The Single Rider

Autumn, 1977

There’s a parade coming down the main drag that connects the hamlet where I live to the village by the bay. Down here in the village, the main drag has long since dwindled to one lane in each direction. This morning, it’s brisk with traffic, each vehicle racing to avoid getting caught behind the barricade that’s going up at any moment.

We need to be on the other side. My practiced eye looks briefly in either direction, assessing the traffic for relative distance and speed. This is going to be cake. Taking off at a sprint, I easily cover the two lanes well before the oncoming traffic arrives. I look around. I see my two friends still huddled where I’d left them on the curb at the other side, faces drawn taught with thinly-disguised anxiety. Finally, they feel it’s safe, and they hurry across.

“OMG, I thought you’d be killed!” one of them exclaims.

“What?” comes my bewildered response. “There was plenty of time. Don’t you people know how to cross a street?”

I’d grown up in the city, where you take your crossing opportunities as they come, even on wide boulevards of four and six lanes of heavy, New York driver traffic. If you aren’t bold, then you’re destined to stand a good, long time waiting to cross at that uncontrolled intersection. Waiting, wating… who has time for that?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It’s a few years later, and I am on my way to see a friend perform in concert with his quartet. I am traveling from Long Island with the only other person I’m aware of who also has a ticket, but I don’t know him terribly well. He’s funny and nice company for the mass transit journey into the city. His eyes are fringed with those impossibly long guy-lashes that make every woman sigh and wonder, “Why can’t *I* have lashes like that?”

(A few years into the future, I would focus on those lashes while standing under the chupah, having random thoughts about anything and everything, just to keep myself from thinking about the reason we were standing there…)

He pulls the cord overhead to signal the driver. We de-bus near Lincoln Center and prepare to cross Broadway. My practiced eye looks briefly in either direction… my muscles are tensing in preparation for the sprint. Although we are not physically touching, I feel him hesitate beside me, drawn taught… Before he has a chance to balk, I grab his hand and give it an encouraging tug. We have ignition, we have liftoff, running hand in hand until we reach the opposite curb. His hand immediately releases mine, but for a while after, I can still feel the shape and the weight of it in mine. How odd…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This had happened to me only one other time, the very first time I’d ever held hands with a boy. He was funny and his eyes were an impossible shade of blue; not even a color found in nature, I don’t think, and certainly not one I’d ever seen before or since. The first time our hands touched (accidentally-on-purpose), I’d gone directly for the interlaced fingers position, but he was having none of that and quickly shifted us instead to the palm-to-palm position. I was satisfied, pleased that he hadn’t rejected the idea of hand-holding altogether, but at random times for days after, I would suddenly experience the pleasantly terrifying sensation of his fingers filling the spaces between mine.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I wanted to be pleasantly terrified. I wanted to be gifted with the experience of someone filling in all the places where I am blank. I’m not sure how, but somewhere along the way “pleasantly” and “terrified” became uncoupled; unchecked, terror fills the blank spaces with something that’s drawn taught, something that drives me to flinch from the sprint, to wait at the corner until the signal changes.

Oh, for my days of the practiced eye, the ability to assess, the exhilarated sprint, fully confident that I would reach the curb unscathed. Oh, for the days!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Now playing – The Fray: Never Say Never

© 2010, The Single Rider. All rights reserved.

Love me some OneRepublic music, but this video is a bit on the disappointing side. I don’t think it accurately reflects what the poet really means by this song.

When I first heard “Secrets”, I immediately thought that Ryan Tedder was responding to criticism that his lyrics are not the usual “oh woe is me, relationships suck, my heart is broken” pop radio fare. The way I perceive a lot of what he writes is that his songs are often a reflection of what’s going on with him and the band on a professional level. I figured that perhaps he may have been criticized for not revealing himself emotionally enough, so this time around he’s “gonna give all my secrets away”.

Only, I don’t think he means it. I’m not sure it sincerely bothers him to the extent that he’d abandon what moves him to write in favor of what the critics want. Counting this one, there are at least 3 songs on the latest album that are about the career, the amazing experience of touring, being vaulted into the next level – or being afraid that they won’t be vaulted into the next level due to poor timing and/or connections.

No, I think “Secrets” is an indication that he acknowledges the criticism but he’s only kidding when he says he’s going to give it away. I think this is a man who knows where the line is. He’s not really moved to write about interpersonal relationships all that often. He’s very into his work, into his career.

It may shock some of you to know that there are people in this world who are NOT focused 24/7 on relationships – finding them, maintaining them, destroying them, ad nauseum. I should know – I’m one of them! I get the impression that Ryan Tedder is similar – many of his songs relate to his experiences as a musician, writer, producer, to his professional experiences, not his personal ones. Does that invalidate his poetry? Nope. I “get” him. There have to be others out there who “get” and appreciate what he writes, too.

It doesn’t have to be all about the emo, all about interpersonal drama, to be interesting. Really, it doesn’t.

© 2010, The Single Rider. All rights reserved.

I was supposed to be in New York celebrating the Winter Solstice with my “coven” (fancy word for my back home tribe “sistas”) and a stewpot full of root vegetables but, alas! The weather had other ideas. Multiple flights have been canceled since my original departure date of Saturday 12/19, due to blizzard conditions and/or airport closure. So here I sit, doing Yule as a solitary. The moon looked fabulous on the rise tonight, like a crescent cradle in the sky, ready to rock I had a moment of panic when it looked like my wishes would not burn but I kept reminding myself that MY wish is the Universe’s command, and simply re-lit the contents of the prayer bowl before the flames went out.

Yes, the Universe will deliver; however, I was reminded today that this does not mean that we sit back and do nothing. The reminder came in the form of Disney’s latest hand-drawn (yay!) animated film, The Princess and the Frog. Tiana wishes upon the evening star, but she also works HARD to achieve her goals, none of which have anything to do, initially, with being a princess, snagging a prince, or kissing frogs. The Universe WILL join in at some point to ensure a sealed deal, but in the meantime, we must continue to strive toward the goal.

My favorite quote: “oooooh, no – there is NO WAY I am kissin’ a frog AND eatin’ a bug on the same day!”

Favorite song: a gospel number called “Dig A Little Deeper”

When you find out who you are
you’ll find out what you need
Blue skies and sunshine – guaranteed!
Open up the window – let in the light, dearie!
Blue skies and sunshine!
Blue skies and sunshine!
Blue skies and sunshine – guaranteed!

Tomorrow, I get to repack my bags for 4 days instead of 8 and jet my way north to the frozen tundra that is Da Loverly Isle of Long. I am wondering why the Universe wanted me on THIS particular flight, instead of the other two that were canceled…???

Posted by Wordmobi

© 2009, The Single Rider. All rights reserved.

Disney dining: Magic Kingdom eateries test seating program — OrlandoSentinel.com.

The article linked above is from the Orlando Sentinal. It was posted at a Disney-related discussion board I frequent, The WDB.   I had an immediate, visceral and negative reaction to the concept of assigned seating at a counter-service establishment.  It took me THREE posts over the course of two days to get to the bottom of how I was really feeling about it, and why. 

That’s actually good, for me.  There were years and years in my life whereby I’d submerged how I really felt so well, nothing came through except for anger.  At least now, I can have it figured out in a matter of a day or two.

Anyway, here’s how it went:

FRIDAY – POST #1

I hate this idea. I really hate it. I really don’t want the CMs controlling EVERY aspect of my Disney experience.

The place [Pecos Bill's]wouldn’t be so crowded if they would open other eateries when the park is crowded, such as the Terrace. I have seen the Terrace locked up like Fort Knox, plenty of seating but no food available, on Memorial Day Weekend. Yes, a holiday weekend, park is packed to capacity, and the Terrace is closed. They would not have such an issue at Pecos Bill’s if they would open enough eateries given the size of the crowds.

This idea gets a resounding thumbs down from me.

FRIDAY – POST #2

Another thing I thought of – Disney is NOT going to provide this service for free. As soon as CM intervention is introduced, the prices of the food will go up to support paying that person’s salary and benefits + making a profit off of providing the service. Counter service is supposed to be the less expensive option. The more labor counter service has to support, the less differentiated from “sit-down” the pricing will be. In effect, the “less expensive option” is slowly being removed.

Yes, I’m cynical. IRL, I work in “big business” and I see this tactic all the time.

Next thing you know, they’re going to regulate the benches to sit on. Pretty soon, you’re not going to be able to park your butt anywhere without waiting in a queue and ponying up more cash! I predict the onset of the $5.00 Mickey Head Ice Cream Sammich!

SATURDAY – POST #3

Oh, I keep thinking of more reasons why I don’t like this!

I often find myself touring the parks and eating alone. I think this is just another way that Disney is going to marginalize me. For instance, singles consistently get put in the back of the boat on POTC. Why? Because that is the smallest seat, the seat that can accommodate the least amount of guests. The front seat is reserved for larger parties.

Now that might make logical sense, but by this logic, I am destined to NEVER have the front seat experience on POTC. I can see doing this if the ride is packed, the queue is long, conditions like that – but they do it ALL the time, whether I’ve spent 2 minutes in the queue or 20.

Is my money not as green as the money of the larger party? Is it not worth as much as that of the larger party? I paid to get in, same as every individual in the larger party, yet I do not get to have the same experience that these individuals do. Instead, I get to have a back-of-the-vehicle experience. The same thing happens on Splash and a few other rides where, because of the design of the vehicle, there’s a smaller row at the back of the car.

This may seem a small thing to many of you, but trust me, it wears on your last nerve when you are constantly being held to the side until all the happy families have boarded ahead of you, only to be placed in the rear of the vehicle. It’s discriminatory, and it’s not right. I have spoken up about it, but the CMs get really uncomfortable. They are only obeying their training. There are very few of them who are willing to buck the system and put a single woman up front for a change.

Now, before anyone starts breaking out the violins to play a few choruses of “My Heart Bleeds For You”  I want to say that I’ve figured out a way to deal with this. While I am in the queue, I look around for a party of three – preferably either teenagers or else a family with an older child. I approach and tell them what I’ve just told you – I know I’m going to get put in the back of the ride, and I’m tired of being there, so will they please adopt me for the duration of the ride? Invariably, the answer is yes, and I get to sit somewhere other than the back. Maybe the front, maybe not, but at least now I’ve got the same chance as anyone else.

So what does this have to do with dining? They are going to make me wait and wait and wait for a table for two. Have you looked around? Have you noticed that there aren’t a lot of tables for two? Mostly they are for four. But if I’m next, and there is a table for four but no table for two, guess who is going to get seated? The family behind me, that’s who. I guarantee this is what is going to happen. And it is not fair or right.

There’s a vast difference between getting “adopted” for a ride and getting adopted for a meal. No one is going to want to share their table with a stranger and I don’t want to, either. I want the freedom to sit down and have my meal and not be marginalized and shunted to the side.

OK, I have ranted long enough.

END OF POSTS

Yes, I’ve really had those experiences – at Disney, of all places! It’s depressing. I’ve actually written about this before. Before I had blogs, I had a static site where I filed my trip reports. You can read my original 2005 rant on this subject by clicking here. And note I had a delayed reaction back then, too.

Mostly, I’m ok being a single rider. And then there’s THIS sort of crap.

© 2009, The Single Rider. All rights reserved.

We ended yesterday’s post with:

My first installment of insight from K is advice designed to enable me to judge a person’s character. I should first observe how a person treats service people like drivers and waiters, even if they are not nice to him. Two, I should observe what the person says about people who are not present. Third, and I need to quote this because he put it so succinctly – “money or time, which is more important? Would you rather have the gift of company, or just a gift?”

Now, the first two things are just common sense things that I already do. I am all about observing behavior to determine what makes someone tick. But number three, this gives a girl pause. With number three, we not only observe, but we measure too. Number three is all about the scientific method, all about believing in that which is observable and measurable.

Women are socialized to value the showering of gifts. We learn this from other women – our mothers, sisters, friends – and we start doing it basically from the moment we start dating. It becomes important to us because it is important to them; that is to say, I don’t think we’re born this way, I think we’re socialized this way. Everyone is judged by the value of the gifts. We judge the man by the gifts he gives us for our birthdays, Valentine’s Day, or “just because”. We judge each other by how good the gifts from men are. Remember the girls in HS who wore ankle bracelets on chains around their necks? Remember how much the other girls envied them? There were also girls who had “his ring” on a chain around their necks (I was one of those briefly, but not in high school). Or the girls who wore the guy’s letter jacket, how about those? Oh, I have another good one, from later in life – the parade of flowers in the office on Valentine’s Day. The women who don’t get any are envious and curse the sight of all those 1-800-FLOWERS vans parked outside the building.

So, the jewelry, the flowers, the branding of her with his letterman jacket – these are all outward signs of his esteem for her, which in turn contributes to her own self-esteem. It also elevates her status among her peers, which is another boost to her self-esteem. Later on it’s engagement rings, cars, houses, vacations… things, always things.

You know what, I think this is a throwback to the times of dowries. A dowry is money, goods/property that a woman’s father would provide so she could establish her marriage household with her new husband. The more “stuff” that was associated with her, the more valuable it was to marry her. See, it wasn’t the woman herself that was valued – it was the stuff. No stuff, no value!

In some cultures, there was even a tradition of the groom settling a monetary gift on the bride the morning after the wedding night. This gift would help to ensure her future should something happen to him, and it was also an indication that she’d proven satisfactory and that he intended to keep her.

A woman’s worth to herself and to others has probably been all tied up in the tangible, the material, basically since the invention of patriarchy. Some man – either her lover or her father – was always either giving or receiving STUFF in connection with her. To this day,we women still seem to be measuring ourselves and each other by the baubles he brings. I want to make it clear that, although I think without a doubt that patriarchy was initially responsible for this, it’s we women today in 2009 that are perpetuating it, foisting it upon ourselves and each other. We need to cut this shit out, and start walking the talk of self-worth.

For many women, having a man – ANY man – is the ultimate proof of their own worth. It’s proof to themselves as well as to the world at large. On a certain level, I get how seductive this is. I’ve been single a long time, and I know that there have been situations whereby my lack of a man – ANY man – has made me seem “less than” in the eyes of those around me. It’s worth so much to some women, they have actually expressed sympathy for my “plight”. Some of those times, I’ve wished fleetingly that I had a man – ANY man – to make me seem “more than” in their eyes, to wipe that smug, pseudo-sympathetic look off their faces. I get over this feeling pretty quickly. It gets replaced with the desire to kick their asses for making me feel that way – even fleetingly.

Well, it IS lonely sometimes. But you know, lonliness is not THEIR reason for not wanting to be manless. Many women, some of the very ones who have pitied me – these women are sometimes the ones that see a man as a means to an end, not as the end itself. They want the THINGS, the candy and flowers and jewelry, so they can feel like they are worth something, and they believe this is the ONLY way they can feel like they are worth something. Stuff, things – these are tangible proof of his esteem for her, and therefore of her worth.

I make a good living and I can buy STUFF for myself. Those who have known me for a while know that this is true – I deny myself basically nothing. Veni, Vidi, Visa I don’t need a man to give me things. His gifts will, of course, make me feel good, but my self-worth comes from different places. It comes from accomplishments. It comes from going back to school and getting another degree while in my 40s, and from having a successful career on Wall Street. It grew from all those operas I memorized and performed in foreign languages, and all the applause and praise that resulted. My self-esteem comes from knowing that my friends and family think the world of me, and from knowing when I’ve done the right thing.

Now mind you, I would not turn down the gifts; I would appreciate him a lot for gifting me with them, but really, that’s not what I would need him for. ‘Way back then, when I was a teenager, and even into my thirties – yes, I wanted the ankle bracelet and the esteem that went with it. But now? Yeah, it’s the gift of company. Here and now, in 2009, that’s what I want. And it can’t be just ANY man, either – but I think this is long enough, and that’s a post for another day.

© 2009, The Single Rider. All rights reserved.

One of the delights of Facebook has been reconnecting with K. He was my friend back in high school, friend enough that I referred to him as “my big bro”, even though I already had quite enough brothers, thank you. K and I have been having a daily, continuous conversation for several weeks, entirely via Facebook messaging. It’s been fun getting to know him as an adult and having the occasional quasi-deep, philosophical discussion.

K says he’s going to ’splain to me where I’ve gone wrong in my relationships, why I have chosen wrong. Seems he thinks getting it right is not as complicated as I think it is. He must be doing something right – he’s been married for roughly 20 years.

By way of background, I hereby inform you all that a)K is married to someone my ex-husband dated before becoming involved with me, and b)in high school, K was THAT boy’s best friend. It was K who said to me one day at the lunch table, just at the beginning of our senior year, “Hey, THAT boy has gone away to college and he’s lonely. Why don’t you write to him?”. To be honest, I didn’t exactly recall at the time what THAT boy looked like, but I liked to write, so I began dispatching letters in the direction of the Midwest as soon as K suggested it. To this day, I wonder if THAT boy had a secret crush on me and arranged for K to put us in touch… I just knew them both as boys who sat together at the end of The Table (where all the music and theater geeks lunched) and studied a lot.

K entered the military upon graduation from high school, and I wrote to him too, pretty much faithfully for at least the first two years he was “lost in Germany”, maybe even longer. I would have to check The Box to be sure, but I don’t want to just now.

In business and many other types of situations, I’m intuitive and usually dead on about people. It’s useful being able to discern what will motivate someone, especially in a management situation. But if I’m very attracted to the man, and I want him to be attracted to me too, all bets are off. Radar instantly jams, and I find myself 2nd guessing a lot. Happens every time! Now, there’s a certain thrill to being all twitterpated all the time, but it does tend to cloud my judgment. By virtue of this, I’m quite willing to hear what K’s got to say on the subject.

My first installment of insight from K is advice designed to enable me to judge a person’s character. I should first observe how a person treats service people like drivers and waiters, even if they are not nice to him. Two, I should observe what the person says about people who are not present. Third, and I need to quote this because he put it so succinctly – “money or time, which is more important? Would you rather have the gift of company, or just a gift?”

to be continued…

© 2009, The Single Rider. All rights reserved.

There is someone who friended me on Facebook who is unfortunately associated with a period in my life that was characterized by emotional upheaval and bad decisions that amounted to bad behavior on my part. I have huge regrets about the choices I made back then, which resulted in pain for someone I loved, who loved me. Casual reconnection with this person on Facebook has also served to reconnect me with those emotions. I would have much preferred to keep them in the past.

I’m aware that this would have happened as the result of a high school reunion too, but there’s a major difference. This stuff was MEANT to fade, and if it surges to the forefront again briefly as a result of a class reunion, well that’s a finite event that has a beginning and an end. The end facilitates the fading of these feelings into obscurity once more.

Facebook, however, has become a 24/7/365 reminder that I’m not his forever best girl, that there will be no “some day” for me – he’s been having “some day” with someone else for lo these many years. And regardless of whose doing that was – or perhaps because it was my own damned fault – it still hurts. It hurts as much as it did one night in the summer of 1979 when I realized, too late, what I’d done and what it had cost us both.

Since I’m otherwise enjoying Facebook as a fun and efficient way to keep up with my posse, I am loathe to abandon it simply because this one thing about it sucks. An unfriending might cause drama, which I’d rather not do. Barring those two options, I don’t think there’s anything I can do, any action I can take, to alleviate the situation, to push back the flood of emotions and stuff them back into the dark recesses of memory from whence they came.

Maybe this is one of those things that I just have to let suck until it doesn’t suck any more.

—————-
Listening to: Little Texas – What Might Have Been
via FoxyTunes

© 2009, The Single Rider. All rights reserved.

“Daisy Jane” by America
I believe it used to remind someone of me.

Flying me back to Memphis
Gotta find my Daisy Jane
Well, the summer’s gone
and I hope she’s feeling the same.

Well, I left her just to roam the city
thinking it would ease the pain
I’m a crazy man, and I’m playing my crazy game
game

Does she really love me?
I think she does
Like the stars above me
I know because
When the sky is bright
Everything’s alright

Flying me back to Memphis
Honey, keep the oven warm
All the clouds are clearing
And I think we’re over the storm

Well, I’ve been picking it up around me
Daisy, I think I’m sane
And I’m awful glad
And I guess you’re really to blame
blame

Do you REALLY LOVE me?
I hope you do
like the sars above me
how I love you
When it’s cold at night
everything’s alright

Does she really love me?
I think she does
Like the stars above me
I know because
when the sky is bright
everything’s alright.

© 2009, The Single Rider. All rights reserved.