I have pretty much accepted internet trolls…like we all have. You know, the idiots that hide behind their computers on sites like Twitter to be vile, ugly, “messy” and mean. And this ain’t your regular mean…these people are shockingly hateful to celebrities and every day folks, alike. They don’t seem to have a conscience and they most certainly have no filter. And they are everywhere. While I haven’t been the victim of any internet trolls, I know a girl who has been. She was not only angry, but frightened over remarks made about her that were completely false and the veiled threats that accompanied them. It was a few years ago and the site finally agreed to take the post down. But it had a lasting effect on her. I spoke to her today and had to smile as I listened to her sing the praises of Curt Schilling.
I am a huge sports fan, so I immediately knew what she was talking about. For those of you who don’t, Curt Schilling is a retired MLB pitcher. And a great one. A couple of days ago, he sent a congratulatory tweet to his daughter about her admission to college. Then…for whatever reason, she was sexually threatened by several idiots. EXPLICITALLY sexually threatened. (Who knows why…I can’t quite grasp the motivation of people who do this type of thing) So her daddy did what any good daddy would do. He found out who they were and he called them out. Publically. (I can’t believe there are still people who think using a different name or “anonymous” actually makes you anonymous.) As of right now, Adam Nagel, has been suspended from college and Sean McDonald has been fired from the Yankees where he worked part time in ticket sales. In addition, there are student athletes who lost scholarships over this, some have been suspended from their sport for the season, and two were expelled. And the fallout isn’t over.
I applaud Curt Schilling. Not only because of the father he is, but because by standing up for his daughter, he stood up for all women. This kind of crap is NOT okay. We need to make our sons and daughters understand it is NOT okay. The internet is a wonderful tool for all sorts of things. But we should use it responsibly. Things you post “anonymously” have a way of biting you in the ass. Just ask a couple of these guys who threatened to rape Curt Schilling’s minor daughter. They’ll be walking around with a “sex offender” tag forever. And for what? To look good on the internet? Well, thanks to Curt Schilling, it backfired boys. Enjoy the fruits of your labor because they are certainly here to stay.
I never much thought about how many ways we are connected to our significant other. I mean…I know he wants mayonnaise on his tomatoes and water with his meals and prefers his jeans lightly starched. (Not starched by me, by the way, but lightly starched) I know he likes the weather hot, the ketchup cold, the sunrise better than the sunset and just about any movie made after John Wayne passed is a waste of time. I know to get my keys out of my truck before I come in the house because he will ask me sometime during the evening if I did…and if I didn’t… I’ll get a 20 minutes lecture on folks who steal automobiles. I know he’s going to slip out of bed every morning, careful not to wake me up, then show up an hour later with the best iced tea in the world from our local little store so I can have it for breakfast. I realize many, if not all of these things, come from living with a person. And this knowledge is normal and natural.
But today, as I was in quite a hurry to get him off the phone so I could keep an appointment and as he was trying to come up with a place to meet me to give me a package he wanted me to deliver from him…I said “just meet me by the thing where we saw that deal” and I hung up. And then it dawned on me….he KNEW what I meant. And he showed up on time at the thing where we saw that deal. I can’t decide if that’s cool…or scary.
First of all…it’s a DAMN Big Apple. We arrived…like idiots…in our big ass black suburban at 5 p.m., during the climax of rush hour traffic. I know…I know…great planning, huh? Anyway, somebody should’ve told me about these curious little buildings known as “toll booths”. Uh…I always TRIED to grab the ticket….but if I couldn’t grab the ticket…I went ahead and just hauled ass. Rumor has it, these people have cameras attached to their booths. Oopsy. Apparently, I’m about to get swamped with a few citations from the City of New York…or correction, my PARENTS are about to get swamped. It’s their big ass suburban. Oh, well…I have always lived by the creed it’s much easier to get forgiveness than it is to ask permission. Moving on…
So after we wind our way out of the Lincoln Tunnel (SO cool) through Times Square and Midtown Manhattan, we finally arrive at the Waldorf. Of course, we park in front only to be told by the most elegantly dressed doorman…to go to the side street and park in the garage. There we are met by the most dignified older black man in the crispiest bellman’s uniform I have ever seen. Now…I know our men down here in the South are supposed to be gentlemen, but this dude was the man! I started to get out of the vehicle and he rushed to open my door, held out his white gloved hand, and gently “led” me out to the red carpeted sidewalk. DAYUM. At my house, my daddy, my baby daddy, all my nephews and my preacher could be standing below me while I’m trying to get out of a tractor and one of them idiots would just holler “Jump!” I LOVED this man. I, of course, had on purple & gold, and we struck up a conversation about sports right away while the rest of my crew tapped their feet. I hated to leave him, but I gave him a 20 because he likes the Saints and proceeded to check in. (It woulda been a 5 bucks had he said anybody else!)
Once we were in the lobby of this glorious, historical, majestic marbled palace…it became pretty damn clear…we were sticking out like sore thumbs. LMAO. It’s a Monday night! Why do these people have on evening gowns and tuxedos??? My yoga pants and LSU jersey looked a little strange, as did the rest of my crew’s attire. But no matter…let them stare…we are in NEW YORK CITY!!! I’m owning this outfit, tapping my Nikes on the gozillion dollar rugs and saying “How’s it going?” to everybody I see. And every now and then I get a “Fine, thank you.” It’s a start!
So we get our keys and after the 45 minutes it takes us to realize you must insert your key inside the elevator to make it work, we excitedly ride up to the 7th floor to find our suite. And…we get lost, I mean, we are ON the seventh floor…but they musta hidden Suite 700M, cause it ain’t nowhere. Another bellman comes to our rescue and we see the bag dude from downstairs waiting at our door with 900 bags of luggage, our bags of junk food (like NYC ain’t got any) and our purple ice chest. Yeah, I took it…so what??? Don’t judge! Anyway, we get in our room, take pictures, explore the mini bar, look out the window, waller in the luxurious sheets, smell the little shampoos and lotions in the bathroom, try on the robes, play with the TV’s, study the room service menu and briefly jump on the bed before we set out to conquer the city.
Stay tuned. Tomorrow I will tell you about our first night in the city and my first experience with a food truck. OMG…