The Awkward Traveler

Another Sunday at the office. With long hours and high stress one can get a little hungry. Working for a film festival does have its perks, mainly some free popcorn. I went to the microwave and set the time for 3:45. After many years of perfecting microwave popcorn I have found this to be the perfect time. The package always says 2 to 5 minutes, thats such a huge differential, but 3:45 always does the trick.

I set the microwave to my trusty time and walked away, answered some emails and a few minutes later walked out into the hallway. BAM! There was smoke everyone, as I ran to the microwave, smoke was blowing out of the bag like a middle school science fair volcano. My eyes watered with the burnt butter popcorn smokiness. I ran like a kid in trouble to my boss terrified that I was responsible for burning down the DCJCC.

Luckily, the alarm didn’t ring and the sprinklers didn’t go off. Nonetheless, when I show up to work tomorrow I will have to answer for that awful smell…

Metromix has somehow nominated my office as the coolest office in DC. If we win the contest we will get a sweetass holiday party. So do me a favor and go vote!

As unlikely as it may seem, here is how they describe my workplace:

Their office is pretty much as quirky as the hit TV show, “The Office.” Plus, they have a theatre on-site and are encouraged to watch matinee’s during the work day as well as taking take three hour long trips to Costco to buy cases of beer and tons of food for their programs.

This weekend was a blast from the past, just like the Brendan Frasier movie. I made a pilgrimage to my alma mater, the University of Maryland. I took shots of cheap vodka from plastic bottles and chased them with exotic and un-natural juice like mango-peach-berry. I ordered DP Dough. I went to a concert at Cole Field House and got knocked around by grinding freshman.

It felt like I entered an alternate universe, one entirely familiar yet distant. I walked through campus with a sad nostalgia and the constant need to say sentences like “When I went here” and “God I’m old.”

Sometimes I realize I’m 23 and almost 2 years out of college and panic and then I think at least I’m not 30…

A year ago I was just getting used to the idea of kissing strangers: old people, young people, men and women…I’m of course referring to the Latino cheek kiss. But now back in the States I’m finding myself disappointed, every greeting and goodbye is lacking. I miss the awkwardness, sometimes glasses clanking, sometime getting too much mouth and not enough cheek. A simple wave will just not do, so if we happen to be hanging out or even just meet on the street, when we say goodbye lean in for the kiss…you know you want to.

Well what do you know… One week after I buy my website, someone buys theawkwardtraveler.com and starts a new blog and already has a Facebook fan page. I guess they say “imitation is the finest form of flattery” but come on!

This will not stand! There is only room for one Awkward Traveler and it is obviously me. Maybe we should start a petition, call the authorities, notify the blogosphere?

You know you’ve got a good friend when he drunk dials you from Thailand just to shoot the shit.

When my friend Laila first told me about the Drag Race in DC I thought “Oh sweet, a drag race, its going to be like 2 Fast 2 Furious. Tons of kick-ass cars zoomin through the streets of the district.” But then I realized it was in Dupont Circle and that the race would be run by drag queens…in high heels.

Courtesy of danielyuliharris

Apparently this is an annual tradition and it was quite the spectacle. I imagine that this is the closest thing DC has to Mardi Gras or Carnival. A huge crowd gathered on 17th street to see these mammoth drag queens race. I think they were all at least 7 feet tall. Granted they were all wearing heels, but still, huge.

When the starting whistle blew, it was a whir of wigs, stuffed bras, and pure divatude. Some participants took it seriously and sprinted as hard as they could, while others treated the race as a runway and waved as they sauntered down the course.

All in all I’d say it was a pretty successful Tuesday evening.

Living at home as a 23 year old man-boy is a strange phenomenon.  I’m stuck in a state of Arrested Development and in this case there is no stair car, no George Michael, no Tobias. In order to cure my traveler blues, I’ve re-committed myself to THE AWKWARD TRAVELER. And believe me, buying awkwardtraveler.com was quite the commitment. I can’t even commit to what I’m going to eat for breakfast so this is a big deal.

I hope you’ll come back soon for hilarious hyjinks, crazy quotes, and audacious anecdotes.

PS. Check out my newly minted “Rules of the Road” on the tab above