to my old stomping ground. I currently looked like shit. I hesitated, “Why are you hungry?”

“Nah, it’s your birthday next week right?”

I was curious. “Yeah.”

“Well I wanted to thank you for giving me a ride and wish you a happy birthday by taking you to Nike town.”

I froze, I’m not good with gifts. “You don’t have to do that, really.”

“Come on, woman. I just signed a deal with Nike so part of it is that I get gear and I want to extend my perks to you.”

Oh goodness, my first perk like…ever. “Ok, I guess.”

Off we went to Niketown which I had never visited before. At least five floors of sneakers and apparel stood before me and I had not a clue where to start. I’m not a huge sneaker buff, but I knew well enough to go with something fresh and stylish as opposed to something like *gasp* a running shoe (me, run? HA!). I’m a sucker for Air Force 1s (or Uptowns as us NYers call them) so I asked an attendant where I could find them and then headed to the 5th floor. There were so many cool sneakers. Waffle got lost on the sidelines while I decided between a cool pair of Dunks and AF1s. Knowing we didn’t have that much time I went with the soft metallic pearl AF1s, adorned with a rhinestone and pretty prink detail. I’m such a girl some times.

“What you think of these?” I asked Waffle.

“Hot, they match your outfit.”

I was wearing slacks and a turtleneck. Waffle doesn’t wear anything but sneakers, so he wears them with everything. I’m not Waffle. “Riiiiight. Well, I’m changing as soon as we get to my house, so these will sit pretty until I get an outfit to match.”

After getting my kicks packed up and paid for we headed to the express bus that would take us to Staten Island. I always laugh at how MTA express buses amaze people who don’t take them regularly, Waffle was one of these people.

“But, they are so comfortable. Why can’t the regular buses be like this?”

“Then they wouldn’t be regular would they?”

“Always thinking, L. Always thinking.”

We chatted our way through the ride to my house, and once there I hurriedly changed. I found out Imani was at mom’s and couldn’t help but expose my little princess. Before heading to RU we stopped around the corner at mom’s and I introduced Imani to Waffle.

“Hi Waffoolll!” She then proceeded to tell me how she loves tostones and apple picking. I swear the kid is such a parrot. Mom hurried me to try on some shoes and then I pleaded with her to let us leave.

“Bye, nina! Bye, Wafffoolll!”

“She’s too cute,” he told me.

“If you only knew.”

The trip to RU, with my speed racer tactics, only took about twenty-five minutes. I pulled into the Livingston Campus and felt overwhelmingly nostalgic. I believe this happens when you reach 25; suddenly everything from your past seemed to happen a very long time ago. I told Waffle about the classes I used to take on that campus and how their dining hall was better than the one on my campus. We reached Lucy Stone Hall and found the room on the invite. There was no one there yet so we hung around outside and waited for the president of the organization to show up.

The president, a super senior named Steve, showed up and Waffle introduced me. Ten minutes later Steve introduced us to a girl from their executive board and said, “So and so, this is Waffle and Angela.” He then walked away.

“Did he just call me Angela?” I asked.

“Nah, I think that girl’s name was Angela.”

“Oh.” I brushed it off and followed Waffle into the lecture hall.

The lecture hall turned out to be the same one I took Precalc in back nearly 5 years earlier. It made me smile to think how different and simple life was back then, even if it didn’t seem like it was at the time. I hoped that maybe I could look back at today some time in the future and think “if only I had known it was going to get a lot better”.

Kids started to pile into the hall and I was amazed at how much younger than me they all looked. Could I have looked that young when I was 18 or 19? I wonder what I looked like to them. Granted I don’t think I’ve aged much in the last 7 years, so I may blend right in. Or maybe they were thinking “How old is that chic? And what is she doing typing up a storm on that blackberry?”

Steve and the girl who I’m guessing was named Angela, fumbled with the projector and DVD player.

“I can’t figure out how to get it to start.” I heard Steve say.

I walked over to them, pressed DVD on the receiver and play on the DVD player. VOILA! Waffle’s bio came up on the screen.

“And that, students, is what a Rutgers degree will do for you!” I called out.

The crowd laughed. I’m a natural… in my own little world.
The bio played and the kids were fully interested, watching intently and laughing along. It ended and Waffle sat on a table and told his life story. Although I’d watched the bio and had already heard various anecdotes, he told a few that I hadn’t and there were some points that I focused so intently on moments passed and I wasn’t even aware. He said something along the lines of “Sometimes you need to take risks, huge ones, but they should in some shape or form be calculated. You should have a decent idea of what you’re trying to do and how you’re going to get there. But don’t be afraid to take those risks.” Great timing to mention such things around me when I may take one of the biggest risks of my life by moving thousands of miles away.

As Waffle told stories he would bring me into the presentation for side comments. Someone asked him how he got his DJ name and he began to say, “I’m somewhat of a…L, what did you call me?”
“A cornball.”
Everyone laughed.
“Yea, that’s it.”
We sounded like a comedian and his trusty sidekick. The session lasted an hour with some random questions, autographed biographies and group pictures. We said by to the kids and as we were leaving, Steve shouted, “Bye, Waffle. Bye, Angela!”
“I told you he thought my name was Angela! Shit, that is SO far off from my name!”
“It’s L,” Waffle called back.
Steve turned bright red, I waved and we left.

We made a pit stop at a local deli/grill/pizzeria combo place I used to frequent in college, downed some grilled cheese and hams and then bounced onto the turnpike. I assured Waffle it was fine that he napped while I drive, considering he had a 7am flight to catch. Of course there was traffic on the Holland tunnel, and after dropping Waffle off in downtown NYC, I didn’t get home until 1am.

Exhausted, I collapsed into bed and was asleep before I could change into pajamas.

My dreams were filled with sneakers and grilled cheese sandwiches…