#we got it with the $1000 gift card he gave us at a dinner

[tittyinfinity]

My super nice water bottle broke beyond repair and I can't replace it because my mom doesn't have her company discount anymore and this cup costs $60😭

[sarahlynnirl]

Losing my best friend - Sugar Daddy culture is not empowering

I finally feel strong enough to talk about this and hopefully get some love, support, and reassurance from other women who agree that this is fucked up. I’ve never been “terfy on main” before so here goes. (TW child abuse + SA but no graphic descriptions of SA)

My mother is a narcissist who financially and emotionally abused my father and myself, with some additional physical abuse of me, for as long as I can remember. My dad made plenty of money but my mom controlled it all and made sure it didn’t go towards anything for me beyond the bare minimum required not to look obviously guilty of child abuse and neglect. I met Kiara (not her real name) when I was a junior in highschool and she was a freshman. Her mom was a single Korean woman doing her best to support Kiara and her 2 sisters while also running a Korean restaurant. My first jobs were a summer camp counselor and fitting room attendant at Forever 21. I would spend the last scraps of my paycheck making sure Kiara was able to order a full meal when our friends went out to dinner, buying her little gifts, and generally trying to keep us both as happy and healthy as possible.

When Kiara graduated highschool her mom drove her into Koreatown New Jersey, got her a room in the apartment of an acquaintance, and basically left her to fend for herself. Kiara spoke barely any Korean. She began working at a Korean salon where she met Ariana (not her real name). She had a NY cosmetology license, not an NJ one, while Ariana was an illegal immigrant from Korea so they were both overworked, underpaid, forced to work overtime, paid under minimum wage, and deprived of their tips. They couldn’t report or complain about this since they were both working illegally.

Kiara had to pay rent for the one room she occupied despite her land lady yelling at her, walking into her room while she slept, banning her from having friends over, and reporting to her mom if she spoke to a guy on the phone or a guy dropped her off. I was working at a restaurant in my college town on top of my classes and doing my best to keep surprising her with little gifts, but neither of us had enough disposable income to afford to visit each other. This was really difficult for me as she was my favorite person in the world and I was used to spending every second with her when we both lived in upstate NY. Ariana got them both to start using SeekingArrangement for one time meet ups with Sugar Daddies where they were paid anywhere from $200-2000 for sex. “The first time I ever did it I walked out of the hotel and just screamed because I was so disgusted and I was thinking about his wrinkly skin touching mine and all I wanted to do was get in the shower and scrub it off but I had $1000 cash in my hand for a couple hours of work which was so crazy and kinda made it all worth it ya know?” - Ariana to me

I was immediately skeptical and a little grossed out but Kiara genuinely seemed happier. She was buying new clothes for herself, ordering food to the apartment when she was hungry, and taking trips into NYC to have fun with Ariana and her friends. By the beginning of the summer of 2019, Kiara had found the Sugar Daddy who she would establish a long term agreement with and who ultimately ended up completely supporting her. I’m not going to say his name here but if people want to know it just ask, I am willing to share. He moved her into a much nicer much bigger apartment with Ariana as her roommate. He paid for me to fly up and visit her, and all of our activities during this vacation. I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry. I wish I shoved the money back in her hand before it was too late, I wish I worked harder and longer hours and got us an apartment in Florida and paid both of our rent. I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t listen to my instincts and allowed her to brush off my concerns. It was the most freedom we had ever had, I ran around NYC by myself while she was at work, and my ex took the bus to NJ from upstate NY and joined us for a few days. I feel so selfish but I also didn’t know how bad things would get.

One night Kiara and I went to NYC for dinner with her SD and she took the bus back to the apartment because she had to work early the next morning. It made sense for me to stay in the city because I was supposed to visit my friend at NYU the next morning. In the Uber to his apartment alone with him he was drunk and high and I very clearly looked scared shitless. At this point she was 19 (but she had looked that way since age 17 and I doubt he would have minded if she was lying about her age), I was 21 and he was 44. He seemed offended by my discomfort and was basically like “jeez relax I’m not gonna touch you, I really care about Kiara I think she’s so amazing, just go to the guest room and sleep, make a left to walk to NYU when you wake up.” I peaced the fuck out of there early the next morning.

After that summer Kiara and Ariana quit their jobs at the Korean salon and sugaring became their sole incomes. Ariana was still doing one time meet ups, not nearly as financially stable as Kiara, and got herself into a lot of credit card debt that to my knowledge she’s still in. At this point Kiara was flying down and staying with me in Florida so often that people at my college thought she went there too. I also wasn’t working at this point because college had gotten harder and my ex was fucking up my mental health real bad. He had given me a coke problem and Kiara sending me “grocery money” was enabling me to continue. I wasn’t honest with her about where all the money was going. During Halloween week we didn’t know that she couldn’t just snort molly (MDMA) with the frequency I was doing coke, she ODed, my guy best friend took us to the ER, it was so fucking scary, she got IV fluids for 2 hours and made a full recovery, she stopped doing molly, I kept doing coke. I’m so sorry :(

In November her SD paid for us to take a trip to Cancun Mexico. He was with us for the first part of the trip and this is where things started to get really bad. He tried to be my friend and act the way a boyfriend of my best friend who was my age would, but it was creepy and wrong and I was so uncomfortable. He asked about my drug use in a way that was gross and shamey and basically him seeing me as the “coke whore” stereotype...while continuing to buy me more coke. He also brought and gave us ecstasy pills. He asked really invasive questions about my relationship with my ex, why I stayed, my sex life, etc. It felt like an uncle asking me these questions, I did NOT wanna talk about any of this with him. But from what I did say it was very clear to someone with 44 years of life experience that I had an abusive mother, an addictive personality, and was in an unhealthy relationship. He offered to set me up with an SD friend of his looking for a sugar baby. I of course declined because I always knew this was a boundary I wasn’t willing to cross. No matter how bad my addictions got I would NOT give up that piece of myself in return for money.

In this part of Mexico, drugs that were only given with a prescription in the US were available over the counter. Kiara and I got a little box of 1mg Xanax with my money. My ex had given us Xanax a couple times in NY and we had fun with it, but at this point in time we did NOT have a problem with it. We had bought one bar, broken it in half, and each took half one night of Halloween week and called it “xanpires”, but this wasn’t something we were scripted or buying regularly from plugs. We went to dinner with her SD, we got up to go to the bathroom, and she immediately slipped and hit the ground. I was like woah did you take one of the xans and forget? Because we were supposed to tell each other if we were taking one so we could look out for each other. I was never mad at her! I never wanted money from her! I was just a little concerned, and once I determined that she was safe we thought it was kinda funny that she had taken a xan without realizing and started joking around about it. Her SD of course didn’t understand how a 19 year old and 21 year old girl joke with each other because he was a creepy old man, decided that we were “arguing”, and got up from the restaurant, walked across the street, bought a 90 count bottle of 2mg xans and gave it to me. This was honestly the most irresponsible way someone has ever treated me in my life, and this is coming from someone with an abusive and neglectful parent. Google “benzo withdrawal” if you’re not familiar with it.

We went to a different hotel, and Kiara and I both took xans and blacked out. I passed out on the guest bed, while Kiara was awake but in a conscious blackout. I woke up on the couch on the balcony (which was fine, it was comfy and I saw the sunrise over the beach. The gross part was that meant her SD had picked me up, put his hands on my body while I was unconscious and carried me out there). I remembered that at one point I had woken up, wanted to go to the bathroom or get something from inside, caught a glimpse of what I thought was them having sex, and went back outside. I mentioned it to Kiara and she had no memory of it whatsoever, she thought all she had done was gone to sleep. She was rightfully pissed the fuck off that her SD had taken advantage and done things with her while she was blacked, screamed at him, he gave us a half ass apology, and bought us more stuff (buying our silence). He finally flew home and we got to enjoy the trip with just each other, but I was careless with the dosage of a drug called tramadol, and I ODed with my head in her lap...I’m sorry. When I woke up I was hallucinating, hearing voices, crying hysterically and terrified. Kiara called my ex who asked how many mg I took, told us I was 100mg short of the amount that would require medical attention, made me laugh, and told me to go to sleep. I recognize how scary and unfair to her this was and I really do take responsibility for my actions. The day I was supposed to leave I did ecstasy, hooked up with a guy from Canada, and tried to skip my flight. She was mad because like yeah what the fuck. She got me on the flight, the ecstasy comedown hit, and there’s pictures of me crying in the airport because I hated when we fought.

I was supposed to stop in Miami, then fly back to my college town but while in Miami I texted my granny that I was “sad and really didn’t feel good and could she and my uncle visit me at the airport and bring my uncles dog?”. Her parenting instincts went off that something was very wrong, made me skip the flight, picked me up from the airport and took me to her house where I immediately threw up and ran an extremely high fever that night. She said it was one of the scariest nights of her life and she kept checking on me to see if I needed to go to the hospital. She drove me back to my college town where my guy best friend took me to the ER and it came out that Kiaras SD, in addition to giving me drugs, had also allowed me to drink Mexican tap water throughout the entire trip. I was treated for that + given chlamydia meds just in case since I’d had unprotected sex in a foreign country. I was fine, promised to do better, Kiara forgave me, things started to go back to normal. Except I had begun taking Xanax daily to deal with the anxiety of the illness...and she had a trip to Bali planned.

During that trip things managed to get even worse. She was there with her SD and another Korean friend and her SD was pressuring her and guilting her into sex, isolating her from her friend, going through her phone, and becoming extremely aggressive. She would call me crying and having panic attacks and I would walk out of class to try to comfort her over FaceTime. She did not have panic attacks before this trip. She begged to go home early because something was very wrong but he said it was a waste of money and kept her in Bali until the planned end of the trip. I think it was almost a month. She sent me a recording she secretly took of him screaming at her and her saying “don’t touch me, don’t grab me like that, leave me alone”. When she got back to the US I was begging her to stop. I was so worried for her safety. I said the money wasn’t worth it, we’ll get jobs, please just stop. I’m pretty sure he read those messages. We also had a suspicion that he had installed spyware on her phone but were never able to prove it. At this point I also reached out to my dad for help and his response was basically “I don’t care, not my problem, focus on school”. I reached out to my granny who absolutely cared, but her response was “I’m sorry but I can’t afford to support her, I have to focus on taking care of you, if she won’t stop this you’ll have to stop being friends with her”.

I went home to New York for winter break, suffered through my first round of Xanax withdrawal and was truly trying to get better but my ex manipulated his was back in my life and got me addicted again....but now this bottle of 90 had run out. I went back to my college town, got scripted, and was copping street bars when my script inevitably ran out early. What comes next is blurry for obvious reasons. We moved to the town in Florida my granny lived in and got an apartment together. The female friends she made in our town (my current home) she got most of them into sugaring and using SeekingArrangement. Things deteriorated super fast at this point. I was struggling hard, failing my online classes, and eventually got completely financially cut off by my parents. My granny was paying my half of the rent and my puppy’s vet bills but I was too embarrassed to admit I couldn’t afford groceries. Kiara was pressuring me hard to go on SeekingArrangement but I still refused. I would sit on the floor of the bathroom in a towel after I showered and just cry because the steam made me nauseous and dizzy since I wasn’t eating.

I met my current boyfriend and something just started to click: I didn’t wanna live like this anymore. The mom of a friend from this town who also refuses to sugar landed me an interview at the gym I currently work at, I fought for the job, and I got it. Now I knew I didn’t wanna be completely fucked up all the time anymore but I was still doing enough Xanax to keep me out of withdrawal. The 2mg that had blacked me out at the beginning were now just barely enough to keep me functional. Kiara and I were fighting frequently and bad by this time. She and her partner in sugaring, Mena (not her real name but pretty close to it, fuck this bitch fr) were expecting me to keep how they made their money a secret....from friends and guys that I saw every single day. They both very obviously did not work and were flexing new cars, designer clothes, and cash all over their social media. Kiara thought she could cover her ass by saying she dealt drugs but it was also obvious that she wasn’t putting the time into that to come up with the amount of money she had. The only one dealing drugs was me, and not enough to do anything flashy, just enough that in addition to my work money I was usually getting enough to eat. But there were still some times when the previous weeks paycheck had run out and I was having my first meal of the day at 3pm after someone had bought adderall from me. We had our serious serious fight where she threw my stuff in the lawn and I lived with my current boyfriend full time for about a couple weeks since my bedroom at my granny’s was getting refloored when this happened.

By January 20th he was concerned by my Xanax problem and wanted me to seriously try to stop. At the time I started tapering because I wanted the girlfriend title but I’m forever grateful for him giving me a reason, even if it was a shallow one, because I just needed to START. We tried to reconcile once, despite boyfriend and guy best friend begging me not to, and of course the same problems reappeared, we had another serious fight and haven’t spoken since.

Now the fog is clearing and today I’m 96 days clean of xanax, 16 days clean of all benzos, and 19 days clean of gabapentin (what was keeping me from having a seizure while quitting benzos). But it’s hard because being out of the fog means feeling all of my emotions, even the really bad ones. This past week I’ve been waking up and crying sitting in front of my mirror trying to put my makeup on for work and it just drips right off and I have to start over. She was my best friend for 8 years. My favorite person. My partner in life. I loved her more than anyone.

My boyfriend and guy best friend are pretty uncomfortable when they hear someone express an opinion of me that’s “Kiara’s side of the story” and I don’t correct it. Both of them saw exactly how bad it got near the very end and don’t get why I don’t defend myself more or tell people about her letting my dog eat dab (THC) wax while she was supposed to be watching her and having to be rushed to the animal hospital TWO separate times. (She’s a Pomeranian and the highly concentrated THC was super dangerous to her tiny little body). Yelling at me and giving me the silent treatment because less than 48 hours after my SA she expected me to drive her to a hair appointment in Miami and I woke up late and didn’t get her there on time with traffic. Me begging her to be there for me when it felt like everything was falling apart and I self harmed for the first time and her leaving me to go on a vacation to Orlando with a girl we didn’t even really like. Me not wanting to sleep in the apartment alone after my SA and her not letting me sleep in her bed anymore, her and Mena just dumping me at the neighbor’s so they could continue to sugar, party, and see guys our age at night (this sounds super awful but neighbors roommate —> current boyfriend. He kept me safe until I felt better, was really sweet and careful, and I was the one to make the first move). There’s more but I really don’t like talking about it, after the abuse she went through and I assume is still going through, I expect her to be pretty damaged and not have it in her to treat people right all the time. Not exposing every bad thing she’s ever done to all our mutual friends and acquaintances is kind of my last gift to her.

I also admit that sugaring wasn’t responsible for everything that went wrong. Loving an addict is difficult and exhausting and I went through it myself with my ex. I was also out bi and she was “probably straight, maybe a little bi-curious” in her words. But when she was drunk or on Xanax she’d kiss me first...we had done more than kiss but only during 3somes with a guy. I don’t know, I think I loved her more than I was supposed to and some of the stuff she’d say made me think she saw me in a way she really didn’t. When we first moved to this town I had a thing with a girl and expected it to be no big deal but things here were different than up north. I got called the d slur for the first time by someone who wasn’t joking. It was like getting slapped I was so shocked and hurt, I truly didn’t think that happened anymore. I think she saw what happened to me and kinda closed off that part of herself because she didn’t wanna experience that herself. She stopped making out with me at bars and parties after that and it made me sad and maybe a little jealous. But I really do blame her SD for basically “breaking her”, for handing me that first bottle of free Xanax, for a lot of other little things that I can’t possibly include because this is already way too long. This is my first time even saying this much. Feel free to add your own experiences or thoughts on this or anything you’d like. [I’m prepared to get death threats or called a SWERF or whatever but I don’t care, now that I started talking about this I’m not going to stop.]

[thatssonanii]

Birthday Girl

Bloodline Family Series

Even though Simba complained about Kennedie, he loves her so he wanted to make her birthday as special as possible. He started to complain that her birthday is literally seven days after Valentines Day but he sucked it up just for her and accepted the fact he was going to have to be mushy twice in a weeks time.

Teddy ended up going back home so his dad could fill out his transfer papers from school. He planned to finish his senior year of high school in Florida with Simba. But before he went back he helped Simba plan what he was going to do. Usually he picked Kennedie up for school and got breakfast before going but he had Porshe take her. As far as Kennedie knew, he had an appointment and wasn't coming.

After second period, Kennedie walked with Porshe to their next period with a slight pout on her face. Porshe bumped her shoulder.

"Girl, it's your birthday. You're finally eighteen. What's with the face?"

Kennedie shook her head, thanking a classmate who wished her a happy birthday as they passed her. "I havent talked to Simba at all today. Last time I heard from him was last night when he told me he wasn't picking me up."

Porsche bit back her smile, "Well he did say he had an appointment, Ken. Maybe he was nervous or something and forgot."

"But how? I put those annoying reminders on his phone that he hates," she pouted walking into their next class.

Porshe laughed loudly earning a glare and pout from her best friend. She tried to calm her laughter as they walked through the classroom to get to their seats.

"Maybe that's why then. You know how he gets when he's annoyed. Teddy's the same way."

Kennedie sulked in her desk, "But it's my birthday."

Porshe shook her head at her best friend and pulled her phone out to text Simba without the teacher seeing. Simba was standing in Party City when he got Porshe's text. He couldn't help but smile imagining the pout on his girlfriend's face.

Simba waited for the associate to come to the balloon counter and gave a small smile. "Hey, I came to pick up my balloons."

She smiled politely, "And what's your name?"

"Simba."

After a while, she gave him his balloons and he was out of the store headed to his aunt's bakery to pick up the cake he ordered for her. When he walked in he saw his mom and both aunties behind the counter, he walked behind the counter to hug them.

"What's up? The cake ready, TK?"

Kandice smirked at him and pointed to the counter on her right. "Its over there in the box."

He laughed a little, "Why you lookin at me like that?"

"Same reason we're all looking at you," Trinity teased pinching his cheeks.

Apryl laughed, "Your mean ass being all nice. Took the day off from school to make sure she has a good birthday. Being all secretive and cute."

Shaking his head, Simba went to grab the large cake box so he could leave. "Ima see yall later. I got one more stop to make before she gets outta school."

"Uhuh. I'll see you at home. I got your outfit for later."

Simba thanked his mom, said his goodbyes and left the bakery. After making the last stop to drop the cake, her gifts and most of the balloons off, he sped a bit to get to his high school before school let out. Parking in front on the sidewalk where the student parking lot is, Simba got out with her balloons and roses and leaned against his black challenger waiting for her to come out.

Porshe saw Simba's text and started to coax Kennedie to put a bit of pep in her step.

"Why you rushing me?"

"Cause it's the end of the day," she sassed as they walked towards the exit with their classmates, "And I am ready to go. It's thr weekend, girl. My Teddy bear is coming home today."

When they got outside, Kennedie didn't pay any attention to her classmates grouping up a bit and stopping to talk because they did it every day. After a nudge from Porsche, Kennedie looked up from her phone looking directly at her boyfriend and smiled.

Simba saw his girlfriend smile and smiled back. Her smiles were contagious for him. She walked quickly down the steps with Porsche behind her and hugged Simba.

"Baby, I thought you forgot!"

He laughed hugging her back as best as he could then kissed her. "How could I forget my girl birthday? Especially when she put seven alarms on my phone."

Laughing, Kennedie pulled away them looked at her best friend.

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew, Ken. If I really thought he forgot your birthday, I would've cussed him out by now. But have fun, call me whenever you get back home."

Porsche hugged them both then jogged to her Chevy sonic. Some of their classmates lingered to watch the couple. Simba passed her the balloons and her roses.

The smile on her face grew even wider.

"My favorite colors! Is that money, Josiah?"

He sucked his teeth, "Aight now, ima let that slide cause its your birthday. But yeah it is."

Kennedie counted the roses then stared at him, "There's ten roses."

"I know that," he laughed.

"That's $1000, Simba."

"I know that too," he nodded opening the passenger side door for her, "Get in, baby. Let me get them balloons."

As they rode through the streets, Kennedie kept a smile on her face. She took pictures and videos for her social media accounts. Usually would complain about her doing it but he joined in for her laughing and smiling. He let her play her favorite music as well.

Thirty minutes later, Simba pulled up to the valet of the Four Seasons Hotel Disney Resort. He hopped out with his engine running and opened Kennedie's door helping her out them grabbed her balloons out the back. The valet worker handed Simba a ticket before he entered the hotel.

This was the stop he made prior to getting Kennedie from school. Jey had met him here to check in, since Simba was only eighteen Jey put the room in his name.

The couple went straight to the hotel and up to the tenth floor. Opening the room door, Simba allowed her to go in first and him behind her. Setting her stuff down, Simba approached her from behind putting his hands over her eyes.

"Keep walking," he whispered in her ear.

She laughed nervously, "You not about to kill me or nothing are you?"

He laughed, "Man just keep walking till I tell you to stop."

He led her into the bedroom and took his hands from her eyes. When he didn't hear a reaction, he peaked around at her. He laughed loudly when he saw her squeezing her eyes shut.

"Man, open ya damn eyes, baby. Ain't shit here gon scare you."

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her hands went to her mouth as she looked around the room.

"Simba," she said touching the cards attached to the balloons, "This is beautiful. Thank you."

"You welcome, Doll. I'm glad you like it."

"What are these attached to the balloons?"

"I wrote down all the reasons I love you, all the things that I love about you and my favorite memories with you."

"Awwee, Simba. I love you."

Kennedie moved to hug him and cried softly into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight and rubbed her back.

"Love you too, Kenni. Now stop that crying big baby."

She pushed him playfully taking a step back. "Not funny."

"Aight aight," he laughed, "But um I talked to my parents and your mom about us staying so this is us for the weekend. As you can tell it's a Disney resort cause your childish ass loves Mickey and shit. I got us passes for the whole weekend but tonight we have a dinner date and fireworks to see. How that sound?"

Kennedie smiled at her boyfriend still wiping her face, "It sounds amazing, Simba."

"Aight, we don't gotta do nothin that's not why I brought you here. It was just something for us to get away and to be closer to Disney. Aight?"

Kennedie nodded starting to look around the room.

"Cool. Your mom packed your bag and I had my mom pick some stuff out for you, it's all in the closet. Your makeup and all that other shit is in the bathroom," He explained pointing as he went, "You go ahead and start getting ready its three now and dinner is at seven. I'll be back by six thirty."

She frowned, "Where you going?"

He kissed her forehead then started to back away, "Hope you didn't think I was done with the surprises, baby. You'll see when I get back."

Before she could stop him, Simba was gone and she stood looking at all the balloons with a goofy smile on her face. Of course she took pictures and read the notes while she sat on Facetime with Porsche

[swedenandbeyond]

July 1 AM- July 3 Mid afternoon

After breakfast we headed out to the Olympic Museum, a short walk from our hotel,we though. It was a bit longer than we anticipated but we didn't have any problems.  It was an interesting museum and overwhelmingly about the Norwegian Olympic team and the Olympics in general. After that we heading towards the Olympic Park and got to what was the athletes Village they have been turned into an apartment complex and hotel. We were going to walk up to the upper reaches of the park and perhaps take a ski lift to the top but it proved to be more of an uphill trek than we thought so we just went back to the hotel after having a lunch break near the park. We took the car and drove to the Norwegian Road Museum, which is free,  We wanted to look at history of tunnel making in Norway since we have driven through 500 miles of so of tunnels. We were lucky and got her own private guide because we were the only speaking English speaking people there. She was a nice young lady who lives in Oslo and is working there as a summer job.  She's actually mining engineer student who will be mining minerals around Norway, one of which is a black granite that went pulverised turns completely white and is the basis for a lot of coloring like paints and materials.  It’s titanium oxide. She gave us a detailed tour of 240 meter long tunnel that basically goes from using wood to heat the rocks so they crack open all the way along to the modern drilling machines that are used to drill large tunnels. I explained to her that the wood was making the water “boil” in the rocks and the steam in breaking them open. She wasn't aware that that was the process period. She thanked me for teaching her something. In the 18th century,it took a lot of wood and it was really dangerous to breathe all the smoke but they did what they had to do make tunnels, because you just couldn’t build roads normally in such ricky conditions along the fjords. They kept developing better methods and ways to reduce black lung disease because they were drilling through silica and even asbestos rocks. It was quite an eye opener because for many years they had no ventilation shafts to bring clean air into the tunnels.  This day was a relaxing, recharge the batteries day, so we went back to the hotel to have coffee and cake, which turned out this time to be a single waffle maker and several jams and jellies to put on your waffle.  we waited a bit long one family to make my three waffles,  one for each person and we made a single waffle for two of us while a Dutch lady was waiting for us to finish. We had a very short conversation but didn't sit together.  That evening at dinner on the second trip to the buffet I asked the Dutch couple to join us for the rest of the meal.  We had a good long conversation. They have travelled all over America and parts of Canada. In one trip they drove over 7000 miles in 35 days and saw much of the west coast, including,Arizona, Washington state, Idaho and Oregon  They have seen many  national parks.  This trip was in 1977.we talked for at least an hour and a half maybe longer. they have children living in America and Germany.I gave them my card in case they come back and they said they can’t come back to America because of the man we have as president. I did not get into a long discussion. I just said well he's our president and we can vote the “bum” out in  three more years, if we want to. I gave them my card anyway and Peter gave me his. He's a retired comptroller and his wife had to take over her father's car dealership and repair shop when she was 20 because he died suddenly of cancer.  She built it up for 20 years and her two younger brothers who became of age at that time took over and continued to run the business. Her portion of the buyout was apparently enough for her to do what she wanted to do. She started to, and is still, volunteering to coordinate people going to stay in elderly homes at night.  It’s all volunteer work.  She still does it and says she probably always will. We said goodbye after dinner because we had to get up early and drive to Oslo to turn in our car.

July 2

We got to the airport using GPS and dead reckoning.  After returning the car, we went into the terminal to find a cab to our hotel. Luckily for us, a family was departing that day and rode the elevator with us. They told us to go to the information Booth and get a fixed price taxi because it might cost over 1000 krone if we just picked a taxi out of the line.  Sometimes life just hands you a gift without you asking. We did and a taxi came that had the number on our ticket. We got to our hotel only 699 Krone.  We were very early so we got an open room and walked around a little bit for some sightseeing.  We a couple of options for dinner selected a place near the hotel  This restaurant had biggest, most complete Caesar salad we have ever seen.  It had three small chicken breast portions,  perfectly prepared and I would say at least a quarter pound or more of bacon with the right amount of dressing and croutons. It was delicious and was paired perfectly with a good pilsner.  There was a group of Jehovah Witnesses attending a convention in Oslo sitting at a table beside us, three of them were from Alabama.  One couple was from Norway and one gentleman lives a thousand kilometres north of the Arctic Circle.  We talked a little bit, took some pictures and headed back to the hotel.  They didn't even try to convert us. The room we had was very small and I wasn't sure it was what we had paid for because she gave us something that was available before traditional check-in time.  

July 3

I went down in the morning to tell him we had booked and paid for a king room and I wanted to know if we had gotten what we paid for.  The on duty clerk was very helpful and said most of the rooms were queen size and that's what we had last night.  I said I'd booked a king room and wondered if we could have one of those today.   After a  leg]lengthy, discussion I found out that the king-size room is the same size as a queen bed room only with a king bed which made less total space.  He said he would work on it when he his boss came in and we could check back after breakfast.  They said the king and queen size rooms are the same.  If we wanted a bigger bed, we could move next door to a king bed.  I explained that it wasn't the size of the bed especially but it was the size of the room which was too small and that I thought we had paid for a larger room. It turns out booking confirmation haad no square footage on the size of the room.  They finally said they can give us a larger room, but it will be 500 krones extra, per day. I said no, I don't want to do that.  They spoken with a bit in Norwegian and said how about 300 for an executive room and I said ok.   It's really a suite with the couch, a larger bathroom, really nice coffee maker etc for only $35 more per night. I told her I liked her negotiating skills because she new 300 Krones for something empty was better than 500 krones and she has an empty room. It is a really good deal for us and we moved right after breakfast.  I'm posting this now before we go on our evening cruise in the fjord with a prawn buffet dinner.  I'll post more tomorrow about today's activities and try to get some pictures uploaded as well.

[hellowallflowerfriend]

Dare to DREAM

“Those who have the privilege to know have the duty to act.” - Albert Einstein

    I first met a person without documentation when I was in high school. I was carrying hot, silver trays of pizza alongside her, sweat dripping off my brow, calling out a diner’s name with increasing urgency. We made eye contact, a quick word, as we hustled through all five dining sections. Once free of our burning delivery, we servers frantically rubbed our hands, hoping there wouldn’t be blisters following our quest to deliver food to an absorbed dinner party. We did not talk about the guest’s laughter, “Oh, that’s me! Hope you didn’t pass me too many times! Ha-ha-ha!” 

    We both waited tables every weekend together, no matter the holiday, no matter the weather, no matter the game we were missing or birthday we weren’t celebrating. We grimaced through cursing customers, kept our lips closed through suspect behavior in the back of the house, and kept our noses mostly down.

     But, there was a separation between us, large enough to be a schism. Even though we scraped gum off of the underside of tables side-by-side, even though we both swept away the greasy napkins and half-eaten pizza slices our peers or peers’ parents dropped and didn’t bother to pick up, my coworker seemed so much older than me. Don’t get me wrong, she was beautiful, and she looked her age, but she carried herself with a matter-of-fact-ness that I had only seen in adults up to that point. She seemed a little more reserved, less likely to engage in silly teenage behavior like truth-or-dare, or prank phone-calling a crush at a sleepover.

    I remember when I came in to apply for the job, eating a salad and some wings with some friends, that freedom in sitting at the table that I so took for granted at the time. I had not told any of my friends, but I was eating free lunch at the school and was applying for the job so I could buy some soccer cleats. My dad had stopped paying child support, and if I couldn’t get those shoes from my parents, then I sure as heck was going to find a way. After all, I had college to plan for, and the more athletics, clubs, leadership positions, and awards I could put on my application, the better my hard-earned GPA would look.

    At this point, I was, “passing,” as cut from the same cloth as my wealthier, higher-achieving friends. We still had the house and the nice car, and I knew how to bargain shop and find nice-looking things at thrift stores. I paid my friend to give me rides to and from soccer, gave treats to friends who were able to give me a ride to or from work, and managed to save up enough money to pay for my first semester of books out-of-pocket in college.

    I remember posting to Facebook about which college I decided to go to, using waived SAT fees and application fees along the way. I looked for my coworker’s brother’s post about college: he killed it in Honors Chemistry, and I knew he had a pretty GPA. But, the post never happened. His older sister, despite her beautiful singing voice, her awesome grades, her maturity, her ability to ALWAYS BE WORKING… Lord, that girl could work… She sort of disappeared too.

    So I began to wonder. Here I am, rubbing shoulders with kids who drive better cars than I could even entertain the idea of purchasing for myself, given as gifts from parent-s-. Here I am, moaning to myself that I have to go to work after classes and follow with homework. Here I am, biting my tongue as I admit that I can’t afford to go out to dinner, and my friend asks, “Why don’t you just ask your parents?” It’s not that I was ashamed, it just wasn’t worth the awkward response I would get in reply. As hard as this is, begging the student aid employees to help me apply for another loan, because now with working 40-50 hours of an unpaid internship, I can’t afford to work 15-20 hours a week on top. As hard as this all is, being the person who is “passing,” in this world I feel I don’t fully belong in, this world of new sundresses for every football game, this world of pledging to organizations that have monthly fees, this world of blonde hair and Rayban sunglasses… I am still here.

    And one day, I realized why my coworker smiled less, worked harder, and kept to herself. She was not going to leave this life like I got to. I waited my last table about one year and two months ago. She is still scrubbing, biting her tongue, burning her hands, on her feet for hours, having no healthcare, not being able to buy glasses like I once was unable to… and on top of that, she may not be able to live here much longer.

    My friend is able to stay here in America because of DACA, or Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, passed by President Obama through an executive order. This is supposed to have been because the DREAM (Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors) Act was not being passed through Congress.

    Let me tell you something. I have, in the jobs where I have sweated most, been yelled at most, been treated the least like a human, have walked my legs numb… in these jobs, I have met all the non-citizen second-generation people I know. I have met these people who moved here as children. I myself was born in Ohio, but if someone told me I had to move back tomorrow, I wouldn’t know where to begin. I would lose my job, have to say goodbye to friends and family I hold dear, and God knows how I would be able to finance a new life in this new state.

    Now imagine this in an entirely different country.

    In this country, people may speak a language you heard around the house occasionally, but may not know as well as English. You do not know where the safe parts of the city are, where the cheapest rent is, where the most honest employers can be found. You may not know the culture, the religion, the societal norms as well here. You do not call this place home.

    The place you call home will employ you, but only in jobs where there is little to no room for growth. Landscaper. Housekeeper. Waitress. Receptionist if you’re lucky. Some of these jobs will pay you under the table, but it will likely be a little less than what a “”””normal”””” worker would be paid, because after all, who can you tattle-tale to? And don’t worry, no matter how hard you work your ass off, no matter how seriously you take school, no matter how well-rounded, well-spoken, intelligent, kind, and good you are… you sure as hell can’t go to school. Look at how hard it was for me, and I had federal aid on my side. Tell me whose mother or father can afford to send his or her son to college on landscaping or housekeeping or construction wages.

    As a friend to some of these individuals, I am enraged. How can my friends continue to suffer? DACA is the bare minimum a person deserves in this life. DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals,) allows a child who immigrated here with his parents without papers to stay in America. DACA lets these individuals stay here, but at the cost of their own human rights. The right to fair and equal pay to peers. The right to healthcare offered through one’s career. The right to apply for federal monetary aid. The right for education to serve its intended purpose as THE GREAT EQUALIZER, meaning that if one works hard in school, s/he may use this hard work to pursue further education.

    My friends did not choose to come here without papers. My friends did not ask to toil their lives away. My friends did not ask to drive every two years to an office, to stand in line, to be shuffled through like cattle and stamped off as, “okay to continue to work,” as they obtain permits for their less-than careers that they know, in another life, they could have done better than.

    I did some research on how much it costs to obtain citizenship for one person in America. In 2017, the fee for ONE individual is $745. For a green card, it can cost about $1000, including fees. If someone is willing to leave all their family behind in pursuit of a better life, do you think they are able to afford this? If someone is willing to come here without following the proper steps, fleeing something or escaping poverty or suffering in some way, they live their lives as slaves to the land so that their children may have a better life. There is no luxury in being a person without papers.

    So Mother or Father suffers to obtain basic needs for the family, working hard hours, only for the cycle to REPEAT ITSELF despite said son- or daughter’s honest, hard work. The cycle repeats itself despite the fact that this son or daughter could literally not give consent to the move, and the son or daughter could not afford to live on his or her own.

    My fellow Americans, I think we can do better than DACA. I believe we can do better than letting children who were brought here stay here. I think we can give my friends, these humans who are worth so much more, have the basic rights that every documented American here reaps. I never chose to be American, just as my second-generation immigrant friends never chose not to be. The difference between us and me is that I have the right to go to college without paying the entire tuition out-of-pocket each month. I have the right to visit the hospital and know that my job offers benefits, so I will be okay. Myself, I am a DREAM-er, and my dream is to see my friends SB, SH, CR, JB, O(?), A(?) and VR have *half* the privilege I have inherited in my life. Maybe, just maybe, if I DREAM big enough, one day I’ll see their names finally written on that diploma they always deserved but were never allowed to receive.