Tag: Hodge Podge

Sports

Nationals Park Update

Melanie

So.  This was exciting, huh?  So many new visitors here to read my story since so many friends and even people I’ve never met shared the link and retweeted and emailed, etc.  I want to say a big huge thanks to everyone who did so, even if you didn’t tell me about it.  It really means a lot to me.

Because I got so much traffic, I wanted to be sure to post the update and give credit to the Nationals for reaching out to me and getting this resolved in under 24 hours.  In a nutshell, this appears to be a huge, and very unfortunate, misunderstanding.

I spoke to the vice president of Guest Services this afternoon, after the Nationals twitter account DMed me and asked for my contact information.  She was both very apologetic and a little defensive, maybe understandably so.  She said the knocking and pounding and doorknob rattling was not her employees, that it must have been guests trying to get in (“That’s a very popular restroom.”).  She said they got a report that someone was locked inside, and that’s when they sent an employee to unlock it.  I asked her (1) Why anyone thought I was locked inside when I repeatedly stated that the room was occupied, and (2) Why the pounding didn’t stop after I pushed the door shut and locked it again, having clearly demonstrated that I was not locked inside.

She said (1) no one heard anything from inside, and (2) again, it wasn’t her staff, it must have been guests, and short of stationing an employee outside the door, she’s not sure what she could have done to prevent it.

I suggested that, if they couldn’t hear me, even though I was shouting, and if they can’t hear the kids who apparently get locked in there on the regular (which is apparently what they assumed when they got the report), maybe they should consider turning down the volume on the piped in game audio in there.  I couldn’t hear anyone from outside, either, but I have a hearing impairment and assumed that was my problem.  Turns out it’s not.

I do understand where she is coming from, and since there’s no window in the bathroom door, I have to take her at her word that it wasn’t park employees repeatedly, loudly banging on the door and rattling the doorknob.  I did point out that, interestingly enough, there were no guests standing outside when I opened the door at the end of my ordeal, only five park employees.

Here’s the most important part:

I asked her if it was inappropriate for me to use the Family Restroom for pumping.  She said, “No, not at all, but there are probably better places to do it.”  She said she understood that I didn’t want to go all the way across the park to the Reagan Room, but said if I had asked someone, they would have made other accommodations for me.  She said they regularly take nursing mothers to First Aid or find open offices for them where they’d be more comfortable than in the restroom (and I have actually spoken to someone since that confirmed that this happened to her when the Reagan Room was locked).  That’s great, and exactly what I wanted to hear, but I reminded her that it doesn’t say any of that on the website.  She said they can’t put all the possibilities on the website.  Fair enough, but can’t you say, “Feel free to ask any staff member for alternate accommodations” or something?  I definitely would have, because pumping in a public restroom is not my idea of a good time.

In the end, she apologized that I experienced it the way I did–that is, that I felt harassed and afraid, even if it wasn’t her employees.  I thought that was very classy of her.  She said they strive to be a very family-friendly park and to provide great experiences for all their guests and she was sorry that didn’t happen for me yesterday.  I assured her that I have attended many games there and have always enjoyed myself and that it was because it was so out of character that I felt I needed to make sure they were made aware of it.

She also invited me back, along with my husband and daughter, as her guests for any game we like this season.  I told her I’d be glad to come back, and that we had already planned to take Maggie to her first game next month.  She seemed very exited about that and said to just let her know the date and she’d set us up in the club so we’d be totally comfortable and not have to worry about the weather or anything.  I thought that was very nice and not at all necessary, but obviously, we’re going to take her up on it.

So all’s well that ends well.

 

 

Uncategorized

I’m a Liar

Melanie

I get my ya-yas at IKEA. You have to put them together yourself, but they cost a little less.
— Chandler, on Friends*

Ok, so when I said in my last post that I was “working” on Part 2 of the Memory Lane series, what I really meant was, “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about it, I’ve been thinking about it, and I might write it if I feel like it this weekend.”  Guess what?  I don’t feel like it.  Or, I do, but I’d rather talk about my day, because today, I went to two of my favorites stores:  Ikea and Costco.

When I was a kid, going to Ikea was a big deal, because they were exclusively in bigger cities, and it was a whole ordeal to get there.  Ever since college, though, I’ve not been that far from an Ikea for any length of time, but I still love it.  They have so many great things for, like, 59 cents.  It’s unbelievable.

I always end up at the checkout with a cart full of stuff I never intended to buy.  Today, for instance, I went in for curtains and curtain rods and to replace the bowl my cat eats out of (the last one broke and he’s been eating out of one of my cereal bowls, which doesn’t match his water bowl, and if you know me, you know that makes me die a little inside every time I feed him).  I expected to spend about $30.  I left $125 poorer, but I got two chairs for my dining room table (now I can actually eat at it), seat pads for them, three of the bowls my cat eats out of (in case they break again – hey, they really were 59 cents apiece; you can’t beat that), a pot lid rack, a giant poster, some art cards for a frame I’ve been trying to find art for, scented tea lights, some jumbo tealights that match the color scheme in my bedroom (you never know when they’re going to discontinue them), curtains and rods for my bedroom, and a $5 saw (conveniently placed in the store next to the curtain rods I bought, which were 55″ long – perfect for one window, too long for the other – with a sign near them that said “Easy to cut!”)!

If it weren’t for Ikea, I’d have practically no furniture.  I outfitted my entire bedroom in my first apartment after college at Ikea for less than $500, and I still use that set.  When I moved here, I bought my dining room table from them, and I have more Ikea picture frames and kitchen items than I can count.  I love to walk around in there and see all their display rooms; there’s one that’s a whole studio apartment -270 square feet – and it has more cabinet space in the kitchen than I do in 700 square feet.  I want to buy all of the rooms, as-is, and make the Ikea people come to my house and set them up exactly the same.  Someday.

But.  Ikea is nearly always crowded, and that sucks.  If you frequent Ikea, you may remember that they have very helpfully laid out arrows on the floor to show IN WHICH DIRECTION YOU SHOULD BE WALKING as you make your way through the showroom.  You, there, with the overflowing cart and ankle-biters weaving in and out of people’s way: Must you defy the rules of traffic flow?  Why do you insist on walking in the opposite direction of everyone else?  I know you started in the same place we all did, so why now are you backtracking?  There are no checkouts up here, and very few items to be picked up and placed in your cart (and I promise, you can find all of those few items downstairs.  Really.  Trust me; I’m an Ikea expert).  Stop swimming upstream.

Then I went to Costco.  I wasn’t sure what I’d buy, as I live alone and don’t have much storage space, but I was thinking trash bags, soda, and cat food.  They didn’t have the size trash bags I needed, but I got soda, cat food, a crapload of good candy for the bowl on my desk at work (I eat almost none of it, and I never see anyone else take any, but it disappears little by little; I like to imagine the cleaning people hanging out in my office after hours, shooting the breeze while sucking on Atomic Fireballs), four pounds (!) of chicken breast tenders, some cereal, some fruit cups for lunches, and some, um, personal items.  Between that and the stuff from Ikea, I made 5 trips from my car to my apartment when I got home.

Sadly (Jane, don’t be mad), I did not buy a stainless steel Food Saver (it had everything, all the bells and whistles, and canisters!) for the unbelievably low price of $125.  I know it’s a great deal – I’ve priced them, and that model, without the canisters, is usually $160 – and I really wanted to, but I just couldn’t justify it today.  Pity me.

The thing about Costco for me is, intellectually, you know you don’t really need a 500-count bottle of vitamins (honestly, if it’s just you taking them, you can’t possibly use them all before they expire), or a ten-pound bag of rice, or a bag of 50 apples, right?  But then, you whip out your cell phone, which, conveniently enough, has a little calculator, and you do the math.  Those apples?  They’re only about 6 cents each or something.  You can take a vitamin every day for nearly two years for the low, low price of 4 cents a day!  Make all the rice you want for 17 cents a cup!  (I am, of course, making these numbers up because I did not buy vitamins, apples, or rice, but Pico eats for 32.2 cents a day, and my Diet Dr. Pepper is only 24 cents a can).  It’s seductive.  You see the unit price, and you know it’s a good deal, so you buy it even if you don’t really need it.  And then you get a hernia carrying it all up three flights of stairs to your apartment.

One day, though, I’m going to have a giant family, and a house with plenty of storage space, and we will shop at Costco weekly, and I will buy 48-packs of toilet paper, and 72-packs of Capri Sun for their lunches, and 500-count bottles of Flintstones vitamins (they can share; we’ll use it up in no time).  We will be thrifty and we will save a ton of money.  I’m taking applications for a husband who can carry all of that into the house for me.

* Ok, if you read this overnight and are back again, you know I’ve changed the opening quote. Friends just is a better fit for me than Fight Club, but I didn’t remember the quote until this morning. I can’t be sure I’ve got it precisely right, because, shockingly, IMDb doesn’t have this quote on its Friends page, and the only other source I found by Googling was a site in Swedish, and I don’t trust them. Feel free to correct me if you know the right wording, and I’d love to have the episode title that it came from as well.

Uncategorized

Lighten Up, It’s Just Fashion

Melanie

Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening.
— Coco Chanel

D.C. is a great town for people watching. There are tourists everywhere, and you can spot them in a second (the next one I spot standing on the left side of the escalator – standers to the right, walkers to the left, it’s not a hard system – may get an “unintentional” nudge). They dress like you would expect, and they’re easy targets for snark. This post is not about them. This post is about the people who work in the city, whatever their jobs may be (as will become clear in a moment).

Now, look: I don’t claim to be a fashion plate. I don’t subscribe to Vogue or Elle or In Style, I don’t really care what’s “in,” so long as I don’t stick out, and I skip the parts of Glamour (to which I do subscribe) that instruct me to “layer with sheers,” and “don’t forget the girly touches,” and “wear his clothes your way,” because: No. However, I have seen several episodes of What Not To Wear, and I can honestly say I’ve never left the house in any of the following:

1. A hot pink (nearly fluorescent) business suit. With Adidas slides. And ankle socks. (If she had been on the Metro in the morning, I might have excused the footwear; a lot of people change at the office, but this was midday in the middle of the street).

2. Blue (closer to teal) suede cowboy boots, with capri pants. I’m not sure where she was going with this look, but she didn’t get there.

3. A seersucker suit, with bow-tie. In fairness to this guy, this is Virginia (I saw him at my morning Metro station) and I think this is where seersucker country starts, but still. It’s not like he was old, either. He was probably in his 40s. My Torts professor and Tom Wolfe are fond of seersucker, but . . .  they’re in their 60s.

4. Silver lamé halter top with denim (super)short-shorts, and silver pumps. At 9:45 on a Tuesday morning, in a business district. She’s the one I was referring to above when I said “whatever their jobs may be.” I’m not saying she was a prostitute – hey, maybe she was doing a walk of shame, what do I know – but if the silver shoe fits . . .

and my favorite:

5. A navy blue skirt suit. Great, right? What’s wrong with that? Well, when I first noticed her getting off the Metro, she was in front of me. She caught my eye because she was wearing red, patent leather, sling-back, peep-toe pumps with her sort of average, everyday navy suit. At the top of the escalator, she stopped and turned around for a second, and that’s when I hit the jackpot: white oxford shirt with a red and white striped men’s tie. Oh, and big, puffy 80s bangs. I really wanted to follow her to find out where she worked. I’m guessing T.G.I.H&RPatentPalace.

Uncategorized

Everyone Is Doing It

Melanie

Resolve, and thou art free.
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

New Year’s resolutions, that is. I thought I’d go ahead and share mine as well. As if you care. There are only a couple; I know myself, and any more than that would overwhelm me.

1. Become more informed. The primaries are upon us, and I don’t have any idea, beyond the bare bones, what any of the candidates stand for. I read Express (the condensed version of the Washington Post given out free to Metro commuters) from cover to cover every morning, I get the NY Times headlines emailed to me every day (and I read probably 50% of the stories), plus I read the Yahoo headlines and numerous blogs (what do you mean, none of them are news blogs?), and I still feel like I don’t understand what’s going on in the world. Maybe my brain is broken, but it’s like I’m reading the information and it’s not staying in my head. I live in the center of the political world, and I am hopelessly out of touch. But I can tell you what Britney’s latest legal trouble is, so there’s that.

2. Get back on track, weight-wise. I haven’t talked about it, maybe at all, here, but I’ve been on Weight Watchers for nearly 20 months now. I’ve lost 60 pounds, which is great, and I’m thrilled, but I have a long way to go (30-40 more pounds), and I’ve not lost anything since September (in that go up one week, down a couple weeks, back up a couple the next week, kind of way). I am so not one of those people who whines that I’m working the program perfectly and it just isn’t happening. No: I’ve kind of gone off the rails, and I take full responsibility for that. It’s time to get my head back in the game, because WW does work, but you can’t fool the program. Or the scale.

3. Get more involved. I do nothing. Nothing. I get up, go to work, come home, sometimes go to the gym (in my complex, so I don’t even have to drive), make and eat dinner, watch some TV, travel the information superhighway, read a little, and go to bed. Wash, rinse, repeat. The weekends are marginally better because I accomplish more (read: clean my apartment, go grocery shopping, and cook lunches for the week), but they are largely the same. If I don’t go down to Richmond or have someone from Richmond come here, I don’t do anything. It turns out that my “work friends” are just that: friends at work. Which sucks, but it is what it is. One person I thought would be more than that (not the same one from early November – a boy – but not a boyfriend, just a boy friend) is apparently tired of me.

So, now I have to make my own fun. This goes along with that “I swore my life would be different when I moved here” thing I talked about early on. I want to meet people. I don’t know how I forgot about church (I’m Unitarian), but I never even thought to look one up when I moved here. I’m going to do it. And I joined the local bar association when I passed the bar in October, and god knows they send me enough crap about getting involved, so I want to try to do that, especially volunteer work.

Thinking about the effort it will take makes me tired, and I’m tempted to say I don’t have enough time, but: wash, rinse, repeat. Thinking about having to talk to people I don’t know at all makes me kind of nauseous, and I’d rather stay home and watch TV, writers’ strike or not (you guys, they’re bringing back American Gladiators – how freaking awesome is that??), but you get the life you make for yourself, right?

4. Go on a date. I don’t know if that’s so much a resolution as it is a hope, but here’s where I’ll do my part: if I meet someone I’m attracted to, I will ask him out. If someone asks me out, I will say yes, even if I think there’s no way in hell we’ll hit it off, under the heading of “Hey, you never know.” Unless it’s, like, one of the homeless guys who hang out at the top of the escalator at my Metro stop in the city or something. Give me a break: he can’t buy me dinner (don’t worry, I’ve got my room in hell all picked out.).

So there you go. My new year in four easy steps. How about you – what’s your big resolution?

Now, I think I heard something about some political brouhaha in Iowa tonight? (I’m kidding, I promise. I know it’s Idaho.)

Uncategorized

So Much for That Idea

Melanie

Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.
— Jane Austen

Sorry I didn’t return to regular programming – I got busy dealing with the body shop, the insurance adjuster, a lying student loan company supervisor (Oh, you’ll call me back in 48 hours, max?  Really?  I think someone’s pants are on fire.), and crappy apartment maintenance people (Oh, you can’t come today like you said you would, but you’ll be here first thing in the morning?  Really?  Oh, you’re sorry you couldn’t make it this morning, but it’s after hours now and a dishwasher is not an emergency but you promise you’ll be here tomorrow?  Really?  Oh, you couldn’t make it again today, but this time you super-duper promise you’ll make it tomorrow?  Really?  Suck on it.  If I get West Nile virus from the nasty, standing water in the bottom of my dishwasher, I may go all Lawyer on you.) – and frankly, was not in the mood for Things to Be Happy About.  But don’t you worry, I have a bang-up Christmas edition all ready to go for you – it will be like an extra present for you to open Christmas morning!

So the car: remember how I said how thankful I was that the damage wasn’t extensive?  Either I know nothing about cars, the body shop and insurance adjuster are ripping me off, or I jinxed myself.  I think it’s the first one, but I’m not positive.  We’re up to $2200 and they haven’t even put the car on the lift yet.  Awesome.  Thank god I wasn’t one of those people who said “Oh, I never get in accidents, so I can handle a $1500 deductible.”  I know myself better than that, and went for $500.  That hurts, especially at the holidays, but it could be worse.

Remember also how I said how great my boss is?  He gave us Christmas presents yesterday, which I was not expecting at all (we already did our “annual round robin gift exchange,” you know).  Two words: Coach wristlet.  If you know anything about me, you know I do not care about labels and I would never buy myself Coach anything, but I was amazed at his generosity.  It’s beautiful and classic – plain black leather – but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it.  Does anyone use one of these?  I’m stumped in the face of such a thing.

Speaking of gifts, I am officially done, and everything is wrapped, as of last night.  Actually, that’s a lie.  I left one thing for my brother unwrapped because I may have to exchange it after I get to his house tonight and see if he already has it.  He won’t be there til Sunday night – he’s on an out-of-town job – so it will be safe.

And speaking of my brother, welcome him to the blogosphere, won’t you?  He’s not a great speller, but I love him anyway.