Doin' Time

This morning as I walked out the door for work, I grabbed the wrong keys.

To explain: When I go running, I carry a subset of my keys--solely the ones I need to get into my apartment. They are on a separate key ring and detach from my full key set. Anyhow, this morning I grabbed the full key set sans the keys to my apartment. As I walked out the door, I locked it behind me. As I took the two steps to the steel gate that keeps troublemakers from kicking down my door, I pulled the keys out of my pocket and realized that I wouldn't be able to unlock the gate.

So there I was--in a five by five vestibule/cell--surrounded by mosquitoes. Fortunately, I was able to get a hold of my ex-landlord's ex-boyfriend and--within ten minutes--he was able to come and bail me out before the mosquitoes were able to do too much damage.
I was 15 minutes late for work, but my boss didn't mind. He found the story hilarious.

A Special Message from the Department of Office Redundancy Department

At my office, we are only allowed to use the old, stained, chipped coffee cups. The new, white, nice ones are for guests only. Apparently some of my coworkers have been using the guest cups for their morning cups of joe--prompting this mildly funny sign to be posted in the kitchen.

Dexter: Leaping Legend

Last summer at the Panathinaiko Stadium in Athens, Greece, my brother, Dexter, executed one of the most brilliant freestyle walking moves I have ever seen. Unfortunately, I was watching through my camera's viewfinder, so I didn't get to take in the full glory of the breathtaking jump. The upside is that I captured it forever.

A couple of fun things to note in this photo:

• The unbelievable air Dexter is able to get.
• The dramatic posture that he takes (arms up, knees bent, head turned).
• The look of sheer disbelief on the face of the girl who's watching the jump unfold before her.
• The Sellier family in the background preparing to board a minibus.

Consider this: Freestyle walking is not an Olympic sport... yet. But if it was, I believe Dexter would be the man to beat.

Dropped Calls

This past Friday, I was catching up with Sten—my west coast brother from the very same mother—on the phone. After about seven minutes of conversation, the call was dropped. Now, I’m not going to point fingers as to whose fault it was (AT&T or T-Mobile), but the bottom-line is someone’s network failed (T-Mobile’s). I sat there and waited for him to call me back. Nothing. After a few minutes I called him back and he immediately answered saying, “You know, someone really needs to come up with a convention as to whose responsibility it is to make the reconnection after a call is dropped.” And you know what? He’s right.

We began brainstorming.

Should it be the person who is responsible for the call being dropped? No. There may be some confusion as to whose fault it was.
Should it be the person who made the initial call? No. Again, there may be some confusion.
Should it be the oldest person? No. This may not be known.
So what did we decide?

It shall be he whose first name comes first in alphabetical order who is responsible for forging a new connection.

In our case, for example, it would have been Sten (since his name comes alphabetically before “Tobias”).

I encourage everyone who reads this message to embrace this protocol and disseminate it amongst your respective social circles. No longer will you struggle to reconnect with the people from whom you’ve been cut off. No longer will you try and call someone back while they are simultaneously trying to call you—casting both of you into an endless cycle of immediate voicemail greetings (not unlike when you’re trying to get into a locked car and you’re pulling the handle at the same time that the person in the car is hitting the power unlock switch).

Natalie and I Are Engaged!

That's right.

On Saturday night, I asked the lovely Natalie May Beesley to marry me.

After a lovely dinner at Dr. Granville Moore's, we took a cab to the National Mall for a walk amongst the monuments. Walking along the Reflecting Pool en route to the Lincoln Memorial (with a great view of the Washington Monument and the Capitol right behind us), I stopped (when there were no people around), said some special things, and presented her with a ring. She enthusiastically accepted. We then took a cab to the Old Ebbitt Grill where we celebrated with some champagne.

She is now officially my fiancé, which sounds weird to say/write. For the time being, we are affectionately referring to each other as "Beyoncé." It doesn't make any sense, but it comes very easily off the tongue.

We are very, very happy and excited.

New Product Review: Function's "Urban Detox" Beverage -or- Some Things I've Put into My System in Approximately the Last 20 Hours

After rifling (with Natalie) through two Bacardi® and Diet Coke® cocktails and a magnum of Little Penguin® Australian Shiraz (which went nicely with some Tostitos® Organic Yellow Corn Tortilla Chips [and Harris Teeter® Naturals Organic Salsa], a Red Baron® Pizzeria Style™ Thin Crust supreme pizza, and some Lindt® Extra Dark chocolate) last night, I awoke this morning with a modest cheap-wine hangover. A glass of water made me nauseous, a bowl of Kellogg's® Bite Size Frosted Cinnamon Streusel Mini-Wheats® made me less nauseous, and a Sorrento Stringsters® Part Skim Mozzarella String Cheese stick made me ask myself, “Did you seriously just eat string cheese at 8:15 a.m.?”

After getting to my desk and drinking a cup of Eight O’Clock® Coffee, a coworker asked me if I “needed anything from downstairs” (the small deli in our office building). Of course I needed something!

As I perused the cold beverage section, my eyes stopped on a funny little bottle of orangish drink. The brand? "Function." The flavor? "Urban Detox." The label reads: “Help fight hangovers and rid your lungs and sinuses of airborne pollutants using the ‘smog-scrubbing’ anti-oxidant N-acetyl cysteine (NAC) and natural anti-inflammatory prickly pear extract.”

“Now, I’m no scientist,” I thought, “But this certainly sounds like the perfect formula for me this morning! In addition to being a bit hungover, I am also struggling with seasonal allergies. ” So I shelled out $2.52 for the 16.9 fl. oz bottle.

I don’t think it did anything, but—again—I’m not a scientist, so I don’t really know how long N-acetyl cysteine takes to kick in. My best guess? An hour and a half or so.

For lunch, I enjoyed a gourmet burrito bowl at my neighborhood Chipotle Mexican Grill and immediately hedged this bet by taking two Pepto-Bismol® bismuth subsalicylate caplets.

I’m almost out of the woods. And by “out of the woods,” I—of course—mean “to happy hour.”

Costa Rican Vacation

My lovely girlfriend Natalie and I recently returned from a fantastic five-day vacation in Costa Rica. We spent the first two days and nights at the amazing Rafiki Safari Lodge nestled along the Savegre River, and the last three days and nights at Arenas del Mar—a resort hotel on the beach near Manuel Antonio National Park.
Here we present (in no particular order) the top ten best and six worst moments from our trip.
Ten Best

1. Drinking beers at a commune-bar in the sleepy town of Il Silencio. This is very closely related to one of the worst/scariest moments of the trip. We stuck out like the non-palm oil plantation workers that we were… are.
2. Eating a typical breakfast of rice and beans like every morning. Rice and beans (and hot sauce) for breakfast: Who knew!? The Ticas. That’s who.
3. Riding horses to Giovanni’s (Rafiki’s chef) mom’s house in Santo Domingo where she had a very nice lunch set out for us. My horse (whose name was—ironically—“The Tank”) almost broke on the way home. I think he stepped on a jagged rock or something.




4. Seeing monkeys from the golf cart path when we decided to not be lazy and walk down (rather than take a golf cart) to the beach from our hotel. There was a mama with babies on her back… and possibly a monkey fight. We were unable to get quality pictures.
   


5. Swimming in the ocean and enjoying the beach in Manuel Antonio.
   


6. Joining the “Ten Percent Club” at Rafiki. Legend has it that if you go down Rafiki’s 100-foot concrete water slide in the nude, you go 10% faster. I’m not sure if it’s true, but it was certainly fast. It was exhilarating, but I paid the price (more on that later).
7. Seeing a sloth in a distant tree while eating at Agua Azul—the simplest and best restaurant in Manuel Antonio. We later went there for dinner. They had the best chicken fingers I’ve ever had in my life, and I’ve eaten a lot of chicken fingers. I love chicken fingers.



8. This is actually several moments: Juan Carlos—our driver and whitewater rafting guide—was über-excited to showcase the flora and fauna of his country. It was completely normal for him to pull the van off of the road to grab at a leaf (or a berry, or a twig, or a flower) for us to smell. He would earnestly try to explain to us the plant’s use (medicinal or other). During our final ride with Juan Carlos, I strapped on my earphones to listen to tunes and enjoy the scenery. When he would pull the van over, I became kind of annoyed in spite of myself. As I pulled off my earphones, I felt like saying, “What, Juan Carlos!? What is it now!? What does this berry do!?” But I didn’t. I listened and nodded. Natalie was better at feigning interest than I (or she was legitimately interested and I’m just a Philistine who enjoys listening to the Strokes while driving on Costa Rica’s back roads). In all honesty, I commented several times on the trip at how refreshing it is to see tour guides who really care about what they are showing off. They were all so proud.
9. The warm welcome we received at Rafiki. We were starving, slightly traumatized, and generally mixed up upon arrival. I had the pork loin, Natalie the calamari.
   


10. Sitting on our balcony after arriving at Arenas del Mar: enjoying a typical afternoon rain shower and drinking blended mojitoish drinks that we spiked with Bacardi that we brought with us in tiny plastic bottles. Later, we went to dinner and then bought six diet Cokes (to mix with the bottle of Bacardi Reserve [we bought while shopping at the Sky Mall on US Airways]), baked Goldfish© crackers (original flavor), and mixed nuts. The electricity went out in the supermarket for a brief moment before we left.

Six Worst

1. Almost getting washed off of the road and into the Savegre River before our vacation even really began. Just a few kilometers from Rafiki, we encountered a road that was overrun by rapidly flowing water. Our driver—Juan Carlos—almost went for it. He got halfway and then turned back to us and said, “We cannot make it.” So we headed back to the last town—Il Silencio—and kicked it for a bit. Later, Juan Carlos used an alternative route and Constance—the owner of Rafiki—met us along the way and picked us up in a 4x4 truck. The road up to Rafiki was BAD—narrow and flanked on both sides by cliffs that plunged down hundreds of feet. Our relief was short-lived when we began to question; first, Constance’s driving skills and—eventually—his sobriety. Long story short, we made it.
2. The guilt we felt after practicing unsustainable tourism and pretty much ruining Manuel Antonio’s ecosystem by feeding an Iguana four baked Goldfish© crackers (original flavor) from our balcony. On the bright side, he really seemed to enjoy them and was back the next day at roughly the same time. He may still be there… waiting for his free meal. We hope he’s learned to fend for himself again.
   
   


3. Not seeing any animals after paying $10 (each) to walk around Manuel Antonio National Park. We did see a lot of Halloween Crabs, but that’s about it.
   



4. Getting an accidental enema after joining the “Ten Percent Club” at Rafiki. Since I went down the slide naked and at night, I was unable to clench during impact. This resulted in water shooting up into my deuce. This was very uncomfortable. I’m still trying to figure out what club membership entitles me to.
5. Feeling like we weren’t going to get home after our passports (and my iPhone) became permanently locked in our hotel room’s safe. Fortunately, the hotel had a contingency plan: to break out a huge drill bit and annihilate the safe. It wasn’t our fault… seriously. We remembered (and remember) the code. It was 2905. I couldn’t shake the feeling that they harbored resentment toward us for forgetting the code. But we didn’t! The thing just broke! Seriously…
   
6. Smelling the breath on the guy sitting next to me on the final flight we had to take to get home (from Charlotte to Washington DC). It was so bad that when he ate his mini pretzels, I was relieved that it began to smell like poop covered in pretzels.

Over all, it was an amazing experience.