#half the time the buses come five minutes early and don’t wait. which means that even if you get your timings correct to schedule you miss

[freckleslikestars]

Tell me why the last bus to the train station is an hour before my train. And why the bus after that is three hours after my train. What the fuck is that about.

[thebiggestnaturaldisaster]

Tokoyami x reader part 1

Tw: angst

3k words

Soulmate au

A couple of OCs make their appearances here

Soulmates. You don't get to choose them but most seem to be the perfect match for you even if you don't know it at first.

You technically get your soul mark at birth it's just incredibly faint but then as you grow up it becomes more prominent, it's assumed that that's because you're closer to meeting your soul mate.

But that's where you have a slight problem you're 14 and your mark is still dull. Normally that would be fine it just means your soulmate lives farther away, but being the child of a top hero in your country means you have moved around a lot; and in turn met many many people. Is it possible to never meet a soulmate?

"Y/N breakfast is ready!" Your mom calls up to you in a singsong voice. It's a family tradition that every Saturday you all sleep in and then have a fun breakfast together. You race downstairs nearly knocking over the vase of flowers on the hallway table. Down in the kitchen there wasn't a large array of foods but some mickey mouse pancakes (with an assortment of toppings), bacon, eggs, and some fruit salad. All your favorites, the nostalgia is like a warm hug.After piling your plate tall with breakfast you sat down at the table with your mom and dad. A few minutes into the family breakfast and a few shared glances between your parents you could tell something was off.

"Y/N your mother and I have something to tell you." Your dad's tone was off he seemed almost nervous. Nothing he could say with that tone could be good. The words rung in your head like a bell was struck next to you. 'We're moving'. Again? Where this time? Will I finally meet them? Why do we have to move around so much? You had so many questions but you couldn't form enough words to ask all of them. You could only get one of them out. Where? The answer rung more than the initial news. Japan.

'''''''''''

That was a couple years ago though. You were nervous at first of course, moving to a new country is always scary, but the nerves lightened a little bit once you noticed your mark was getting darker as the time there went on. You were still the child of a professional hero due to a slight transfer hence the move. And with a move and a powerful quirk there's one school in particular you wanted to go to. UA. The best hero school in Japan. There's nothing you wouldn't do to get in. After a grueling entry exam and a lot of practicing you got in. You got into the hero course call 1-A and tomorrow was your first day.

It was strange to be walking into a hero school in a new country but you were excited. The pro heroes here were exceptional and inspiring to watch. You aspired to be like them. The door to class 1-A. Here goes nothing. Your classmates were interesting, a very lively group, with very lively quirks. One stood out the most though an incredibly cute guy with a birds head, he was a little eccentric in a Gothic way but that made him all the more captivating. You became fast friends with most of your classmates, all aside from the angry and unapproachable Bakugo at least.

Your teacher had you all do a lot of physical tests today and admittedly you felt gross you could feel the sweat encrusting the dirt onto your skin and the only thing you could think about as you opened the door to your house was showering. After dropping your bag on your bed you went directly to the shower but as you undressed you noticed it on your shoulder. Your mark was solid. You met him. You squealed in delight though based on your parents rushing to the outside of the bathroom door it must've been more of a shriek. With a tank top still on you threw the door open and showed your parents your mom in particular. The excitement in the air was palpable. After your shower you got dressed into comfortable clothes and got online to talk to your old friends from back home, they HAD to hear this.

A few months had passed and since then you've gotten closer to your friends and even closer to who you found out had your mark with you, Tokoyami. Your initial thoughts of him being attractive hadn't faded at all though you two hadn't known each other long, you decided to take everything slower even though the chemistry was as if you had known each other your entire lives, you decided to go as far as dating but not much further. Your parents each loved the other which while expected was very nice. Despite dating for a few months now whenever you two kiss he gets extremely flustered which is endearing.

"Students I have a couple announcements to make" Everyone immediately stopped talking and payed attention in hope it was something exciting. "Firstly there will be a family outing for the hero classes so please do check with your parents and have the papers that are being handed out signed so we know who will be coming. Secondly after long deliberation we have decided a select few of the hero courses this so do keep it between us; there is a traitor in the school, we are unsure who it is or if they're a student or a teacher. We have decided to tell you so you can keep a look out and tell us if there is anything strange." The class was buzzing there were whispers everywhere around, everyone's voice muddled together. Who could it be you asked yourself its a hero school, if you're here you're either a hero or want to be. It could be one of my friends even.

A couple of weeks had passed but the anxiety of the traitor wasn't a bit lower than before, understandably. As all the families and students climbed onto the buses there was a silent agreement to not discuss what was heard until after the day of fun with everyone as to not ruin it. The cool early morning air chilled everyone's core a small bit as you all rode to the destination off the forest and walk to the final spot - a clearing semi deep into the belly of the forest. The drive was long and the buses cramped but you couldn't help but wonder who was joining, or if the traitor would be. The blades of grass were painted with a dew that soaked the bottom of your shoes, it was going to be a good day. Right?

The day turned out to be bright, sunny, and comfortably warm. Games were played and if students chose to they were able to show off how their quirk training was going in a safe and controlled environment. You could hear it a mile away, a screaming match between Bakugo and his mom, looks like its his turn to show off. How unusual. With a sigh you gently grab your parents arms and back them away to a hopefully safe distance. "You don't want to be close to this trust me." Next thing everyone knew some of the biggest and loudest explosions you've seen him set off flashed, like lightning feet away from you.

You weren't the only ones watching.

After the show Bakugo gave it seemed as if everyone wanted to show their parents how their quirks and control had gotten and you were no exception. The longer you watched the others show their parents and friends the more shy became which didn't go unnoticed. Suddnly you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, looking over you saw the lightly caring smile on his beak and you felt a wave of confidence as you waited for what you knew would be your turn. Every so often as the moment got closer and closer you would feel an encouraging squeeze on your hand.

You took your turn, more nervous than you ever had been. It had been years since this many people saw your use your quirk, it doesn't always go well. you looked back at your families. Toko's face was gentle as ever and you could feel your parents eyes watching in support. You took a breath and closed your eyes. Focus Y/N. You could feel the air swirling around you to your forearm and hand gently blowing against your face. You slowly opened your eyes and scanned the tree line, you don't need a large trunk just one to show how well your training is going. You slide your foot back getting into the proper stance. As you breathe out you move in one fluid motion and slice your arm through the air; in turn the air that gathered around your arm is like a knife flying through the tree cutting the trunk in half. The crash of the falling tree was the last thing that was heard. Everyone was silent. Most had never seen your quirk used, and those who have before had never seen it to that extent.

You could feel your face getting warmer as everyone stared at the sliced tree laying dormant of the ground. You slowly walked back to your family's spot next to Tokoyami's family. The second you got close enough you were tugged into your warm as she gave you a hug and your dad giving you a proud high five. Once your mom let's go you take your spot next to Toko once again the picnic blankets were laid out and the food was ready to eat as the other students demonstrated their own abilities. You sat on the scratchy blanket eating and lost in conversation when you noticed a fog roll in. Figuring it was just a student you didn't know, you all continued talking amongst yourselves but also to the occasional classmate or friend that came by. You were enjoying yourself it felt like pure bliss sitting in the clearing with everyone around. The sky darkened quickly, which would've been normal but there was no sun set the sun was still shining down. The fog was thicker and darker, a mix of fog and smoke maybe?

Blue flames engulfed the trees surrounding the clearing spreading quickly. The fog and the smoke was heavy everyone scrambled to get to safety. You felt a strong hand grab yours and pull you up as figures slowly walked into the clearing. Shigaraki was first followed by the usual villains, what a thought the usual people trying to kill us. Your eyes scanned them all and saw some your didn't recognize including someone you could only call Nomu version 2 he was gigantic.

He was talking. You didn't want to listen you had to think.

Thé air was heavy and still as the fog slowly got thicker no one dared to move. There were so many villains it was dizzying. So many new ones too. If it were just the hero course students you probably would have stayed as a group to try to fight your way out but it wasn't. No there were heroes, families, and students from different class types. You had to get to safety. How? How are you going to do that. Movement. You had no time to think you could only react as Nomu 2.0 started to move. Slow at first like a lumbering giant a mistake of human creation. Then he wasn't. He wasn't slow at all he charged toward a large group being stopped by All Might and Mr. Aizawa. Panic. Fear.

With a shriek acting as an alarm everyone scattered. Villains chased while others went back into the woods. People were everywhere fighting or running. Terror. The pro heroes were all busy trying to stop various people from getting hurt. You were frozen. Unsure of what to do. You felt a warm hand grab yours and yank you into the tree line. Toko. Your parents, one being a pro hero chose to fight while the other ran along side you. Dark. The fog and smoke blotted our the sun as much as they made it harder to breathe. Where were you? You'd been just running and running. You all stopped Tokoyami's dad needed a minute. You kneeled with him his wife in tow for a moment. He wasn't used to this.

Crack. Crunch. Crash.

A tree covered in blue fire came crashing down between you all. Like scared horses his parents booked it deeper in to the woods. "I'll get them you two just get to safety." You assured him. It was safer to get as many people out as possible. You ran. You weren't sure how far they'd gotten but you just kept running calling out in hopes they would hear you. Your legs were heavy your feet like cinderblocks hitting the ground. You saw them. Picking up speed you you ran to be just in front of them blocking their path to stop them. They had tears in their eyes, could you blame them. You pulled them both into a hug, though you weren't used to so many feathers. After choosing a direction to walk you started making your way hopefully out of the forest. The fog and smoke mixture thickened to the point it was hard to see far in front of you. That's when you heard it. The other footsteps. You all stopped.

After a short moment you saw a figure step closer. A slow trot would be best to describe it. Followed closely but a few others. Friends? As they got closer you were able to see their faces. Shigaraki. He was right in front of you. Dabi and three others tailing right behind him. Who were they? You only knew about the main villains from this organization. You'd never seen them before, you were getting more unsure about this by the second. You motioned for his parents to get behind you though would that really help anything? You looked at the ones you haven't seen before. They were about your age one wearing a mask on their mouth, maybe a vocal quirk, and the other just looked bored. The third one was odd she didn’t seem like a villain at all. It was off putting.

"Mr. And Mrs. Tokoyami once I can get their attention on me please run as much as you can." You said without looking away from the 5 in front of you. You should never talk about a plan in front of the people who want to kill you though.

In a blink you were grabbed. Strong chains coiled around you squeezing you holding you in place. The cold metal felt strange as it dig into your skin. Help. You could hear more clinking metal behind you. You struggled to turn your head but when you did you saw his parents coiled even tighter than you. The feathers on his father were slowly being pulled out by the coil. You had to get out of here. The chains lead to back to the bored guy. So he didn’t even have to move no wonder he’s bored. You focused on each of them you’re eyes trailing around the scene as you tried to think of a way out.

“Masami Tokoyami. Age 47. Quirk shadow puppet. Not a threat.” A cheerful voice spoke. What?

“Hachigoro Tokoyami. Age 50. Quirk bird. Not a threat slightly pathetic though. A shame really.” Her voice trailed off at the end. She was staring at you now. It was only a few seconds but it felt like an eternity.

“Y/N. Age 16. Quirk solid air. Threat level high if they can control it well, it’ll be sharper than any weapon created.” She started talking directly to you “I would have loved to be your friend under different circumstances.”

Horror. What kind of a quirk does that girl have? You needed to get out of there and soon. The way you came would work, it was just barely a straight show after all. You looked at it for too long. The third one, the other girl, had noticed what you were focused on. Of you could see her face it probably would have had a smirk plastered on it as she walked over to the path. She leaned on a tree watching you looking for any hint of reaction. She must’ve gotten what she wanted because suddenly the very tree was falling over blocking the path. In an instant blue flames engulfed the. Smoke filled your lungs and burned your throat. No.

You felt the air wrapping around your wrist you had to do this fast. You focused as much as you could on the chain holding you. Slice. The metal broke in half, but instead of a simple clink it was accompanied but a scream in pain. He can feel his chains. Your prison fell and the other half retreated back into his body after flailing and scoring trees. He doesn’t seem very bored anymore. After a moment of you steadying yourself you heard the gasps. The Tokoyamis could barely breathe with the air and the chains. Turning around you saw them, bruised and Toko’s father bloody from his feathers being ripped out.

It was like a horror movie. The chains raised them with ease the slightly worse part was what came after. Masami was thrown into a tree wit enough force that it was turned to splinters. The chains loosened and was left there in the shards. Before you could think Hachigoro was raised as high as the canopies and slammed into the ground. You would never admit it but the fact that it caused a small crater was slightly cool. You placed a hand on your shoulder right over your soulmark. You’d save them. For him.

[psychoangiethings]

The Bloodline [Roman Godfrey x Reader]

Warning: Adult themes & language, murder

Other tags: Magic, friends to lovers, slow build, nightmares, witches, upirs

Summary: After very suspicious car crash that killed both of her parents, Abigail Wolff moves in with her aunt to Hemlock Grove only to discover a truly interesting family history which her father kept from her. As she awakens her powers, something much older and terrifying is coming after her. Or maybe not after her at all.

Chapter 8

Masterlist

Chapter 9 - Drive faster

15th December 2016

It was early in the evening when I yelled into the house I'm going for a run which was a code for practising in the forest.  In every grimoire I read that every witch has to be in perfect balance with nature so I thought how will I get there? The answer was really simple, all I had to do was let my power flow through me with my hands in the ground and try to feel the life and power of earth. Just to get on the same page without hurting anyone or myself, get to know each other. It became easier when I was deeper in the forest, not afraid of someone walking onto me.

So, wearing my oldest pants, that once had beatiful dark blue colour, and shirt with long sleeves and a thin vest, I went out. During those days I tried to go there as many times as possible, to gain my balance. I even found a place that reminded me of Amira and her battle. Well, kind of. I sat down in a circle I made of stones earlier and sighed. The stones were signaling me where I felt good and in harmony.

For no reason I recalled my dialogue with Peter few weeks ago when I went to him because I really needed to know what did he know. About me, about supernatural and what was he willing to share.

"What are you doing here?" Peter told me leaning against the doorframe, hair dishevelled wearing only pants. "I don't have time for you," he mumbled and tried to close the door.

I grabbed it with my hand. "And I'm not convinced, so let me in." He did. Obviously not thrilled but offered a beer anyway and when I declined he opened it for himself.Inside the trailer looked slightly better. Still I got the impression of being able to quickly grab your important stuff and leave the town if shit hits the fan. Smart thinking.

Peter sat on the sofa in front of me and sighed. "So?"

"So I put one and one together. Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"Straight to the point. Fair enough. You have to be more specific. Didn't tell you what?" He took another sip and relaxed into the sofa.

"I wondered why Erika invited your mother and then it hit me. She knows about Erika. She knows about me. So what are you? Gypsy witches?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not joking, Peter. I'm fed up with half-truths and lies, so tell me what are you, people? Or should I look at that myself?" I said and pointed with a finger at my right eye.

"I knew the difference the moment I saw you that day with Roman. Wondered why you have that and what does it do," he mumbled and lit up a cigarrete. "Just look at me and tell me what do you see."

I could tell he was curious but so was I. Besides my hallucinations I've never used it for its rightful purpose. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to shut it down too. Maybe it was time to find out. "Lerath ma garem. Open, my eye." Even hours and hours of practising couldn't prepare me for what I saw. There was the slightest hint of wolfish ears created by white smoke above his head and in front of his face there was a wolf's face with dark eyes and bared teeth. "O-okay?" I breathed out nervously and sat down on the table's corner. "So, werewolf, then?" I reached out to the smoke as he nodded, curious if it was solid or my hand would go trough. It did, but wolf opened its mouth as if he wanted to bite me, then the tongue came out and 'licked' my palm. I shivered and closed my eyes.

"What do you see? What did you do?"

"Your wolf side. It's acting on its own behalf."

That day I discovered part of the truth and wasn't ready to use my eye again. If I was able to see under the surface of supernatural beings, to see what they truly were, what else I was capable of? It scared me to death as much as I didn't know how to turn it off. After visiting Peter I kept staring on the ground because I didn't want to see and the following day I woke up, it was gone. I needed to learn how to shut it down plus tomorrow was my first day on Hemlock Grove High School. It would be shitty if something happened, right? If Roman started a gossip about a girl who lived with her aunt after her parents died and didn't show up at school right away, probably because of sulking and drowning in depression, I would be freak from the moment I'd stepped on the school ground.

Right, Roman. Alongside with Peter I didn't saw him at all. Lynda barely showed at our house and Erika... Well, let's say we had a few dialogues about important things -my powers, who's Amira and what the hell were those shadows, my right eye - and the shitty ones - what do you want to wear to school tomorrow? Should I give you a ride or pick you up?

Erika didn't know who was Amira or what was the meaning of my right eye. She didn't saw werewolves as I did so that sucked and even one of our oldest grimoires didn't mention this ability. Or Amira. While reading all those pages I got frustrated. There was absolutely nothing that would help me against that prick from my dream and it seemed that evil forces went radio silent. No attacks, no dreams, no nothing!

"Well, maybe he'll be like Voldemort. He will wait for his attempt to kill me till the end of the year." That was my way to coping with things. Sarcasm and irony. And my balance was getting a bit off. "Sorry, sorry. Less talking and more focusing, got it," I mumbled and closed my eyes.

×

Waking up next morning was a great pain in the ass. No, I didn't overslept. Basically I slept only four hours and woke up whole hour before my alarm. And since laying in bed wasn't my thing, I got up to prepare myself and got some food in me. Since I moved in here, during the last weeks I walked throughalmost whole town so I knew my way to school. The beauty of this town was there were no ugly yellow buses. If you had a car, you could use it, or walk there or be ashamed for the rest of your life and be remembered as the kid whose parents drove him to school everyday. I chose option B. Getting there on my feet wasn't something hard even though overwhelming majority of teenagers in Hemlock Grove drove a car. So when I picked up my bag and decided to go I still got plenty of time before it even started. Not wanting to face Erika that morning got me determined to avoid her at all costs. I've had my share of nervous talking and stupid questions yesterday.

Hemlock Grove High School was nice looking building. Erika told me earlier to go straight to principal's office, just to introduce myself and got my schedule. Saying principal was thrilled to see me would be a bit strong word. Maybe excited and definitely curious. I patiently answered every question - in a way - and then got annoyed. Wanting to know a student in a few minutes is telling something about you. Firstly - you're just curious. Secondly - you couldn't find a single filth so you want to know if the person in question is really an angel. Or in my case, you wait with dropping the bomb to the end.

"I am really sorry for what happened to you, but here you can have a new beginning, find a new friends. No one here knows about what happened, so you can relax." Well, obviously someone knows, I wanted to add but said only thanks and got out of the office.

While looking in the schedule I knew shit about what room was where and walked past the big terrarium with a snake at least three times till I gave up, leaned against it and started a monolog with school snake. This day couldn't get even worse.

"Hey there, Wolff." Correction - it could and in that moment just did. It came from behind me and I would recognize that voice anywhere. Roman fucking Godfrey. "Don't tell me you can talk with snakes too. For most would be enough your eyes to call you a witch," he joked and stopped in front of me.

"Yeah, they also called freckles the Devil's mark. So," I gave him a forced smile and looked at my schedule again. Fucking chemistry.

"I'm not even surprised you know this kind of thing."

I almost forgot how persistent he was. I wasn't convinced every rich and spoiled child was bad, no. I was convinced that the money and power they had made them capable of anything and their counting on contacts they had in higher places made them dangerous. Roman grew up in those circles, even those fucking pretty green eyes were telling 'Look, I'm a trouble but I promise you will enjoy it'. Nope, nothing for me.

"You know where's the chemistry classroom?" I asked instead with a sigh and tried to calm myself. The last thing I needed was blow this day and reveal myself as a witch.

"I'll come with you. I've got that too."

Of course I was going to the same class as he did. I groaned. It was getting better and better.

×

For better or worse I did manage to ignore him for most of the classes. Some we shared, some we didn't. And students of Hemlock Grove High School couldn't care less about me which was nice change. So my first day was rather boring. In the middle of our biology class I decided to shorten my time with a little walk to school bathrooms and back. Since it was last class of the day I doubted our teacher would let me. But he did and wasn't making some stupid remarks how soon the class will end and how I'm not some five year old child so I can wait.

Surprisingly, I stood in front of big white door with 'GIRLS' in shock. Not because the door was made out of some freakingly rare wood, or the notice on door was written badly. There was this moaning, again. Just to made myself sure I slightly opened the door and looked inside. Only one cubicle was closed and inside was definitely more than one person.

"Ah, yes! Right there!" A breathy moan filled whole bathroom. O-okay, so the 'BOYS' it is then. As I was closing the door again, my eyes dropped to the floor where I saw feet with a very expensive shoes. Looked familiar, though. Where did I-

"Yes! Oh, Roman!"

"What the fuck?" I so not whispered but it certainly wasn't that loud and closed the door, which kind of louder was. So he is a manwhore. Fucking girls in his car in empty parking lot, fucking them during class in school. I made disgusted noise and went back to the class.

After the bell ringed for the end of class, which was almost in the moment I came back in classroom, I tried not to think about what I heard and saw. He really had some balls to fuck around in school.

And I wasn't fucking looking where I was going, that's how I much wanted to get out so I bumped in someone. With the corner of my eye I saw bandaged hands and a phone on some kind of string. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I wasn't looking,"  I mumbled and carried on.

Finally able to breath outside, I tried to get around other students who were laughing and making plans for the rest of the day. I didn't get very far, still on school ground as car pulled over before me. A small retro red Jaguar. The driver rolled down the window.

"You have to be kidding me! Seriously, Godfrey?"

He just grinned and raised one of his eyebrows. "Hop in, I'll give you a ride."

I crossed my arms. "No, thanks. I know what kind of rides do you give and I think I'll pass."

"C'mon, Wolff."

"What if I catch something?"

"Like what?"

"Like some kind of disease. Who knows what're you doing in there." I looked around and realized some students were curiously watching us.

"Don't make a scene and get your ass in here."

"Fine."

Surprisingly there was no awkward silence in the car. Still I cheekily started to play with buttons of his car radio. He frowned a bit but said nothing. "What? I'm not riding with you in total silence," I justified my actions and then relaxed in my seat. It was nice car, comfortable and totally out of my league.

"You have the oddest luck to walk on me in the most peculiar moments," he said after a while and looked at me. I indicated with my hands he should be watching the road and not me.

"I wouldn't call it a luck but yeah. I've heard enough for the rest of my life I think."

"Ah, don't be a prude."

I chuckled and rolled my eyes. "I'm not! I just think you have some serious balls if you're whoring aroung in public places."

"Who's saying I'm whoring? I don't have a girlfriend."

"Sorry, I meant sleeping around, then," I corrected myself sarcastically and looked out of window. The forest was completely different in day time but something wasn't quite right. In the road curve I thought I saw a man, standing there somewhere. What? I moved closer to the window and looked to the both sides but nothing.

Amira.

"Godfrey?" I asked weakily, colour disappearing from my face.

He hummed in answer and when I wasn't saying anything he quickly turned his head to me. "You okay? Sick or something?"

How could he not feel the coldness? The sudden sickening feeling. A shiver ran down my spine. Maybe it was a witch thing? "No. Drive faster."

Something dangerous flicked in his eyes as he grinned and stepped on the gas.

[reid-fiction]

First Day Jitters

In which Spencer’s daughter goes to her first day of kindergarten.

a/n: In my mind, Spencer started working part time at the BAU when his daughter was born, and teaches part-time as well so he doesn’t have to be away overnight. Also, I don’t know where the mother is in this reality. Let’s just say she’s on an extended vacation in Aruba.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Backpack?”

“Check!”

“Lunch?”

“Check!”

“Indoor shoes?”

“Check!”

“Pencil case?”

“Check!”

Spencer smiled, looking down at his 5-year-old daughter who was kneeling beside him while she rummaged through her backpack.

Today was the day. The day she had been excited for all summer and the day Spencer was dreading. His baby girl was about to start school. It almost seemed unreal to him; hadn’t she been a newborn just a few days ago? He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she was already 5. No matter what he did - no matter how many hugs and cuddles, or band-aids and sniffles, or stuffed animals and trips to the zoo he provided - he wasn’t able to stop her from growing. 

Spencer was doing his best to put on a brave face. The last thing he wanted was for his daughter to think there was something to be sad or scared about and change her mind about wanting to go. She had really enjoyed pre-school the year before, but those had only been half-days in a much smaller school. Real school meant she was gone all morning and most of the afternoon, and sharing a building with kids twice her age and size.

She popped up and grinned at him, excitedly.

“Can we go now, daddy!?!”

“Almost,” he chuckled. “Breakfast first, right?”

Spencer had never seen her scarf down food so quickly. Usually, the mornings were slow and groggy. His daughter was anything but a morning person and he typically had to force her to eat something before she went to play or watch TV. This morning, however, she had cleared her plate and drank all of her milk before Spencer had even had a chance to sit down with his own breakfast.

“I’m done!” she announced, slipping off her chair and carrying her plate over to the sink. “NOW, can we go??”

“School doesn’t start for another 45 minutes, you monkey!” Spencer laughed, reaching out to pull her closer to him so she might calm down. “If we go now, you’ll be the only one there.”

He could see the deflation in her face so he tried to think of something he could suggest to occupy her until he was ready.

“How about you go brush your teeth and wash your hands, then come back and put everything you need for today in your backpack.” He motioned toward the floor where the various school items were still neatly laid out. 

She nodded, running away from him toward the bathroom which gave him the opportunity to actually make progress with his own breakfast. He knew, however, that the chances of him actually finishing the food in front of him before his daughter practically dragged him out the door was slim.

Sure enough, she was back within five minutes and quickly packed up her backpack for the day, before getting on her shoes and jacket and standing by the front door.

“Daddyyyyyy, pleaaaassseee??” she practically begged, bouncing up and down with both excitement and impatience. “It feels like it’s been 15 hours already!”

“Alright, alright!” Spencer said, taking one last bite of his breakfast and getting up from the table. “Yes, we can go now, but you’re still going to be early.”

She was still bouncing by the time he got over to the door and put his own shoes and jacket on. The school was only about a 10 minute walk from their house and, judging by what time it currently was, they would get there with about 20 minutes to spare. But, he wasn’t about to deny his daughter any longer.

The air was crisp with the beginnings of fall as they walked down the street. It was a welcome change from the hot summer they had experienced, most of which been spent in the outdoor pool at the recreation center. But now, the mornings were chilly enough to warrant a light jacket and Spencer held on tightly to his daughter’s hand as they approached the intersection. 

The closer they got to the school, the more kids started coming into view. Buses drove past and let loose a flurry of heads and backpacks - most of whom were a lot older and a lot taller than the little girl walking next to Spencer. Groups of kids breezed past them, laughing and talking before heading into the school. Screams of excitement and general enjoyment came from the playground, which was covered in kids climbing on monkey bars and running around the area. 

Spencer could suddenly tell that his daughter was slowly lowering her pace the closer they got, and her hand gripped his a little bit tighter. When they finally got to the front walkway, she stopped completely and did not let go, staring up nervously at the building in front of her. 

Spencer crouched down beside her and frowned at the noticeable change in her expression. Gone was the excitement of the morning. Now, she was looking hesitant and downright scared.

“Hey, are you ready to go in?” Spencer asked, trying to keep his voice chipper.

“Maybe...maybe we should come back tomorrow,” she replied.

“What do you mean? I thought you couldn’t wait another minute to go to school?”

She continued to glance nervously at the school as more kids whizzed past; the atmosphere around them becoming more and more busy as the start of the day drew closer. The next thing Spencer knew, he was watching her eyes fill with tears.

“Daddy, I don’t think I want to go anymore.”

In his five years of being a dad, the one thing that broke Spencer’s heart more than anything else was seeing his little girl in tears. He sighed, reaching out to smooth her hair back.

“Sweetheart, you’ll be fine,” he reassured her. “You’ve already met your teacher and seen your classroom. Everyone else will be starting their first day, too. You don’t have to be scared.”

“What if I get lost?” she asked, her voice now very small.

“You won’t get lost, love. Your teacher will show you where everything is.”

“What if the big kids are mean to me and I don’t have any friends?”

“You’ll make friends,” Spencer replied. “Remember, everyone else in your class is brand new to school as well. Everyone is going to want to make new friends, and they’ll make new friends with you.”

She paused, biting her lip and wiping away a few stray tears on her cheeks before looking over at her dad, sadly.

“What if...what if you forget to come back and get me and I’m here all alone?”

A few more tears slipped down her cheeks and Spencer ached as he brought her close to him and wrapped his arms around her.

“Sweetheart, that will not happen,” Spencer said, firmly. “You will never be here all alone; your teacher would not leave you here by yourself. And I will NEVER forget to come get you, I promise. If there is ever a day where I have to be at work and can’t make it in time, someone else will be here for you. Maybe some day, you can go home with Aunt JJ and Uncle Will after school and play with Henry and Michael. You know, Henry goes to this school, too. You might see him on the playground some day.”

She seemed to relax a bit at his reassurance, but was still not back to her previous level of excitement.

“You want me to stay with you for a bit?” Spencer asked. “I don’t have to be at work until later today, so I can stay if you need me to.”

Her eyes brightened a bit and she nodded, meekly.

“You got it, kiddo,” Spencer smiled, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

He took her hand again and walked with her into the school. The pep in her step had returned a bit as they apprached the familiar classroom she had seen a few weeks before. The welcome smile of her teacher seemed to help as well, as she was shown her special place to hang her jacket and the desk with her name on it.

Spencer hovered near the back of the classroom with a few other parents for the first bit of the day. By the time it was recess, however, Spencer was fairly certain that his daughter didn’t need him there anymore. She was happily playing and drawing and talking to her classmates and had likely forgotten he was even there.

Before he snuck out, he walked over to her when she was momentarily not surrounded by other kids.

“Do you think you’ll be okay if I leave for the rest of the day now?” he asked, willing to stay longer if she needed him but not wanting to hover.

He was met with the familiar grin she had been sporting earlier that morning and she nodded.

“You can go, daddy. I made a friend!”

Spencer smiled. “That’s great, sweetheart. I told you that you would. Okay, I’m going to go then, but I’ll be back to pick you up at the end of the day. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too, daddy.”

“Have a great rest of your day, okay?”

She nodded, completely transfixed and distracted by the craft she was working on, and by the little boy who had come over to play with her. Spencer took that as his cue, and waved a thank-you to the teacher before slipping out the door.

The hallways were much quieter now, as classes were all in session, and Spencer found himself being the one with the tearful eyes as he made his way outside and down the sidewalk. 

She was perfectly fine - he knew that she would be - and he had no idea why it was so hard for him to let her go. It wasn’t as if she was running off and getting married, or moving to a remote country in Africa somewhere. She would still be home with him every night and on weekends. Besides, he would be busy with work and teaching during the day as well - he had been even when she wasn’t in school - but something about his daughter being officially a student was enough to make him get emotional. 

There would be many more transitions he would have to deal with as his daughter grew older; some would be more challenging than others and wouldn’t all be able to be solved with a hug and simple reassurance. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for the pains of puberty and dating and driving.

In the moment, Spencer actually wasn’t sure who growing up was going to be harder on: his daughter, or him.

If today was any indication, however, it was probably going to be him.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag List:

@cynbx @gabriellewritermua @wheresthewater @toomanyfandomsshreya@thatisthemagic @helayes @marvelouspotterhead @randomfangirl1415 @criminally-me  @the-unfortunate-fangirl @everyday-imfangirling @skrrrrrrrrrrt

[meowloudly15]

Stranded: Day 8 - RELATIVE CHAOS

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Gwen, Mrs. Parker, and the rest of the spiders sat around the kitchen table, finishing off their pulled pork sandwiches. (Strangely, Ham didn’t have a problem with eating them.)

“Do you guys have any good stories from your time in the field?” asked Mrs. Parker.

“Oh, I got some!” Gwen brightened up. “You wanna hear a funny one or a cool one?”

“Either or,” said Ham.

“All right, so this happened like a year and a half ago. I was fighting this one guy who was basically an animal trafficker, and he’s super fast and strong and stuff. I won, but it was a tough fight, and he cut me across the face right here.” Gwen drew an invisible line across her forehead. “So, I went back home, and I’m back in my room, and I’ve gotten ready for bed and stuff, and I figured, I’ve gotta clean up this cut. So I headed to the bathroom and ran into my dad. He looked at me funny and asked, ‘What did you do to yourself?’ I panicked and said, ‘It’s ketchup!’”

Peni laughed. Peter B. and Mrs. Parker both cracked a smile. Noir remained as impassive as ever. Ham had vanished for no apparent reason.

Gwen chuckled to herself. “Yeah, I suck at cover stories.”

Peter B. commented, “You sure do. May, did your Peter do anything stupid? Or was he just too perfect for mistakes?”

Mrs. Parker chuckled. “Oh, not at all! Everybody makes mistakes! I’ll tell you how I found out about his secret identity. He was a senior in high school, and I was out of town on business for Alchemax.”

“Wait, you work for Alchemax? The place where they built the collider?” asked Noir.

“Used to. I quit because first of all, I found out that they were battling my nephew, and also because this upstart, Liv, decided she’d try and take over my position. She could have it, for all I cared.” Mrs. Parker rolled her eyes.

“Back to the point. I ended up coming home a day early, and I called Peter to tell him that the business trip had been terminated early. He didn’t pick up. I walked back into the house and saw Peter, sitting on the ceiling of the kitchen in his underwear, halfway through a bowl of mac and cheese. We both screamed.”

Everybody at the table cracked up, even Noir.

ATOMIC DISJUNCTION

Gwen spazzed out and fell through her chair. Noir yanked the chair out of her before her atoms rejoined.

“Thanks, Noir.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Ham poked his head out of the head of the faucet and said, “You have some wonderful storm drains, May, I gotta say. I just had to take a second look.” He pulled the rest of his body out and sat on the counter next to the cookie jar.

Everybody else exchanged concerned glances.

“So, what do you all do for work?” asked Ham.

Noir raised his hand. “I’m a dick.”

Mrs. Parker grimaced, trying to disguise a laugh. Peter B. instinctively covered Peni’s ears. She reached up and removed his hands, saying, “I’ve heard worse.”

Noir cocked his head to the side. “What’s the problem? I’m a dick! You know, a gumshoe? Is something wrong with that?”

Peni and Gwen exchanged confused yet amused looks.

“Oh, for Chrissake, I mean I’m a private eye! Why, what’s-”

“Don’t ask,” said Peter B., cutting him off.

Ham peered over the edge of the ceiling-mounted lamp. “You can cuss in this dimension?”

“No, Peni’s-” Peter B. started to say.

Peni cut him off with an eager grin. “Yes.”

“You guys are so lucky! I can’t cuss! I can only say symbols!”

“You wh-” began Noir.

“#%€@&%¢*§¿&%!” yelled Ham.

The table went silent. Peter B. instinctively covered Peni’s ears. Gwen tried to figure out how he had managed to say those symbols out loud.

Ham continued, “¢*§¿! ¶@~€! +¶¶@+€!”

Mrs. Parker said, “Okay, enough of that.”

“But I’m not actually cussing!”

“Yes, but you’re using a cipher. And you have the intent to swear.”

Under his breath, Ham muttered, “>%ππ+##~€.” He vanished back into the light fixture.

Peter B. glitched out for a couple of seconds.

Gwen tried not to laugh. She had no idea what he’d said, but it was still funny, maybe more so because she didn’t understand it. She did want to know what Mrs. Parker had meant by saying that Ham was using a cipher.

“So, uh, Mrs. Parker…” began Gwen.

Mrs. Parker chuckled. “Oh, please. Call me May. Or Aunt May, if you prefer.”

Gwen furrowed her brow. “But… we’re not related. That’d be weird.”

“You don’t have to share blood with someone to consider them your family.”

Gwen blinked. That was an unexpectedly philosophical answer.

She loved her dad and missed her mother. They were her family, first and foremost. Could somebody have other families besides just those to whom they’re related? Did that count as a family? Technically, it wouldn’t, at least not by the literal definition of one. But was it possible to become close enough with somebody that you might consider him a brother, even if he wasn’t? Or an aunt, even if she wasn’t?

Maybe it was, but it wasn’t anything that Gwen had seriously considered until now. She was lucky to have a caring father who supported her heroic endeavours and to have had a wonderful mother who had raised her pretty well. But other people might have had to think about this more so than she would ever need to.

“Gwen? You all right?” Peni waved a hand in front of her face.

Gwen blinked and returned to earth. “Oh, uh, yeah, sorry, I’m fine. Just spaced out, that’s all.”

“Like I asked,” said Noir, “you play the drums, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Splendid. See, I play tenor sax part-time in a jazz ensemble, and our drummer was… well, he’s now an ex-drummer. We need a replacement.”

“As much as I’d love to help, I can’t visit your dimension without putting my life on the line. Also, I’ve got school.”

“Ah, school.” Noir balanced his chair on two legs and folded his arms behind his head. “When I was your age, I walked five miles to school. Uphill.”

“Both ways?”

“Yes, I walked back from school, too.”

“Uh, I mean, did you walk uphill both ways?”

“No, that wouldn’t make sense.”

Peter B. chuckled. “I take it you didn’t have buses back in your day?”

Noir replied, “They existed, but they weren’t for carting kids around. They’re starting to make them for schools, but they’re pretty rare, at least as far as I know.”

Gwen recalled that Noir was from 1933. He had an air of seniority about him, too, which confused her.

“Uh, how old are you?” she asked him.

“Older than you are.”

Ham glitched out briefly.

May stood up. “Who wants dessert? I have fudge.”

Everybody raised their hands eagerly. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want fudge?

May walked into the kitchen.

RELATIVE CHAOS

“Oh man, fudge is the best!” exclaimed Ham. “I normally only get it at Christmastime!”

“You have Christmas in your dimension?” asked Gwen.

“Yeah, who wouldn’t celebrate it?”

Peter B. raised his hand. “There’s Christmas in my dimension, but I celebrate Hanukkah.”

“I promise to punch thirty extra Nazis for you,” said Noir. “And yeah, my dimension has Christmas, too.”

“Thanks for that.”

“There’s still Christmas in my dimension, despite the Creeds!” said Peni. “Is Santa real in your dimensions, too?”

“I don’t think he’s real in any dimension,” replied Noir.

Peni’s eyes widened. “He’s not?”

How old was this kid? Ten? Definitely no older than thirteen. Somewhere in the preteen range. Somewhere in the “you-should-have-figured-out-about-Santa-Claus-already” range, which doubles as the “you-probably-haven’t-learned-about-Santa-Claus-yet-and-that’s-a-problem-for-all-us-folks-in-the-know” range.

There was no way in which this conversation would end well.

“Uh, he is! Definitely! For sure! I know it! Yeah, he is!” stammered out Peter B.

Now Gwen was annoyed. “Come on, don’t lie to her!”

“Well, we can’t just stamp on Peni’s innocence like that!”

“But she deserves to know the truth!”

“Maybe the truth is something different in her dimension! How would we know?”

Peni looked thoroughly heartbroken. “You mean he’s… not real?”

Noir appeared stunned. “Uhhh…”

Ham butted in. “Uh, yeah, Noir was just kidding around! He wouldn’t know! Go ask your parents!”

“But my dad’s dead!”

“Then, uh, go ask your mom!”

Peter B. interjected. “Please, Peni, don’t worry about it too much. It’s okay to believe.”

Everyone started talking at once, trying to make themselves heard.

“In something obviously false?”

“I mean, the tech is different in her world. Maybe it’s possible?”

“But who would wanna do that?”

“Can we just… stop talking about this?”

“I wanna know the truth! Is Santa real or isn’t he? You’re confusing me!”

May cleared her throat and silenced the hubbub. “Stop arguing. I have fudge.”

Everybody quieted down and took some fudge. It was the perfect distraction.

“So, uh, what was that about making an online dating profile?” asked Peter B. after a couple of awkwardly silent minutes.

May chuckled. “I’ve been single for long enough, I think.”

“Do you need, like, technical help or something?”

May shook her head. “No, I know my way around a computer.”

“You sure?” butted in Gwen.

“Yes, I’m sure. I programmed a neural net two years ago that identifies phishing scams, tracks the IP address of the original sender, installs upside-down-ternet on the device to screw with the UI, and whitelists any phone numbers connected with the email account on seventy-two different telemarketer call lists.”

Gwen’s mouth hung agape.

“Huh?”

“You lost me after neural net,” said Peter B.

May folded her arms over her chest and smirked. “I lose most people after neural net.”

Noir said, “You lost me at program.”

“I understood that. It’s child’s play,” said Peni. “But I can imagine that for you, in as archaic of a society as you are, that’s quite an achievement.”

“Archaic society?” muttered Peter B.

“Then why on earth would you need our help?” asked Ham.

“Because I don’t know what sixty-something-year-old males are looking for in a woman. I mean, what do I put on the profile? What do I leave off? How do I embellish it? How do I get more clicks? Should I tell them I was widowed ten years ago? Should I mention that Spiderman was my nephew?”

Peter’s uncle was dead in this universe? Huh. Gwen was starting to get accustomed to the weird differences between worlds. Of course, she’d thought she’d seen everything until Peni and Ham showed up.

JAMMED FINGERS

Oh, right! Good idea, spider-sense! Thanks for actually being useful for once!

Gwen asked May, “Uh, if you’re so good with tech, could you fix up my webshooters? They keep jamming.”

May grinned. “Of course! Give them to me, and I’ll take a look at them tonight. Now, why don’t you all head off to bed? It’s getting late.”

“And not go on patrol?” asked Noir.

“May’s right,” said Gwen, handing over her gloves. “Not sleeping actually makes our atomic disjunctions worse.”

Everybody at the table gave her a blank look.

“Atomic… what?” asked Peter B.

“The glitching thing.”

“Oh. Gotcha.”

“Where will we sleep?” asked Peni.

That was a good question.

May slipped Gwen’s gloves into her back pocket and thought for a minute. “Uh, there are three rooms and six of us. Hmm… Peter and Peter can take Peter’s old room, and I have a sleeping bag for one of you… Gwen and Peni can take the guest room, since there’s a pull-out cot… I’ll be in my own room… what about Peter?”

“Which one?” asked Peter B., Ham, and Noir simultaneously.

“Uh, I mean the Peter in sweatpants and the Peter in a fedora will share a room. How about you?” May directed the last question to Ham.

He replied, “I can sleep on the couch.”

“Okay, that works. Is everybody okay with that?”

Gwen had no qualms about the setup. Neither did anyone else.

Thirty minutes later, she found herself lying in the cot in the guest room. It was comfortable, as far as pull-out cots go. Peni was half-asleep on the bed, and her spider was on the dresser.

Suddenly, Ham burst through the door. Well, not completely literally, nor did he open the door, but he did appear through the keyhole in a rather sudden fashion. Gwen and Peni both yelled.

“Why do you keep doing that!” exclaimed Gwen.

Ham shrugged. “I’m used to getting places this way. Just wanted to say goodnight to you guys before we all turn in.”

“But, how do you do that? How can you get through tiny gaps like that?” asked Peni.

“I’m, uh, I’m 2.5-dimensional. I think that’s how you’d put it in your worlds. I look and for all purposes am two-dimensional, but I can still move in 3D space and interact with 3D things. Like this picture, for instance.” Ham leaped up and spun around a sepia-tinted photo from the wall, settling it back into place.

“But that doesn’t explain how you can defy gravity,” said Peni.

“That’s toon physics for you.” Ham pulled a pair of spectacles and a graduation cap out of thin air and donned them. He flipped through a comically thick textbook, laid his finger on a paragraph, and began to read. “‘Any body suspended in space will remain in space until made aware of its condition.’ -Paco, 1994.”

“And… you operate by the laws of... toon physics? Even though you’re not in a world with toon physics?” asked Peni.

“Yeah, sure. We operate by the principles of the world that we’re from. I mean, look at Peni. She can summon anime backdrops out of thin air and jump forty feet in the air to land in the cockpit of her robot. And Noir’s still in black-and-white. And Gwen still follows the laws of physics from her universe, which happen to be exactly the same as those here. If there was a spider here from a universe with two extra quarks, he’d use the rules of physics of a universe with two extra quarks.”

Gwen blinked. Ham knew a surprising amount.

“How do you know all of this? I mean, you’re a-”

“A cartoon character, I know,” finished Ham. “I get that a lot. But I’ve been Spider-Ham for 35 years. I know my stuff.”

Gwen made a mental note not to underestimate Ham in the future.

“You, uh, don’t look a day over 35,” she said.

“Yeah that’s another thing. I don’t age. Pretty convenient, if you ask me. Well, good night, folks!” Ham gave a wave, then vanished under the door.

Gwen tried to comprehend everything that had just happened. Ham was really weird. At the same time, he was kind of cool.

“How old are you?” Peni asked after a few moments of silence.

“Uh, take a guess.”

“Fourteen?”

Why did everybody think Gwen was so young?

“Nah, sixteen. How about you?”

“Guess!”

“Uh, you’re like ten?”

“I’m eleven and three quarters.”

Okay, so she was close.

“How many people have you killed?” asked Peni, sounding as chipper as ever.

Gwen blinked. “Uh, one. No, two. Both were accidents.”

“In... two years?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s lame.”

“Why, how about you? And, uh, how long have you been doing this for?”

“Twenty-three people. Over the past five and a half months. And none of them were accidents.”

Peni sounded both completely serious and entirely proud of herself. Best not to dwell on that.

All of a sudden, Gwen burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” asked Peni.

“It’s, well, I was early in getting to this dimension, and Miles made a joke about him being on time and everyone else being late because of relativity, and… never mind. You wouldn’t get it.”

Peni asked, “Could you explain it to me? Maybe then I’d get it.”

“Never mind. It’s a moot point. Go to bed.”

“Aww, come on!”

“Good night!”

Gwen rolled over and faced the wall, ignoring Peni’s pleas. After a couple minutes, she drifted off to sleep.

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[janetmayfire]

Transport Whinge

My daily commute is a trifle challenging at the moment.  Why?  Well...

Some time back, Transport Canberra (or Action Buses, as they were known at the time - I live in the ACT.  Therefore, as many companies as possible have names starting with ACT.  It's a local Thing) decided to implement a light rail network in this fair city.  Hooray, the more optimistic amongst us thought.  Light rail should help the transport situation a bit.  Action Buses promptly gained a parent "company" (or something) called Transport Canberra, and everybody forgot about it for a while.

Fast forward to a few months ago.  The light rail is well and truly under construction, and the level of grumbling about the disruption to traffic is entirely predictable, normal, and fairly reasonable.  (Well, come on!  Light rail or not, nobody wants a kilometre long diversion just to cross the damned road!)  And Transport Canberra announce that they are producing major revisions to the bus timetable.  Well - I say "revisions"...

When we get to see their proposed new system, we discover that, instead of just adjusting the existing network to allow for the new light rail, some half-witted bottom-feeding bureaucrat has actually scrapped the entirely network (seriously - they screwed it up and chucked it in the bin) and produced a whole new system.  The idea was that the centre of Canberra (known locally as Civic) should be the hub of the new transport network as well.  That went down like the Hindenberg.

After much gathering of (legally required) public reaction in all the usual places - including the medium of professional opinion-gatherers at the major transport hubs, (I am very proud to be able to say that I was able to replace the look of professionalism on one gatherer's face with one of absolute horror when I pointed out to him that I didn't think the Civic Interchange was big enough for the task.  It is a memory I treasure), they produced a revised map and timetable.

To my surprise, they did actually pay attention to what we said, and the model of All Roads Lead To Civic was scrapped.  I can even travel from my home suburb to practically my mother's doorstop now without having to divert through a major transport hub, which was requested but not hoped for (I'm not unreasonable.).

Anyway.  Yesterday, the new public transport network came into effect.  And yes - there are "teething troubles."  Getting from the hub a couple of suburbs away from where I live to the hub near which I work?  Dead easy.  Commuter's dream.  It's no longer like getting into a sardine can.  I don't have to wait anymore.  Getting from my place to the nearest hub?  Oh, dear god.  It's five minutes away.  Why is this so difficult and unpredictable?

Now, granted, I never had to change buses before this.   And now, in the mornings?  Easy peasy.  Yesterday morning, in a fit of paranoia, I left the house ten minutes earlier than usual.  I got to work half an hour early.  As a result I left half an hour early, and got home half an hour early.  This morning?  I left as usual and everything was fine.  So why did it get so comprehensively fucked up in the afternoon?  Why didn't they keep their timetables predictable?  Why was I facing a fifteen minute wait in the Hub Nearest My Home this afternoon?

Granted, teething troubles include the fact that, at the moment, the five minute trip to the Hub Nearest My Home is on a route which (in the morning peak hour, at least) is massively oversubscribed. This may be down to the 1 month free travel they threw in as a sweetener - but if it's going to take a full month to settle down I'm not going to be very happy.  Seriously - I got to my bus stop this morning having deliberately and successfully missed the bus that I caught yesterday by means of loitering in the underpass, and found that most of the passengers I had seen standing around from the other side of the road were still standing there.  In fact, one of them had been there for half an hour, watching bus after bus go past with the "Full" sign up.

The thing is, the new light rail service is suffering from a similar problem.  It's the only mode of public transport between two major urban hubs, and it is massively oversubscribed.  Not only that, but they got rid of all the buses that formerly went that way, so the only other alternative for them is private transport.

Yes, I have made a complaint through the usual channels.  Hopefully, it won't take them all month to sort through the mess.

And yes - I did manage to warn my boss that my hours might be a bit erratic for a while.

[stevesharrlngtons]

hey.

steve harrington x reader

summary: he was such a staple piece in your life, that as a child and young teen, you never saw your life without him. late night promises and pinky swears were made in blanket forts that you two would be friends until the day the sun burned out in the sky. it was just a given that’d he be there, that you never worried about the two of you drifting apart or being separated. he promised he’d always be there, and you had believed him. you now corrected yourself, foolishly believed him.

word count: 3.2k 

a/n: oops dont hate me!

chapter i / ii / iii / iv / v / vi / viii

                                                      chapter vii

You woke up to the feeling of fingers brushing through the roots of your hair. As you came too, you felt a heavy arm draped across your waist and a chest pressed lightly to yours. Already knowing who it was, you smiled.

“Morning.” Steve said in a sleepy voice.

You opened your eyes to see Steve hovering over you, with a loose smile and slightly squinted eyes.

“Hi.” You spoke blissfully, moving your stiff arms up from under the blankets to wrap around his neck.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve asked, still playing with your hair.

“Really well.”

“Me too.”

You bit your lip as you looked at him. You ran your fingers over the nape of his neck, a weakness of his you learned the night before, and he hummed above you.

“What time is it?”

“One pm.”

You let out a small laugh, “Did we seriously sleep all day?”

“We were up until four or five, it makes sense.” He pointed out.

You shook your head, amused at his tone. When you stilled you just looked at him above you, bathed in the afternoon sun and smelling of musk and chlorine. You leaned up and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It felt like the only kiss to give when you were both so sleepy, warm and fragile.

When you pulled away he sighed contently.

“Can I just say how much I love that I can do this anytime I want now?” Steve said, placing another light kiss on your lips.

“I know the feeling.” You said, rubbing his shoulder gently.

“You still sure about waiting the weekend? Or did you sleep that off?” Steve asked playfully.

“Still sure, sorry Harrington.”

Steve fell dramatically to your neck and you chuckled as he burrowed into your chest. He glanced up and silently admired his work on your collar bones and throat from the night before.

“You hungry?” He asked as his fingers ghosted over a small purple mark by your chin.

“Starving.”

“Then let’s go have some brunch.”

Climbing out of the warm cocoon of blankets and Steve’s arms, you both walked down the stairs and into his kitchen. He made you pancakes as you sat on the cold marble countertop, the harsh sensation causing goose bumps to raise on the backs of your thighs. You watched the planes of his back tense and shift as he prepared your food. Your eyes wandered his half-dressed body walk around his kitchen for your viewing pleasure.

The reality of all of this hadn’t set in yet. The conversation to be had Monday, the stares and rumors from your classmates, the unavoidable bumps in the road that would arise.

Those thoughts weren't for now. Now was strawberries and cream, syrup on his chin that you licked off with a giggle. The sun warming the two of you as you sat by his large windows, your chairs pushed together to make a bench. Steve’s hand holding his fork and the other holding your thigh. This time was just for the bliss of being together. Reality was for later.

“I don’t want you to leave, isn’t that enough?” Steve said, taking your hands in his after you set your things in the trunk of your car.

Brunch had led into the early evening, so the sun rays were now more orange than bright yellowy white like that had been.

“I want to, too. But I just… I really want us to have these two days. To just process everything and collect our thoughts. Then Monday, we can figure everything out, okay? Good or bad.”

Steve furrowed his brows, looking at your connected hands, he reluctantly nodded. He wanted desperately to ask you if you were having seconds thoughts, but if you were, he couldn’t bare to know yet. He was on cloud nine and he would refuse to come down.

“Well call me if you need anything, okay? I’ll be here.” Steve finally looked up at you with large eyes.

“Of course, and same with me. I’ll just be home.” You said reassuringly.

You both looked at each other with wide eyes. Steve’s were more sad, while yours were more hopeful.

“Don’t go.” He whispered to you, moving his hands to your cheeks, placing a wistful kiss on your lips.

You deepened the initial kiss, a parting gift for not only him, but yourself as well.

“Monday. My house, okay?” You pulled away just enough to speak.

Your breath hit Steve’s lips and he wished that he could keep you there forever.

But he couldn’t.

“Monday. Your house.” He repeated with a small jerk of his head.

A sad smile pulled at your lips and you placed one last kiss on his lips before climbing into your car and heading home. You refused to look back at Steve, but if you had, you would have seen him slowly follow your car into the street, watching it until it disappeared.

The remaining hours of Saturday were spent sleeping and softly touching your lips, still unsure if Steve had pressed his deliciously rough ones to yours or if it had all been a dream.  You almost hesitated brushing your teeth that night or eating anything for the rest of the day, terrified you’d lose the taste of him on your tongue. You could still feel his hands on your skin and his breath on your neck that made you shiver.

You had seconds thoughts about the separation period, but you knew it was for the best. So much had been happening, you both needed some time to think and decompress, alone. You knew your feelings for Steve wouldn’t change over the weekend, they would probably even grow with longing since he wasn’t by your side. But you didn’t know if your desire to be in a relationship with him would stay. You had been torn and broken apart many times, and you just weren’t sure if it was worth it to be put in a position where that could happen again. You trusted Steve, but he had done this once before. Can people truly change for the better? Or are they all just putting on masks trick us into forgiving?

Those were your most contemplated questions Saturday and Sunday. As you sat at your kitchen table Sunday evening, you were no closer to a decision than the day before. A cigarette burned between your fingers and a cup of Chamomile tea sat in front of you. The sun was beginning to set again, and all you could think about was how twenty-four hours earlier, you were with Steve. You tried to pinpoint what you were doing with him that exact minute as the clock ticked around you. Your thoughts were broken by a scuffle at the door, then the lock being turned.

“Hello?” Your mother’s loud voice billowed into the house, guessing you were in your room and not at the table.

“Oh hi, sweetheart.” She greeted when she saw you at the table.

She set her bags down and approached you. Instead of hugging her, you offered her a smile and pushed the pack of cigarettes towards her.

“Oh no, what happened?” Your mother asked, smile falling.

This was code between the two of you that you needed to talk.

“A lot.” You sighed.

“Let me put my bags upstairs and I’ll be right back down, okay?” She spoke calmly.

You nodded, and she scurried off to her room. You continued to smoke and take small sips of tea until your mother returned, sans-suitcases and in a pair of old sweatpants.

“What’s ailing you?” She asked, sitting across from you, taking a cigarette and lighting it all in a fluid movement.

“Steve.” You said flatly, ashing your cigarette.

“Color me surprised.” She drawled, which earned her a sharp look from you.

“Sorry, sorry,” She put her hands up in defeat, “So what happened?”

“Well, we weren’t just friends. You were right about that…” You shook your head slowly, thinking back to the pool.

“We started talking about stuff and I don’t know, we just kissed, and I panicked.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just, you know…” You shrugged, busing yourself with playing with your filter of creating a sentence.

“I kind of doubt.” She chuckled lightly.

“He, I don’t know. I have really, really strong feelings for him. And have for since we were kids. But…” You trailed off.

“But?”

“He broke my heart. He did, we can’t forget that. He says he wants this, us, whatever. But how can I be sure he won’t leave again? How can I be sure he really loves me?” Your eyes were starting to glaze over and your throat was becoming constricted.

“I just, have really bad luck it seems. Dad, Perry, Steve, Jonathan, literally any guy who I date. It all ends in flames. What if it’s me? What if I’m the reason they run?”

Finally, the thought you’d been keeping at bay for years erupted from your mouth. You refused to look at your mother as you spoke, utterly ashamed and embarrassed by your words.

“(Y/N), hey. You don’t really think that, do you sweetheart?” Your mothers concerned voice asked.

You just shrugged, hunching your back and looking at the smoke coming from your cigarette.

“Can you look at me? I really need you to hear what I’m about to say, so please look at me.” She spoke with conviction.

You slowly looked up at her, her eyes bore into you, making you slightly uncomfortable under her instance stare.

“That is, completely, utterly, and fully untrue. I can promise you that. Your father is a selfish man who cares for no one but himself. Your brother was a confused young boy who wanted to appease your father. Jonathan is a teenage boy desperate for a first love, and Steve has figured out everything he let go. You are the best woman to enter any of those men’s lives. And it’s on them that they don’t get to know you, to love you, to be around. You make anyone’s life better by being in it, I know from experience.”

Tear pooled in your eyes as you listened to her speak. You knew she was mostly right, but you still had your apprehensions.

“I guess I’m just scared…” You trailed off, giving a small sad laugh.

“Letting people in is scary, trusting people is scary, relationships are scary. But what are we without them? Alone. And you are far too amazing to be alone. Sometimes you just have to take a leap, and just hope it works out.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Then at least you tried. And I don’t think you’d regret trying with Steve.” She explained.

“But what if I do?”

“What if you don’t?”

You had taken your mother's words to heart. She was right, like you stubbornly admitted she always was. You wanted to be with Steve, and if your time together had been any testament, he did too. The boy who had clouded your dreams and held your hand since you were a child could possible be the man you were supposed to end up with. And how romantic would that be? It would finally be a romance like depicted in the movies.

You were finally letting all your feelings for Steve come in, every single one you had try to forget or repress. Every fleeting look you sent him and every longing thought that had traipsed through your mind, everything. Every time a new memory came over you, a nervous fear settled in your stomach, but you weren’t letting it dictate your life anymore. You were tired of running, tired of denying your feelings and keeping people at arm’s length.

You debated on calling Steve that night. Saying fuck it to the rules you had set, just so you could shout from the rooftops with him that you were in love. But you restrained yourself. Just because you were done sorting through your feelings, didn’t necessarily mean Steve was too. You wanted to give him more than enough time to figure out how he felt about you, whether it be good or bad. He deserved that. He deserved to be with someone he didn’t feel obligated or forced to be with. He deserved someone he could trust and love forever. And you just really hoped that it was you.

The next day, you anxiously waited for Steve’s car to pull up to your house. You weren’t sure if you both would see each other and rush into the other’s arms and decide to skip school altogether, or have a calm and civil conversation in the parking lot. Either way, your nerves were getting the best of you. You restlessly bounced your leg as you watched the clock tick further and further away from the time Steve was always at your house.

Irrational thoughts started to swarm your mind.

What if the Demogorgon was back?

What if he got into a car crash?

What if he was at the store buying you flowers and the place got robbed?

What if he was ditching you, after all?

But you had no more time to wallow in fear, because school started in seven minutes, which barley gave you enough time to get there. You grabbed your car keys and walked angrily outside. Steve was right when he said that your car took forever to heat up, but today you didn’t have the luxury of waiting. So, you placed your hands on the freezing steering wheel and let the car stutter to life.

You refused to think about anymore horrible outcomes as to why Steve hadn’t picked you up while you drove. Cherie Currie’s voice drowned out your pessimistic side and you paid all your attention for searching for Steve’s car in the parking lot. You were almost surprised when you saw the shiny BMW already in the front row of spaces. Now the thoughts were fighting through your music and surfacing again.

Why the actual hell had he ditched you?

You parked a few rows back and started to approach Steve’s car. You could see the back of his fluffy brunette hair through the driver’s side window. He seemed to be talking to someone, but you weren’t close enough to see a face, until Steve turned to face forward, his profile breaking out into a smile, and your breath caught in your chest. And not in the usual way your breath caught when Steve laughed. Your lungs felt like they were collapsing as you saw Nancy Wheeler beaming at Steve from the passenger’s seat. You watched as Steve looked back over at her and moved his hand to place on her cheek.

You actually had a moment where your knees felt like giving out and you felt an actual tangible sadness settle over your heart. You thought maybe it was just a horrible dream, that you were just nervous about seeing Steve and this nightmare was just really realistic. But as the wind hit your face and the loud school bell rang, you knew this was reality. And when you watched Nancy’s small hand be placed on Steve’s neck you turned around quickly.

You’d seen enough.

This wasn’t friendly laughs and platonic touches. They just weren’t.

Tears pricked your eyes as you turned around and walked back to your car. School meant nothing to you today, if you had to see either of them in the halls or wrapped in the others embrace, you were sure you would vomit. You cranked your music loud again, but this time, indulged every thought you had about Steve. Hate, anger, regret and embarrassment radiated off of you in waves as you drove hastily and recklessly from the school and back home.

You had been fucking right the entire time! You had been willing to change, to let Steve in. But no, everyone always had to prove you wrong.

Your mother was both wrong and right in this moment. Steve had surprised you after all, but you did regret ever setting yourself up for this failure.

You had decided to ditch school the rest of the week. When your mother had seen your tear streaked face and heard your hiccupped cries, she made no attempt to fight you to attend school even though you already had horrible attendance. If the phone rang, you never answered it. Sometimes your mother would, and sometimes you both would just let it ring. You had tried to call Jonathan on Tuesday, still mad at him for avoiding you, but at the same time, worried for his undoubtedly broken heart. But there was no answer, not even from Bob. You had debated going to the Byers’ to check up on him, but your stubbornness got the best of you.

He hasn’t even called once since the party! He doesn’t care, no one does, apparently.

You mostly stayed in bed and lived off of cigarettes and Red Vines. You mother would worriedly check in on you, but for the most part, she left you alone. She wasn’t entirely sure how to console you, so she let you lick your wounds in peace.  

Steve crossed your mind regularly, and the feelings of regret and sadness came soon after. You had wished that maybe you had just seen a moment between him and Nancy out of context. But between no calls or making an effort to see you, you knew it was time to cut all the strings that held out any hope that Steve Harrington was ever in love with you, or even ever wanted a friendship with you again.

You wondered if this is how Holly felt when Paul gave her the engagement ring and fled the cab in the pouring rain? But it didn’t matter now. All that mattered was you were now Holly without Paul, again. A mystery and a mirage no man could ever sink his hooks into. Your steely demeanor was returning, and all you wanted to do was forget everything that had ever caused you any pain. You finally got up from your bed, taking a silent still minute for your head rush to wear off, then headed for your closet. In the back corner, underneath your jeans and next to your shoes, was a memory box. There wasn’t much in there, but the box still held small moment and souvenirs from your life. You took out the box, pushing past the Prince ticket stub and pictures from Disneyland, to find a salt packet with ten numbers and a name written in chicken scratch above it.

You immediately discarded the box and ran down stairs to use the phone. You held the packet in your fingers and dialed the number, flipping it over when it started to ring.

Hawkins’ Dairy Freeze

“Hello?”

“Hey, Derek? It’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You spoke into the receiver, fiddling with the long spiraled cord as you spoke.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Derek drawled, “I thought I’d never hear from you again.”

“Well you’re hearing from me now.” You tried for it not to come off as a snap, but it did.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, you could practically see his smug expression.

“You still have parties every Friday?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re having one tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“You still at 61st and Pike?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, I’ll be there in twenty.”

[magistralucis]

Breakbot + Busy P + MYD + Alan Braxe + Borussia @ XOYO, 26 May 2018  [Review]

A fantastic reward for the comedy of errors that is my life.

Been a while since I did a review of a gig! Technically, I should have done one for Justice last September, but given the amount of content I gained from that performance, I keep thinking that one has to be several gifsets and a video upload instead of me rambling on. I’ll get to it in a billion years;;; Over the weekend I went to this all-nighter and didn’t sleep for like, 30 hours? And I’m still recovering. So much like the TBB review last year, this is going to read super disjointed, like a bunch of random stream-of-consciousness notes I took over several hours. (Which 70% of this review actually relies on.) There are pics and a few lil’ gifs, all splendidly red-tinted to reflect the lighting in the club, but the tl;dr is essentially:

The Journey

As previously stated, I do not live in London. London is not easy to navigate. I do not have the strongest sense of direction and frequently map out walking paths and exact number of turns and landmarks nearby my intended destinations, which works for me 9/10 of the time - but this means that when things go bad, they tend to go really bad holy fucking shit under the influence of certain factors XOYO is the hardest fucking club to find in the entire universe. I have never had this much trouble finding a single location despite having such clear directions from multiple sources. It’s not the club’s fault, of course, thousands of people find it just fine - the stars just utterly refused to align for me this particular weekend, turning what should have been a straightforward path from A to B to over an hour of running around.

To attend to this spectacular all-nighter, I took the train from my university city to London, alighting in King’s Cross St. Pancras around 7pm. XOYO is located about a minute away from Old Street Station, which as you can see from the above image of the Northern Line is only two stops away; I could have been at the club in less than ten minutes. Because of this, I was slow to take the Tube when I initially arrived, instead stopping for a snack and some adequate hydration at King’s Cross (also tutting at Platform 9¾ which is not that impressive a display but that’s neither here nor there); I don’t think that was unwise in itself, but it was a decision that I ended up regretting, because it meant I didn’t find out about the spanner in the works until it was almost too late. 

ffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff

A five-minute journey on a single subway train from A to B was all I was asking. Well it turns out I couldn’t do that!!! Because fucking engineering works!!!! All the Northern line service bilboards and directional posters were papered over and the information being given was often deeply counterproductive (or outright incorrect). First I was directed to Euston to try to make a switch there, but no Northern line services were running at all. Then I came back to King’s Cross and subsequently tried out Moorgate on the Circle/Metropolitan line, which was running Northern line services - but nothing northbound, like I needed! This was exceptionally infuriating because Moorgate is only one stop away from Old Street station. I was delayed for nearly an hour purely trying to solve this problem, because even past 7-8pm the stations were s t u f f e d with people all trying to navigate this Northern line dilemma in their own way. This line splits along the way, too, so depending on where you’re headed to and where in the ‘part closure’ your intended destination sits, you could be lost in utterly infuriating bullshit like I did, being only 1-2 stops away from where you are and being unable to get to it unless you walk or take overhead transport. 

And, you know, those people had already paid and gone past the barrier when they found out about the closures. Most of that info could only be had inside. At King’s Cross St Pancras, the only info available outside the barrier were announcements on rail replacement buses - confusingly worded at that, all three of them entirely northbound from King’s Cross St Pancras (I needed southbound for Old Street). The London Underground isn’t obscenely expensive, but it’s not disposable money either! There’s a bus directly from King’s Cross to Old Street Station (which I ended up taking in order to return) - but if you paid and entered the Tube station, you’re going to want to solve the problem before signing back out of the barrier! 

fml in the end I just walked. 7-8 mins from Moorgate and then XOYO itself is hidden in an alley between two massive building complexes with naught but a red neon sign to point your way. It’s not a big neon sign. On one hand maybe it was a good thing I was held up traveling. I arrived about 5 mins after the club opened and was let in straight away. If things had gone as I’d planned I might have ended up camping out in front of XOYO for an extremely awkward hour or whatever. There was no queue; despite it all, I was that early, and was amply rewarded for my earliness. But man. 

On the other hand, I was dehydrated all over again.

Hour-by-Hour Review

Contrary to the anguished nature of the vent above, most of the night was damn excellent and the review below is the main meat of the experience. I recollected this through small notes I was making on my phone - mostly of timestamps and a single keyword, like what songs were playing at the time - and some videos I took, the position of each photo, and my own memory from yesterday. They are patchy notes, but they are as detailed as I can make them, and largely accurate. Essentially: if you’ve read this far, I invite you to come live the night with me all over again! :D

9:30PM - 11:00PM: I was the only person seeking entry to XOYO when I finally turned up, though music was already playing inside. “You here for an event?” The guard asks, and I produce my ticket and passport. “Just so you know, there’s a band playing in there at the moment - the actual, uh, techno, that’s not going to start until ten o’clock. You can go in now, but once you’re in, you’re in - you won’t be able to come back out and back in again.”

I just look at them. “What am I going to do outside for half an hour. That’s fine.”

Ticket scanned, passport checked and confirmed, bag check occurs. I read that XOYO has airport-security level bag checks, but that was not my experience. I might just have been too damn early to raise any alarms. I’m let in, visit the bar, buy some water, visit the bathroom, tidy up a bit, tie my jacket around my waist to conceal my bag, etc. Around 9:45PM I peer down at the main room downstairs to check out this band, although I come back up shortly to prepare for the main experience...

... which, uh, doesn’t take place until eleven. After the band leaves around 10PM, what actually happens is that the main room is sealed off for DJ setups while in Room 2 upstairs Joshua James plays. I had the choice of saving my energy for later and resting on the bench, or going to see him; I chose the former. Security guy lingering in front of the main room says it might open in ‘half an hour’ when I ask him on the dot at 10PM. My guy that’s the longest damn half hour I have ever waited in my life. At least I can people-watch and save my place because like always, I want to be at the front when the doors open.

11:00PM: The main room finally opens and Borussia is in the house. The dancefloor is very empty for about half an hour while he gets the crowd going. Ushers frequently come by, brandishing red penlights to take away glasses and empty bottles and lost property and the like. XOYO only has a max capacity of 800~ people and I’m fairly sure that’s spread across two rooms; the glasses are like, proper solid pub glasses, too, actual breakage hazards. I imagine it’s because it’s a small and intimate club that the choice of glasses makes sense; even in Electric Brixton they gave out plastic, and that one holds close to 2000 people. I saw several toppling over or rolling on the ground before someone came to snatch up the whole stack of them. I applaud their diligence. 

11:10PM: Also this dancefloor is incredibly sticky. Pedro is visible on the left. He talks to a backstage fan before disappearing.

11:23PM: There’s a girl next to me with her boyfriend. We meet eyes. This girl will recur a few more times during the night. Swig of water taken. 

11:30~PM: A note about the stage structure of XOYO.

As mentioned previously, XOYO is a two-room club, one upstairs and one downstairs. Downstairs is the main and the top one’s for opening acts and smaller shows; the downstairs has a dancefloor, a bar off to the side, and an elevated stage. Now the important thing about this stage is that you can get on it. There are no barriers between audience and DJ in a XOYO set, except for the ready-built DJ booth and all the speakers and equipment set that may or may not be piled around it. There is a steel mesh of sorts to separate the sides of the DJ booth from the stage/dancefloor viewing area, but aside from that, it is entirely possible for you to mount the performing stage and be about two feet from the DJ at any given time. Around this time is when people begin to mount the stage and like. Dance. But sparsely.

I will return to this stage later. I’m currently parked in front of the DJ booth.

11:40~PM: 

Pedro pops back into the scene briefly. He doesn’t linger for long there, but he’ll be back for the switchover. This is the best photo I could get ffffff

11:40~PM (not long after the above): Borussia puts Gorillaz’s ‘DARE’ on and the room goes fucking wild. The girl returns. This time we meet more than eyes and actually dance together, her boyfriend hitching her up on his back for about 30 seconds midway. This is the first point of the night that Borussia starts smiling and I’m taken by how sweet his smile is.

11:54PM: You know what I think Borussia kind of looks like Gesa if you squint

12:00~AM: Pedro in the house. He takes over slowly from Borussia, who exits amidst thunderous applause. For some reason, Pedro did not look awfully happy for most of the show. Compared to the last time I saw him DJ (opener for Justice) he seemed like... stoic? Like he had a lot in his mind. He was capable of cheer when need be, man knows how to drive a crowd, but like... the air about him was different. I have no explanation for this. It may just have been my perception.

12:00 - 12:30AM (?): I genuinely cannot remember when this first happened, only I remember Pedro being at the forefront and giving the people involved an amused glance at some point in the night. So it goes here, even though they might first have appeared during Borussia. Two incredibly scantily dressed and also gorgeous dancers, one male and one female (visibly), rolled out of the backstage area and began dancing on the elevated stage around the same time e v e r y o n e began piling on. I’d kill for the ability to dance on the heels they did holy fuck

12:13AM: I CAN SEE IRFANE OFF TO THE SIDE YES HE CAME AFTER ALL I know he’s officially part of Breakbot now but the XOYO description made it sound as if only Thibaut was coming. False alarm! The duo lives on.

12:28AM (?): Girl I was dancing with earlier + her boyfriend reappears from the bar direction. She mounts the elevated stage and disappears into the crowd.

12:30AM (?): THIBAUT AND SO-ME SPOTTED I WANT TO ATTACH THE PHOTO OF THIS MOMENT but it’s too blurry fuck shit

12:34AM: With a grin worth a million pounds Pedro puts on ‘Audio, Video, Disco’. Lighting changes to bombastic yellow and everybody just about dies for the next five minutes to follow. This was universally the reception whenever anything Daft Punk or Justice came on (Pedro also played ‘D.A.N.C.E.’ immediately after) - many people, Thibaut included, had Justice shirts on and earlier on the 26th Justice played a set on All Points East, so this was understandable.

12:39AM: Fuck it. I’m going on the elevated stage. I just hitched myself up.

12:40~AM: I can see so much better from here.

There’s a bit on the stage where the steel mesh barrier ends, and the DJ set curves away from the rest of the stage, where you can see everyone in the booth really clearly. Currently this spot is occupied by a dude and a girl who I progressively come to realize was getting increasingly drunk/high - she was clinging onto the sides - so I just gravitate towards the steel mesh instead, neglected by most people. For most part my view is blocked by people hanging around from backstage but every now and then they vacate, and I get a good side view. Not long after I settle in, Thibaut pops up for a short while, swigging from a bottle - and the girl I was dancing with from before almost crashes into the mesh shouting her hellos at him. (This is when I realize that she’s French.)

And, uh, I mean. What can you do when a thing like that happens. I join in, of course. Thibaut did not hear either of us before slinking back, but this did have the effect of the girl patting me on the shoulder for our first real conversation:

French girl: [Muffled something]

Me: Ah?

French girl: [After a few tries through the noise] You like Thibaut?

Me: Yeah! Came to see him mostly!

French girl: 😍💖😍💖😍 I’M THE BIGGEST FAN 😍💖😍💖😍

The oddest thing is that during this exchange, the boyfriend guy with her kind of gently takes off my hat and tries to put it back on me backwards. I have no idea what the fuck and I give him a look that conveys that I have no idea what the fuck ‘cause like... dude why are you taking my hat exactly??? Am I missing something??? I replace it and carry on. The girl’s swept away towards the bar again.

12:40~AM: Pedro is the only person who can pull off LeLe’s ‘Breakfast’ in a DJ set without it descending into narm territory imo 

12:40~AM: MYD IS HERE MYD IS HERE

1:00AM: Thibaut and Irfane take over at last, the latter first, then Thibaut more fully. Mama P stays at the back, watching over the situation, before silently withdrawing. 

The stage is so crowded I can barely breathe. French girl does not return. Ushers begin to move about the dancefloor carrying large foreboding black bags, not for glasses but for lost property.

1:00~AM: J E S U S 

1:10~AM: So-Me is the third one in the booth. I wish people would announce it properly whenever he turns up - I didn’t think to expect him at all, as he was not there with Pedro when I saw him open for Justice and his name wasn’t on the guests list. He feels like a lottery treat ; w ;

1:10~AM: Usher on the elevated stage. He finds a credit card on the floor and flashes an exact 🤨 look in my direction, as I was the closest to him. “Not mine,” I mouth at him, and he stashes the card in the lost property bag before vanishing into the crowd.

1:11AM: Come to think of it I’ve seen people lose some seriously scary shit on dancefloors. Like when I went to see TBB and Justice, on both occasions I’ve seen someone lose their foreign identity card. I’d be fucking terrified for my life if that happened to me - and given that I’m toting my passport around (some places don’t seem to accept BRP...?), which I cannot afford to lose whatsoever, I enter a state of brief panic while I check that nothing has been thieved from my bag. All clear.

1:23-25AM: Jesus Christ Irfane is so touchy-feely with Thibaut they’re in love I’m literally crying

1:30~AM: Because of the above mentioned affection-shenanigans, I stop dancing in order to get some photos and videos of the pair. One of the backstage fans notices. “Do you want me to take a picture for you?” He shouts through the mesh; I hesitate, because I’m not in the business of giving my phone away to strangers, but I take the risk. It turned out he made this offer during a period of very weird lighting and it wasn’t a good time for photos, but this is the best out of several attempts from him:

“It’s not a good time,” he shouts as he hands my phone back over. “sorry.”

“Thank you anyway,” I holler through the bars. He flashes a grin and we carry on.

1:30~AM (after the above): Remember the scantily dressed gorgeous dancers? They’re back, dancing on a bunch of speakers (?) next to the side view. Drama with the (drunk?) girl hogging the side view; she gets into a conflict with one of the dancers and it gets really fucking tense. I’m not 100% on what happened, but I can imagine that something that wasn’t meant to be touched was touched or that she was giving the dancer some serious attitude - like the girl was literally grabbing the (drunk?) girl by the face and telling her to get a fucking grip. The dude with her eventually leads her away and the dancers dismount the stage, disappearing into the crowd - I didn’t see them return again, which was a right shame. 

tl;dr I took the empty spot and was able to photo marginally better than before.

1:35AM: 

Jesus God this is heavenly

1:41AM: 

Best quality: his wiggles

(He was mouthing along to ‘Why?’.)

1:40~AM: I keep thinking I stepped on something. This continues for some five minutes before I finally look down and yep whoops I was stepping on something all right. It was a hefty croc leather wallet/purse thing, all black, very sticky from the floor. I set it down in front of me and handed it over to an usher less than two minutes after. Another swig of water. Thibaut’s wiggles do not in any way pale next to Irfane’s.

1:50AM (?): Yet another event I know happened but can’t remember where exactly to place. ‘My Toy’ comes on. I hear this one is a fan favourite and while I can think of better songs in Still Waters, I get to see for myself just how true this statement is. In fact, Breakbot played quite a few of their stuff - not a lot, but enough to bring on significant cheers whenever they did. ‘Back For More’ was the starter and ‘Fantasy’ came on at some point but ‘My Toy’ was easily the most popular of the lot!

2:00AM: Alan Braxe takes over. Irfane and Thibaut continue to linger, as does So-Me, but I’m beginning to see Myd far more often - he must provide the climax to this all-nighter. He had a vinyl signing earlier on the 26th; he’s greeted with cheers whenever he’s visible.

2:00 - 4:00AM: A broad sweeping observation to indicate that my phone is dying a horrible death by this point of the night. I brought an external battery and had it going again once I left the club, but fuck trying to fumble with that in the middle of a club. All those photos did it, especially the videos, and burning the battery on that so quickly was not a good idea because I wanted to take more of Alan and Myd boo

2:20~AM: Alan’s set is considerably darker in tone. Probably more like what I’m used to before I got into EDM, in fact. I consider him responsible for the mild whiplash I got from headbanging.

2:24AM: XOYO’s smoke machines are at their peak performance around this time and I can barely see a thing. Not being a big venue, this is a problem. Irfane and Thibaut and So-Me pop back up for a selfie with one of the backstage fans and rope Alan into participating; he does so exactly once and turns back, as professional as always, while the other stay on for a second and third go. 

2:30~AM: wHAT’S THAT I HEAR???? CRESCENDOLLS?????

2:30~AM: IT’S CRESCENDOLLS

2:35AM: Hey remember when it took Irfane 10 years to figure out the Very Disco = Veridis Quo pun

2:40~AM: By this point I’m getting super hungry and I’m just about out of water. Water in XOYO is expensive. Something like 2.50 for a 300ml bottle. The DJs had a stack of these bottles by the side and were powering through them at alarming speed when they weren’t drinking other things. It’s my policy to go early and buy a bottle of water at the bar of wherever I attend a gig or concert, pretty much always. It’s my first time running out with more than an hour to go, though, but despite this I keep dancing with the empty bottle clutched in my hand. I don’t actually remember why. Maybe I thought I’d fill it up after the show or something. Spoilers: I didn’t

2:55AM: Right as Myd is taking over some dude pokes me and asks to have a sip of my water. I should not have been dancing with that empty bottle. He looks disgruntled when I tell him it’s empty and moves on. Sorry my dude I only wish I’d have been able to spare even a drop but I was genuinely out;;;;;

3:00 - 4:00AM: I hate having to sum it up like this but due to aforementioned factors (dying legs + low battery + lack of water) I do not actually remember much of Myd’s set. This is a great injustice to the man and it’s pretty much entirely my fault for not taking any time to rest (seating was provided near the bar) or not buying myself another drink; next time he’s in the UK, wherever he may be and whoever he might be with, I shall make the effort to hunt him down and give him a proper listen. What I remember of his set was brilliant, cheery but mysterious, coupled with Daft Punk’s ‘Rock n’ Roll’ somewhere in the middle. Please enjoy this terrible picture of him taken with my phone’s dying strength.

3:18AM: I can timestamp this accurately because it’s on the last video I took of the night. Enjoy some Myd wiggles

3:30~AM: This was roughly when ‘Rock n’ Roll’ was on! Irfane chatting away in the corner. So-Me lending a hand. Five minutes in he leans over and distributes stickers (I think) into the crowd. I was sadly on the other side and did not get a chance to receive any.

3:40~AM: People are beginning to hunker down on the elevated stage or leaving altogether. The night is drawing to a close. 

3:55AM: Phone blinks out completely at this point. XOYO is open from 9:30pm-4am on Fridays and Saturdays (also 21+ years only policy, which I appreciate) so I figured Myd should be winding down about now. Every DJ participating so far has switched out/bowed out after an hour, after all. Myd might need a minute more to think about it.

4:03AM: Myd might need three more minutes to think about it.

4:04AM: Myd might need four or five more minutes to think about it.

4:10AM: Myd why are you doing this. Myd it’s past closing time. Myd my guy you’re pouring ambrosia upon the unworthy. Myd ple

4:15AM~: In the end I leave a few minutes early. I have to stress that this had absolutely nothing to do with the quality of Myd’s set nor that he was playing beyond closing time - encores and extra content are extremely good! It’s just that my legs were dead! ;A  ; I limped upstairs and washed my face etc and he was still playing when I came out. That’s dedication. 

The End

As soon as it’s actually over, cheers went up - and as I’m sitting at the bench near the entrance of the club just trying to get my shit together, everyone files out all at once to a bunch of weary-looking security guards wishing us all a good night.

I join the line. It’s bright outside already. Some of the guards offer to call us a cab and some of the people take them up on it. I myself walk out of the club, turn left, and down Old Street Yard to examine the bus stops. One of the bus lines are 24hr and go directly to King’s Cross; as I reach one of the relevant stops and lean around, trying to figure out the times, the French girl from earlier recognizes me and pats me on the shoulder. “You were the girl dancing next to me, right?”

“Yep, that’s me.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good and so exhausted I could melt into the floor.”

She giggles and bids me goodnight as she moves to another bus stop. I didn’t get to ask her about Thibaut, as she wasn’t by me when he came on, but I can only assume she had a good time too. Soon the 214 comes along and I hop on towards King’s Cross. The sun is rising and the white noise in my legs dissipates, just a little, only to be gone completely some twenty hours later. Feels good man.

[lordraveondagooseofdolallytap]

I assert ownership over this work

David Kitchen. March 24th 2020

 Working the line

I’m going south-east on the A14 to a municipal park on the far side of Ipswich. I get an info text a few days ahead from the events company but it’s only the core stuff: working hours, type of event, where it’s at and who is in charge. And a reminder if your fifteen minutes late, the company call it a no show.

After delays at every junction and crawling traffic in between, I make it to the park gates for twelve. Maybe 20,000 Ricky (Soul Man) Palmer fans will be showing up shortly. Who the hell pays a £100 to see him?

Just about all the jobs on-site are for day workers who, like me are on zero-hour contracts. They were somewhere else yesterday and won’t be here tomorrow. It’s pointless asking any questions because they will know nothing beyond the confines of their remit. So I show my ID and drive into the park looking for clues as to where I should go. The fans will be parking up here to catch buses to the concert location in town. My job is to get them parked and then point them in the direction of their onward transport. I figure if I can see a double-decker bus then I should head in that direction. My job will be nearby.

And after a couple of false starts, blocked roads and a lot of frantic driving that’s what happens. I find a hole in a fence, drive my car through and park up in line along with the others.

The ‘Event Manager’ calls me over. He is The Somebody in overall charge of controlling car movement for this event. I worked with him at the Grand National back in April when it rained solidly for all three days. I don’t expect him to recognise me but he does. I’m old, I’m tall and I’m fat and I live in Norfolk and look a little like Mussolini so maybe I stand out. He gives me an orange Hi-Viz jacket which won’t fit across my belly. Its ten minutes to ‘gates open’. He points me on to another supervisor who is organising the teams. It’s good to be remembered. This game is transient. Every day another crowd of people to work with and another boss but reputations stick.

There are five thousand cars about to come through the gates of this park. Our job is to guide them, slot them into a fast-moving queue, direct them into one of four fields, and then park them up with their front bumper just hanging over the white paint line in the grass and with enough space either side of the car for the doors to open. Not an inch more. We place the cars in doubles: that is a front row which will pull out forward at the end of the day, and a backline which will reverse out. Either way, there is just enough space for a medium-sized family car to pull out, straighten up in one go and drive away before they hit the next set of doubles. Mobile homes and vans go at the end of the row and we don’t like them. They make our lines messy and take up scarce free spaces

Speed and flow are what it’s about. Moving wheels mean happy customers. Stop-wait-go gets them tetchy.

The last bus from here into the city concert venue is at 7 pm. At just after eleven the same buses will bring the people back but it’s a simpler task: we just man the channels and deal with blockages. I tell my boss it’s a lot like plumbing. His eyes light up. I tell myself the man is shocked that someone else gets it. That’s how I think of it. A large occupancy building with tanks and pipes to be supplied, filled and empties. No mistake there is a science to this. We are not just men and women in Hi-Viz. We are your secret heroes. Working at the job I get nice remarks shouted out through car window. “Thanks for getting us out so quick”. Things like that.

Twelve men of us line up alongside the company van. We will be at the centre of the operation today. Tasks are allocated, it’s a little like picking teams for sports. They need someone at the gate, someone at the junction, then two teams of three for the actual parking, then two more workers to cover disabled parking and drop-offs plus two for break cover. That’s twelve, no spare capacity for now but there could be a lad coming in later for a 2-8 shift. “It’s going to be hell-of-a hot day, we will get you extra breaks out of the heat”. Welcome words that lift us a little.

I’ve only known the people around me for a short time. I know who I want to work with and who I don’t. Its instinct. Your day can be hell if you stuck with a weirdo or thick bastard, or somebody with a bad attitude. And it makes you look bad. And the heat will compound it, its forecast a high of 34c and it will feel like a lot more out on this shade-less dusty field. I’m wearing my floppy white bush hat. The interior has a brown-yellow sweat line running all around the middle of the crown. Disgusting. And its smells. I get nobody I wanted.

Three of us start in the direction of Field Number One. We sort out jobs along the way. Director, Pointer, and a Parker. In time all will get a turn of each but its best for the first in as a parker to do it for a while. The pointer is important but the parker is king. It all rides on their speed and skill.

Coming over the field at a half gallop is the old half Indian guy I met when we're both doing Stonehenge Summer Solstice parking. Then I saw him at Santa Pod Raceway for a few days. Stan’s his name. Works as a pair with his wife. Both are in their seventies. Got a great big motor home. He shouts over at me, “Hey it’s Septic. I’m on Disabled Parking. God, I thought you were from up north”.

I holler back “Twenty years in Norfolk now. Try and keep up. Catch you for stories later”. Stan’s a great storyteller. Travelling types him and his wife both. They call me Septic. I’m a Patrick but they misheard it the first time.

We, the people who do this job term the field a ‘panel’. That’s the phrase used. A panel is divided into two halves, left and right. Our group go to the endpoint of the first white line, in the upper outer corner of the right panel. This will be our beginning point for the day. Our parking line is fifty yards long. We will fill that and then do a second line directly behind that first row of cars, then jump and repeat as the new drivers pick their way in our direction. This we will repeat all day long till the stream of cars slows, becomes a trickle and then ceases.

For now, I will be The Pointer. A late-middle-aged man called Tim, with a very tentative way about him will be The Director. He goes back to the feeder track which is marked out down the middle of the panel by cones and plastic tape. As the cars roll toward him over a dirt track he will direct them with an (emphatic) arm gesture to make a diagonal route across the grass in the direction of where we will be filling the parking line. Drivers are sneaky. They try and park in the wrong places. Seeking some imaginary advantage for the end of the day. Tim the Director Man has to spot these delinquents, these black sheep and like a good shepherd get them back to where they should be. Tim seems lacking in life force and I wonder if he has the neck to manage the task.

I am The Pointer Man. At the approach of a driver, I raise both arms like a flag to signal my presence and progress to ‘come-hither’ movements with outstretched hands. Drivers panic and go blind sometimes but I am their keeper. When the target is fifty yards out I drop one arm and make a precise pointing gesture with the other. The cars take a ninety-degree turn and at that moment see they are on a straight-line approach to a perfectly presented parking space and I hope they get the feeling that a pilot might get bringing his plane into land. I like to think like that when I am parking cars.

Our ‘Parker’ for now is ‘No-Nonsense Sue’, a big girl in her early twenties with fleshy arms. She stands on the line and as a car approaches raise a finger and sternly points at her feet. I will soon wonder why she does not smile.

These automobile pilots give themselves away. Some have overly generous ideas of themselves and like to do their own thing, and at speed. One must be careful of them. Others are smooth and precise. Their cars glide in, front wheels exactly on the line and front bumper hanging over just as they ought to. They lean out and ask “am I right” and I say “yes that’s great” or “you’re a champion” or something but I know that Sue will just grunt and step along to the next space along. Then you have the drivers who panic and forget how to drive and come close to running you over. They are the reason for standing to one side when the car is ten yards out. Some drivers turn into headless chickens and their feet lose all memory of which pedal to depress. These are the people who can break your legs or crush your feet.

Our little team are all in place and ready: knowing once the first car comes in sight that will be the beginning and we shall not rest again today without permission. I get on the radio and in my most confident voice say. “Norfolk Boy to control, Team A in position and ready, over”

Five minutes pass and then Car Number One appears from behind a row of trees half a mile away. Even from this distance, it’s possible to sense the driver’s hesitancy until they spot The Panel Man at the first right-angle junction, and pick up speed. It’s like the layout becomes suddenly clear and they proceed confidently point to point to point. It’s so like the game where silver balls roll through channels and drop into holes.

Then there is a second car, this driver watches the first and follows suit, and then a third and so on. In a minute or two it’s a stream. At the endpoint, we accept the flow and take it in. Fluidity is the aim. They move like a stream but when they arrive the cars present to us like a tilting wave and only the smallest of hand gestures are needed to bring them in. No delays and as they say, a frictionless experience.

Our team of three moves down the panel like an old fashioned teleprinter then switches across to the left side and starts over.

Two hours later it’s up at 34c and feeling hotter and we are sweat-soaked and caked in dust. Weary legs of course, but our brains are feeling fried. The Supervisor Man has been around with bottled water. It shifts the dust in your throat but we are working flat out and need a respite from the sun most of all. The boss gets this and over the radio drafts in the six-hour chap, Ronnie to replace each of us in turn for half an hour so we can get into the shade and have a break: eat some energy foods and rehydrate.

Tim is most exposed to the heat and dust so he is sent off first. This allows a switch around. Sue goes out to Tim’s spot and Ronnie becomes The Parking Man. He wanted it.

I know his face. He did the heritage drag-racing event at Santa Pod but worked on a different panel. There was some kafuffle involving him but I am struggling to remember details and dismiss the mental alarm, then drift onto other thoughts. Men called Ronnie should not look like him. They should be in their mid-fifties, five feet ten, broad in the beam and be fans of Rugby Union and time in the bar. Ronnie’s that age but the rest is wrong. Spindly, excessively thin, angular and jerky of movement and everything a little too fast and intense. The sight of him made me uneasy. The tingling alarm in my brain is active again.

The Supervisor Man rolls over in a company van. One of the younger ones, an easy manner, burly, ruddy face, thick tufty red hair, looks like he should have been a hill farmer. His backstory, I find out later is the army and being unable to settle to anything afterwards. I learn this and more bits over the next few hours.  He goes from one event to the next all summer, working seventy hour weeks and sleeping in his motorhome. There are a wife and kids in Cheltenham. I ponder on how that might work.

He leaps off the front seat of the van like a latter-day cowboy “Hi how’s it going? I know.  You’re doing great. Everything flowing easy. No back up on the A14 or even at the roundabout outside the gate. The police are happy and that means the promoters are as well. It’s bloody hot so one of the girls went out and got us Ice-Pops. Put them in your pockets, till you have a chance. They will cool your balls off”.

All this is said while the cars are flowing, I’m a man that needs a hearing aid but this man’s voice carries and can be heard over anything else. “It’s just turned 2.30, between now and five is the peak, then by seven it’s all done with those going in. Then we rest till ten when they all come back and fingers crossed we get them all out easy”.

Ron bawls out “we are the team skipper, we shan’t let you down”. We all cringe and sense immediately we are no longer a team. Supervisor Man looks ill at ease, hands out the ice pops and gets away.

Ron shouts over at me, “I used to be in food and pharma process technology. It’s all the same. Keeping the shit moving hey?” Ron proves to be pickier than most about the positioning of the cars and is not your man for banter and rapport with drivers. The idiot is passively rude to people and that puts my teeth on edge. Part of this job is Show Business. Moving along, giving it some spiel, getting a laugh from the punters and keeping people on side… and happy. A bit of all that and the punters will do anything for you. Ron is odd and I am thinking about how to get rid of him.

It’s just then that an Indian lad, possibly a college student and his friends, in tiny three-door leaves too big a gap between himself and the previous car, a Merc and rolls well over the line so his bonnet is a clear metre ahead of all the others. Ron barks at him “back up my friend and come in again, and this time watch and follow my instructions, hey?” The driver is looking like he has been zapped with a stunner and in his incomprehension puts a foot on the wrong pedal and almost scuttles Ron, who curses obscenely, waves his arms and shouts “back! Back! You stupid twat”. The lad finds reverse and backs up a little too fast in my direction. I jump out of the way and he almost hits a Bedford van coming in. Ron directs him forward again and brings him in too close to the Merc. The passenger door won’t open but Ron ignores this and moves on with a dismissive gesture.

That mess up has caused a delay and given us a problem. I scream over at Sue to stop the cars at her point on the track. I have ten cars all askew in the field and two are driving off in their own chosen direction to find a spot. I shout at all my drivers (if they are on my panel then they are mine) and tell them to stop and there you have a snapshot of human nature. The ones who instinctively think of the common good and the other lot who hate self-important fat old bastards in Hi-Viz jackets like me telling them what to do.

I call over at Ron, “Hey mate, are we good to go again?”

And he bawls back “everything under control here. Roll ‘em big fella”.

I hate Ron…

Supervisor Man comes over on the radio. “Is there a problem? The cars aren’t moving down here at the gate?

“Ron here, no problems skipper, just some Western Oriental Gentlemen who cannot drive. On track now”

Supervisor Man snaps back, “Ron we cannot talk like that, please stay professional on the radio”. Reggie’s face fills up red. Starts at his neck and rises. He is the colour of beetroot.

I glance back over at ‘No-Nonsense Sue’ on the access track. She is bent over a car window. I can just see a young woman shouting at her, and then the driver pulls hard right and speeds at ninety degrees to the middle of the panel entirely ignoring us. Other cars break out of line and follow suit and in a second this insubordination has spread and maybe half of the hundred cars in the queue break out and drive off in every direction…something that reminds me of one of those starburst fireworks.

I turn back and see the most astonishing thing, Ron is aiming punches at the face of an old man in an ancient Morris Traveller who is using his forearms to shield his head. “Ron, Ron what you doing man?”

“Norfolk Boy to control. We have a problem. Could you stop all traffic at the gate until we sort this out? We have lost…” And that’s when Ron punched me on the chin and I fall to the ground like a felled tree. He leaps onto my body, places a knee ether side my torso, and then puts his hands around my neck. My denture plate has snapped with the punch and has fallen into the back of my throat. I’m choking but manage to grab Ron by his ears, fold my right leg and push off with that so we roll over and I spit my teeth out. Ron scrambles back on top of me so I kick off against the ground some more and we roll again. Cars and vans are treating us like a traffic island and driving to the left and right. Ron’s is screaming something about standards and trying to push his thumbs into my eyes.

2 am. The whole site is empty apart from our cars and a couple of wind up, illumination towers. Stan and I are the only ones left on the site apart from Mark, the Supervisor Man who is down by the gate talking with the police about Ron. Our timesheets need signing before we head off so we wait.

I’m having some problems swallowing, there’s grazes on my back and head, and a black eye is coming out. I ache rather than hurt. Ron was pulled off me by Sue who then decked him with a head butt. I am grateful. I suspect his time in food and pharma process technology had not been without issue.

Stan’s day has been quiet over in disabled parking. No more than twelve cars all day and all very civilised and social. Drivers and passengers spread themselves out on the grass for picnics. Stan sat in, chatted and shared their sandwiches. Of course all the shouting and the sound of car horns and revving engines had drifted over on the wind but at his age, he felt it best to remain at his post.

“Me and my wife are having a crisis”. Their youngest daughter: a first-time mother at forty has just had a baby. “Septic, the wife wants to settle. Rent a flat somewhere near our daughter and help with the baby. I want to see the kid… of course I do, but don’t see myself in a pokey flat on an estate in Barking. I thought she would keep with me but seems this is it. So it’s going to be good friends and past good companions and I don’t know what else if anything. I’m flying off to Toronto tomorrow night. This game and bar work will fund my doings all the summer”.

I tell Stan I’m flying out to Samarkand in September and joining the Silk Road all the way back to Istanbul. Backpacking, trains, buses and cheap smelly hotels. “If the company has not been doing their criminal records check, I could be in for a bonus”.

Stan puts on his wistful philosophical face, this man could turn a watering can into an object lesson about life, and “Who would have known it Septic? Looking at two old buggers like us in our Hi-Viz, who would credit it? We are like modern day cowboys. Battered but undefeated. Riding till we drop. Yes, I’m telling you, we are modern-day cowboys…who park cars”.

[lettersfromitaly]

10/14/17-10/27/17

so many days to go over and I don’t even remember half of them.

So saturday i went to this museum that was super boring and over priced. There was literally one room and i also found out after i went that i was going there with my class on tuesday rip. But under the museum was a special traveling exhibit that held works from Hokusai and his students. Seeing Japanese art was just a really nice break from all the old renaissance art I had been seeing. There were a lot of people there because it was opening weekend but i got to skip the line because i bought my ticket somewhere else. After that I went back to school and made dinner with a few friends. 

monday was a really boring day. All i did was go to class and do some homework 

tuesday I went to class at the museum i went to on saturday. i got my exam back and i did well on it. During that class we went to the Pantheon as well. I couldn’t go to dinner that night because I had the night shift so i stayed in and made dinner by myself. 

On wednesday i had class then i feel like i did something after that but i can’t remember but i did FaceTime Brittany and Luna.

Thursday i went to St. Peter’s Basilica and had class there. It is a really amazing place to be in and everything was so pretty. Also normally my religion class is on campus but that day was at a church which we tour then we went to dinner with our professor which was weird but also nice. I got an omelet and fries lol.

Friday i had to get up at 7 to leave for this Eat Love Pray excursion. We went to the region Umbria. There were only 20 of us who went. On friday we hunted fro truffles through the forest with this old and his dog. It was really fun and cute. Then we went to his house where his wife and friends made us lunch and it had like four course and every single on had truffles in it. And let me tell you i was very grateful for it but i freaking hate truffles RIP. It was a real struggle but i ate everything. Then drive for about an hour and got to this woman’s bed and breakfast where we stayed. It was on this giant hill and i almost died on the drive up. We stayed in mini apartments with four people to an apartment. It was just really relaxing and peaceful. That night the woman did a cooking class for us and it was lot of fun. We got to cook everything we ate. Also she has two dogs and couple cats and they are all adorable. Then six of us in the group played cards until like 1 in the morning. 

Saturday we got to sleep in until lunch which was at 12. And of course my roommates had to wake me up at 1130 so we wouldnt be late. They were all surprised I could sleep that long i dont know why people underestimate my sleeping abilities. Then the woman made us all lunch which was pasta and salad. Then we left for the chocolate festival which was about 30 minutes away. There was SO much chocolate because we were able to get free samples. There were so many people there too and there was this giant piano made out of chocolate. We were there for like 5 hours which is way too long lol. Then we went to this restaurant which was probably my least favorite restaurant we have been to so far. The food wasn’t that great and the people who i was sitting next to were really trying my nerves. Then we got back to the bed and breakfast and played more cards.

Sunday we had to get up early to leave for Assisi. It was really cold and rainy that day and we were on a hill so the wind was blowing hard so it was a bit of struggle to pay attention during our tour but the city/town/lol i don’t know but was so cute and really unnecessarily hilly. We went to mass at St. Francis Basilica where we had our own room and the priests who went on this trip with us gave the mass. Then we just wondered around Assisi. We got lunch and gelato and gossiped lol. Then on our bus ride back i noticed we were moving really slow. And we found out that they told our chaperones that the bus was broken the moment we got on the bus but all their buses were booked so we would have to use the broken bus. But in the last hour of our trip we got on a new bus at a rest stop. When we got back to school i did some homework then went to bed. 

Monday I think all i did was go to class and do homework. I got a midterm back that i also did well on. 

Tuesday was just a MESSSS. First i had work in the morning so that was just startling and boring. We had a class off campus that day and we ended up being 45 minutes to class because i was stupid and listened to people who had no idea where they were going. I listened to them because they said they knew where they were going and i figured it was better to stay in a group. But eventually i ended up calling the professor to figure out where she was and then people started to argue with me about if we were waiting for her in the right place. I WAS SO DONE. It was definitely one of the worst days so far. But for the end of class we went inside the Colosseum and the sun was setting so everything was so pretty. Then we went out to dinner that night. 

Wednesday wasn’t the best day either. Our italian partners came to visit and it was really frustrating because we have to do this project with them but only my school’s students were given the worksheet and directions so everything was in English and none of partners did any work at all. They were on their phones the whole time. Even the other girl in my group from my school randomly stopped doing work and i was just so ready to fight someone it was awful. But then they left and my friend dragged me out of my room and we went shopping together. I was really happy she did that because its a nice reminder that we are living in ROME and i just can’t let people like that ruin part of my time here. Then that night i ate dinner and played cards. 

Thursday wasn’t better either lol. It really wasn’t my week. I had been studying and practicing this presentation i had to give on Thursday since Sunday. Like I was so ready for it but also nervous because the class it was for is really hard and i needed all the good grades i could get. So our class that day was at the Vatican Museums and my professor changed the time of the class from 830 to 800 which mean that i had to get up in the five o'clock hour in order to be there on time. We get there and my professor is talking about what we are specifically doing during that class but she doesnt mention anything about going to the building where my painting is in so I’m getting a little nervous but i try not to make it a big deal. Eventually after our break we made our way to that building and long story short everyone gets to do their presentation but me because we were already a half an hour over class time and apparently staying for 7 extra minutes wasn’t an option. I was really upset and honestly I’m still upset because i will have to do it next week when i already have another presentation to do that same day. We got back to campus had lunch and went to class. It was boring we watched a movie. Then my friends and i sprinted to dinner after class because i had to work the night shift. I tried to go to dinner once before when i had to work the night shift and i ended up being late for work so trying to go to dinner is always a gamble. But it was an awful day and i just wanted some decent food so I decided to go with them. I ended up having to come back to school by myself because everyone was still eating but i made it back in time. A few of my friends came down to my desk and we talked and made the time pass a little quicker. 

Friday i didnt do anything because ALL transportation within in the city was shut down so i just stayed in with some friends. I watched netflix and played cards. Then we made dinner together. 

[crabrambles-blog]

So the other day I went to a hookah cafe...

The other day I had gone to pick up my check from my old store. The company I work for has not updated their information on me for some reason. It has me listed still as working at a store across town, so naturally that means my checks are sent there. So I get off of work at four in the afternoon, go home and lie down for a while. I moved to this store because it is a seven minute walk, from my house to the store's back area with the punch in clock Well it turns out a while is about two hours, I was kind of zoned out, watching youtube videos and chatting with friends on discord. I had a laptop so I was in my bed. I was almost about to take a nap when my step father came home from work, he fixes radios for a living, bit of an odd job but from what I understand he is good at it. We talked for a while, I told him that the store I work at had gotten a bonus check for every employee, almost the size of their standard check. Well I had gone up to find out if they had one for me, I was correct in my assumption that they did not. However I was told that it was likely the case my old store, the one that got my checks, would have it. So I come home after work, rest a while, talk with my step dad and decided I'm going to go and get my two checks that day. I planned on picking up some dinner while I was out, the store I was headed too was in a nicer side of town and it was a Thursday so places would be open later than normal and the one I had in mind has a sale on Thursdays, the main item I like to get there, boneless wings, are on sale for like half a dollar for one wing. I tend to get a rather spicy sauce on my wing and eat some french fries with them and have a yellowish green drink, I was going to have some alcohol too. I'm of the age now that I can drink, I just recently celebrated a birthday meaning I was well over it actually. So I leave the house, walk down to my bus stop in practically a jog because the bus was soon but I had a okay amount of time to get there. So when I do actually get to my bus stop I wait and I wait, the time for the bus comes and goes and no bus. That's not too odd, these buses are normally “fast” and tend to come early, so I assume that is what has happened, there was no one else waiting for it at the time so that added onto my theory. I cross the street to get a red drink in a big cup. There's a woman ahead of my in line who is getting gas for her car. She pays and leaves then the woman behind the counter notices the woman told her a different gas pump then the one she said. The woman behind the counter leaves her spot and yells out to the woman who just paid to come back inside or to wait. I don't really remember and it wasn't directed to me so I paid it little mind, to add on top of that I was listening to a podcast at the time, I forget which but it was either the Glass Cannon podcast's Canon fodder, two men talking about their last episode of the podcast and how the battle in the role playing went or it was the podcast The Co-Optional Podcast with the hosts of another podcast The Jimquisition, so it was all together made up of five people, four men and one woman, one of the normal hosts was not on that week, talking about video games they had played that week and any news in the video game industry going on at the time. However with it being just before E3, a big video game convention in LA nothing was really in the news. But anyways I had to wait for the woman to go back behind the counter and for the other woman to come back inside to fix the problem. After that the woman behind the counter took care of my order and apologized for what had just happened. After I paid for my drink I stepped outside in time to see the bus that I had came early had actually been rather late and already passing my bus stop. I remember swearing, but to which swear it actually was I have no clue. After accepting my mistake I crossed the busy road again at the right time and waited, for even though that bus had been late I knew the next one was close for I had already seen it going up the street on the other side of the road. After a while of standing a sipping on my drink the bus decides to show up, I step inside the giant metal monster and pay my fee and sit in the back. My favorite seat was taken however, I enjoy sitting at the very back wall and on the driver's side, just something about it makes it the best spot. But a child was sitting there and their parent was sitting on the same seat but on the other side, making even sitting in the middle a challenge that I wanted no part of. So I sat down in one of the two front facing seats they have in the back besides the back wall seats. I was still on the driver's side though. I took the bus downtown, all the way to stop I would normally take to get to my old job, there was more than one bus route I could take to get there but this one was the most reliable one for being on time. However that did mean a half hour of standing in the sun light, downtown, after most people were off from work. But once that bus got there I knew I would be home free, as it took me right to where I wanted to get off, no walking down a rather steep hill for me that day. Unknown to me at the time, the store's gas station had one of my friends working at it, if I had known at the time I would have stopped by to see him. We share a number of things, from our names to what we like to do in our free time. But I didn't know at the time so I didn't stop by, I went right to the front desk of the store, after buttoning up my shirt, it might have been a hot day outside but that was no reason to look like a slob inside the store. I walk right up to the counter because luckily no one else was there at that moment in time. I talked with my old coworker about getting my check and the fact they still sent them here. When I only got the one check I asked if this store had gotten it's bonus checks yet, she seemed confused as there had been no talk of bonus checks at that store, she did however say I may want to speak with one of my old bosses, he might know more. So after cashing my bigger than expected check I walked down to where she said he might be, unfortunately he was not there but the next in the line for boss was there, I asked him about the bonus checks and where the second in command was. He didn't know a thing about the bonus checks either but did inform me that the man I was looking for was on break. I went to the break room, hoping to find him but only found another old coworker that I was friends with. I didn't bring up the bonus checks to her as I was wondering if this store had even gotten them, I did after exchanging pleasantries ask about the location of the second in command, she had no clue. After a quick trip the restroom I found the man I was looking for in the break room, he explained to me that this store was not given bonus checks for not performing well enough, which is odd due to the fact that many of the workers were nicer than the ones at my current store but different standards for different parts of town exist for a reason. He asked me if I was enjoying my new store, I informed him that I wasn't due to a lack of hours and a lack of care from coworkers and management alike, I also hinted at the fact I might be leaving a company altogether in a few months, he in turn brought up how I might be able to come back to my old store, which while it was a while away from my home I did earn almost double what I'm currently making at the new store. I'm still thinking that idea over and I'm still unsure if I am going to leave the company at all. After talking with him for a while longer I leave as I still had to get dinner and was trying to make it to the restaurant before the sun fell out of the sky, it was quite a walk but I did indeed do my task, passing by many homes. While on the way there I saw a man making a chalk picture outside a store, he finished as I passed by on the other side of the street, I yelled out to him it was a good picture, he yelled back to me “Thanks Brother”, for some reason I still find this funny but to be honest it was a really good picture. It was a picture of my city from across the river, so it was a view almost everyone around here knows well. After making my war down the street and passing by a role playing and board game shop that I thought about stopping in but decided not too I found myself outside a hookah cafe, the windows were blacked out but there were red lights making them stand out. I paused for a moment but remembered from my smoking days that it would have caused me to not really enjoy my dinner and went inside the restaurant that I had been thinking of for the past few hours. It was much busier than I was expecting but not as busy as I've seen in the past. I went too the bar after waiting for a few moments, I sat down next to a rather handsome man. He was a rather talkative fellow, we chatted about the sports on television, I remember seeing the US soccer team playing but I was more focused on a baseball game that I couldn't quite make out the teams playing on. I myself had gotten some boneless wings and french fries as well as my classic yellowish green drink, but the alcohol I was wanting to start with, a shot of fireball, was out of stock at the time, so I went with something the bartender suggested, a jager bomb. I had heard the name before but never had one or even the base components before. It was oddly sweet and gross tasting, but for some reason I couldn't find the will in myself to not finish it before I left the place. I paid my bill and gave a tip to the bartender and said goodnight to her and the man I was sitting with, after leaving I saw the hookah cafe was still open. Finding myself somewhat excited to try something new as well slightly drunk I entered the building.

So the other day I went to a hookah cafe the other day. It was nice.

[praemordeo]

The Unemployees

[Animisha and Maithri are driving down a narrow lane with houses on each side. Animisha is driving and Maithri is navigating. It’s daytime.] Maithri: Keep towards the left. Animisha: More than this? M: Yeah, but not too- [The sideview mirror scrapes the side of an auto rickshaw. The driver looks at them in anger and drives off.] A: Where did he come from?! M: Just stay in the centre lane. A: And this guy on a bike is swaying. M: Indicator. A: We have to turn?! M: [looks at Google Maps] Yeah, we have to go left. A: Then why am I in the centre! M: Because you narrowly avoided a fight with an auto driver. A: It was his fault! M: And it’s your car that’s scratched. I don’t even understand why we’re here. A: I had to practise driving, and I had to show you this. [She finds an empty spot and parks the car badly.] M: Reverse and cut tighter into- [Animisha has already gotten out of the car.] A: Look.

[They’re at the park in a residential complex. All around are 30-storey buildings looming over.] M: [exiting the car] What? A: [taking out a cigarette from her purse and not looking up] At the seventh floor in the building to the left. [A guy is awkwardly sticking half his torso out of a tiny window and lighting a cigarette. Maithri here’s the click of the lighter and turns around to see Animisha lighting her own cigarette.] M: What is this? A: Now the thirteenth floor on that building. [Another guy in his mid 20s is smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke precariously away from the window.] M: Is this some kind of- A: And now, at the penthouse of the building to the right. [A woman with bright pink hair is standing on an extremely tiny ledge and smoking a joint.] M: Whoa. A: We’re ‘The Unemployees’. M: You know them? A: Nope. But at 11am on weekdays, all the unemployed people sneak a smoke break outside the bathroom window, or the bedroom ledge. It is late enough to realise that it’s another day without work, and early enough to still think that a smoke might help. [Maithri takes the cigarette from Animisha and takes a drag.] M: [coughs] This isn’t tobacco! A:  You know I don’t smoke. M: I thought maybe you started! A: I haven’t started my job hunt, you think I’ll start smoking?! M: I have… Ugh. I feel terrible. A: Take another drag.

[They’re on the swings, holding the chains and bending backwards, looking at the trees and the buildings above.]

M: [softly] So I’m part of this now? A: You got fired yesterday. M: I quit yesterday. A: Well, the first week is great. You’re still in a routine. Breakfast is still a valid meal during the day. And you make up your sleep deficit. M: I can’t wait to sleep for more than five hours a night. A: This is the only week you’ll be able to. Afterwards, stress leads to insomnia, and the next thing you know you’ve finished one season of a shitty comedy TV series in one night and you didn’t laugh once. M: Hahah- A:[cutting off the laughter] And then comes the purge. You start with deleting the news apps because everything is terrible and you’re helpless. Then YouTube and Spotify because people are making money off of ads and you’re still broke?! M: Hey, I- A: After that you delete all your social media accounts just to punish yourself, but you end up feeling free and liberated, and then feel guilty about it. M: [looks at Animisha fearfully] A: Then the loneliness comes. You’ve already started measuring time in TV series. For me, January was Mad Men. M: Is that when you bought hair wax and started combing your hair like Don Draper? A: [narrows her eyes like Don Draper] You try talking to other unemployed people but they’re either ‘between jobs’ or ‘freelancers’. I met five druggies at an afterparty who have been on a three year ‘sabbatical’. M: …Friends? A: They rolled the joint we smoked which looks like a cigarette, so yeah I’d say they’re my friends. M: This sounds terrible. A: It’s not all bad. You can masturbate any time, which is fun. But you’ll only do it to feel something that isn’t hunger. M: [shakes her head with a dejected look on her face] I’m going to the jungle gym.

[They’re sitting at a bench right outside a school gate, eating ice cream. Children are running towards their school buses, or to their parents. Everyone is looking at them.]

M: That mom just crossed the road with her two kids because she didn’t want to pass by us. A: Hahaha, I remember being that kid, and I’ll probably be that mom one day, too. M: I would’ve never gotten three scoops, but I figured, I can go to the gym everyday now. I mean, at least for the first week... A: Look, I’m sorry for being so grim at the park. I quit my job to write. It’s been six months and all I’ve done is gotten a bunch of twitter followers and written un-marketable youtube sketches. M: I loved the links you sent me. A: Everyone did! And still no one is willing to make them. [Maithri notices all the kids in the bus parked in front of them are looking at them.] M: I uhh- A: I’m sorry, I’m being grim again, I jus- M: No… Another mom just avoided us. A: Haha! Classic. M: I thought we were here to pick up your niece! A: I’m an only child. We’re here to eat ice cream in front of these kids and teach them how to deal with temptation. M: Oh my god! [ She throws the remaining ice cream into the bin next to her and a little girl who had been looking at the ice cream for the last ten minutes begins to cry.]

[They’re in the car, on the same road as the first scene, but headed in the opposite direction, going home. Maithri is driving.] A: Thanks for driving. It’s nap-time for me and I didn’t want to scratch the car again. M: [stares ahead] A: I’m sorry for being terrible. M: You’re not terrible. A: I feel terrible and I do terrible things and I can’t stop. M: Just, stop. A: I was unhappy at work, and I’m unhappy when I’m out of work. What if this is just who I am? Sad and terrible. M: [sighs] I decided to quit my job when, last month, a thumb tack got stuck in the sole of my shoe, so I took it off to try and remove the tack. A: Yeah those pins hurt more than Lego. M: No, I put my foot on the carpet and realised, I had been sitting in the same cubicle for two years and I didn’t know what the carpet felt like. A: What did it feel like? M: It was bristly, but it doesn’t matter. I had stopped feeling things. A few days after that, I saw the newsstory about the refugees and I felt… nothing. A: That story made me delete InShorts. M: You know what I’ve been wanting to do? A: What? M: To pet something new. A new animal. I’ve pet cats and dogs, and your hamster before it ran away. And that was… two years ago. [They both drive along in silence for a while] A: One of the druggies I met that day has a pet snake. M: So, we’re headed to Bandra? A: How did you know he lives in Bandra? M: I didn’t.

[twentysomethinginorlando]

Wine & Dine Weekend Part One: The Expo and 10K

New Post has been published on https://twentysomethinginorlando.com/wine-dine-10k/

Wine & Dine Weekend Part One: The Expo and 10K

Fall brings many events to Orlando from the Halloween events of Not So Scary and Horror Nights to Epcot’s International Food and Wine Festival. One of my favorite events is the Wine and Dine Half Marathon Weekend. In 2014, I ran the Jingle Jungle 5K, which was my first RunDisney race, and in 2016, I ran the Inaugural Lumiere’s Two Course Challenge, which saw the former Saturday night race move to Sunday morning and add in a Saturday morning 10K. This year I decided to keep the streak going and signed up for my fourth Challenge Race to run both the Wine and Dine 10K and Wine and Dine Half Marathon for a total of 19.3 miles. This would be two more notches on my 30 by 30 plan, that I now have to rethink due to Disney canceling all the West Coast races for the foreseeable future. 

This would be a smarter decision if I was capable of staying on a training schedule. I am not. I draw up really pretty schedules and charts in my bullet journal, then never make it past the first run. (Sometimes I don’t even do the first run.) So November 3rd saw Jay and I heading to the Expo for packet pickup and the last time I went running was during Hurricane Irma. Treadmills for the win. 

When the Wine and Dine Half Marathon was a night race, it ended at Epcot where the Food and Wine Festival was still open. When it moved to a morning race last year, they added the Post Race Party in the evening starting at 10:00 p.m. I didn’t make it last year because I was exhausted from the run and didn’t feel like driving back to Epcot to go to a party by myself.

Party admission is included with the Half Marathon or Challenge registration, but has to be purchased separately for anyone else. I was determined to change that this year. For weeks I had been debating if I should buy Jay a ticket to the party or simply sign him up for the race since I was looking at spending $80 for just the party or $199 for the party and the race. He was game for either, but as time ticked closer to the start date I never had the spare funds to swing registration so we decided to just get him a party ticket at the Expo.

Silly Chelsea, things never go according to plan. 

We arrived at ESPN Wide World of Sports early Thursday afternoon and headed for the Field House. I’m used to everything always being in the same place, but RunDisney seems to like messing with me at the moment. Packet pickup was still in the Field House, but you went left instead of right and everything was upstairs. The only thing downstairs was the Official RunDisney store. I remembered to print my waiver in advance this time, but had forgotten it at home and had to stop and reprint it. Picking up my Bib was a breeze and we started to head out of the building, until I noticed a sign that read “Last Minute Registrations”. I stopped dead in my tracks and I swear it was like my ears perked up like a puppy. I looked at Jay, “Wanna run with me?” 

Apparently registering at the eleventh hour for a RunDisney race actually is fairly simple as long as the race is not sold out. They had us sign him up on our phones like normal and then he just showed them his driver’s license. They had preprinted waivers to fill out and bibs ready to go, just without his name on it. Instead of having a detachable part for shirt pick up, there was a sticker for them to cross out. The whole thing took about ten minutes. My only complaint is he got put in the last start corral, but I really shouldn’t have expected anything else. That was probably all that was left. I’d have to move back to run with him, but that was a small sacrifice to make. 

I decided not to bother going downstairs to look at the Official RunDisney merchandise since I never actually buy anything, and we headed outside. We stopped into Will Call to pick up Jay’s Post Race Party ticket and $15 gift card, which took no time at all. I grabbed a brochure for the Post Race Party and I was super excited when I saw how many characters would be out. It also listed The Adventurers Club as entertainment and I found myself intrigued. The Adventurers Club was an old part of Pleasure Island, and my friends frequently talk about it like I should know what it is. 

We then headed to the J Center to get our shirts. I picked up my three long sleeved shirts, and Jay got his one. I knew mine would fit but I had Jay try his on over his shirt to be sure. We rounded the corner to head toward the exhibit booths and found none other than Mickey Mouse waiting for us. We hopped in the extremely short line and it was our turn in about five minutes. Mickey was so excited when I told him it was Jay’s first RunDisney race! 

We headed back for the car with one last stop for the traditional photo with the medal backdrops outside. We were about halfway home when Jay finally had it sink in what he had just gotten himself into. I don’t train because I’m semi-lazy and my work schedule makes it hard to make time for running, but at least I know what I am capable of on a RunDisney course. Jay hadn’t been for a run since the Color Run 5K in March, and that was his first race ever. 

“I have to keep how short of a mile?” 

“A sixteen-minute mile.” 

“Oh, I can do that.” 

“Except you have to go faster if you want to see characters.” 

“How much faster?” 

Cue evil laughter. 

Friday was an easy day that involved a much-needed trip to the grocery store and seeing Thor: Ragnarok. (Two thumbs up, highly recommend.) I laid out all my clothes for the race, and duck taped the apron to make it short enough to run in. Then I went to bed around ten to try to get some sleep before my alarm went off at 2:20 a.m. 

No alarm should ever go off that early, but such is the RunDisney life. 

I arrived at Epcot around 3:45 a.m. and went straight for the buses. Security laughed at me because apparently my Running Buddy* isn’t big enough to count as a bag. Call me crazy, but if it’s big enough to hold a pocket knife, it should count. The ride over to the Ticket and Transportation Center went quickly, and I was there a few minutes after 4:00 a.m. 

All the character lines were HUGE. I hadn’t seen them this long since Wine and Dine last year. Even Darth Vader’s line wasn’t as long as Mickey and Minnie’s. I jumped in line anyway since I didn’t have much else to do and I thought being in line would be warmer than being in the open air. It was freezing, and I was grateful I’d swapped my shorts for capris, but wished I’d found my space blanket.  

The characters were being pulled at 5 a.m. to go to the Finish Line. My theory is that is so people would go to their start corrals on time. My friend Andria joined me and we caught up on things before we bailed the line around 4:55, a.m. since there were still about forty people in front of us. We headed for the start corrals with some other friends of hers and split off to go to our respective corrals. I made a swing by the bathrooms and went to Corral D.  

There are two gentleman who are the Commentators for all the RunDisney races, and a woman who joins them sometimes. I’m really curious what they do the rest of the year. Their names are Rudy, John and Carissa. (Yes, I had to look that up.) They’re really funny and good at keeping the crowd’s energy up, but they say things that would get regular Cast Members eaten alive, like jokes about drinking at the Finish Line. My favorite thing I heard this year, I think it was Rudy who said it, but I could be wrong, was, “When you see couples crossing the finish line together, and they’re holding hands and you think ‘Aww, that’s so cute!’ That’s really just him making sure she doesn’t finish without him.” 

They did the same thing with the start corrals for Wine and Dine that they did for Star Wars in having less corrals and sending people off in smaller bursts. I still don’t care for it, but it matters less on the 10K than it does the Half. I started at 5:53 a.m., thank you runner tracking. It didn’t take long before I was annoyed with the Chef’s Hat falling off my head, and I stuffed it in the pocket of my apron until I got to the parts of the course that would have Photopass Photographers. 

It was the exact same course as the Star Wars 10K back in April, meaning the first three miles or so were basically empty, open road. There was a marching band cheering the runners on at the first turn, and then the first characters were somewhere between the second and third mile markers. I didn’t recognize the music playing until I saw them, but I don’t hear “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?” too often. It was the Three Little Pigs! They’re rare so their line was fairly long, and I kept going. I met them way back during my College Program and got hug attacked by the Big Bad Wolf himself. 

The course made the turn onto the ramp to Hollywood Studios, that I affectionately refer to as the “Death Turn” because it’s one of the only hills on the course and it’s at a terrible angle. Halfway up the hill was the 5K marker, and my time came in at a pace of just under fourteen minutes per mile. My Fitbit and Pokémon Go don’t get along so I’m reliant on RunDisney’s tracking text messages to gauge my time. At the top was a Green Army Man barking orders to keep running and taking photos. For some reason he’s always on a hill, and I’ve just learned to dislike the Green Army Men so much because of it. 

The only good news about that stupid ramp is what comes up, must go down. Running downhill is my favorite. I made the turn into the Backstage Entrance to Hollywood Studios and found myself entering the Fantastmic amphitheater just behind Tower of Terror. I started to run down that hill as well and saw the longest line I had seen all day, and had to make it almost to the bottom to see who it was. I stopped dead in my tracks: Oswald the Lucky Rabbit had finally made his Walt Disney World debut! 

For those unfamiliar with Oswald, he was Walt’s first character before Mickey Mouse. Walt found out he didn’t own the rights to his own creation, Universal did, which led to the founding of the Walt Disney Studios and creation of Mickey Mouse. Way to go, Universal, you created your own worst enemy. In 2006 Bob Iger was able to purchase the rights to Oswald back from Universal and the character began making regular appearances at California Adventure in 2014. As far as I know, November 4th was his first ever appearance at Walt Disney World and, despite scouring the internet, I haven’t been able to find any proof to the contrary.  

I turned hard to go back up the hill, and almost ran into someone in my haste to get in line. I had almost made it to the back when I remembered that the course would repeat the next day, and Oswald would likely be out again with a much shorter line. I turned and kept going. I had made it past the entrance to Tower of Terror before I regretted my decision, but it was too late to turn back. For someone who doesn’t care enough about time to train, I hate stopping. It’s so hard to get going again! 

I was in and out of Hollywood Studios in under ten minutes. As I headed out the front, I passed a group of people wearing Wizarding robes and carrying signs for the Hogwarts Running Club. I love the Hogwarts Running Club to begin with and the fact that they’re willing to get up that early on a Saturday to cheer people on is just amazing. 

The course headed to the Boardwalk on the tiny, congested sidewalk. As I rounded a corner, I saw a bunch of people stopping to take a photo of the full moon over the Tower of Terror. Once again, I should have stopped but kept going since I didn’t want to deal with taking my phone out of my pouch and getting it back in. 

Next to the Atlantic Dance Hall they had a group of four women on microphones cheering people on and posing for photos. I think they were supposed to be from a vineyard. Near the end of the Boardwalk was Genie in his Hawaiian shirt and Goofy hat. I think they bring him out for almost every race now. 

The course headed backstage at Epcot behind France and brought the runners out beside the U.K. pavilion. I got a good look at some of the construction going on, and I’m curious to see what happens with the Ratatouille ride. I made the left turn that took me past Canada where Koda and Kenai from Brother Bear were out. I knew they were on the schedule for the Post Race Party so I continued. I really need to learn to care less about time and more about characters. 

I made the turn by Spaceship Earth to go backstage towards the Finish Line and there was a Gospel Choir in the usual place singing their hearts out. One last corner and I could see the Finish Line, and I started running as hard as I could. I crossed the Finish Line with a time of 1:30:29 and a pace of 14:34 a minute. Not great, but not bad at all. I went to get my medal and they were doing that annoying thing where they just hand you the medal instead of putting it around your neck. IT IS AN EXPERIENCE DISNEY AND YOUR VOLUNTEERS KEEP RUINING IT. I appreciate their volunteering, and I get that it’s more work, but come on, do it right. Did Leia hand Luke his medal in Star Wars: A New Hope, or did she put it around his neck? I was waiting for the one girl who was actually putting them on people’s necks and the guy standing next to her kept trying to hand me a medal so I finally just took it because it was so awkward. When you add in Jay’s registration, I spent over $500 on these races. I WANT MY MEDAL ON MY NECK NOT IN MY HAND. 

So I put my medal on my own neck and moved down to get my free cooling towel, snack box and Powerade. I should have taken a water too, since I finished the Powerade before I even made it to the character lines. I jumped in line for the Chipmunks since they’re my favorites after Mickey and Minnie and I wanted to save the mice for when I was with Jay. I finished off everything in the snack box before it was my turn for photos. Chip and Dale were proud of me, and Chip liked that I had a chef’s hat like them. Then I made my way back to my car so I could go home and take a nice long nap before getting everything ready for the Half Marathon. 

Check back for Part Two where Jay and I take on the Wine and Dine Half Marathon, and we see exactly how hard it is to run a race with only two and a half days notice! 

*This is an affiliate link. To read Twenty Something in Orlando’s affiliate link disclosure, click here.

[eurotraveltales-blog]

Day 15: Munich

Last day in Munich was pretty eventful. We left the hostel at 11 and went to Back Werk to get breakfast to go. I got a blueberry muffin, a croissant, and one of those Berliners, which was essentially a jelly-filled doughnut covered in powdered sugar. It was really good. Apriet got a chocolate muffin and one of those spinach strudels that I got yesterday.

We decided to go to the concentration camp memorial first, and then be back in Munich in time to see the characters on the Marienplatz clock do their 17:00 dance. The clock moves twice a day, at 11:00 and 17:00, but we weren’t going to make the 11:00 one. So we walked to the Munich Central Station, which was where we arrived from, and we purchased an “XXL” all-day ticket for the two of us that covered the train ride from Munich to Dachau, as well as the bus ride from Dachau station to the concentration camp memorial site. Turns out we didn’t need them because nobody checked them on any of the trains and buses we rode today. So we’re just going to stop wasting money on them.

When we got there, we found out audio tours were 4.00 euro and guided tours were only 3.50 euro per person, so we paid 7 euro for a guided tour that started at 13:00, and checked out the gift shop while we waited the 20 minutes until 13:00. The gift shop had a lot of books about the Holocaust - survivors telling their stories and historians writing about the political climate at the time, as well as the facts that have been uncovered from research that’s been done on the Holocaust since the late 1940s. At 13:00, we gathered at the lobby to meet the tour guide. Her name was Nikola and she was very nice and seemed super knowledgeable about the subject matter. She had grown up in Munich, studied history in school, and spoke fluent English. Most of the others in our 30-people tour group were also Americans. Buckle up and settle in, folks - this was a 2.5 hour tour.

Anyway, the first stop was just outside the gate that says “Arbeit macht frei,” which is German for “Work will set you free.” This phrase is displayed at the entrance to many Nazi concentration camps. Nikola told us a story about how the current gate is a copy of the original because the original gate was stolen one night. They installed the copy to replace the stolen original for the memorial site, since the survivors said the gate needed to be there. The original gate was found one year later when someone called the Dachau police to report that they saw it in a junkyard in Norway, and now the original gate is securely displayed inside the museum. I should note that many of the buildings in the memorial site have been reconstructed for the site, and are not the original buildings that stood during the time of the concentration camps. Though some, such as the crematorium, were original. Nikola also pointed out how there were people living right outside the borders of the camp, so they had to know about it, despite them pretending they didn’t know anything about it. In addition, there was no direct train line leading to the camp, so prisoners had to get off at Dachau station and walk to the camp, meaning the citizens of Dachau had to know what was going on. The camp was huge and ran for 12 years.

We only made several stops at notable exhibits in the museum, as there were far too many for us to stop at every single one. As Nikola said, the tour would take five hours if she were to talk about each exhibit. The first stop was a big map of Germany showing the location and names of all the concentration camps that existed across the country. The larger camps were shown more prominently on the map, but the map also showed all the smaller sub-camps that many people don’t know existed. Nikola explained the difference between some of the camps. Auschwitz was by far the largest camp, and Birkenau (near Auschwitz) was were prisoners would be transported from other camps to be killed. I think she said 85% of prisoners arriving at Birkenau would be killed, versus the 20% arriving in Dachau. Nikola also mentioned how some large private companies, such as BMW, hired prisoners to do some of their manufacturing work since it was cheaper labor than hiring regular workers. Some of the companies noticed that the prisoners were starving and would try to help them out by giving them food, if only to increase their productivity.

After the map, we came to a room with desks where the SS would keep records of all the prisoners on notecards locked away in the desks. This was the first stop for prisoners, as it was where they were assigned their prisoner number. The notecards contained basic information about each prisoner - name, age, place of birth, place of residence, occupation, whether they had been transferred from another camp, etc. Many of the prisoners were from Poland and didn’t speak any German, but the few who did speak fluent German and had neat handwriting were chosen to work in prisoner recordkeeping. They were the more privileged among the prisoners, as they were able to work indoors, avoid hard, physical labor, and they were much better fed than other prisoners because the prisoners who arrived at the camp had to turn over any food they had with them to these workers, who would then eat the food. Prisoners were also forced to memorize their number and be able to recite it to SS officers in German, so you can imagine how difficult this was for those who did not speak German. There was also a poster showing the number of prisoners that arrived in Dachau each year during the 12-year period that the concentration camp was in operation. The vast majority of prisoners came from Poland, followed by Germany itself. But note that prisoners really did come from all over Europe.

After that, we came to a display that showed the different triangular symbols prisoners had on their uniforms and what they represented. Nikola said this system was very SS-like, putting a label on everywhere to keep them in neat boxes. Red triangles marked political prisoners, Black triangles marked people who were consistently unemployed (perhaps due to some disability or otherwise), purple triangles marked Jehovah’s witnesses who were pacifists and refused to be conscripted into the Nazi war effort, blue triangles marked immigrants, pink triangles marked homosexuals, and green triangles marked “professional criminals,” or people who had been in and out of the penal system more than three times. Jews were distinguished by a yellow triangle underneath the other one, forming the Star of David.

Then we were taken to an area where prisoners were infrequently allowed to take showers. Nikola said that one survivor she had spoken to had told her about their experience having body lice due to wearing the same clothes for weeks on end without showering. The lice would live on clothing, but would bite prisoners’ skin, causing intense itching and spreading diseases like Typhus from one prisoner to the next. The SS could have stopped the spread of infection by spraying the clothes with DDT, a chemical to which they had access, but they just didn’t care enough to do it. Instead, just quarantined the people who got sick and let the disease run its course.

After that, we saw a wooden trestle that was used for corporal punishment on prisoners. Prisoners would be forced to bend over the trestle and count out loud in German for each hit they received. If they messed up the count or didn’t know the number in German, the punishment would start again from one. It was more a method of torture than of punishment. The SS loved to use fear and humiliation to keep prisoners in line. It’s disgusting.

Next, we went inside a bunker where prisoners were kept, including priests and other members of the clergy and “special” prisoners who usually received better treatment than others. Prisoners were also interrogated and beaten in these rooms inside the bunker, where screams could not be heard from outside. Nikola told us the story of Georg Elser, a German cabinetmaker who had carried out an attempt to assassinate Hitler but planting a time bomb next to the area where Hitler was scheduled to make a speech. However, due to bad weather, Hitler, Goring, and Goebbels had all left the stage a half hour early, and the bomb went off without hitting any of them. Elser was arrested that same night when he was caught trying to cross the border to Switzerland. He was kept in a special cell in the bunker where he was ordered to remake the same bomb in order to prove that he was working on his own rather than with help from the British police. He was in fact working on his own, and after he successfully recreated the bomb, Heinrich Himmler had Elser killed in Dachau three weeks before it was liberated by US soldiers. Pretty damn tragic. Imagine how the course of history would have been changed had Elser been successful.

We then visited a recovered barracks where prisoners slept and washed up in the morning before having to line up in the courtyard outside to be counted. Prisoners would be punished for the most trivial things, like an unmade bed or the smallest spot or mark on a table or floor. They were also not given nearly enough time for everyone to wash up before starting their 12-hour work day. They were given about 1000 calories worth of food a day and just enough sleep to keep them going in this way for about 6 months, when they would be replaced by new prisoners. This was deliberately planned by the SS, it was no accident. Nikola also mentioned that in Germany, people do not display the German flag on their property. Rather than being seen as patriotic, it is seen as nationalistic, and only far-right or neo-Nazis would do such a thing. Pretty much the only place you’ll see the German flag on display is on big government buildings, and I have noticed that this has so far been true. She pointed out too that were Germany to adopt a slogan like “make America great again,” but replace America with Germany, it would not go over so well. This was a good point, as I’ve always found America to be a little too nationalistic for its own good. We too have a long history of slavery, genocide, and colonialism, so what makes it okay for us to say things like that? Why don’t we learn from our history?

We stopped briefly near a big bell that started chiming literally the second after Nikola said the sentence, “behind that building is a bell.” I still don’t know how she timed that so well because she had been talking about other stuff before it too. She says the bell starts ringing every day at 14:52 because that was the exact minute Dachau was liberated in on April 29, 1945. We stopped again near a recreation of the fence that was in place during the camp to keep prisoners from escaping. 

After the bell, we visited the crematorium. There were two - one was originally the only one in the camp, but when the SS found they had more corpses than they could handle, they built another larger one attached to the gas chambers. Nikola told us how the ashes would be scattered in a grassy area closed off to the public so that people aren’t walking all over them. She said one survivor described it to her as a cemetery without tombstones.

The last stop was the gas chambers. It started with a disrobing chamber, followed by the gas chamber, followed by the corpse chamber, followed finally by the crematorium. Prisoners would also be hanged right there in the crematorium in front of the furnaces. Talk about gruesome. As I walked through those rooms, my heart was so heavy thinking about all the lives that had been lost in this very place where I was walking. My mind kept playing the same thoughts over and over. Many of the prisoners really thought it was just a normal shower, and I keep thinking about the state of panic that must have filled that room when people started to realize it was gas instead of water. I also kept thinking about how many of the prisoners, especially the Jews, were uprooted from their families and their very successful lives, and how only some remains were returned to their families after liberation while others were just lost forever.

Nikola ended the tour by telling us that approximately 44,000 of the 200,000 prisoners held in Dachau had died right here in the concentration camp throughout the 12 years.

Wow. I did warn you this post would be heavy, didn’t I? After the tour, we took the bus and train back to Munich and walked to Marienplatz to see the clock. It was very cool - the characters revolved around and told a little story. At one point, there were two men jousting on horseback and one clearly won because the other one learned back on his horse. This went on for about nine minutes.

Afterwards, we went to a beer garden for dinner. I ordered a Bavarian dark beer and a vegetable pie. Apriet got asparagus with hollandaise sauce and potatoes. The beer was the size of my head. Larger, actually. It was ridiculous. I couldn’t even make it through half the thing. I did finish my vegetable pie though. It was delicious and I was super glad to have a meatless meal. Apriet’s asparagus was white, which was pretty interesting, but they were very sweet and juicy. Yum. A band started playing towards the end of our meal, and they played some traditional German tunes in traditional German style.

After dinner, we tried to go to an antiquarium, but it closed at 18:00, which we didn’t know because it wasn’t posted online anywhere. So we checked out the garden, which had a big gazebo type thing in the middle with a dome, which was cool. There were little water wells along the walls, and a catfish covered in actual shells was sculpted on the walls above the wells. The flowers and shrubs in the garden were very neatly kept, and there were also fountains in the garden. We strolled through the garden for a bit, then took the tram home.

It’s been a long day. We leave for Dresden tomorrow!

[armourinsurancebrokers-blog]

Tesla Unveils Electric Transport Truck

ELON MUSK HAS always dreamed big, and tonight he showed off his biggest reverie yet: the fully electric Tesla Semi. Powered by a massive battery and capable of hauling 80,000 pounds, it can ramble 500 miles between charges. It’ll even drive itself—on the highway, at least.1

And Musk promises production will start in 2019.

The big rig, which Musk unveiled at SpaceX’s Hawthorne, California headquarters Thursday night, is just the latest step in his mission to make humanity forget about planet-killing fossil fuels and embrace the gospel of electric power.

That is, of course, if he can convince the trucking industry it’s time for a new way of moving stuff around—and if he can actually make the thing.

The Truck for the Job Musk believes that going after the big boys is the best way to have a real impact on climate change. In the five years since Tesla started producing its Model S sedan, it has sold about 200,000 cars. The US has more than 250 million passenger cars on the road, making the impact of this, roughly, zero. Even if Tesla scales up production of its “affordable” Model 3 sedan, it will still be a very long time before the Silicon Valley automaker can change the way humanity moves about enough for any dip in emissions to register as more than a blip.

Trucks offer a more effective way to do that, because they are particularly toxic. “Heavy-duty vehicles make up a small fraction of the vehicles on the road, but a large fraction of their emissions,” says Jimmy O’Dea, who studies clean vehicles at the Union of Concerned Scientists. In California, that category (which includes buses as well as trucks) accounts for 7 percent of total vehicles, but produces 20 percent of transportation-related greenhouse gas emissions and a third of all NOx emissions (those are the ones linked to asthma attacks and respiratory illnesses).

Every truck you move with electricity instead of diesel has an outsize effect on the health of the planet and everything living on it. 18-wheelers are the ultimate force multiplier.

Musk has done the math. And while lots of players are moving into electric trucking space, none have the star power of Tesla, the kind of clout that makes the whole country pay attention. From the outside, the carbon fiber cab is all smooth lines. Aerodynamics are a real big deal when it comes to fuel economy and making every electron count, and Tesla promises the Semi will cut through the wind more efficiently than some sports cars.

Look inside the cab of the Semi, and there’s no doubt Tesla knows how to (re) design a vehicle. Like the famed McLaren F1 sports car (Musk owned one until he crashed it while driving around with Peter Thiel), the driver’s seat is now in the middle of the cab. (There’s a jump seat behind it, to the right.) Because it didn’t need to build around a bulky diesel engine, Tesla made the nose of the cab a vertical slab, and the main seat is so far forward, you can see the ground just in front of the vehicle. In a design touch that recognizes that truckers are human beings, there are overhead bins for storing stuff, and at least four cup holders.

The cab is about 6’6” tall, so most anybody can stand up inside. The suicide doors stretch from the bottom to the top of the cab, making access extra easy. The human in charge gets two 15-inch touchscreens, one on either side, to handle navigation, data logging (for hours of service and the like), and blind spot monitoring. The only button in sight operates the hazard lights, everything else is done via one of the screens, or the two stalks coming off the three-spoke steering wheel.

Tesla piled on the safety-related bits, too. The battery is reinforced to keep it from exploding or catching fire or whatnot in the event of a crash, the reinforced windshield glass shouldn’t chip or crack, and onboard sensors will look for the signs of jackknifing and adjust power to the individual wheels to keep everything in line.

And of course, the truck gets the Enhanced Autopilot features that let it drive itself on the highway, staying in its lane and a safe distance from neighboring vehicles. That means radars built into the front of the vehicle, and cameras all over the place, including in a pair of fin-like protrusions on the upper rear bit of the cab.

The battery—whose size Tesla declined to disclose—takes up a space about three feet high, and stretches from the front wheels to the second pair. Behind the cab sit four electric motors, the same kind that power the Model 3, two dedicated to each axle. Extrapolating from an EPA document that says a single Model 3 motor generates 258 horsepower, that gives the Semi 1,032 ponies, twice what you get in most diesel trucks of this size. But in trucks, it’s the torque that really matters—another figure Tesla won’t reveal—but electric motors are champions when it comes to accelerating from a stop.

The Job for the Truck That’s all great, but Musk still has to sell the thing. And while selling things has never been his problem (half a million people have reserved the Model 3, after all, and thousands of people ordered one before they had seen the prototype, had the specs, or knew the final price) truckers are a more difficult audience. Plenty of companies are open to new solutions, says Anne Goodchild, who runs the University of Washington’s Supply Chain Transportation and Logistics Center. But they’re not big on experimenting. “There are few who will be eager to be testing that out on their day-to-day operations,” she says.

These are not early adopters; they do not go for cool. They go for total cost of ownership, which accounts for everything from upfront cost to fuel to maintenance to downtime. “We have to provide a product that in essence allows them to make money,” says Darren Gosbee, the head of advanced powertrain engineering at Navistar, a truck and bus manufacturer.

Tesla’s big rig should have an advantage in fuel costs (electricity is pretty much always cheaper than dino juice) and maintenance, but downtime could prove a problem. Musk promises chargers that can add 400 miles of range in 30 minutes, but that sort of fast fill-up power requires specialized infrastructure. Even if Musk can get those stations built at enough points around the country to make a few routes workable, drivers will spend more time stopped than they would in a diesel-powered semi, and that’s a disadvantage.

Perhaps the biggest question here is why Tesla is going after the long-haul market. When it comes to battery-powered big rigs, Gosbee says, “the worst application is one that basically sits at 65 mph and just drives.” Going across states or the entire country demands sprawling charging infrastructure, and highway cruising eviscerates the advantage you get from regenerative braking.

“Your best application is a vehicle that doesn’t travel a great deal of distance and has an awful lot of stop-start maneuvers,” Gosbee says. Meaning trucks that wander cities, making deliveries and pickups. These wouldn’t benefit from the current, highway-focused iteration of Tesla’s self-driving tech, but they have lots of benefits for electric propulsion: They don’t go that far, they can charge at the same place every night, they stop constantly to can recoup lots of energy, and the diesel trucks doing that work now do their polluting where the most people live.

Yet Musk promises economics over which truckers should salivate. On 100-mile routes, the Tesla Semi will cost just $1.26 per mile to operate, compared to $1.51 for diesel trucks, he promises. How he figured those numbers isn't exactly clear—and he didn't say how much the truck itself would cost, so it's hard to know how long it might take to amortize the (likely) hefty price tag.

Heavy Load But wait, you say. You’ve been following the Adventures of Elon lately, and you have another question: How on Earth does this man think now is the right time to start building an entirely new kind of vehicle, for an entirely foreign industry to the one he knows? Production of the Model 3—the $35,000 sedan that marks Tesla’s attempt to become a real automaker—is months behind schedule. The company’s stock has slid south in recent months, and in the meantime it is facing lawsuits over alleged sexism and racism. Is now really the time for a truck?

Maybe not, but that’s never stopped Musk from doing anything. This is the man trying to move humanity to Mars, start intercity rocket travel, avert the robot apocalypse, destroy traffic with networks of tunnels, and pack everybody into tubes where they zoom about at supersonic speeds. At the same time. Throwing a few trucks on the pile doesn’t make a huge difference. And if he can pull it off, he’ll be one lumbering step closer to saving us all.

Article from Wired.com - ALEX DAVIES TRANSPORTATION

[talldarknsexy]

El Salvador: No Trouble in Paradise

So, spoiler alert: El Salvador is fucking rad. It might be due to the contrast of my initial preconceptions of fear and whatnot. And I'll disclaim that I've only experienced the coast, so I certainly cannot speak for all of it. But, it was a week of beautiful riding, good people, and a few fun excursions. The coastal roads were all well paved and had a very generous ~6ft shoulder. Incredibly green landscape with perpetual shade from trees hanging over the road. There wasn't much traffic and I certainly wasn't the only one on a bicycle. I felt way more at ease than in Guatemala and really enjoyed the riding and views of the surf. The first night I stayed in a town called Cara Susia which translates to "dirty face." Looking around, I wasn't really sure what they'd done to get them on the map, but rest assured that after a full day of riding I was probably much dirtier than most. Maybe they'd known I was coming. The next day I arrived at the surfside community of El Zonte. There was some tourism there, but still a very low key surfspot with plenty of locals and local tourists. The town had some cobbled stone streets, but the quickest way to get around there was walking on the beach. I met some folks at the hostel there and one of them, Hannah, opted to join me the following day on a quest for some waterfalls. Hannah was an especially intriguing individual. She was "study-traveling abroad" to the best I can describe. Whereby she was taking all online classes while traveling around Latin America. Hannah traveled around Latin America solo by means of almost primarily hithiking. Not for money's sake, but because she usually couldn't be bothered to wait for buses she claimed. I walked ahead, and she flagged down the first truck within a few seconds. We hopped in back and I am reasonably confident I would have been waiting there for another half an hour had I not been with her. You're supposed to book this trip with a guide, but we opted to scramble through the jungle ourselves. We most certainly would not have found our way without the help of a few locals along the way. The falls themselves were amazing. The first set we cliff jumped along with three very spirited local guys enjoying their Saturday off. The second and third ones were very pristine and isolated. The local guys hiked back up with us when we left. It started to rain and I started to regret wearing flip flops as they weren't exactly ideal for a steep and muddy path. I wasn't the only one though. I looked back to a hilarious symphony of Spanish cursing as the guys behind me started to fall all over each other. I rode the next day and stayed at a firehouse the next night. Sounds unusual but it's very common for cycletourists. The fireman are always around, bored, have space, wifi, and certainly plenty of water. They were very good guys albeit with some somewhat dirty minds. Plenty of questions about white  girls. Unfortunately, I didn't get to go on any calls this time. But I was told they were usually traffic accidents, Volcanoes during the dry season, and occasionally violence. The next night I stayed with a Warmshowers host and his Family. Jose had lived in Canada for 20 something years and had then cycled all the way back to his home country of El Salvador over the course of a year back in 2003. His house was huge and under construction and resembled more of a hotel. He had hosted over four hundred cyclists in the last five years or so and only planned on hosting more. Despite him being fluent in Spanish, French, and English, he had spoken to so many foreigners that his Spanish lite was almost 100% comprehendible to me. Before leaving El Salvador, I met a fella named Mike at a roadside tienda. He looked a lot like the Mike from Breaking Bad and had lived in DC for about 20 years. Our conversation was only for a few minutes, but I'm very glad to have met him. He enjoyed his time in the States but was very proud to be from El Salvadorian. Mid conversation, his wife shouted at him to look up at the TV. There were two tattooed-up thugs posing for mugshots. "I know them" he said. "They live right over there," as he pointed to a property right across the street. And here they were being displayed on national news. Mike went on to explain why he was proud to be El Salvadorian and all of the wonderful things about it I'd come to realize as well. He talked about how the situation with violence was improving, but still by no means resolved. "It's an amazing country" he said, "I just hope the world will just perceive it better once we're without those men on the TV." But man, I love El Salvador. The papusas here are so fresh and hot, you could probably get a good burn if you don't handle them with respect. The Tvs here are usually playing some retro early 2000's latino mtv music videos. The buses are old American school buses proudly sporting custom paint jobs, spoilers, decals, trainhorns... you name it. The people here are, very short, but carry with them a very strong and stoic demeanor. That is until you get one to crack a big smile. I continually get asked if I ran into any problems in El Salvador. In fact, I did have one encounter with a bee... But we managed to work that out amongst ourselves.