Loose in the Cuse

And fortunately for me, not the sexual kind. Yes the past few weeks in New York hadn't been going well. My internships were ending, I had a few days off, so I decided why not head back to the comfort of Cuse (my hometown) since I hadn't been there since I'd left four months ago. Now for those of you who aren't familiar with Cuse, it's a real gem of a town. Not. It's an economically depressed, gray city filled with snow and white trash. But it does hold a special place in my heart--some of the most fun I've had has been in Cuse, specifically the East Side. My greyhound bus pulled in late but luckily my bff Mairey had volunteered to pick me up. We headed to a truck-stop diner not too far away where we were the only girls in the place. I recounted my life the past couple of weeks to Mairey (mainly the fiasco with Cute Guy) over a $3.50 plate of eggs and was pleased to be back.
This continued the next day when I drove around in my Volvo, blasting house music and doing assorted errands. The weather was actually decent and I felt like the belle of the ball. I was excited for that night--Mairey and I were scheduled to go out on the town, where last fall we had had many interesting nights (background story to come). After my day of attention Mairey picked me up, sporting my token booties, and we headed to Armory. It was good to be back but since my expectations were high the night did not live up to them. The bars were empty, except for local guys with chin straps. A SU law guy certainly would have made things more interesting (see background story to come). We ended the night at one of my least favorite bars (b/c of their infamous Thursday night special $1.50 jack and cokes). Mairey is basically the mayor of Cuse and met up with a guy she had recently met out. He had two friends with him, both of whom were wearing Ed Hardy. I was a little drunk and had spent pretty much the whole night inside my own head and paid them no mind. Apparently one was interested--he asked Mairey about me and then when I didn't show interest went to dance with some girl, all the while looking at me. I took no notice of this whatsoever as I sat in a corner and sulkily sipped my jack and coke. After last call we headed to the pizza place, where for awhile I thought I was destined to meet my future husband (see background story to come again). Unfortunately this could not happen, as these same guys followed us and sat with us. I grew mildly excited when one told me he was German but about 3 words in I realized that he was only born in Germany, probably on a military base. I tuned out his blabbing and housed my broccoli pizza.

I also managed to meet up with my old friend Fidel who happened to be in town for only one of the nights I was. I met her and her friend from law school (whom we'll call Raul) at a townie bar not far from my house. I was pleased to see Fidel as we used to be partners in crime in high school. We sat for a couple hours, drinking beers and they recounted stories from their law school days, which involved trolling for drugs, walking through screen doors, and hooking up in a random car to be discovered by its owner. Fantastic--fit for their own blog. Now the next day Fidel suggested I friend Raul on facebook. I concurred but when I went to do it almost had a heart attack when noticed that we had a surprise mutual friend--Cute Guy. No joke. They weren't from the same town nor had they gone to school together but there he was. Why wouldn't this guy leave my life?? After some detective work on the part of Fidel, we determined that he had been at their law school graduation last year and hooked up with one of their friends. How surprising. I added Raul anyway, and now it is likely formerly Cute Guy really thinks I'm an actual stalker.

The next night was a welcome home party for a friend--S dot--who had been teaching abroad in a faraway Asian country for a year. I was pretty pumped for a good old-fashioned house party on the East Side. The particular group of people who were going to be there were a group of guys (and some girls) that we had hung out with summers during college (see background story to come)--we called them the East Side Boys. And I, as a West Side Girl, was the only representative to make it to the party. I was greeted by S dot who weighed about 15 pounds less since I had last seen him, over a year ago. I led him to the buffet table, where I piled up a plate (for me, not him). I caught up with almost all of the East Side Boys, many of whom were still around and many who had moved away. One has been and is apparently still in love with Mairey and casually asked where she was. Another, UPenn, always sketched me out and kept asking me to try a bottle of the beer he had brewed (with his new girlfriend, he kept adding). Judgers (infamous Euro trip with ibankers) made an appearance and my old friend Mal Pal was there as well. We had also been good friends in high school but had a falling off right after graduation and had had a tumultous relationship ever since. She was being friendly this night though and we chatted for a good part of it, by the bonfire. I played a couple rounds of flip cup (which I was ecstatic about) and then noticed much of the party had disappeared. On my way to the bathroom I heard Mal Pal's voice coming from behind a closed door. I knocked and waltzed in, not thinking at all that something unwholesome could be going on at a party behind a closed door. I looked around and slowly noticed the dollar bills and white bags filled with powder. S dot and Mal Pal were taking in their fill (apparently that's the reason he was so skinny). I was not surprised but not exactly impressed. Is a welcome home party with a buffet really the time and place for that? And how have I gone 25 years in my life without ever seeing coke, and the place I see it is in Syracuse, NY? I exited, filled up my plate played a few more rounds of flip cup and finally headed back to the Volvo to cross town--it just wasn't the same without my fellow West Side Girls.

So my trip to Cuse was successful. I had rested and recovered, had some quality friend and fam time and had done an obscene amount of shopping. I was also able to shock some people, while I was late and speeding to meet my parents for dinner. I needed to change and had no time to stop. At a redlight I whipped off my shirt and pulled on my dress. Taking off my pants was much harder but I did it. And when I looked up the dad and the kids in the minivan next to me were staring. Get over it. So I was disappointed to be leaving and dreading heading back to my apartment with roomie (who had been sending me texts with his critiques about my living habits all weekend). At the bus station there was some confusion about which bus was heading to NYC and I almost didn't get on the right one. The French teenager next to me was trying to sort it out--at one point he turned to me with a look of complete fear in his eyes and said "I zon't want zo stay here!". I couldn't blame him. We were then subjected to a completely full, four and a half hour bus ride. When we arrived at Port Authority I hauled my suitcase (which was somehow heavier than when I left) onto the subway and made my way back to Astoria. The next morning Roomie and I had a blowout fight over my hair in the bathtub drain. Welcome back, me!