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.

Quote of the Day

One night my friend and I were on AIM back in the day and he compares clubbing to Lion King. I couldn't stop laughing, so I saved the conversation for a rainy day. Please don't take offense to the following material . . .

"I feel like going to the club is like the modern day version of courting your mate. You go on your first excursion and you get nothing! The lioness in fact bites you and you're wounded. You lick your wounds and then you go.
Lets prey on something slower: today's fat girl. This heals the wounds within. You practice with more fat girls. Then, black girls!
Then finally when you become a Journeyman, you hunt the rarest tiniest women of them all . . . THE ASIAN! Who finds your curry smell offensive, your skin too dark, your chest too harry, but you trick her with your mating calls and your mating dance. And then you earn the right of being a MASTER MARKSMAN! It's all in there . . . in the LION KING!"

Quote of the Day

My best friend has a truly unique outlook on life. He might not be the most book smart guy out there, but he's brutally honest and has a way of making you put things into perspective. His analogies and quotes always make my day.




"Yeaah  . . . you look way way better in person, the difference between night and day. But that's a good thing man. A guy sees a picture of you and he's like, 'Dang! You don't look like your picture at all!! AND I LIKE IT!' "


"Dude! if you were a boy, I'd make you my groomsman! And you'd be in charge of the strippers!"

"Man, I wish you were a guy. Then all this would be kosher." 
In reference to our friendship . . .

The Original Law Student: Part I

"Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you

If you're young at heart." 

                                                                                     - Frank Sinatra, Young at Heart

One word of warning before I begin my story. I will most undoubtedly frustrate you with my obliviousness, shock you with my naivety, and make you smh. For better or for worse the following is a true story.  

At the undergrad I went to, there is a University Center (UC) that holds a gym and a food court. It is more or less a typical gym: one area with treadmills, ellipticals, etc; all the weight machines on another; a track in the middle. There is also a bench where you can leave your stuff. We are on the honor system. You never had to worry about your stuff being stolen. 

My first semester of college I would go to the gym almost every day. Let’s just say the difference between me in the gym and me at a party is the difference between night and day. At the gym, you have your regulars and your sporadic exercisers. When you become a regular, you start to notice your fellow regulars. There was one guy in particular that stood out.  He had dark hair, olive colored skin, high cheekbones, roughly six feet tall, well built, and rather intimidating looking. My initial guess was Italian. He would always be in there whenever I came in and there after I left.

On some night in September, my friends and I went out downtown to a club. Let's call it club DI for the sake of anonymity.  I wore a blue dress that night. It was Latin Night, where they would play salsa/tango/latin music. My friends and I sat down at a booth/couch thing. Across the room I saw a guy wearing a white shirt with a red tie. His color combination caught my eye but what kept my attention was his face. For some odd reason, he looked strikingly familiar. I asked my friends if they had seen him at school before. They all said no and one friend mentioned that he looked too old to be in undergrad. I let it go and did not think twice about it.

Around the first week of October, I went to the gym one night. It was raining outside so I borrowed my friend's umbrella. Like usual, I saw the guy again but didn't think too much about it. I was running around the track, while he was lifting weights. As I was nearing the curve (picture above), he came near the bench, smiled at me, and did a "keep going" kind of gesture with his hands. And just like that, he became approachable and no longer that scary intimidating guy from before. After my run, I came over to the bench to put my Ipod down. As it happened, he was there. I turned to him, and I kid you not, and said, "Hi, my name's _____. So what makes you want to work out so much.? I always see you in here." 

He laughed and told me how he had once been the chubby kid, which honestly if you saw this guy is kind of unbelievable. At this, I told him I used to be one too but worse, I had had glasses. He did not believe the chubby part the same way I did not believe him. Any way as we were talking, he asked me a seemingly random question, "Do you go out?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Do you ever go to DI?"

“Yes.” Thought: Where is he going with this?

"Have you ever gone on Latin Night?"

“Yes . . .”

That's when he exclaimed, "You're the girl in the blue dress!"

Then it hit me. "You're the guy in the white shirt, red tie!"

It never had occurred to me that the guy I had seen almost every day that semester had been the white shirt red tie guy. It was the difference between day and night. The same thought must have occurred to him too, because he said, “I honestly didn't recognize you. You clean up really well."

"I'd say the same about you too."

As it turned out, he was a law student. Apparently, my school also had a law school a few miles down the road. Everything finally made sense finally: why he had looked so familiar at the club, yet too old to be an undergrad, why he always came to the gym . . .

Being the curious person that I am, it became a game of twenty questions. He was not in fact Italian but half-Cuban and half-Colombian. He was originally from Miami which explained the slight accent. At the start of this story, he was 23, five years older than me. He kick boxed.

     We both went back to our respective workouts and that night we walked out together. In the About Me section, it says that I’m willfully ignorant/oblivious. You are about to see just how badly. Clue number one: As we were walking, he asked, "So how old are you?"

"18"

"When did you turn 18?"

"In August"

"So this conversation would have been illegal two months ago?"

I laughed at this point because I did not know what to say and ignored the comment. I could not fathom the idea of an older guy as charming as him hitting on me. We talked all the way to the exit of the UC. Outside it was still raining hard. This is where the naivety combines with the lack of social etiquette/lack of shyness to create the following scenario.

I turned to him and said with blissful ignorance, "Let me walk you to your car. I have an umbrella." He refused a few times. At this I said, "Look, I don't really have anything better to do tonight asides from studying, and I'm not really in a hurry to go do that, so just let me walk you to your car." So that's exactly what we did. He had parked his car in the lower level parking lot. To get there, one had to walk down a long series of steps along the side of the UC. As the two of us were walking down the stairs under my umbrella, I realized that we were both getting wet still. Being the fact that we had just met, our bodies were at an angle with one another and both of us were on the outer edges of my small borrowed umbrella. So yet again, I did something that could have been misinterpreted, as in me flirting with him.

"Hold this." 

I gave him my Ipod, slipped my arm around his waist, and said, "Put your arm around me. I don't see the point in both of us getting wet." We continued walking down those stairs like that, when he said, "So when my friends ask me what I did tonight, I can say, 'I got walked to my car by a girl.'"I laughed. The two of us walked all the way to his car together, when my sense of caution finally kicked in or as some of my friends like to say, "Chose a moment that'd be too late in the real world to show up.”

We get to his car, an old green Jaguar. For any car fanatics reading this, I forgot the model. He turned to me and said, "Thank for walking me to my car. The least I could do is drop you home."

"Oh it's fine. I can just walk."

"It's raining pretty hard . . ."

"I do have an umbrella."

"Let me at drop you off. I promise I'm not a rapist."

Guys, if you're ever trying to drop a girl off home, NEVER use that line of logic.

I'm sure most rapists say the same thing, I thought in my head but I caved in against my better judgment. For whatever reason, something inside me said he was better than that.  He opened the door for me and as I got in, said, "Watch your feet."

Point one for the tall dark mysterious stranger.

Seeing as both of us were new to the area, we had to work together to try and find my dorm. I knew how to walk there, just not drive there. While we were trying to find our way there, we continued talking. He told me how he loved to go spear fishing in Miami. As a water lover, I'm not going to lie, it sounded like a lot of fun. Of course me being me, we end up talking about food, when I ask him for his favorite type of food. As it turned out, sushi was his thing and he told me about a few good sushi places in Miami. This is where clues # 2 and 3 come in.

"Do you like sushi?"

"Never tried it."

"What?! Ok, you definitely have to try. I know this really good Japanese place here. What are you doing Saturday night?"

"Nothing other than studying."

"We should get sushi there Saturday night."

"Sure, why not."

"What's your number? By the way, I'm not stepping on any guy's toes when I ask for your number, am I?"

That was clue number three, two being asked out on what turned out to be my first date.  Yes, I really did not consider it a date at the time. He dropped me off home. I called my friend to tell him the story of everything that happened, thinking to myself how crazy coincidence can be. In return for my trouble, I got an earful on how naive and reckless I was for trusting a stranger. He could have raped me, kidnapped me, etc. To appease this friend I told him I would cancel the dinner plans. I had the intentions, the means, and the time but I would not be telling you this story if that had happened.

Saturday night came faster than I had expected. Between classes, studying, and hanging out with friends, I had not had time to call him and cancel our plans for dinner on Saturday night. I decided not to cancel. I put on a pink top, a pair of jeans, and a pair of heels, since he was tall enough. Then, I went to the other end of the dorm, knocked on a friend’s door, and told her the entire situation to be on the safe side. I was a freshman in college who had been sheltered most of her life. You never know when you might run into a psychopath like Ted Bundy. Before leaving, she said "Call me as soon as you get home ok?" It was the beginnings of a wonderful friendship. Being motherly and protective would define our relationship.

The tall, dark, and mysterious stranger came on time. He was standing outside next to his car in a nice white shirt and a pair of jeans. We said hi and hugged, when he did something bizarre. He kissed me on the cheek. I took a half step back without thinking, surprised by his forwardness. He noticed and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. It's a Miami thing, I promise. It's kind of like our way of saying hey."

I made a mental note to ask my friend from Miami tomorrow. He opened the door for me and once again said, "Watch your feet." Once he got in, I asked, "Why do you keep saying that?" He laughed a little and said, "Once when I opened the door for a friend of mine, I hadn't noticed her foot was still out. I accidently slammed the door on her foot." He had the most embarrassed look on his face, and I could not help but laugh. After that the conversation just flowed. Talking to this guy was easy but more importantly, fun. We got to the Japanese place and walked in. It was my first time and I can definitely say I was impressed. At this point, I still did not consider it a date and I had brought money to pay for myself. 

A waitress brought us to our table and we sat down. I had no idea what to order so he ordered for me. As we wait for our food, we talked and the more we talked the more I found myself charmed by this man. He admitted that spicy food made him cry, literally start tearing up. He watched anime, especially Bleach. He was amazed when he found out that I did too. He was terrified of clowns. Yes, really clowns of all things. He loved kickboxing. He even told me one of his totally intoxicated stories. 

One night, he was dead drunk, and his friends took him home.  When they could not find his keys and before his poor friends could react, he crashed his hand through the glass on the side and opened the door. His friends took him inside, cleaned up his hand, bandaged it, and put him to bed. Luckily, alcohol has a way of numbing the pain, at least for a while. He definitely had to go to the doctor when he woke up the next morning. 

All good things come to an end as did our night. He dropped me off home. He had to be up early the next morning (9 or 10am) to go back to studying. I walked into my dorm, where I saw my favorite RA. She asked, "So where are you off to?"

"Actually, I'm just coming back from dinner."

"You should go out. You're all dressed up and it's only ten o'clock."

That got me thinking. Even though I knew he had to be up early, even though I knew it wasn't the norm/proper, I called him.

"I know you have to be up early but I'm really wide awake and I'd really rather not just go back to studying. Do want to hang out again tonight?"

"Sure, that sounds fine. I would say we could come back to my place and watch a movie but I don't want to put any pressure on you. Let me call up my friends and see what they're doing tonight."

A few minutes later he called me back.

"I called my friends and they're all going to a haunted house downtown. Would you like to come?"

"Sure! Sounds good! See you then."

About ten minutes later he was in front of my dorm again. The haunted house turned out to be rather close and in a rather unexpected location: a children's museum. They took each floor and transformed it into a level of the "haunted house," except for the lobby. Upon arriving, we waited around in the lobby, until his friends arrived. I was definitely the youngest in the group and not just by a few years. They were rather nice people. When it was our group's turn to go into the haunted house, I said a quick prayer, wishing for no clowns. For a children's museum, they did a great job in transforming it. We had gotten to the last floor, when we finally saw a clown. Long story short we got through the level WITHOUT my guy punching the clown.

When we got out of there, he turned to me and asked, "So my friends want to go to a bar after this. Would you like to come? I mean, I can drop you off home if you don't want to." It was a definite yes to that invitation. 

We went out to a bar with his friends. They started a game of pool. He and I were on a team. Coincidentally, I had just learned to play pool the week before. Talk about fate. Unfortunately, we lost. Then he asked me, "We're taking shots. Do you want one?" Did I want one? Of course I wanted one. By the way it was tequila, my former favorite but that's another story. Afterwards, he had this really surprised look on his face.

"What?"

"You really don't look like the kind of girl that drinks."

I laughed and this is when things got interesting . . .

Quote of the Day

My family and friends are anything, if not quotable. I figured I would share some of their more memorable moments with the world. They are my source of entertainment on a rainy day.

My youngest brother is unfortunately a little too philosophical and too deep for the rest of my family to understand. It is probably why we get along so well and probably why the rest of the family uses me as his translator.One day at the dinner table, my youngest brother starts talking, while everyone remains confused except for me. They look at me and my mom asks, "What did he just say?"

Me: "He's going through an existential crisis."

Dad to Phil: "You should go meditate."

Phil: "This family is so strange."

Collision Course

From the time you are old enough to go to school until the day you graduate college Indian parents are constantly saying “Study, study, study!” When you reach grad school that phrase changes to “Marry, marry, marry!”

The summer before I went off to college, my family and I were invited to an Indian party held at a local Indian restaurant. Of course, we arrived fashionably late (two hours) so everyone was already in their little cliques. Already bored, I was expecting another long night, until I spotted an unknown, but somehow familiar guy standing across the room. That’s when my overly social attitude kicked in. I walked over to the guy and as cliché as this may sound, I said, “Hi! I know this is really random, but have we met before? You look really familiar.” Just so you know, he was PRETTY cute . . . for a brown guy albeit a little too short. That definitely was not my motivation in any degree. For the sake of anonymity, we’ll call him the Engineer. As you can guess, he turned out to be an engineer. 

    We stood there talking and discovered a few interesting coincidences.

He’s related to my cousin and another one of his cousins was dating my uncle.

We’ve been in same building in three different cities on three different occasions at the same time, yet never bumped into each other.

His mom comes from a family of about fifteen or close to that, making him the only other person I know who has a crazy large family like me. My grandmother comes from a family of thirteen.

Our brothers knew each other . . . probably.

            Speaking of coincidences, we were standing near a table with a lot of Indian aunties seated there. As we were standing there talking, the aunty closest to us turned around and asked me, “What’s your family name?” For those non-Indians who may be reading this, your family name is your ID in the Indian world, even if it’s not always your official last name. If you meet an Indian with a crazy long last name, it is more than likely their actual family name. It’s not abnormal for Indian parents to ask you that question. However, being asked that so suddenly and random is. Despite this, I answered this random auntys barrage of questions and I stood there a tad mystified, wondering what the hell that was about. When I turned back to the Engineer, he said, "That was my mom, just in case you were wondering." I replied, "Everything makes so much more sense now."

We spent most of that night talking to each other, which lead to a few more interrogations by his mother. I must have left a favorable impression, because it lead to the following events.

Towards the end of the night, I went over to the bar to where he was standing. We were talking, when I noticed my parents heading in my direction. As I was pointing them out, he said, “Looks like this is going to be interesting.”

Me: “Why do you say that?”

Engineer: “Well, that’s my parents heading towards yours.”

Me: “You’re mom doesn’t know how old I am, does she?

Engineer: “Probably not.”

Me: “This should be interesting.”

At the time I was seventeen and about to start college. He was around 23 or 24 years old, done with school and working. We had already established our respective ages earlier in the evening so not even a hint of flirtation.  

According to physics, a collision is an isolated event in which two or more moving bodies (colliding bodies) exert forces on each other for a relatively short time. You could say that is what happened. His parents reached my parents and that was the "exerting forces on each other" part. The four of them stood there talking for a while. Meanwhile in my head, I thought, I'm probably going to get blamed for all this.
Then . . .                                                                                                                                      
Engineer: "Looks like our moms are having a pow-wow."                                                                          
Me: "Looks like your mom just found out I'm seventeen."                                                                                    
Her face had undergone a drastic change, when my mom began speaking. I don't know the specifics but I'm pretty sure that's when the conversation died off.

In an elastic collision, total momentum is conserved, even if the moving bodies change course. After their short "pow-wow," my parents came towards our direction, where I proceeded to introduce them to the Engineer. This is when my memory gets a little fuzzy, but I think he laughed off the whole incident and jokingly apologized to my parents for his mom's behavior. My parents, on the other hand, didn't seem so amused, but of course Indians are anything if not polite to one another. As we got into the car, I expected them to start yelling at me for talking to him in the first place.

Instead, my mom lectured me on the last thing I expected: why girls shouldn't stand by the bar. That would be my luck . . .