Some time last week I read, “Up and Then Down” on the New Yorker online. Elevators have been in my life a lot more lately with this new job and the need to park in a parking garage. When I was working at the other location and using a parking garage I used the stairs all of the time. Not because I was freaked out by the elevator just that working in a smaller property you don’t tend to walk very far compared to the Gaylord Opryland. And I need all the exercise I can get. But in this new place the stairs seem to be for fire escape only and have an alarm on the doors. So, I ride the elevators everyday (and get fatter and fatter).
I had the thought today as my elevator car stopped at every floor on the way down and more people got on, “Would I rather be stuck in an elevator alone or with people I don’t know?”
Hmmm, that’s a tough one. Being an introvert I probably be just fine by myself. Especially, in the mornings. But, would I quickly descend into madness if I were stuck in an elevator with two or three other people who I don’t know. I might be alright if I knew them and liked them, but unknown people? This makes me think about the time I went on a twenty-one day wilderness trip with the school I was attending at the time; the program was much like Outward Bound with bibles. Considering my major was Outdoor Education/Recreation (the program was going through a transition from recreation to education while I was there), I had some confidence about going on this trip. The thing I wasn’t so sure about was spending 21 solid days with other people of which I didn’t know too well. Needless to say, I survived hanging out those folks but I really cherished my three-day solo!
Getting back to the elevator bit I must say that I could probably deal with one person. Over that I would go absolutely mad. Even more so if it had Muzak playing “Girl from Ipanema!”
Stephen Moseley over at CoolPeopleCare twittered his experiences of being a single parent for 36 hours. I am coming to the close of my time being a single parent and it is extremely hard especially when work and school is a factor. I would much rather have had the weekend to be the full-time daddy. Today, alone, I believe my head almost exploded three or four times. And that was just this morning getting ready to take the Young Extroverted One to work with me to get some things done before I took her to school.
Alright, the Elder Extroverted Holy One just called and said that she and the Bobblehead are leaving Montreat now. Hopefully, by the time I pick up the YEO we’ll be a complete family again. Single parents out there need some sort of huge award. Monetary in nature would be preferable.
Thinking back on the birthing experience I just have to chuckle to myself because it was very different than the Young Extroverted One’s birth. For the YEO we basically did all of the labor at home so the Elder Extroverted Holy One could eat stuff and move around. She also took an Ambien given to her by her doctor so she could get some rest in between contractions. Needless to say, EEHO tripped balls through the major part of labor and wasn’t counting minutes between contractions. I was sleeping in a different room and awoke to the sounds of grunting coming from the bathroom. Quick call to the doctor, labor confirmed, and off we go to the hospital. We beat the doctor there and EEHO was fully dilated and ready to drop the kid and a couple of pushes later the Young Extroverted One arrives and all of the nurses are quite amazed at the EEHO and had to ask if this was her first child.
Now that’s the way I like it. I don’t have to wait around and watch my lovely wife endure the pain of contractions. I was so worried that I would pass out up until then but when the time came we didn’t even have time to get the cameras, the boom-box and CDs with handpicked labor tunes and even our luggage out of the car. I have come to realize that I’m a good reacter (is that even a word?) and not a good waiter. If something comes up out of the blue I got your back. If I have to wait for something to come up I may have to lie down some.
Which brings me the birth of our second wonderful child. For now she’ll be named The Other Extroverted Child (at least until she gets a little older and is either very intimidated or encouraged by the YEO). EEHO’s water broke around 4AM. She woke me up with the wonderful news to which I had to lay down because I got a little light headed already. Made the call to the YEO’s grandma who came out and off we were to the hospital. As EEHO was checking in I had to lay down again. Woof, anticipation is a little rough on me (or it could be that the EEHO wouldn’t let me drink beer for two weeks prior because, “You have to be sober to drive us to the hospital!” Egad, up until then she was the designated driver and I was the one drinking for three!).
From 6:30-ish until noon or so we basically sat around and watched some crappy t.v. They have nice labor and delivery rooms at baptist but a little light on the entertainment end. Through a couple of more checks pitocin was added and contractions got a little rough. During this time I was updating my Facebook status and bidding on a Rudolph the Reindeer from the Build-a-Bear Workshop on eBay. So, in between switching out cool washcloths and making sure the EEHO was as comfortable as possible I was checking the intertubes to see if we got the friggin’ doll whose nose lights up, has a compass in the stock and a thing that tells time. Twenty minutes or so before the OEC arrives I announce, “We got it!” Luckily, the EEHO didn’t rip the side rails off of the bed and throw them at me. The pushing came and then so did the OEC! Around 2:34PM the doctor held her up to me and asked me to make the boy or girl announcement. Which took me awhile because I wasn’t quite so sure why she was holding this slimy, pinkish, purplish thing at me. I cleared my head and said, “It’s a girl!”
And we lived happily ever after . . . at least until the teenager years.
In the Sommet Center, unlike LP Field, I can pay for my beer and soda with a credit/debit card. In the Sommet Center, unlike LP Field, there are more than two (yes, count ’em, TWO) ATMs in the joint should I need one. In the Sommet Center, unlike LP field, my daughter can see the action (unless she’s looking for Gnash) even if there is a grown up in front of her.
I am very grateful to my friends to give us the tickets to go see a game with them. However, after the aforementioned experience I will never, ever buy tickets to see a football game at LP Field.
The Elder Extroverted Holy One and I are having our second child in a MONTH! Um, wow. Numero two-Oh. The parasite’s room isn’t even ready yet. Who are we kidding? That thing is probably going to sleep with us. I suppose it’s time to turn our room into one big mattress. Ooo, a padded room sounds even better! Geez, the EEHO doesn’t even have a real job. I sure don’t get paid like I have a real job. Where did I leave my Xanax? Maybe I’ll have to start making plasma donations on my way to work. There always seems to be a line there it must be somewhat profitable. That might have to be my second job, trading my precious bodily fluids for money. I don’t know how multiple child families do it when we can barely handle one very precocious, extroverted child. I think my head’s going to explode. Where did I leave my beer?
Which has nothing to do with ‘The Man’ keeping me down.
But it seems that the hotel and PSAV higher-ups have interviewed a candidate for the position of which I am in right now. Thankfully, I knew about this ahead of time and was fully prepped by my boss that it was happening. Well, the hotel, apparently, liked this guy but I was told that they like me too. What is that saying about cake and stuff?
If they hire this guy and I stay he would be the director of a/v and I would go back to being a technician. I’m not quite sure what would happen to the current technician, maybe they would put him at the Gaylord Opryland. Which, if you are a floor technician, is not that cool of a job.
At the same time, though, I am hearing the Opryland PSAV rigging department is struggling and has been since I left to take the job I now have. I’ve been seriously considering going back to rigging to take care of that mess and wait for another director job to open up. My problem is that I feel that I need to be paid around what the other two guys are getting paid. Especially the rigging supervisor, who got a significant raise since I left. Which now doesn’t make sense if this guy doesn’t have the skills to keep the ship running. If I go back and straighten things out I should get a significant raise, too. Right?
It’s just that I’m a big wuss when it comes to confrontation and money. Deep down inside I know that I deserve it. The department ran well when I was there doing inventory, scheduling labor, along with some actual rigging. When I’m gone it falls apart. I need to do my own math I guess and point that out to my boss. But, also, on the surface we (the extrovert/introvert family) need an increase in my pay. There’s a parasite just waiting to stop feasting on it’s host (the Elder Extroverted Holy One), enter the world and eat my money (and that will cut into my beer money and as the Young Extroverted One knows, daddy doesn’t share beer)(I do, really, share beer. I can prove it 🙂 )! Which, as soon as EEHO graduates and gets a job won’t be that big of a problem. For now, though, we need me to get a more significant raise.
I was hoping for more varied responses to the previous post. I think the winner is my dad’s comment with the Floridian’s response to certain traffic signals. Beautiful.
Now to the lovely story. I was driving down Church Street (just writing Church St. has me longing for the Black Mountain Bakery and their Mountain Mystique coffee brew on a lovely cool morning . . . sigh . . .) on my way to work and came upon the blinking yellow light as Church goes over 65. I should have proceeded with caution considering I just saw two cars fly through the blinking red-light of which they are supposed to stop, look for any on-coming traffic and then proceed through the intersection. But, no. It’s early, it’s Saturday and there aren’t many cars out. All of a sudden a small white car comes barrelling down on me. Feet on brake. A little fishtailing. Speedy heart rate. But no awful sound of front of white car smashing into side of my car. No deployment of airbags. Whew. After laying down some lovely words directed toward the errant driver I proceed on. As I look back in my rear view mirror at the next red light I watch another car just fly through the intersection.
I’ve always been a firm believer that drivers in Nashville were bad. This just adds more proof. Ugh. I find myself driving more offensively than defensively. I’m sure there are bad drivers everywhere but give me a break.
Well, Men’s Health has a list of cities that has the worst and best drivers. I think I’ll look over the top ten cities with the best drivers and move there.
I felt that I had something in my eye so I was looking in the bathroom mirror as the Young Extroverted One was . . . um . . . sitting on the throne (it’s a long story that involves brown recluses that we share our home with and some other insecurities that we are still trying to work out).
I randomly said, “YEO what would you do if my eyeball popped out?”
To which she responded, “I would freak out!”
I was kind of hoping she’d say something like, “I would remain ever so calm and pick up your eyeball and put it in a bag of ice (what does one do with a popped-out eyeball?) and call 9-1-1 to save your life.”
Hell, I would freak out too. But don’t tell a potential victim whom you’re about to rescue that you’d freak out. Right?