An experience abroad

I really wish I’d realized how much going abroad would be like re-entering high school. The most tempting faux pas is everyone’s biggest mistake: trying to fit in.

 

            Because, as a foreigner, all you want is to blend into the background to better observe the culture. I’m going to assume this is you, not the pompous ethnocentric whose goal abroad is to “educate” everyone else. Yes? Good. Moving on…

 

            In your country of choice, the “seniors” are the local co-eds. They’ve stepped out every foreign fantasy you’ve had to stare coolly at your carefully selected a la mode outfit and mumble too fast for you to understand. You want so badly to be one of them, but no matter how hard you try they either roll their eyes or suppress giggles when you test your French. Of course, as in high school, these cool kids are just like everyone else-preoccupied with their own worries and problems. The only thing that separates you from the pack is your cute new-kid-on-the-block innocence. They’ve been here much longer, so don’t stress when you don’t instantly “get it.”

 

In France, they know immediately that you aren’t French. If you try too hard to dress or act French, you will offend them. The French have a deep pride in their nationality that doesn’t reach those without a lengthy French ancestry. No matter how long you live there, you won’t be French. For now, be yourself. I know, it was an impossible concept to grasp at age 16 and, unfortunately, it hasn’t gotten any easier. As long as you remember you are a guest in their country, you will notice more genuine interest.

 

            Yes, you are the freshman here. This doesn’t mean, however, that you should limit yourself to the other freshman, specifically those of the same nationality. One would think that being an American abroad would mean I would, by default, have something in common with the other Americans abroad.

           

One would be wrong.

 

 I met a guy from Denver who refused to speak to me in English or about American-related things. I understand absorbing the culture but I sensed he didn’t want to be identified as “foreign.” I believe he is a prime candidate for trying too hard to fit in (see paragraph above.)

 

There were eight Americans in my “Ville Française” from my school. None of us knew each other and while we did learn to live and travel together, an insane amount of back-biting broke out before the semester was over. You don’t have to ostracize yourself from your fellow countrymen and women, but make sure to venture outside your circle every once in a while.

 

I had the most fun hanging out with my classmates. In the French school I attended, we were broken up into levels and classes. In 3C, I had a group of close friends that had a Vietnamese barbeque, did projects together, and went out for drinks after finals. We were Mexican, Brazilian, Chinese, Taiwanese, American and Vietnamese. None of us spoke the same language so we had to use French to communicate. I was having too much fun to recognize I was learning until my grades skyrocketed.

 

Abroad, especially in France, it is impossible to be too polite. In the United States, being too formal or overly polite would arouse the suspicion that you were not sincere. The more you say “S’il vous plait, Merci, Madame and Monsieur” over there, the faster doors open. You may learn doors do not open quickly in France. Therefore, any advantage is worth exploiting.

 

By the end of the freshman year things have changed drastically. You have a new group of friends, a new independence and a new perspective on life. Just like in high school, your experience abroad will change you. I hope it does. Bon chance!

The OU Alpha Chi Video- from an OU student’s perspective

I found out about this yesterday just before my Management *shudders* final. At that time, the YouTube video featuring an Alpha Chi Omega at the University of Oklahoma crying because she had drunkenly taken the fire extinguisher to her sorority house to “make it snow,” already had over 5,000 hits.  This morning, as I was cruising the blog circuit, it was EVERYWHERE. It has been removed from YouTube since, but not fast enough.

Admittedly, the video is hilarious (in a mean way.) The girl is sobbing drunkenly and trying to apologize for ruining the house.  When her “friend” taping the entire thing tries to calm her down, she stutters that she “only thought it would be a little *poof*” and not an explosion of foam. Classic. I can’t tell you what I would’ve given to be there for the foam party. My problem with it is that the director of this film decided it was necessary to humiliate this, hopefully, otherwise sane girl by posting it on YouTube.

It kills me that every time Oklahoma gets press, it always seems to reinforce the “backwards dumbass” image I’m afraid is becoming popular. I also had the history teacher that was taken into custody in 2004  for staging a fake robbery while his wife was home so he could play the hero. He is the reason I aced the AP Euro exam. Unfortunately, the world will remember him for his poorly-thought out plan to score points with his wife.   

The point is I feel really sorry for this girl. There are countless college students that drink and do ridiculous things -even destructive things. Pulling the fire extinguisher out because she “wanted to make it snow” is largely harmless. The only reason she’s being targeted is because she had the kind of friend we all hope to avoid. The kind that sits back and watches you be an idiot. The kind that goes the extra mile to post it on YouTube so everyone else can laugh at you too!

 What do you think?

Crack(er) Cookies

 I may have cracked the Girl Scout cookie code.

 

Three things happened within the last week or so that led to the accidental genius I’ve been snacking on since their creation last night.

 

First, I was introduced to the concept of a “cracker cookie” over at a friend’s house while getting my ass kicked at Mario Kart Wii. This detail is very important as it led to my excitement for the co- who am I kidding, cookies are always exciting. Anyway, apparently her grandmother had taught her to make cookies that taste like heath bars out of saltines and chocolate chips and heath stuff (?) I’m all for time-saving sweets and so asked for the recipe. Unfortunately, said recipe was forgotten by the end of the night…sigh. I’m a writer and will eventually learn that if I don’t write it down, I won’t remember it.

 

This worked to my benefit, however, when the thought-crippling chocolate cravings came. Rummaging through the barren cupboards, I managed to find bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips (with only about a 1/5 cup left), old (but not too old) Ritz crackers, and 6-8 Reese’s miniature peanut butter cups (Best chocolate product EVER…just fyi.)

 

Finally, I use cooking as a de-stress and useful procrastination tool. Though I wasn’t doing homeword, I managed to clean out the pantry of these seemingly useless items and create the masterful cookies pictured above.They taste like the Tag-A-Long Girl Scout cookies and slightly like a Twix bar.

 

Because it depends on how powerful your microwave is, how much chocolate/peanut buttery goodness you want on your cracker, and the making of my cookies were a total whim, directions are estimated and should be modified based on your personal needs. Be adventurous!

 

 Ingredients

 

1/5 bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips

6-8 Reese’s Miniature Peanut Butter Cups

About 24 Ritz original full-sized crackers

 

 

Materials

 

Microwave

Freezer

Microwavable bowl

Wax paper

Container safe for storing in the freezer and big enough to store cookies

Spoon for mixing ingredients and slathering on mixture

 

 

Directions

 

1. Dump Chocolate Chips and Reese’s into microwavable bowl

 

1. Microwave mixture until it is a smooth and easy to spread. In my sad little microwave, it took about 2.5 minutes to get the Chocolate Chips and Reese’s completely melted and mixed*. You don’t want to burn the chocolate though. Trust me, I’ve done it. Nothing is more depressing than burnt chocolate. Mom always said never microwave anything more than 1 minute at a time. She’s usually right.

 

1. Place Crackers on wax paper BEFORE you start using the chocolate. This will help keep your kitchen clean AND allow you to coat both sides with chocolate. Use handy-dandy spoon to spread the mixture as thick and chunky or smooth and creamy as you like.

 

1. If you have the room, stick wax paper directly in the freezer. More likely, you’ll want to layer the cookies on the wax paper in the freezer-safe container before you put it in the freezer.

 

1. Wait at least 15 minutes to take cookies out of freezer. Because you used wax paper you can unstuck the cookies with ease and enjoy! Store in freezer.

 

 

Recap

 

Making these cookies is cheap and insanely easy. You will clean out your pantry and have something less guilty to eat when the chocolate monster emerges. You may also experience feelings of craftiness, as if you have “Stuck it to The Man,” after making such cheap, easy and less fattening cookies. Do it. Do it now. 

 

 

 

 *Side Note: For some reason the peanut buttery center of Reese’s doesn’t actually melt in the microwave. I’m thinking it’s chemically altered powdery stuff that tastes like peanut butter. It still tastes great but if you don’t like Reese’s chunks in your cookie you may want to substitute the Reese’s for actual peanut butter.

Meeting the Parents

My parents, of course, don’t understand why this is so stressful for our generation. They aren’t meeting the parents. To them, they’re just taking an active interest in their children’s lives. My mother thinks my brother and I often “hide” our friends and dates from them. Maybe that’s the reason we’re hesitant to bring people by. We don’t understand why they are so interested in these people anyway. 

 

Nevertheless, meeting the parents is a tradition that eventually both sides will want to fulfill. The adults will want to make sure you aren’t going out with a serial killer and your boyfriend will want to make sure you aren’t a total nutcase. Or if you are, it’s only because your family has driven you to that state.

 

Supposedly, it’s easier for girls to meet the guy’s parents. His family is usually less concerned that the girlfriend is corrupting their sweet baby boy. Usually. The standard modest dress, polite manner, and stellar personality tests still apply as a girl.

 

There are all types of terrifying stereotypes that go with meeting the girl’s parents. If you are wholly unfamiliar, rent Meet the Parents (2000) with Ben Stiller. If you will soon be meeting the parents, however, resist. Trust me, you’ll sleep better for it.

 

So how to you ace a test that you can’t possibly study for? Sure your significant other can go over possible questions but there aren’t any multiple choice answers and even a good intention can come off wrong in certain situations.

 

Stop cramming and listen to me. Perfection is not expected. A little bit of nerves only means that this is important to you and the adults will pick up on that. Just in case you need help dialing down the stress here are a few words of encouragement.

 

The big one is these people want to meet you. They’ve cleared space in their lives because they are interested in getting to know you. Reluctance would be bad but they are excited to see who’s made such an impression on their son or daughter.

 

They want to like you and that is the honest truth. They like their son or daughter. Their son or daughter likes you. You make their son or daughter happy. This makes them happy. They’d like to keep it that way by liking you too.

 

A few things to think about:

 

In informal situations, nice jeans and a polo (for both sexes) work very well. Girls may choose to accessorize with heels and earrings but go easy. When you try too hard the parents wonder why you feel you have to compensate.

 

Khakis and a dress shirt become the guy wear when things are more formal. Girls, nothing above your knees should be showing. No cleavage and circumstances where shoulders are displayed should be rare. You aren’t trying to look hot, leave the tight stuff at home.

 

Gifts are often overrated. Flowers are something your hostess has to now take care of. Alcohol is inappropriate when any member of the party is underage and it isn’t a nice dinner. If you must, make it small, simple and homemade. Dessert is always accepted. The best way to tell if you should bring a gift is to know the plans beforehand. It’s hard to eat cookies and go waterskiing.

 

The bottom line: what would Grandma do? And for God’s sake, RELAX!    

Nobody Asked Abby

The hardest lesson I’ve had to learn so far is how to keep my mouth shut. I’m not talking about being silent when something you believe in is threatened. I’m not talking about passively ignoring your problems by being incommunicative. What I am trying to learn is how to swallow unsolicited advice.

 

I’m the eldest of three siblings and a girl. Statistics say this means I am bossy and protective of the people around me. In this case, statistics are overwhelmingly correct.

 

I have this need to “fix” people. My spidey senses don’t tell me when people are in trouble, they tell me there is a lost soul out there whose life could be better if only I tell them how to change. My spidey sense is kind of pompous.

 

In my defense, I seem to have a homing beacon for people who love to share their problems. I’ve had complete strangers in front of me in line at a store that will turn around and ask why their best friend is such a flake. The cashiers love to gossip about the cute bag boy that they’ve been trying to get a date with for weeks. Back at home, my roommate cannot figure out why she is used as a doormat.

 

To me, it all seems relatively simple. The best friend is a flake because girls with new boyfriends, jobs or hobbies like to forget about life pre-new-shiny-toy. She’ll wander back eventually. Boys the cashier’s age are often oblivious to girls that don’t flaunt themselves. If you want a date with him, it’s time to ask. My sweetheart of a roommate is a doormat because she feels she needs certain people in her life and is desperate to have them there; she’ll tolerate anything from them so as not to feel alone.      

 

Before my epiphany, I would have told them exactly that. The sly trick is, though these people sound like they honestly want help with their problem, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

 

No one that does not expressly ask for an honest opinion (and even then it’s iffy) wants the truth. They know the truth. They don’t like the truth. I’m going to refrain from telling you “they can’t handle the truth” but you get the idea.

 

What these people want is a sympathetic sound (awww, that sucks!) or an ignorant opinion that is much more pleasing to their sensitive psyche (If you really love him, you’re ready to give up everything for him.)

 

On the off chance that they do listen and you’re wrong, you will be blamed. Oh, and if you are right, you will also be blamed. These people don’t like the truth, remember? You’ve pointed out something that’s been in front of them the whole time and suddenly it’s as if you made it appear. You evil trouble-maker, what did you do that for?

 

I may be cynical but I’m not unsympathetic. I have tissues and soothing tea ready for the next friend crisis. My phone is on most nights in case I am needed. But Ask Abby has left the building. The people with pitchforks made her nervous.      

Baglady makes Big Bucks

Move over Mary Kay there’s a new queen bee in town. For years the stay-at-home mom/saleslady has pedaled makeup and skincare to make extra money the fashionable way. Now, with B’s Purses, “work parties” may never be the same.

B’s Purses began when co-founder Susan Guillen was sewing self-designed purses and selling them to friends for extra money. As demand grew Linda Henderson helped develop a marketing plan that has revolutionized the way we’ll shop for bags of all shapes and sizes. With the site’s newfound fame, Susan Masters created the masterful systems and operations plan that keeps the merchandise moving today.

The coolest thing about B’s is that you (yes, you sitting in front of the screen in your bathrobe and bunny slippers) get to design your own bag. Who doesn’t love being able to tell people that you made the clutch that they’re drooling over?

Choosing from the numerous luggage, tote bag, purse, and clutch templates is hard enough but the sheer volume of fabric and detail combinations is enough to make a girl giddy. There is a large virtual representation, which can be viewed from three angles, of your bag that changes as you test different options. If you’re as fashion-retarded as I am, they even have an “info” button next to each fabric swatch that gives you material details and suggestions for embellishing your bag.

Jealous that you didn’t think of it first? No worries, they’re always looking for new “representatives” a la Avon lady. B’s reps launch their career hosting “purse parties” to spread the word, have personal websites of their own and always take a healthy percentage of the profit. If you get your girlfriends to do it too, you also get part of their share. These ladies are nothing but professional, highlighting their online business features that allow each rep to track the shipping of all customer purchases, their personal commission and place new orders.

I’m not much of a saleslady but there is a definite allure to the power of choice. Log on to http://bspurses.com/ to channel Kate Spade and make a masterpiece of your own.

Freedom of Speech= Free to be an idiot

Imagine this but 20 times worse. Image from http://www.foundingbloggers.com/

What. The. Hell.

I was minding my own business that morning, slowly dragging from my morning class to the union for a revitalizing cup of coffee, when I saw it. Yes, IT. It looked like a concert backdrop. From my vantage point all I could see were colorful pictures stretched on canvas two stories high.

Then I got closer.

There was something amiss about these photos. Mainly, I was wondering why there was so much red. Like someone had splashed the subject with ketchup just before taking the photograph.

Want to know why?

This was not a concert backdrop. Concert backdrops did not display 4-foot photographs of mutilated babies like it was an enormous scrapbook page. At least no concert that I’d ever been to had setups like this. Babies in all recognizable forms were covered in blood too red to be real but just enough to make me recoil in disgust. Coffee was not longer and option. My appetite had jumped ship and was halfway to Mexico by now.

Yes, I was awake now, but the anti-abortion rally nightmare was real and still looming down at me.

Worse, I was pissed. I am a college junior. I’ve seen my fair share of freak shows abusing their freedom of speech to push their propaganda on our impressionable values. My freshman year, Preacher Bob called me a whore one day for wearing a knee-length skirt. The next day he told me I was going to hell for wearing pants (apparently, I was trying to be a man and that it was “unnatural.”) Today’s show of intolerance and vomit-inducing scare tactic, however, is just too much.

To add insult to my disgust, there was a tiny bulletin board that read “freedom of speech” and had markers attached so you could give your opinion. So, basically, it’s ok for enormous and grotesque dead babies to be seen from miles away but if I have a problem with it, I must write my complaints on an itty bitty board off to the side?!

What if I’d rather take their approach? I know a few guys with a potato launcher; I’m sure I could demonstrate my feelings about their rally effectively with it. Or maybe I could take those tiny markers and creatively defame their giant eyesores? Something like “Sex is fun” should horrify them enough to get the hell off my campus.

What side you take on the “Abortion debate” is unimportant today. Scaring people to pick your side is wrong. The intelligent people, (which are the people you want on your side, by the way) are only going to shake their heads and back quietly across the debate line where they are safe. Back to the side that isn’t going to make people lose their lunch. Next time you want to inform people take a less dictator-like approach, okay?

Girls…explained

In class the other day we compared generic quirks of the opposite sex. The guys snitched on the girls and the girls exposed the guys. One interesting, and slightly misguided rant started like this:

“Why do guys have to find out about their relationship problems through their wife’s/girlfriend’s friends?”

The simple answer is: you don’t. I mean, you’ll always have the silent brooding types that are cute and cuddly one day and icy cold the next. Usually, however, there is a rational (shocking, I know) explanation for your ignorance.

1. It just wasn’t that important. As much as we love you, there will be things that you do that drive us up the wall. The infamous “leaving the lid up” is a perfect example. Now, we know that in the grand scheme of life, having to lower the lid in the restroom is less than apocalyptic. You are, 90% of the time, a charming and understanding man. We appreciate that you are a rare find. So, to insure that we get to keep you, we’re going to pick our battles wisely. We did probably roll our eyes at you when you weren’t looking. Then, over cosmos on girls night (if I have to stereotype, I’ll at least be thorough), we mentioned your faux pas to make our friend feel better about the fact that her boyfriend leaves the toothpaste cap open.

It wasn’t because we were consumed by rage. We weren’t trying to hide our pain. We just needed to bitch to someone and they were available.

2. You’ve confused us. I’m certain you’ve had this feeling. You’re having a wonderful time doing whatever you two love to do on a Saturday afternoon. Your beautiful girl says something that seems to come out of no where. You aren’t even sure what just happened was in English. But you laugh a little and change the subject. After you’ve gone home, or your sig. other has left the house, suddenly it’s all you can think about. You play the moment over and over again in your head. “What did that mean?” It must have been bad or she would’ve been plainer, you think. Now you’re upset. Why couldn’t she have just said what she was thinking?

NEWSFLASH boys: we do it too. Instead of bottling it up inside, though, we speed-dial our BFF. To you, it may make more sense to call the object of our anxiety. The simplest way to resolve an issue is to talk to the source, right? To us, you’ve already confused us once; we need to know what we’re up against before we proceed. If this is big we need a plan.

There are reasons these girls are our friends. They understand us well enough to know where we stand but are also removed enough from the situation to make fair(er) judgment calls. When we tell our friends what happened, we are looking for advice and hoping this is normal. If you’ve picked among the semi-mature females, we do not expect our friends to rely our mood back to you. We just want to know what’s up.

3. We need some time to cool off. This time, it’s serious. You blew off something important to us (meeting the parents, birthday, cancer test results) for a last minute pick-up football invite. Making a scene right now would do no good. You’re already at the field warming up. Even we did scare you enough to go along with our original plans it would be a pity play. We are too angry for the words, “You are so dead.” So we sarcastically wish you luck and before you can say “Bye, Babe,” we’ve dialed up the girls again.

Just like when you confuse us, when you piss us off, we need to know that a) this happens to every girl b) you weren’t trying to be a jerk and c) there is a way to resolve this without upgrading to a new guy. These situations are the reasons it is so important to make friends with the girlfriend’s friends. You will need their support when the emergency phone call (aka relationship court) comes.

We need to vent to them so that when we talk to you, there won’t be any unnecessary screaming. We want to have already dug through the emotional turmoil to get to the point. Yelling, “Jerk, jerk, jerk!” and throwing plates only creates one more mess. It’s much more effective to say, “I’m really hurt that you didn’t feel our plans were important enough to stick to. What happened?” Really, even though we’re upset, we’re doing you a huge favor.

Conclusion
You shouldn’t have to hear the news from our friends. We’re perfectly capable of letting you know when there is a problem that needs to be solved. A fabulous girl won’t let her friends to the dirty work for her. Keep in mind her friends might just be checking in on the situation before your girl’s gotten around to addressing it. We also may have a well-meaning and meddling friend who “just wants to help.” Still, our friends are the airbag in between that keep you from fatal impact. Even if you do get the news from a friendly source, she will probably have something do with your significant other’s sanity. Maybe she deserves a thank you note instead.

Roadtrip, anyone?

Fall football is at its best and on beautiful weekends such as this, going to an away-game is a fantastic escape from the stress of midterms. This weekend, in particular, thousands of Sooners and Longhorns fans stampeded Dallas to watch the Red River Rivalry game. Tickets went on sale for $95 officially, and then were resold to desperate souls for up to $1,000. Hopefully, you got first shot at OU/TX tickets or have benevolent friends.

The ticket, however, is only a very small part of the experience. Crowded hotel rooms, Dallas traffic, Dick’s Last Stand and trash talking at West End are all very important to a successful weekend. But you’ll need at the very least, money to return home. Because you are stingy (in the best sense,) you may even crave a positive balance in your checking account. The great news is, you can have an away-game weekend and stay on good terms with your bank. You just have to plan ahead.

Where to Stay: The beauty of college is that people are almost universally poor. If you have a friend/roommate/roommate’s friend’s uncle who lives in the Dallas area, you may not have to spend a single cent besides dinner. When you score that, you have every right to gloat and spend the money on souvenirs.

If your connections aren’t in the away-game region, don’t panic. With a little digging on the university website, you can find the “official game hotel” that offers special prices for college students. The hotel that hosted us this year offered 4-person rooms for $100 per person for the weekend, three days and two nights. That’s approximately $33 per day. Nice!

That doesn’t mean you can’t use the booming number of budget travel sites for even better deals either. Travelocity.com and Expedia.com are two that will help you compare multiple hotel prices side by side.

Transportation: Before you check in, though, you have to get there. I need you to pay very close attention to the next sentence. DO NOT DRIVE IN DALLAS UNLESS YOU ARE A NATIVE. Got it? Good. Even if you’re used to the angry drivers that aren’t afraid to die as long as they get there first, gas will end up equaling half your weekend bill. I understand sometimes it cannot be avoided but if you can help it, don’t drive. Carpool legally (no friends in the trunk, they will be cranky by the time you get there) at the very least.

My favorite new ride is the train. For $40, you have roundtrip transportation to Dallas from Norman. I can’t get a full tank of gas for $40. Plus, the party-bus atmosphere is way too much fun to pass up.

Riding the train doesn’t mean you won’t have downtown transportation either. If you choose to stay at the student-catered hotel, there is a monorail system right across the street that will take you to West End (a.k.a. the largest social gathering of OU/TX fans EVER.) and a bus ride to the game. Even if you aren’t going to OU/TX, public transportation is abundant in college towns so there won’t be any problems. Hotel areas are almost always located in an entertainment district with food and fun within walking distance. Worst-case scenario, you and your friends have to split cab fare. It’s still better than an evaporating college-fund.

Food: A college kid has to eat every few hours. The best way to combat the munchies on a shoestring budget is to buy a cooler and pack cereal for breakfast and a weekend’s worth of sandwiches, fruit and water bottles for lunch. Split this with your carpool gang for minimum –ouch!- factor.

Dinner is different. The reason you scrimped on breakfast and lunch was so you could splurge on the unique (or just really good) dining options at night. You will only have two dinners there anyway. So go ahead, give yourself a budget for great food and a few drinks afterwards. My favorite for Dallas is Dick’s Last Stand. The food is alright but the entertaining wait staff and atmosphere is completely worth it. The game is only half the excitement. The nightlife is just as important. Have fun!

When reality meets fairytales

Romance lives.

I forgive you for scoffing. It’s hard to believe that something as mythical as romance exists when the hooking up dominates the tradition of serious relationships.

I’m not talking about your average fairytale though. Prince Charming only gets in a girl’s way when searching for a good guy. I’m talking about when a person knows you and is crazy enough about you that they want to show you how much you mean to them in a brand new way.

Somewhere between the hours of phone conversations and 45,000 words written back and forth, I realized my new relationship had become something much more important than I ever expected. I’ve already touched on how excited I was for him to get back from halfway across the globe but I was also incredibly nervous. His re-entrance into my life would be a test. How would two people that had learned so much about each other long-distance play face-to-face? Could we reconnect the warm voices over the phone and distinct words on the page to faces we could scarcely remember?

We’d agreed back in May we would have one date when he returned to see if we should continue seeing each other. After nearly five months had passed, it was obvious we would but he still wanted to keep our date. September 26th, I hopped in my car with no idea where I was going or what I would be doing once I got there. I had vague instructions to see a valet so I assumed we were meeting at a hotel restaurant or something.

Using the directions given, I went into the city and arrived at a gorgeous hotel. I was too busy gaping to adequately explain my situation to the valet, my awe only increasing when he immediately knew who I was and why I was there. He gave me my next set of instructions and a red rose that seemed to appear out of no where.

A friendly push in the right direction (literally) and I was at the front desk. Stammering intelligently, I received a smug smile from the woman behind the counter. I seemed to be the only one in the dark as she revealed that she, too, knew exactly who I was. More instructions, a room key and another beautiful red rose and I was in the elevator deliberating slapping myself so I would know this wasn’t real. Curiosity got the best of me and I decided I wanted to know just how delusional I really was.

Nerves gave way to giddiness. I peeked out of the elevator like I was expecting…hell, I didn’t know what to expect. A normal hall of doors just like any other hotel greeted me. Naturally, as I wandered into the hallway, I forgot to look behind me. I nearly backed into a much larger set of double doors, secured with, what else, a single red rose.

I didn’t even get a chance to knock. I was yanked in and pulled into a huge hug. He looked like a little boy, smiling hopefully, searching for my reaction. I guess he saw what he was looking for because his grin only got bigger and he hugged me again, whispering “Surprise.”

We spent the weekend exploring the city, going wherever whim decided, staying up late and sleeping in. It was a fairytale of the best kind. It was real.