Quote of the Day

         My dad is a pretty great guy. He's a jack of all trades. He's our plumber, electrician, tailor, mechanic, but most importantly, a great dad. He also has a tendency towards the random. I blame it on Discover Channel and Animal Planet. 

       One day he and I are sitting in the waiting room at the optometrist’s when all of a sudden he says, “Do you know where Komodo dragons live?” 

I reply, “Some island in the Pacific?” 

He then proceeds to talk about Komodo dragons for the next twenty minutes. That is my dad for you. 

Miracle on I-75

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” 
  ― Albert Einstein
I graduated from undergrad on a Saturday. By 4pm the next day, I was all packed up and ready to go. I had packed my fridge, microwave, all my clothes, and whatever else I had in my room into my car and started the drive. As luck would have it, it was raining hard. As I got onto the interstate, I noticed a long line of cars. An accident, I thought. The roads narrowed down to two lanes and the rain fell harder. It got to the point that the car in front of me was spraying me with water. As I was passing over a bridge, ten exits away from school, my car hydroplaned.
I lost control. The car swerved to the right and hit the guardrail. The chances of my car flipping over the bridge were probable. I also knew that if it were to go over the bridge, I would not survive. All I could think was, please don’t go over the bridge, please don’t go over. Luckily, that did not happen. My car somehow swerved back to the left, flipped over twice, and landed upside down with its wheels in the air. Throughout the whole experience, I had this strangely strong assurance of my survival: He won’t let me die. Needless to say, I was in shock, still trying to process what had happened. Breathe, I kept telling myself. Two of the side windows were blown out. The windshield was cracked and broken. My neck was killing me. I did not notice my arm at the time. As soon as I was sure the car had stopped moving, I unbuckled my seatbelt and started to crawl out the window. 
As I crawled out the window, I stopped and looked down, finally noticing the pain in my arm. My arm was covered in blood, my blood. On the gravel besides the car was a mixture of blood and water, as if a painter had used a brush to slash over the gravel. I started crying then, while in my head I thought, why am I crying? Then: Crap! There goes my shirt. This was one of my good shirts!
By this point, people had gotten out of their cars and come over to help. They tried to tell me not to move, but any person in their right mind would want to get out of the wreck. So instead of sitting still, I crawled the rest of the way out of the car. When I got out, I was shoeless, phoneless, and without my wallet. It was all in that car, along with the rest of my life. I was visibly shaking, arm covered in blood. As I turned around and looked at the wreck that once was my car, I thought and I kid you not, Dad’s going to kill me. Then: I should have listened to my parents and left yesterday. And finally: I hope my laptop is ok. I guess you learn your main priorities when something like that happens. 
         Someone stopped and called 911. Another person ran back to their car and grabbed a towel. I cleaned off the blood and let them wrap it around the wounds. I did not want to look too closely. Finally, when I was sure I could speak without faltering, I asked, “Is there any blood coming from my neck?” The pain in my neck was terrible. I was worried that something had pierced one of the main arteries located on that side. One of the men who had stopped told me, “No, it just looks like a really bad seatbelt burn.” I could not have been happier, hearing those words. Another good Samaritan came over and said, “The paramedics are on their way. Is there anyone you need to call?” 
“Yes, actually I do. My mom but my phone is still in the car. It must have slipped out in the crash,” I replied. He handed me his phone and I called my mom. She was at work when I called her.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Mom. I got into a car crash. I’m ok though but the car is wrecked. Can you call dad and tell him? My phone is still in the car and I’m calling on someone else’s phone.”
           For a minute there I actually thought she was mad, until I realized I must have caught her in the middle of work. She took it a lot better than I thought she would. Then again, when you’re a nurse, not too many things faze you. I got off the phone and stood there, trying not to cry again. Needless to say, it was a fail. I stood there in silence with tears streaming down my face, still shaking. When the cops and the firemen arrived on the scene, I finally had the tears under control. I told the cop the story. The very first thing he said was, “You are VERY lucky to be alive and walk away with just those cuts.” 
“I just graduated yesterday. Some graduation present, huh?”
         In the face of disaster/bad news/epic bad luck, my sense of humor tends to pop up. They all smiled a little at that. Since my license was still in the car, I had to list out all the necessary information. When they got to my age (at the time I was 21 still), they asked, “Wait, you graduated college at 21?”
“Yes . . .” I was a bit confused. I guess graduating college at 21 is not normal in the south. 
          Conversation calmed me down; joking around stopped me from crying or thinking about what had happened. As we were waiting for the paramedics, I noticed that one of the firemen sitting next to me on the guardrail was really cute. As soon as I had that thought, I mentally slapped myself. Of course, I would notice something like that in the middle of all this. Honestly though, any thought was better than thinking about the crash. 
When the paramedics arrived, they went through all the basic stuff before having me walk to the ambulance. Inside they strapped me down to the board just to be on the safe side. Better safe than sorry. I made small talk with the paramedics, while we waited for them to get my wallet and phone from the car. Apparently, I was their third crash of the day. 
“Don’t worry, on days like this the number of crashes gets worse. So you graduated yesterday?”
“Yup, some graduation present right?”
“So wait, you graduated at 21. How’s that possible?”
“My birthday is in August?”
“Congrats either way. So what exactly happened?” 
As I told them about the crash, they looked shocked. One of them asked, “So what model was your car? I can’t tell from the damage.”
“A Toyota Yaris.”
“Jeez! No wonder the cop said you were lucky to be alive. You had stuff in there?”
“My whole life actually. I was driving back home with all my stuff.”
“Those things turn into projectiles in a car crash. You’re lucky that you’re not paralyzed right now. When we got the call, we were expecting more than one car crash.”
“What do you mean?”
“You must have been far away enough that the cars behind you had time to put on the breaks. Otherwise, you might not be talking right now.”
          I knew I was lucky when my car didn’t flip over the bridge, but now I had two more reasons to say, “I’m lucky to be alive.” Probability had been against me and yet, I was ok for the most part. The phrase, “Walked away without a scratch” came into mind, because that was more or less what happened to me. There is a name for all this. Some people call it highly improbably events. I call them miracles.

Quote of the Day

So my mom is a simple Indian mother who happens to be a RN.
One day as I was watching TV, she comes in and asks, "What is Real Housewives?"
I ask, "Which one? Atl, New Jersey, etc . . ."
"Oh, I don't know. I saw it on TV one day. Is it real?"
"You mean, do people really live like that? Yeah."
"So it's real? Wow . . ."

She was sincerely amazed by that idea that people throw money around like that.

The Original Law Student continued . . .

As we were standing there talking, many things were going on. While he and I talked, one of his friends went to the men's bathroom. Upon opening the door, he saw a group of drunk girls standing around there. Of course, he told them to get out. Unfortunately, one of those girls went to her equally drunk boyfriend, saying that this guy had been yelling at her. The drunk boyfriend then started harassing my guy's friend.
     White Shirt Red Tie and I were oblivious, until his friends told us to go outside. Things had escalated to the point that the bartender had told them to leave before a fight occurred. We were walking towards the parking lot, when the drunk boyfriend followed us out and started talking trash. My memory is a little fuzzy after this, but I think the drunk boyfriend exchanged blows with some of the guys or something like that. Somehow or another my guy ended up getting the drunk boyfriend in a chokehold. Guess the kickboxing does come in handy. When the cops arrived, he and his friends tried explaining the situation: "We're just a bunch of law students who want to get home. We don't want any trouble." The bar owner, also friends with them, also collaborated on their story with the cops. J, one of the law students, got her car and drove over to pick us up.  Since the seats were filled, White Shirt Red Tie and I had to get in the trunk. He turned to me and said, "This normally does not happen."
"If figured as much. Don't worry about it."
It was cute that he was trying to apologize for something that was not his fault to begin with. Sometimes, it's the little things that charm you and keep with you, long after the story has ended. After she dropped us off to his car, he drove me home, apologizing on the way back. The next morning I woke up just in time to give him a wake up call.
"Hey . . . I figured I'd give you a wake up call, since you ended up staying up past your bedtime."
"Thank you. You didn't have to."
"It's the least I could do."
I forgot how that conversation ended; luckily it was short.
         Later that week, a picture of the two of  us popped up on my facebook from the night out. I really did not want to show my friends his picture. He looked terrible in pictures and I'm not talking about looks. Not only did he look a lot older standing next to me, he looked like a complete douchebag. Since I had already told them about him, it was only fair I showed them what he looked like. All their initial responses were, "He looks like a player."
Fast forward a few days, a picture of the two of us showed up on facebook. This guy looks terrible in pictures as opposed to in person. Not only did he look a lot older standing next to me, he also looked like a complete douchebag, which was why i was reluctant to show my friends his picture. I had told the entire crazy story and they all wanted a look at him. Things may have turned out differently, if I had not shown them the picture but who knows? Everyone's initial comment was, "He looks like a player."
         Later on that week or was it two weeks later? I went out on a Wednesday nigh with friends. That night was also an interesting story but another time. My friends' comments were still in my head when the following occurred. After going out, I came home and called him. Yes, I was slightly inebriated.
"Hello?"
"Are you a player?"
“Ok . . . well if I were a player, why would I be spending Wednesday night studying in the library?”
         Let's just say that the conversation died down a bit after that. I felt incredibly stupid the next morning, though I did realize that his argument had nothing to do with being a player. That Saturday we had the annual intercollegiate Indian dance competition at my college. Afterwards, there usually is an after-party at one of the nearby clubs downtown. Coincidentally, it was at DI that year. 
          I had called him the day before telling him about it. After the performances I went back to my dorm to get ready for the night. I ended up wearing the blue dress that I first saw him in. Since we are more or less in a collegetown in the south, everything closes at 2am, but that night the party went on until 4am. I went downtown with two friends. When we got there, it was less crowded than i expected. After jumping around a bit, I went down and sat near a friend in the VIP area. Apparently, as long as you were female you could get in for free. The friend, A, also seemed a bit bored. Can't blame her though. The music was not exactly the best for dancing. Then two girls started making out in front of us. I kid you not. AWKWARD. I got up and left. 
         I went out through one of the side doors, down a ramp, and found myself in the outdoor part of the club. They normally never open that part, so it was a first being there. Light were strung up. Couches/bed looking things were lined up along the sides. The shrubs/long skinny trees/whatever you call them were decorated in lights. There was another bar out there too. The music there was better too. It was really nice, perfect for an outdoor party. Too bad it was nearly empty.
         Another friend of mine, P, was standing outside definitely drunk. She introduced me to her brother, a DJ, and her cousins/friends. One of her cousins and I kind of hit it off. He was also dead drunk. We talked for a bit before I asked him to dance. "Don't be trying to wear me out. I'm a little out of it right now. Actually, you might not want to talk to me at all right now," he replied. It was more or less the two of us dancing on the outdoor dance floor. Then, I went back inside and went back to the VIP area, where A told me a guy had come looking for me. I had just asked her what he looked like, when she said, "Oh, there he is over there." She pointed down and I saw my guy walking by. I called down to him and he came over. He gave me his Miami greeting and said, "Hey! You're wearing the blue dress." For those of you who were left wondering, my friend from Miami had confirmed the kiss on a cheek to be a Miami cultural thing.  
           We stood there talking on the stairs, until the bouncer kicked him out. Of course, I followed him. His friends were over by one of the sidebars. It was a different group of friends this time but I did recognize J from last time. We took shots and did hookah. He's a big fan of it. We also took a ton of pictures that night, including some of us together. Part of me was waiting for him to ask me to dance, but another friend of his beat him to it. Naturally, I said yes. If you haven't figured it out yet, back then I almost never said no to a dance. I went to clubs just so I COULD dance. Blame it on the Indian dance lessons. Any way, later that night I found the courage to go and ask White Shirt Red Tie to dance. I lead him out onto the dance floor. You know that stereotype about Latin people being great dancers? Completely true in his case. We went back to his friends, when I suggested we go outside. 
          Remember how the outdoor part of the club was nearly empty when I had been there? As we walked through the side door, I saw a sea of brown people on the floor. There may have been a few non-Indians here and there but brown was the major color. As we went down the ramp, he said dryly, "We are not going to stick out at all. I think we're actually the only white people here." I laughed and tried to tell him it was ok. 
          I dragged him onto the dance floor the first chance I got and we danced the night away. NO matter how hot you got from dancing, the night air cooled you down. At one point, he started whispering Spanish into my ear. What girl doesn't love the idea of a beautiful foreign language being whispered into her ear? To this day, I wish I had known what he had said.

         The night was beautiful. I was dancing under the stars in the arms of a man who was interested in me. The pretty Spanish helped too. While we were dancing with my back to him, an Indian guy came up, doing bhangra(Yeah! Woohoo!). I did a little bhangra back. It was harmless fun and I knew the Indian guy meant nothing by it. It seemed that it drew a possessive streak out of my guy, because the next thing I know, I’m facing him again. I laughed it off. I could see where he was coming from. A few hours later (maybe?), he dragged me off the dance floor, while I gave him a hard time.

         “I can’t believe you’re already worn out!”
         “Hey! I went to the gym today. My legs are killing me.”
         “I went to the gym too, but you don’t see me complaining.”
         It went on like that for a little bit, while we were sitting on one of those lounge couch/bed things. I went back to the dance floor and joined in with a group of Indian girls. We created the Indian circle. Everyone was incredibly nice, and the crowd was friendly in general. No Rangoli has since compared to that one, and no Rangoli after-party crowd has ever been as great, but then again, maybe it was just that night. Eventually around 4am the club started closing down and people began to leave. I went back to him and his friends. 
“Hey, I’m going to go check up on a friend of mine.”
“Sure.”
I went over to P and she was crying. 
“What’s wrong?”
She missed her ex. 
“Are you ok?”
“No, I’m fine. I promise.”
Luckily, her brother and her cousin were both there. I did not need to tell them to get her home safe. I did take a picture with her brother and her. It was not until the next day that I realized I had taken the picture with her brother thinking it was the cousin. Guess I had been a little more intoxicated than I had realized. 
I went back to my guy, who asked, “Is your friend ok?
“Yeah, she’s fine. She just misses her ex. Her brother’s going to take her home. Hey, do you mind dropping me off home tonight? I can’t seem to find the friends I came here with.”
“Yeah, no problem. Do you mind if we go to Waffle House first? They want to get some food.”
“Sure.”
He and another friend were DD that night. Another one of his friends and I got into his car. When we reached WaHo, we split into two groups, since one table wouldn’t have been big enough for all of us. Our table consisted of me on one side facing him and his friend. He said, “You should get something to eat.”
“I’m fine! I’m not at all hungry.”
When the waitress came, he ordered any way. 
“I’m not going to eat it. I’m not hungry at all. Promise!”
We kept arguing like that. It never occurred to me at the time that the food was meant to absorb the alcohol in my system. Then, I said, “I can’t believe I wore you out in two hours. You’re such an old man!” 
A strange look crossed his face. “What?” I asked.
“You might want to tone your voice down.”
“Why?” I asked confused.
“The guy over there by the counter turned and looked at you, when you said that.”
My obliviousness left me unaware of how many ways my earlier statement could have been interpreted. Still confused, I shrugged my shoulders. I excused myself and went to the bathroom. While looking in the mirror, I realized my dress had gone dangerously low. The halter tie had probably loosened over the course of the night. Luckily, I had on a jacket. I redid the knot, pulling my neckline higher. When I came back, there was a chocolate cake waiting for me. I pushed it away and said, “I’m really not hungry.”
While we kept arguing, he cut a piece and basically fed me a few bites. Yes, he actually force fed me chocolate cake. Any other girl probably would have been thrilled. We finished our food and left Waho, he turned to me and asked, “I need to drop my friend off first. Is that ok with you?”
I nodded. I certainly was not ready to leave his company. After we dropped off his friend, we headed back to my place to drop me off. On the ride back, he said with a cocky undertone, “You might want to be careful. Girls tend to fall for me.”
I laughed and said, “Well, I should say the same to you. Plus, I’m not most girls.”

I laughed and said, “Well, I should say the same to you. Plus, I’m not most girls.”
Finally, we arrived in front of my dorm. I looked at the building looming before me with trepidation. I did not want to go inside. I knew what would be waiting for me: the sight of my roommate with boyfriend in her bed. I had been sexiled from my room for most of that semester. To prolong that moment, I turned to him and said, “I’m really not that tired. Do you want to hang out somewhere?”
“Sure. We can always go back to my place and watch a movie.”
“Sure. Let me go pick up some clothes to change back into.” Anything was better than staying in my room. I went inside and quickly got my Punjabi pants and a tee shirt. As I expected, my roommate was in there with her guy. I hurried out of there and back to the car, where he was waiting for me. As we were driving, he kept glancing at me. Finally, I asked, “What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“If I keep staring at you long enough, your face starts to look fourteen.”
  “And you sound like a pedophile right now.”
We both laughed. 
When we got to his place, he gave a little tour of the place and we settled in on his couch. We ended up watching 21. Well, he watched it, while I fell asleep with my head resting against his shoulder half way through the movie. In my defense, it was a comfy couch and snuggled up against him, who wouldn’t have fallen asleep? When you’re a girl who’s 5ft. 7, there’s not too many guys who’re the perfect height. At around six in the morning, he woke me up and asked, “Do you want me to drop you off home?”
“It’s 6 a.m. I feel bad for making you drive me home now.”
“It’s no trouble really. It’s your choice.”
“How about I spend the night here and you can drop me off, whenever you wake up? I’ll take the couch.”
“You’re not sleeping on my couch. You take the bed and I’ll take the couch.”
I felt worse than I already did for inconveniencing him so. He walked me to his room where I fell asleep on his incredibly comfy, awesomely big bed. When he came to check up on me, he laugh, “You’re sleeping the wrong way.” In my defense, it was dark and it all looked the same. Feeling bad, I said, “Why don’t you sleep here instead of the couch? You can sleep on that side and I’ll sleep on this side. The bed’s big enough for the both of us.”
So he crawled into bed. The sleeping on separate sides only lasted for a little bit. Before long, we were sleeping right next to each other and cuddling. It was the perfect end to a perfect night. And no, he did not try anything. 
The next morning we woke up around the same time. I groaned. Face palm moment.
“Just so you know this is not happening again.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t sleep in another person’s bed, especially not with a guy. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“I figured as much.”
“So when you were speaking Spanish last night, what were you saying?”
“It’s better that you don’t know. I would have made you blush.”
That was when I accidentally let it slip that I had never kissed a guy. He did not believe me at first. He kept repeating, “Wow” over a few times. Then it was twenty questions:
“Why not?”
“Never met anyone that I cared about.”
“So you’ve never wanted to kiss a guy?”
“Sometimes I wish just get it over with . . .”
That was when he mentioned, “Remember when you were dancing facing me and I turned you back around?” 
“What about it?”
“I turned you around so I wouldn’t kiss you. All I wanted to do was kiss you last night. If I hadn’t turned you around, I probably would have.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t, because I probably would have slapped you.”
After more cuddling and talking, I finally got up and got ready. As I was putting my contacts on, he came up behind me, hugged me, and kissed my neck. It really was the perfect end to a perfect weekend.
     I'm not going to tell you how the story ended. I'd rather let you imagine the end. It is called a reverse Cinderella story for a reason. Even if it didn't work out, it makes for one hell of a true story.

Side note: Remember the motherly friend that I checked in with before I went on the date? She and I became really good friends. The irony, however, is the fact that she ended up working at the Japanese place that he took me to on our first date. Some would call it fate. I call it my life.

Quote of the Day

So my Dad comes home one day from his walk at 9pm.
Mom turns to me and says, ""Everyday he goes on his walk. Why couldn't he have just skipped one day? Just one day."
Dad: "Do you want me to die of a heart attack?"
Mom: "Well, if you die, then I can remarry."
Dad: "Then I'll just come back as a ghost and haunt you."
And then they both start laughing . . .
I guess this is what happens when you've been married 25 years.