Getting to Know Chicago's Bathrooms and Other Matters
For those of you middle age women who often feel like your mind and body are falling apart, spend a few days with some of your friends. The last few days have completely validated my aches and complaints and for the first time in a long time, I have realized that I am not alone. While we gabbed about nearly every topic under the sun, a disproportionate amount of time was spent on foot maladies, determining which shoes should be worn for our trek around Chicago--style or comfort and would we get cold in a city that is known for its wind. Unfortunately, a few chose style--an incorrect choice after walking seven miles. Needless to say, by the end of our day, there was significant limping going on.
And then there was the bathroom visits. For women of our age, making sure there is easy access to a bathroom is critical to the success of any outing. We hit the jackpot on the food tour as there was a bathroom at nearly every stop--and we all went en masse at each opportunity. The way we all traveled in a pack, we looked like four teenage girls at a middle school dance!
My favorite validation however, was when we all ordered ice cream profiteroles to share--a lactose intolerant woman's nightmare--and two of us immediately whipped out our lactose intolerant pills! We are sole sisters on so many levels.
We had a wonderful day but it began a bit shaky when at our first stop I almost decked a man on the food tour. I am a perfectly behaved woman but nothing ticks me off more than when people make fun of the Garden State! We were unable to sit together at the first stop and two of us sat with a couple who looked innocuous. How wrong I was. We began our normal introductions of first name and where we were from, and when I said I was from New Jersey, the man said, "Oh Joizy!" As I gritted my teeth, I tried my unsuccessfully fake laugh, and said, "No one in New Jersey talks like that," and he boldly disagreed with me, saying that he knew people and they do talk like that. That was it. I shut down and refused to say anything leaving my poor friend to carry on the now awkward conversation on her own. Fortunately she is for the Midwest and is far better behaved than a girl from "Joizy."
I did learn two important things today. First, no cow-–Mrs. O'Leary's or anyone else's--was involved in the Great Fire of 1871 and Oprah doesn't know a thing about pizza. We tried what was identified as her favorite slice and all I can say is that if that what she thinks is the best, she doesnt know what she's missing. Unfortunately for her, in order to know what a real slice of pizza tastes like, she will have to come to New York or.....the Garden State.
And then there was the bathroom visits. For women of our age, making sure there is easy access to a bathroom is critical to the success of any outing. We hit the jackpot on the food tour as there was a bathroom at nearly every stop--and we all went en masse at each opportunity. The way we all traveled in a pack, we looked like four teenage girls at a middle school dance!
My favorite validation however, was when we all ordered ice cream profiteroles to share--a lactose intolerant woman's nightmare--and two of us immediately whipped out our lactose intolerant pills! We are sole sisters on so many levels.
We had a wonderful day but it began a bit shaky when at our first stop I almost decked a man on the food tour. I am a perfectly behaved woman but nothing ticks me off more than when people make fun of the Garden State! We were unable to sit together at the first stop and two of us sat with a couple who looked innocuous. How wrong I was. We began our normal introductions of first name and where we were from, and when I said I was from New Jersey, the man said, "Oh Joizy!" As I gritted my teeth, I tried my unsuccessfully fake laugh, and said, "No one in New Jersey talks like that," and he boldly disagreed with me, saying that he knew people and they do talk like that. That was it. I shut down and refused to say anything leaving my poor friend to carry on the now awkward conversation on her own. Fortunately she is for the Midwest and is far better behaved than a girl from "Joizy."
I did learn two important things today. First, no cow-–Mrs. O'Leary's or anyone else's--was involved in the Great Fire of 1871 and Oprah doesn't know a thing about pizza. We tried what was identified as her favorite slice and all I can say is that if that what she thinks is the best, she doesnt know what she's missing. Unfortunately for her, in order to know what a real slice of pizza tastes like, she will have to come to New York or.....the Garden State.
Comments
Post a Comment