Rachel Goes West

Call me Fievel 'cause I went west.

If you don't get that reference, you're too young for this blog. Go to bed.

For the last week of July I headed to Denver to spend some time with my friend Chelsea. AKA-it was her "shift" because summer break is rough for extraverts like me and my NC support team was tapping out. 

Chelsea is a travel nurse and let me tell you, everyone should invest in a friend who is a travel nurse. I first tried to snatch Chelsea up freshman year of college when we lived in the same dorm. A friend of a friend was suitemates with Chelsea and the rest is...a 3 year gap because Chelsea didn't accept my friendship until senior year. Eventually she became my friend the same way all of my other college friends did, dance marathon forced her to (except my Bible study friends & Sarah from J-School, love y'all). 

Chelsea has worked stints in a lot of major American cities and when they are in states that never need a negative sign to report the temperature, I like to visit. In September Emily & I headed to Tampa to kayak with Chelsea and after my east coast version of Wild earlier this summer, I decided to fly out to Colorado.

I also decided to not tell my mother. Missy worries too much.

I knew it would be a fateful journey when NO ONE ELSE was seated in my row of the plane. That's when I knew I was God's favorite. I paid extra for an aisle seat because I am not accustomed to flights longer than 2 hours and also aisle seats are objectively the best do not @ me. 

Things took a turn for the worse when I somehow managed to switch terminals while exiting the airport, but it all worked out. I want to recap some of the highlights of the trip. I won't cover everything and I won't include more pics because I have COVID and honestly I am exhausted. It's been a long day of checking my oxygen levels and messing up sudokus. 

I suppose the first thing of note was when I got kicked out of a store in downtown Denver. When I travel I like to support the local economy, and by that I mean buy a ton of souvenirs that I don't need. I found a good mix of magnets and tchotchkes (passing over all the "mile high" jokes) at a shop downtown and went to check out while Chels waited outside. I had a running tally in my head and figured I would be coming in hot at just under $30. The cashier punched in all my prices one by one and told me my total was $36 (and something because Toto, we aren't in Delaware anymore). I did my quick math, glancing over the postcards for scrapbooking, keychain, and okay, 1 pot leaf pencil for my brother as a joke. No way did this equal $36. 

I told the man that something wasn't right, this shouldn't be $36. (I had only been in the state for 3 hours! I couldn't be wasting $36 on magnets that will sooner or later end up under the fridge.) I was expecting him to look over the receipt, do his own quick math, IDK, something normal. Instead. This man YELLED AT ME. It was a quiet yell, but still. "You don't want to pay? Get out! I've been doing this 50 years!" I wanted to point out that a lot of people have long-term pursuits they are not good at. Look at most senators. Practice doesn't always make perfect bud. But instead I left, mouth slightly agape.

When I came out empty-handed Chelsea was shocked and I had to explain what had happened. For the remainder of the night every few minutes I had to say "what a jerk, right?" (and other, less PG variations of that) just to remind everyone that I had been wronged. We went to literally the next store and got the same stuff for less money. I wanted to circle back to store 1 (I wanna say the name was I Heart Denver but the sign said something else...will have to get the FBI on this) and have a Pretty Woman moment, but my medium size reusable bag didn't really have the cinematic effect I was going for.

Chelsea suggested we scooter back to her place and all of a sudden it was the 90s again but with richer parents. We rented electric scooters and I followed her for about 2 minutes before gaining the confidence to forge my own path. That is, I took a wrong turn when I should have gone straight. And I found myself playing a game of chicken with what I presume to be a homeless man. A game of chicken that I instantly knew he would win. 

You see, this man had failed to hang onto the majority of his teeth and his pants were clearly going to be the next to jump ship. I was focused on not scooting into him AND him keeping his pants on because it was apparent he had no underwear. In the brief moment that our parallel paths reached their closest proximity, this man SWIPED AT ME. I don't know what his end game was, but I jumped off the scooter once I was out of the intersection. In retrospect, dismounting the scooter only made me slower and caused me to re-injure my favorite Crocs. I scanned the streets for Chelsea and soon saw that the pants were officially down. The man's, not Chelsea's. Luckily I could only see his butt from my side of the road, but as he continued on his way, yelling something, he also took a swipe at Chelsea! Only this time he managed to touch her! To try to knock her off the scooter. And we may never know why. But as Chelsea said later, there aren't enough showers in all the world.

Now the next point of interest came Tuesday when I wanted to visit Wyoming AND Nebraska because why not? No one else does, they were probably lonely. Honestly, had the census been a headcount on July 27th, we would have gotten them more congressional representation just by being in state lines.

Wyoming was pretty chill, we went to a bison ranch and then had bison burger! That's not a typo, Chelsea's a vegetarian. After that we toured the huge boot statues in downtown Cheyenne and got invited to Frontier Days by everyone we saw. 

Now in Nebraska, what I wanted was to visit Panorama Point. This is the highest point in Nebraska. You can look down on Colorado, Wyoming and Nebraska literally and not just judgmentally. I had read on the internet that this place was hard to find and after 3 miles on a dirt road with nothing in sight but crops and windmills, it wasn't looking good. We weren't so much concerned that we wouldn't be able to find it as we were that it was all a hoax orchestrated by some small town cult to lure in unsuspecting tourists and use them as human scarecrows. As if I needed to leave North Carolina to find myself in some Children of the Corn shit. (sorry mom) (also I suppose it bears explaining that the second film was shot in NC)

But we eventually DID find it and it was, in a word, underwhelming. Okay one more picture. There's a notebook at the lookout for visitors to sign and as we were leaving our mark on Nebraska, we found a touching note.

After my near-death experiences out west, I pray that we all go home and tell our Edens that we love them. 

(and also that that mean man's business fails, amen)

The Hadzic Hazard

This week I want to take some time to provide a brief explanation of the 2020 Tokyo Olympics sports.

There are 9 basic divisions of Olympic sports: gymnastics, cycling, basketball, canoe/kayak, baseball/softball, swimming, volleyball, wrestling & equestrian. Though now that I am typing this I am realizing that diving wasn't mentioned in the source I used (Wikipedia..y'all gotta start giving $5!). But - what's done is done. Would diving go under swimming? Or maybe even climbing, those things are high! That's a lot of ladder.

The next infographic is, I swear, no shade no tea. These are just the other sports, some that I find very cool and others that I tend to ignore if any other Olympic event is airing. And as you will see, I think it wouldn't hurt the IOC to create a new category of martial arts. Karate, taekwondo & judo are martial arts, no?

Now that we're on the same page about the Olympics, let's get on the same page about sexual assault.

Alen Hadzic made the U.S. fencing team for the 2020 Olympics as an alternate. Two of his fellow Olympic fencers sent letters saying Hadzic should not represent the United States due to not 1, not 2, but 3 open sexual misconduct cases against him.

Luckily, he was suspended from international competition during these investigations. However Hadzic fought the suspension and was allowed to travel to Tokyo! But don't worry. Everyone is safe because he wasn't allowed on the same plane, in the same hotel, or at the same practices as the female fencers. Women the world over breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing says "you better learn your lesson buddy" quite like free air travel and hotel accommodations, a slew of USA-themed swag, and a place on the world's stage. All for an ALTERNATE. A freaking alternate.

And for my readers (likely male readers) who are thinking wait just a minute, we can't assume these accusations are true. Let me just say that rumors of sexual misconduct have plagued Hazdic since his undergrad days of 2010. This certainly does not seem like a case of he said, she said or it's all a misunderstanding. The 3 other members of the men's épée team wore pink face masks to protest Hadzic's presence. When Hadzic pushed back against his restrictions in Tokyo, every member of the U.S. fencing team signed a letter demanding the Hadzic-specific protocols stay in place.

Keep in mind that the organization in charge of what I am referring to as "the Hadzic hazard"TM, is SafeSport. An internal organization. The U.S. Anti-Doping Agency is also an internal organization. An internal organization that banned sprinter Sha'Carri Richardson from Tokyo due to a positive drug test. Not steroids or whatever "allergy pills" the Russian Olympic Committee claims are harmless, but marijuana.

Now. I am very anti-marijuana. Even more so after a recent trip to Denver. Sha'Carri knew the rules, broke the rules & she has said as much. In my opinion she has handled this situation gracefully and accepted responsibility for not complying with a rule that as far as I can tell, is arbitrary. I am a paranoid rule-follower myself, but this is stupid, right?

So is this the line our country draws? We won't allow smoking pot from a record-breaking runner but we're fine with sexual misconduct from an alternate fencer? It's almost like one of them is rich and male and white.

To Have & To Hold Hostage

Picture it. June...something? It's a Monday morning and my usual series of alarms started going off at 6:15 AM. I quickly glanced at my notifications on my way to the snooze button and skimmed something about an ambulance sent by my roommate. From there I respectfully declined every 5 minutes until I literally had to wake up. Clearly I am great in a crisis. Now, in my defense, ambulances are really par for the course in the crappy apartment complex we live in. Speaking of - we used to live on a golf course that was not much better.

At 6:40 I really need to get out of bed and out the door. Naturally I grab my phone and make sure I didn't miss any breaking news like Dunkaroos bringing back the chocolate grahams like we all wanted or Taylor Swift dropping 5 more albums. So after checking Snapchat, Instagram & Buzzfeed, I made my way to the text messages.

I have GOT to work on being more literate in the morning. I looked out my own window and was pleased to see the standoff was ongoing. I'm a terrible person, I know. Luckily Emily is also a bad person and when I got to her room she had her window propped open slightly so we could hear.

From our 3rd floor window we listened as the cops and firefighters handled the situation on the 1st floor. From years of Criminal Minds and Law & Order: SVU I really feel like we could have helped but you know what they say, don't be a hero. 

I did let my boss know that I would be late or non-existent at work that day.

Just Apex things.

I made a note on my phone so I could remember all the details in case my investigative journalism skills were needed. According to expert witness Emily Burke who wishes to remain anonymous, a woman ran outside yelling for help around 5:30 AM. By 6:15 cops had arrived along with firefighters carrying axes. 

Nothing makes me feel safer than a 45 minute response time in the freaking suburbs. I guess DIY is for craft projects AND crisis response.

The unsub - well I guess we do know who he is - the sub is explaining what happened to the cops, the cops are saying they just want to investigate (get in line buddies). The woman is standing by the police car. I wish I could recall more but taking pictures would have been in incredibly poor taste.

So here they are. Faces covered to protect the innocent (& guilty).

Pictured for credibility: Emily's blanket. Y'all are just gonna have to take my word for that. 

After some back and forth, the guy sprints out and we hear a policeman call for backup and say the suspect ran around back. This is the Apex version of invading Russia in the winter because all we have back there is a tiny pond that is a concerning shade of teal.

The woman gets her baby, in this picture you can see Mako's ear in the corner because he was also a concerned citizen.

The police quickly return to the front of the building with this guy handcuffed, elbows bloodied. He was wearing plaid board shorts so...guilty.

As the police put him in the back of the police car this man is literally saying they should uncuff him because he's not going anywhere. Sir. 

He also says that he has been nothing but cooperative. Disagree.

Of course Detective Emily was able to locate his arrest report later that day. Assault on a female and resisting a public officer. Also he's younger than us which I feel conflicted about. Like he's out here making news. We will save that for my therapist.

Now I know what you're thinking...how can she be blogging about this when Big Time Rush got back together? And also, what did the apartment management do during all of this?

Not to worry, we received a very thorough email that afternoon.

It was about dos & don'ts for the apartment decks. Now in this man's defense, it DOESN'T say that instigating a hostage situation is a patio don't. I'll give him that.

The moral of the story is that everyone lived and that couple is now back together and still living below us so...more to come? Also I am wondering if bail was his Father's Day present.

Teaching Toddlers Part 2: Noah's Ark

If the Shoe Fits...

A long, long time ago way back in the 20 aughts, there was a girl. She dreamed of making the middle school basketball team, a team that would go on to have a, like 2(?) win season.

Now after making the team, she was super excited for all the perks of being a student athlete. Middle school was hell so every little bit helped. There would be team photos for the yearbook, gossip sessions on the way to games, some sort of branded merch to help them feel like a team (it ended up being dope windsuits). First on the list was team shoes. Very important. They would break them in during practice together, wear them to all their games, and potentially sign them at the end of the season to auction off to one lucky bidder who wanted a keepsake from the 2005-2006 season (that never happened). 

At practice the girls all agreed on a pair of shoes, the Nike something or others. They were black in the front, white in the back, and that is literally all I remember. And judging by the plot of this story, all I really knew back then as well. It's true...I am the girl from the story. A power forward with two left feet and nothing to lose!

My dad picked me up from practice and had Patrick with him. I am never sure how to refer to Patrick. I usually just tell people that we're related by marriage or that I'm his AA sponsor, but sometimes I want to convey that he is the older of my younger brothers. Saying oldest brother I guess is closest? Maybe I should start referring to him as Patrick from the year of our Lord and Savior, 1997.

Anyways. I tell Dad we gotta get those shoes and we head to the premier sneaker shop of the area, Siler City Shoe Show. It was likely closing very soon and as a teenage girl playing basketball and wearing a size 8 (or anywhere from a 7-10 for the right price), I would have dozen to choose to from. That's not a typo. There were maybe 12. 

So we comb the shelf (also not a typo) and my dad finds some options based on the very specific and technical description I have given him: black and white Nikes. But I insist that these are not right. Those can't be the shoes. Do I remember clearly how they looked? No. But do I have a friend I can call to ask? Also no. 

You see, most of my friends had cell phones at this point but in my parents' determination to exacerbate the torture that is middle school, they deprived me of a cell phone, access to makeup, a hair straightener, and pop music. While everyone else was begging their mom for the new Backstreet Boys CD, I was wondering why they never played Amy Grant at the school dances. When asked if I liked the Black Eyed Peas I looked at my classmates like they were insane. "No ew! My grandma loves them though."

After quite a few minutes spent talking to the salesperson and confirming his theory, my father insisted that these had to be the shoes. I was still unsure. "IDK Dad" - scratch that, I didn't have a phone yet so I probably said "I don't know" like a freakin' caveman. "I just don't think these are the shoes that I saw earlier. What if these aren't the right ones and then I never get to play?" My dad, bless his heart, pretended that this was of true concern. Surely the wrong shoes would be the shackle keeping me on the bench and not my inability to pick and roll, less than mediocre free throw percentage or refusal to practice alone at home.

To my surprise, my dad seemed to believe me. He said we could go. My dad, my AA sponsee and I walked out of the store. That's not the opening to a joke, it's what actually happened. When we got in the car my dad said that we were going to Dick's. A sporting goods store with a wider selection that also happened to be 45 minutes away. On a school night. 

My parents are not spontaneous people. My dad wasn't suddenly taken with the notion of a Tuesday jaunt to the suburbs in search of sneakers, he was proving a point. I briefly considered reporting myself as kidnapped, but with what phone? And I realized that ultimately my mother would likely kill him upon our return. I thought she was mad when my dad randomly took me to Walmart after a softball practice and suggested I get my ears pierced. Now whether she was mad because this should have been a mother/daughter thing or mad because I was 8 and they inevitably grew in sometime between softball tournaments and basketball practices - I can't say. But how much more mad would she be that he took us all the way to Apex on a school night?! I could be attending a funeral, I could be having 2 Christmases. Either way, I wanted to see how this would shake out.

Ever the diplomat, I tried to deescalate the situation. "Dad we really don't have to go get them tonight, it's okay. Maybe this weekend?" And instead of saying something akin to "it's fine sweetie, I've been wanting to get more NC State polos anyway," he said that since I didn't believe him we would go to Dick's Sporting Goods and see.

I don't really remember but I think I cried. I was legit scared. He didn't seem mad per say, just over me in general. A sentiment I've grown very apt at detecting in others. And he wasn't wrong. I was (and am) a lot. He needed to prove to me that the Shoe Show shoes were the correct ones, and the way to do that was to take me to see more shoes. Or maybe he was going for sleep deprivation torture? Who's to say?

We all rode practically in silence, just straight down the highway, for nearly an hour. Patrick would have been in 3rd grade, probably wondering if he would ever see his Pokemon cards again. We finally got to the store and viewed their entire selection of shoes. Girl, boy, Nike, Adidas, hiking, golf, basketball, waterproof, glow in the dark, light up, clearance, sale. And after all of that - sweeping us off to the suburbs under the cover of the night, leaving my mother at home alone with a 2 year old Colby (he's easy - youngest brother), not once stopping for gas or food, going off of only rage and exasperation - he was right. In Dick's we found the exact same shoes that were the only thing close to what I was envisioning. 

I don't know what the moral of this story is I just know that I am glad North Carolina's safe surrender laws only extend to the first 7 days and not the first 7 grades.

Thanks dad, that one's on me.

Summer Jobs?

 

Teaching Toddlers Part 1: South American Geography

In a return to the blogosphere that I'm positive has been widely anticipated, I filmed myself attempting to teach Nathan some geography.

Your regularly scheduled blogging will resume shortly (I hope) now that I am done with grad school. I would like to thank Wikipedia and Dr. Pepper for their contributions.