The Week In Review, VII. "Pattern Behavior…"

The Week In Review, VII. "Pattern Behavior…"
Thursday, November 16, 2006

Let's call it Threeve Weeks in Review this time around. Being happy for too many days in a row caused me to temporarily lose my sense of wit, thus nothing to write. The change in mood since leaving McPrison is almost frightening, but in spite of not hating the new job (not at all) I've reunited with my inner-morbid-pessimist-self and will attempt to give this thing a whirl. Traveling back and forth from New York to Florida and interacting with other travelers, my parents, fellow marathon runners, friends, roommates, etc… in recent weeks made me think about pattern behavior we all practice. For example, why do we recycle empty wine bottles, but throw away a glass that crashed and burned on the hard wood floor after you passed out on top of your bed with a vodka drink in your hand?

Speaking of crashing and burning, my first situation centers around travel patterns. I've noticed when you're either waiting to board or sitting on an airplane, people feel the need to trade war stories. Honestly, unless you're a hot, relatively young and available male who lives on the island of Manhattan, I don't care where you came from, where you're going, or what you're doing there. This is why I often fly during obscenely early hours when the majority of people traveling are on some kind of business trip or just too tired to speak. Still, every once in a while, when I have scanned the waiting area for the seemingly most busy person to wait with, I will plant myself next to the embodiment of Joan Rivers meets Milton from Office Space meets a "that guy" who won't stop calling after 10 unanswered voicemails. They can be on the phone, sending emails from a Blackberry, and scanning the unfolded Times in their lap, but the minute I sit down, it all disappears and I get their life story – a big part of which is usually some sort of timeline of every occasion they've ever had to set foot on an airplane, and how the flight panned out.

I don't care how bad the turbulence was the last time you flew to Chicago in the early 80's. Maybe, instead of making my ears bleed, you should think about walking to the newsstand, buying Vogue, and reading it cover to cover because you clearly haven't updated your wardrobe since Reagan's first term as president.

Furthermore, I am a complete control freak and I hate flying. Each time I fly, it's the worst experience of my life, hands down. People always ask you when you get off a plane, "how was the flight?" Well, considering that I overdosed on Xanex, Ativan, and three bottles worth of mini-bar wine then added some Tylenol PM for good measure, and STILL had a minor stroke that took at least another year off my life, IT WAS THE WORST EXPERIENCE OF MY LIFE. What I really hate are the people who judge you as you're purchasing alcohol on board before noon (or, at 7:30a.m.). It takes a great deal of restraint not to look at them and say, "Listen, lady, I'm glad that you're OK with the physics of a 76 TON airplane at 36,000 feet, and the fact that someone will eventually figure out how to explode it with 3oz of hair gel, but I'm not. I need this right now, so stop staring. You don't know me. You never have to see me again. Pretend I died. We're probably going to anyhow."

Coming back to New York on the most recent worst experience of my life, the pilot makes the comment, "bla bla bla winds, winds, the landing is going to be a little breezy today." Jackass. Breezy is having dinner on the water in Sag Harbor in July and needing a sweater because the cool air chills your sunburned skin. Involuntary head-banging because the ginormous 737 is about to fall out of the sky, and has to go north of Connecticut to turn around and come back in to land with the wind because otherwise it WONT MAKE IT – that to me cannot be equated to "breezy" so much as "oh holy shit we're all going to die." Mandy experienced what I just described on her way back to NY the same day I got the "breezy" comment. Honestly, the next thing I want to hear after a comment like that is some sort of last call. And not for people who want another sip of Diet Sprite over a gigantic ice cube in an oversized shot glass. This is for people like me, who need to immediately buy out the rest of United's on-board bar. I want to be good and sauced when my body hits the ground and liquefies.

Pattern behavior kicked up a notch or two, in the company of others, is a cult in disguise. I observed a lot of this beginning at approximately 6:30am on marathon Sunday, when I hopped on a bus full of overzealous Southern runners. Eradicated and terrified of the athletic feat ahead, clad in a dri-fit shirt that bore VENN in black paint and glitter, I followed Meg to the back of the bus.

We got an announcement from the cult leader to drink the kool aid and start going to the bathroom as we make our way to the start in Staten Island. So, like good lemmings, the people started to go. When the line was a little built up, they felt the need to start talking to us about all the marathons they'd run before and oh yeah, also their status of how many times they've crapped this morning and how it worked out for them in the little bus bathroom. I felt like I was back in the sorostitute house after dinner, except it was old men and not a certain very good friend of mine giving me updates…a lot to handle before 7:00am, in the company of mostly strangers. Still, you start thinking to yourself, well, these people are older than me, have run multiple 'thons and are alive. They must know what they're talking about, and I will now follow everything they do in a valiant attempt to not crash, burn and collapse somewhere around mile 20 in the Bronx.

It worked. 4 hours and 28 minutes later I found myself grinning like an idiot with a finisher's medal around my neck, wrapped in a mylar blanket, talking to strangers about the race, how much I loved it, and how many times we all crapped on the way to Staten Island. Patten behavior can't be all that bad.

Or can it? Certain pattern behavior can be downright annoying. Such as…

1. Drunk dialing. I realize it can be wildly funny to get an incoherent message from friends who absolutely needed to tell you how much they love and miss you after their 7th tequila shot, but it helps when you've already passed out yourself, and don't hear the phone ring. It is in no way cute or amusing to get these on the rare nights you're trying to sleep…like the night before the merrython. Getting startled awake at 3:00am and 4:00am was rather obnoxious, and probably messed up crapping patterns on the way to Staten Island. Because, yes, it all goes back to that.

2. Moms. They are serial offenders of annoying pattern behavior. My mom sends me scores of newspaper articles she's cut out of the Florida Times Union. They usually showcase people I know who are doing better in life than me by getting 47 higher degrees with honors, creating world peace and getting married. Her latest round of clips involved two things. The first was a picture of Cynthia Nixon from The Week, wearing a dress I bought this summer. Now, the article was talking about her coming out of the closet. Did Lynn actually read this? No clue. I have absolutely nothing against alternative lifestyles. Nothing at all, seriously, but this dress is fabulous (Diane's artichoke for those of you wondering), and what I spent on it replaced groceries for a few weeks. I don't want to equate it to Cynthia's coming out every time I put it on in next summer. I just don't. The second article was written by some Times Union staff writer who genuinely sucks at life. It was all about how FL/GA should be called the largest outdoor frat party, and basically belittled everything that goes on during that delightful weekend…saying it's not a real cocktail party b/c no one is in black dresses and white gloves, bla bla bla. There were really so many faults with what she said, but the point is that it pissed me off. And mom sends stuff like this all the time. Great way to communicate when you live 1000 + miles apart. Try this mom: ask me what's going on in my life for once in 25 years… (I'm sure this issue will resurface in therapy at some point in my life)

3. Certain kinds of lying patterns can be annoying too. Clearly there's a fine line with me saying this, b/c I tend to fib quite a bit. But, what I have in mind is something like trying to disguise bragging as complaining. That shit doesn't work with me. I'm manipulative and self-serving. I see right through it.

One final pattern I don't want to leave out, that doesn't fit into any one category, is one I'm sure we've all experienced. Some of us to more severe degrees than others, no doubt. What I'm talking about is the pattern of: getting drunk, getting beer goggles and hooking up. We've all been there. Insert story from last Tuesday night (if you know it, good for you, if not then really, just let your imagination run wild). And on that note, I'm out.

DONT BE FOOLED BY THE PEARLS

Venn.