Do Prostitutes Drive?

Hookin' Buddies

Not having a car, or at least not driving here in Trinidad can be an amusing experience. So on Saturday, my girlfriend and I were on our way to a fete (Trini party), but neither of us wanted to drive. Oh the plight of the single woman, who has to drive herself everywhere. None of that! I wanted to drink and not worry about drunk driving. I did not want to have to worry about falling asleep behind the wheel at 3am. I did not want to park my brand new car in some dark street and have it stolen or worse have it towed by the evil wreckermen (and as we got to the venue we saw the wrecker swiftly roll away with a very nice Corolla). Plus, there was also a shuttle service available. So that was the plan. Park the chariots and take the shuttle. 

But the shuttle, of course, was not going to pick us up in front of the house. We still needed to get from Point A to Point B in order to get said shuttle. Luckily, we managed a lift to Point B, but a bit about Point B. 

- Not really a commuters' hub

- Not really the place you would get a taxi or maxi, so why would you be standing there?

- On a corner (lol)...a dimly lit corner

- Near a lot of bars but not close enough to look like we were patrons, so again, why would we be standing there?

- It was night time

As I stood there, waiting for this shuttle, with hair done, makeup done, outfit done, next to an equally done up friend, I thought to myself, I hope people don't get the wrong idea here. 

Six or seven signals via flashing headlights and car horns, I turned to my girlfriend and made public what I was thinking privately.

You think people think we hookin'?

LOL. She at first laughed in a way that suggested that she thought I was being ridiculous. I was serious though. I mean, sure we looked good, and were being admired but my mind works overtime...all the time! I could not fathom that people may get the wrong idea about two professional women innocently standing on a street corner. Maybe, professionals is not the right word. lol. Then...

The van passed us and then reversed, stopping in front of us.

Good night

(Good night)

How you doing?

(me to self: OMG...customer!) We good

Nice. 

(silence)

Umm...girls, I dunno you, you dunno me, but is all good.

(me to self: where the damn shuttle?)

(silence)

I was laughing inside though. She conceded, and agreed that the shuttle needed to hurry up. I don't think I will be shuttling to any more fetes, or at the very least, I will be choosing my shuttle pick up point much better.

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Christmas Party Pooper

So I survived the Christmas parties - and without having to resort to hitting the bottle.

The first one was the staff children's party - an event that in past jobs I managed to avoid like The Black Death but fate caught up with me and I was mandated to be there. I could not even take my nephew which would have at least made it relevant somehow. But in any event, it was painless. The children were not as annoying as I thought they might have been. The magician, however, was a hot mess and could not even sway the kids much less a bitter Trininista, and the snow man was scary even for me, so I was not surprised when one little girl bawled her lungs out when he appeared, out of sheer terror. No lie though - the snow man was beastly! Poor kids.

I also managed to survive the adults' party which in past jobs I had usually been excited about. It was the one time of year I could really shine my swag and go full glam, but this year, I really could not be bothered. I took the decision to recycle an old dress and took it to be ironed at the dry cleaner's the day before. Then later that next evening, when I realised that unforeseen circumstances made wearing this particular dress impossible, I literally threw on a dress I grabbed out of the hamper, without even ironing it - a dress I have worn quite a few times, but noone cared. I didn't. I was glad I had not spent money on a new dress cause it would have been a waste. The party was alright but my heart was just not in the whole thing. Between hormonal rage, exhaustion, and a bitter, biting flu bug, I was not the smurfiest butterfly on the Christmas social scene.

The major highlight of the evening was probably the one guy who had to be wheeled out of the party cause he took "free drinks" to a whole new level. I kid you not. Wheeled out. In a wheelchair. Too drunk to walk. Too drunk to even be conscious. How embarrassing. If that were my man, I would let him go for being such a daft knob.

There is still the small matter of team lunch/gift exchange. God. I should really publicise my memo about not being a Christmassy type but it might be too late, or too soon depending on how you look at it. In any event, in the immediate present, I am now battling a really awful flu which has been kicking my ass now for days but which I intend to beat before the weekend! Hope everyone is well.

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Say Yes to the Dress. I said No!

HIDEOUS!!!

I went to the mall on a mission - to find a simple evening dress for this party I have to go to next week. I do not want to go to the party for a few reasons - I am tired and predict I will be tired next week too, I don't feel as hot as I should feel for glamming up, etc etc

But I went to the mall with an open mind. I came home with a all-in-one bag crammed with bundles - groceries, cute camisoles, a nice cardigan, but no dress.

I am really aghast at what was on offer.

1. The usual - sequins and shiny shit. I think sequins should be banned! Okay, that might be a bit harsh cause when done right, sequins can be quite stunning. When. Done. Right. What I saw was atrocious. Dresses with what looked like gold spray paint and what looked like they went buck wild with the glue gun and the sequins. I sucked my teeth in annoyance.

2. Jersey. The sales girl pointed me to the "evening dress" section of the store and they had a lot of jersey dresses. God. Jersey is not glam. Jersey is "head to the supermarket/head to the movies/have lunch with the girls". It's not evening! God help me. Accessorised nicely on the mannequin, one dress looked halfway presentable but the mannequin also does not have lumps and bumps like normal women. Jersey is not it!

3. I tried 3 dresses and then noticed that 2 other women tried 2 of the 3 dresses I was trying. They had them in various sizes and in gross quantities. Not cute! Did not know them but I just thought, oh my God...what if they are going to the same party? Reminded me of a story about a VP who was too cheap to buy a really nice dress and bought one of these dime-a-dozen getups for the staff party, only to see the kitchen assistant in the exact same dress. I have never bought a dress locally for this exact reason. I have always had my dresses custom made or I have bought them on my travels. The thought of being a twin at this party was not appealling to me.

I did not buy a dress. I jumped in a taxi and came home. I was not willing to shell out the money for one either especially as I am in the throes of buying a car. I will recycle something in storage. I washed one last week (it smelled musty from being in storage for over 2 years!!) and I am praying to God that this thing still fits me. Add this to the fact that I am going alone to this thing, with people I do not know, I'm just not excited. Can't wait for it to be over.

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Awesome Trini weekend in London

Well, the birthday had the potential to be a real stinker. I was depressed most of the week, and frustrated with an assignment that try as I might, would not let me finish. I had also hoped for some specific plans which also, try as I might, just would not develop nicely. So come Thursday, I was in a horrid mood, crying and wanting my momma. But willpower is a great weapon against idleness, and with a wave of my mascara wand and a couple emails, life was good again.

Friday night, I finally met up with the other Trini students at my school and we headed to the Trinidad and Tobago High Commission in London for a Christmas reception. I love Trinis. Always looking out for the poor ready-meal dependent students. The food was very welcome. The Trini hospitality more so. The High Commissioner was very pleased to have us raid his larder of all the goodies they had prepared for us. For most people, it was the first real meal in weeks. I thought I was the only one eating meals out of a box but nope...noone cooks. Lots of books, but no cooks. Great Trini food, with great Trini friends. Perfect.

Then the birthday. I had a really nice day on Saturday, starting with a mimosa breakfast. I totally LOVE mimosas. I had mentioned it to my cousin earlier in the week and lo and behold, there were mimosas as I waddled downstairs for what was supposed to be a cheese sandwich type of breakfast. Gotta love the cousin. I then got dressed and put all the books aside, incomplete assignment and all, and headed into London to mail off some Christmas cards to the 'rents and the sibling unit and family, including the nephew and spend some proper me time in the city. I have not done a London day since my first week here. So with okay weather, I toddled into Soho to meet a gf for lunch. I felt like having either Trini food, Cuban food or Thai and we ended up having Thai because neither of the other two were available. I man-gaped for the entire time I was there as well. Always good gaping in Soho. There was also a pretty decent market near my train station  before I got to London Bridge, where I saw a nice portrait I may probably get the cousin for Christmas.

Though I did not have a lot of time because my cousin sent me a text demanding I return home to have birthday drinks, we still managed to grab a couple cocktails and do a sprint through National Gallery, which is undoubtedly one of my favourite places in this wonderful city. I had really wanted to see the Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square but sadly, my fellow students had burnt it to the ground earlier in the week. Needless to say, images of Churchill's statue being defaced and a young girl swinging from the Union Jack were alarming to me and I am not even British. You can be angry and yes, they have a right to be angry but this is your national heritage you're defacing. But that's just me...

Anyway....

Yes, I dug right in to that bad boy! Yummers!

When I got home...the cuteness. My cousin's kids had gotten me a card, cookies and there was also the sexiest looking chocolate cake ever. Mojitos and more champagne and good friends. My dad had called first thing that morning, and my mum called later that evening, with the sibling unit sending an email from work. And the two words that are music to any student's ears on their birthday - wire transfer! lol

The evening was spent with Trini friends at a Caribbean, though more Trini than anything else, party in London, which went into the wee hours, meaning, 1) I had a fantastic time and 2) I had to take a night bus to get home and of course, as with all my late night bus adventures, I missed my stop. I was sober. I was awake. I still missed my stop. I blame not knowing the area, not having chance to check the little grid on the bus shelter to see just where my stop was in relation to the journey because I was pelting down the street at 5 in the morning to catch said bus, I blame the cackling women who overpowered "Erica*" and I did not hear said stop being announced.

* Erica - the name I have given to the female voice used by London public transport. I love her especially when she says "Welcome to the Southern service to Sandwich". lol. Oh, I have also disvovered some new towns with stupid names - Hook, and also Ham. Really???

Anyway, after maybe about, oh, 10 stops I realised I had indeed passed my stop, but it was not an issue cause I knew where the bus was going and I decided to chill out and then get off at the stop nearest to my house and get my regular night bus, the one I was supposed to get at the stop I missed. The point of all this waffling on is I had to sit in this cold bus and then on the cold corner waiting for said bus, in nothing but one coat over a not so warm and snuggly outfit (one built more for the hot temps of a nightclub than the cold streets of London) and now I have a post-birthday cold that just came out of nowhere. This morning I woke up with a sore throat. This evening, without warning, I have a full blown cold. Funny. But I was a happy and sexy icicle. I needed it. I really needed the weekend and needed the birthday to not suck. I was really having a horrific week and to top it off with a sad, desperate birthday would have killed my spirit. And no offence to the Brits and Europeans, but I really really really needed to be around Trinis. The homesickness at this time of year is insane so to hear the sing-song lilt from every mouth, and experience the vibes that only a Trini can create, and bask in the warmth. thoughtfulness and good nature of Trini friends - I was a happy bunny. Where there is life, there is hope. Where there is a Trini, there is the potential for fabulousity, folks. Never forget it!

In any event, I have taken some meds for this stinker of a cold, and I am going to take a nap so I can wake up a bit more cognisant of my environment, to start assignment #100. School closes for the holidays this week. I should be hopping and skipping but I have to study during those 2 weeks. But at least I can sleep in late every morning. Small blessings.

p.s. Can I just say as well, that Bank underground station is the f...g worst!? It sure beats back the one at Elephant and Castle. My goodness. But Vauxhall is another stinker. I should do an entire entry on the underground stations. Waterloo and London Bridge are among the better ones, along with Westminster. But that's another entry isn't it? Mind the Gap, peeps.

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