I know I have started multiple posts with this line, but none of it was true until now. Even in the blistering Mississippi summers I never knew heat till now. Because if I was that hot in Mississippi there was a.c. or a pool or a sprinkler, anything that could cool me off. But up here, if I want to escape the miserable steam that envelops me when I open the door to my room and causes me to immediately strip down to a tank top and shorts, my escape comes in the form of an air-conditioned second floor lounge with a pillow, a blanket, and 100 other dorm kids throwing a huge "You can't stop the heat" slumber party. Not gonna lie- as awful as it may sound, it was kind of fun, very reminiscent of First Pres. lock ins from back in the day.
So last night was fabulous! (pre-slumber party and sleeping on the floor) Since S was sooo kind as to get me a ticket for Shakespeare in the park minus having to wait in the uber long line, I had a good amount of time to kill after I got off work and before the performance at 8. So what do I do, you may ask? Take myself to dinner. And before you start sympathizing with me or just thinking I'm a total nerd, please know that I wanted to do this. I was not stood up in anyway as the poor waiters thought that I probably had been. I had a pink (rare color for me, I know) skirt and a new top on, had tickets to see Al Pacino and Jesse L. Martin in "The Merchant of Venice" and was very glad to get off of work since I stayed late to finish a project. So I splurged and took myself to the boathouse where the salmon was delicious and they used real silverware and real china and all the busboys and waiters kept stopping by my table to chat, since they thought I was lonely, but all I could think about was how nice and warm and full I felt. I love eating at the boathouse, they have this massive wall of windows leading out to the porch on the water and you can see all the couples in the little rowboats and the tourists taking photos on the steps leading down to the lake. All around me were a strange mix of people, families on vacation, friends on a night out, couples having anniversary dinners. Sitting by myself at the little table I could eavesdrop on the different conversations and languages and accents and I wondered at their stories and what they were saying. After excusing myself from dessert I decided to treat myself to one more thing I've always wanted to do, I road in one of those little buggies that the men bike throughout the park. Directing my driver (that sounds so odd) to the Delacorte Theater, I arrived in style and on time for one of the best performances I've ever seen. And after the play and a quick hello to S, I headed back home to the heat and humidity of the dorm, refreshed from my night out.
And now, regardless of whatever the thermometer may say outside, I am freezing in this igloo of an office trying to warm myself up with a hot chocolate from Starbucks and getting ready to go to the intern lunch with the editors of Rolling Stone's website.
-Mandy
P.S. Props to whoever in this office is whistling Bing Crosby's "I'll Be Seeing You." Loving the choice of song!
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