WebJournal - The blog will set you free

WebJournal - The blog will set you free
News of no interest whatsoever except to very close and patient friends and family members and maybe people with no life

Thursday, September 18, 2003

FInally airborne. Got my iBook running and my iPod playing some lively tunes to get my mind off frigging Isabel. Actually the take-off was extremely smooth, not a bump, not a jolt. Now I can look forward to some God-awful plane movies and some worse food, though it will probably taste delicious compared to the fare at the UN's cafeteria. I can't believe I forgot to order a vegetarian meal! Lets hope there's something else besides beef.
The real problem with this aircraft is that is smells like urine. Real bad.
The check-in went smoothly too. No line and no hassle. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to check Raul's huge suitcase Raul but the flight is not full so they did not give me grief.
I am now in travel mood, happy to be gone and happier yet that I will be coming back.
I actually feel like jumping up and down, jogging or even better dancing - all things I can hardly do on a plane. I wonder if they would ever consider installing a treadmill on a plane. It would be a major hit.

Yesterday, Wednesday, after I finished a rather difficult text - well, difficult to me, which is not exactly the same and I am not even happy with what I came up with - I met Monse and Gemma at Chevy's on 8th Ave. and 42nd Street for margaritas and some Mexican snacks. Pilar joined after she was done, at 10 o'clock or so. Second stop was this pretty terrace around 48th St. .Nicolas came over when it was almost closing but he had time to down a margarita.
My way back home had a little drama to it. I was dying to go to the bathroom, rushing home. I get there, dive headfirst into the elevator and of course, as these things tend to go, I could not just press my floor number and adopt a pretzel position in the elevator. For one thing, the damn thing has a camera and its images are there to see to not only the doormen but just anybody who walks into the building or feels like hanging out in the hall. Then matters got worse and the elevator stopped at the mezzanine to let in some guy doing late night laundry. I couldn't even say hi to him for fear of losing my concentration. Maybe I should start wearing adult diapers so I don't have to go through life sprinting from one restroom to the other.

Tuesday night I waited for Pilar at the office while getting all the 411 on Princess Stephanie's latest wedding (I bought Vanity Fair to read on the plane and I am half-way through an article written before she got pregnant by the latest circus guy and had to hastenly get married again). Eventually we left and had dinner at Nino Positano. Nicolas joined us later for a drink .

Now, I know this is not a particularly endearing trait of mine, but I hope they all stay home and not even talk on the phone while I am gone, so I am sure not to miss anything.
I remember once reading of somebody who thought the world did not exist when he closed his eyes. I am not that bad, I KNOW the world keeps on going ... I just wish it didn't.

I am listening to Nelly now and I really feel like getting up and boogeing.
I'll have to make do with bobbing my head like one of those dogs that people stick on their cars.
I hope JP takes me to his health club tomorrow so I can work up a sweat.
The smell of pee is being replaced by the smell of food.
If am definitely flying to Argentina: on the screen now a Roberto Giordano's runway show. The tackiest thing ever. What is it with these people and their obsession with models or, as they put it, "goddesses"?

I could not take Nelly sitting down anymore and had to switch to Annie Lennox. Beatiful, beautiful song.

OK, had dinner now. And wine.
Was thinking about my dream job. When I was a little girl I wanted to be a dancer in a chorus. I never wanted to be a ballerina. I wanted to be a chorus girl in one of those team dance groups that were always performing on Italian TV. Lorella Cuccarini. Heather Parisi. Not even them, I wanted to be one of the girls in the background. A Rockette would not be bad either. I love the symmetry of group dancing, the energy, the high.
Now I think I would have loved to be a cheerleader. That would really be my dream job. Not in a competitive cheerleading team, but more like one of the Lakers' cheerleaders.
Bizarre indeed because I ended up having an "intellectual" career, but I can't think of a better rush than dancing wildly at a game. I would not mind rehearsals, the little experience I have with them, I like them. And the adrenaline of performing live is just unparalleled.
I never think about age. Age is not really a factor in my life. I do what I want to do, I live the way I want to live, without any consideration to the chronological factor. Still, now and then at moments like these, on long flights (hitting turbulence, by the way) I can't help but realize I am too old for some things. I will never be a Lakers' girl. Granted, I could start a senior cheerleading team and I just might, but it will not be the same.
Still, I am not sure it bothers me, it's just a fact of life, among a gazillion others.

Time to go back to Vanity Fair.

7:42 PM

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