Monday, August 09, 2004

Good Work

Here's a glimpse at the stupid shit I did this weekend. I was sober for nearly all of these, so take that for what it's worth.

On Saturday morning I went to Urban Outfitters with a friend of mine who was looking to update his wardrobe. He left empty-handed because he didn't realize that "XL" at Urban Outfitters means "Tall Gangly Unshowered Emo-Kid" not "Large Angry Mammal." I, on the other hand, left with:

a pair of brown and orange Pumas
and an 18" Red Velvet Jesus Piggybank

As we headed back to my car, I held Red Velvet Jesus out in front of me with two hands and exhorted passers-by for change with the reminder that "Jesus Saves." No one got the joke...

I agreed to run the bar at a party some friends of mine were throwing Friday night. It was a pretty impressive setup, all things considered, so I had my hands full once the party really got going. By 1am everyone was hammered. Girls were making out, people were dancing to really bad Dancehall mixtapes, guys were wrestling on the grass. At some point near the end of the night, a girl who had earlier introduced herself to me as "Delightful" and had been making ridiculous amounts of eye contact with me every time I made her a drink over the course of the party came up to the bar and told me to lean forward so she could tell me something:

D: You look tense. Are you having at least a little fun?
N: Sure, I'm having a good time
D: You look tense, you should let me give you a massage
N: Thanks, but I'm more of a giver than a taker when it comes to massages. My neck and shoulder and back muscles are generally always really tight as it is so I doubt it would really help.
D: Well I wasn't planning on using my hands.
N: <pausing confusedly. Thank you Vodka-Tonic> That's nice. But I promised Graham and Daniel I would tend bar and help them clean up.
D: ......

"That's nice?" WHAA?!?!

Before the party started, I walked down the hill with Daniel to get some dinner. Daniel is a 6'3" 350lbs Nigerian bouncer with Alopecia, dark DARK skin, and a ferocious appetite for all things Asian (food, women, clothes, anime, women). As we passed the computer science building, Daniel spotted a chewed up surfboard in the bushes that ring the building. He waded into the waist-high shrubbery, yanked out the board, threw it onto the pavement, and jumped up and down on it until the fins snapped off. He then placed the board in the middle of the street on what is a very steep hill, laid down on his belly--engulfing the surfboard in all his large, dark, Africanness--and said "Push."

Who am I to argue? Daniel-and-surfboard took off like a shot under the force of my right foot. They slid down on a relatively straight path and came to rest in the middle of the intersection at a 4-way stop. From the bottom of the hill a good 120yds away, we had this exchange:

D: That was awesome. Your turn
N: Hell no
D: Pussy
N: Fuck You
D: Your turn
N: Fine

Daniel lumbered back up the hill surfboard in tow, positioned it in the middle of the street, and held it in place with his gigantic foot while he beckoned me over with a huge grin on his face. Reluctantly, I laid down on my stomach. Before I had a chance to really get settled and find my bearings he fucking launched me down the hill. Asshole.

Apparently, I found a better line down the impromptu street-luge track. I went sailing through the 4-way stop. As I made it into the intersection, I was abruptly turned askew by a well-placed manhole cover. It sent me careening shoulder-first into a moutain bike that was leaning against the storefront on the northwest corner of the 4-way stop. I came to rest at the 3 o'clock position flush with the bike and the front wall of the store. I rolled off the board to look at the bike. "U.C.P.D." Shit.

With my luck as good as it is, it should be no surprise that the rider of the offending bicycle--one Officer Diaz--was sitting mere feet away polishing off a slice of pizza and sipping from a can of Coke.

OD: What are you doing?
N: Surfing?
OD: Into my unit?
N: Your unit?
OD: My bike!
N: Oh, I'm sorry. It was an accident. Totally my bad.
OD: Are you drunk?
N: Not yet.
OD: Have you been drinking.
N: No sir.
<at this point Daniel comes trotting down the hill laughing>
OD: And you expect me to believe you?
N: Do you think I would have been able to stay on this fucking thing if I was drunk?
OD: Watch your language sir.
N: Sorry Officer.
<Daniel's not laughing anymore. In fact, he is quietly inching his way into the convient store on the opposite corner of the intersection. Dick.>
OD: Go.
N: You want to give it a try?
OD: Now.
N: You sure?
OD: Do you want to go to jail?
N: Well, no.
OD. Then go. Now.

I am always amazed at how frantically people rush into the BART station when they hear a train coming overhead. It doesn't matter what time it is, what platform it's coming into, what direction it's coming from. They scurry mindlessly like rats to the train's Pied Piper.

This morning I was walking up to the El Cerrito Del Norte station next to a very pretty Filipino woman who had parked next to me. I struck up a light conversation with her as we walked. The conversation turned harmlessly flirtatious rather quickly. She was going into The City--like most everyone else--and actually worked just down the street from me.

We had exchanged names and were about to exchange phone numbers when the familiar low hum of a BART train came within earshot. I swear if this girl was a dog her ears and tail would have stood straight up. She even cocked her head in anxious recognition like Scooby when Velma tries to bribe him with a Scooby Snack. Before I could say anything she broke into a powerwalk, pushed her way through the turnstyles, and vaulted up the escalator.

I didn't do a thing. I just kept to my normal pace because I knew I'd see her in a couple minutes. How did I know that? BECAUSE I COULD HEAR THAT THE TRAIN WAS COMING FROM THE OTHER FUCKING DIRECTION AND WAS HEADED TOWARD RICHMOND--NOT SAN FRANCISCO! What's wrong with these people? Can't they recognize when something is coming from the south and not the north?

Well, I guess I have my answer.

Anyway, I found her on the platform a few minutes later still flushed from her sprint:

N: Why'd you take off like that?
F: Didn't you hear the train coming? I didn't want to miss it in case it was the DalyCity Train.
N: Yeah, I heard it coming. But it was coming from the wrong direction.
F: Yeah but you only know that because the platform's still full and the Richmond train just left.
N: No, I could tell by the sound.
F: Really? How?
<and this is where I--unintentionally--busted out quite possibly the greatest single litmus test for the intelligence of riders on a major metropolitan mass-transit system>
N: Jesus baby, haven't you ever heard of the Doppler Effect?!

Good work, NP. No lumpia for you.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yes!!! I love the Doppler effect, I swear I thought of that just this morning as the Blue Line EL was pulling into the station.

In high school my buddy and I lobbied hard to have a "class effect" voted on. The Doppler, lake (I'm from Michian), and others. It would have been totally sweet.

August 9, 2004 at 11:15 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm probably stupid, but how does the doppler effect help figure what direction the train was coming? Coming or going I understand it's application, but not direction wise.

August 9, 2004 at 11:21 AM  
Blogger NP said...

How should I know? I suppose it wouldn't help with direction if one was unable to discern the source of the wave. What do you want from me? I didn't take a single science class in college. You got what I meant though, and how is dropping a Doppler bomb on an unsuspecting Filipina not the best way to end a conversation?

August 9, 2004 at 11:29 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

A Marcos or Mt. Pinotubo joke would have worked as well, the Doppler Bomb was an A+ though

August 9, 2004 at 11:33 AM  
Blogger Halmustdie said...

Had she gotten it, she would have suddenly appeared less attractive. Admit it.

August 9, 2004 at 12:15 PM  
Blogger Brandon said...

no fly lice for U.

August 9, 2004 at 1:55 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love this blog, keep it up

August 9, 2004 at 2:25 PM  
Blogger Rick said...

the best thing about your blog, according to me, is that you can make a ''you should've been there''-story into something great and worthwile, your latest entry is just another example of this.

August 9, 2004 at 3:41 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I saw this tee-shirt and thought of you.

August 9, 2004 at 4:21 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

the doppler effect has nothing at all to do with it because it's the same effect in either direction

but i still find your blog entertaining anyway, although your competition is mostly cam whores and emo pussies

August 9, 2004 at 8:41 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I think the best way to end a conversation on the way to a BART platform is to pretend like you hear your train coming and run away from the creepy dude who strikes up a conversation on a subway.

"Hey, you riding the train too?? wow, what a coinkydink!! duh"

"uh, yeah I guess, but I gotta run now..."

"Oh. Okay, well hey it was nice talking to you and I hope we can do it again sometime! Bye!"

man, you are delusional.

August 10, 2004 at 5:55 AM  
Blogger NP said...

and the public school system rears its ugly head once more...

August 10, 2004 at 10:01 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Misguided confidence is still misguided. No reasonably attractive woman would ever exchange phone numbers on a BART platform unless she had 3 kids w/ no job.

August 11, 2004 at 12:24 PM  
Blogger NP said...

with YOU, my friend. with YOU.

August 11, 2004 at 1:43 PM  

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