Alright, it's a little too depressing to keep seeing my last post after last week's crushing defeat for the Rockheads, so I think it's about time for an update, lest I keep getting reminded of my silly and optimistic enthusiasm. Ah well. There's always, uh, next year...
I had a little weekend getaway and flew up to Providence for Brown's family weekend to visit Alex. It was a mini Wamboldt-reunion, which was excellent, and I got lots of good food out of the deal. The highlight was a classic "this is why the Wamboldts can't have nice things" moment (if you aren't aware, this is a favorite game to play in my family... Every time somebody breaks something, spills something, trips, embarrasses themselves, embarrasses others, drops food, disobeys social etiquette, makes a faux pas, or generally does something that one might find awkward and hilarious, you just add it to the running list of "why the Wamboldts can't have nice things." It's definitely a little weird, but then, so is my family.). We had gone to Newport for the day, where "summer" is a verb and "salmon" is an adjective used to describe pants color, and decided to indulge in a little lifestyles of the rich and famous tourism. We went to The Breakers, the largest and most famous of the Newport mansions, owned by Cornelius Vanderbilt II, which was basically like a miniature (I use that term loosely) Versailles. It was essentially a European palace, no joke. My favorite part of the tour was that the dining room chairs weighed 70-100 pounds each (depending on whether the detachable armrests were on), and so for their dinner galas, the family would hire 40 men to literally stand behind each chair so that they could help the guests get out from the table. Incredible. Also, I forgot to mention that The Breakers was only a "summer home" for the Vanderbilts, so it got used for only about 6 weeks every summer. Again, incredible. The amount of sheer wealth and vanity that this all requires boggles my mind.
ANYWAY, I was trying to recount the "this is why the Wamboldts can't have nice things" moment. So when we were waiting in line for tickets to the Vanderbilt cottage (also fairly pricey, these dudes have a whole racket figured out, let me tell you), this elderly couple from one of the bus tours that go see every mansion in Newport offers us their extra tickets. Being total cheapskates, we gladly accept, and are all impressed at our good fortune. We go wait in line, smugly thinking that we got out of paying to see some rich people's house, and are quite pleased with ourselves until we get to the front of the line. The primly polished woman taking tickets, who looks as though she has never smiled a day in her life, looks at us, looks at the tickets, and then asks coldly, "Are these the only tickets you have?"
We sort of stumble and say yeah, at which point the woman goes inside and consults with another prissy looking woman, who also comes out and again quite coldly informs us that the tickets we are trying to use are meant for only one person. So much for trying to pawn off our free tickets, couldn't fool them. This is about the point where Alex and I begin to get the serious giggles, and start off a full-fledged family laughing fit. The fact that our family was basically being rejected at the door of a fancy-pants mansion by Newport society women was just too priceless not to make the obvious comment (see above). Shamed and scorned, we had to go actually buy some tickets and re-face the woman taking tickets, who somehow didn't remember us (you'd have thought we made enough of a scene, but no), but eventually they let the riff-raff in.
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On the topic of my career...
Mom: "You should marry rich, get introduced to the President and become friends, and then you could be appointed as ambassador to a really cool country!"
Dad: "You can become a gypsy."
These comments came at different points over the same dinner. I'm not sure if it's possible for me to simultaneously accomplish both, but dammit I'm going to try. I'd hate to let my parents down.
31.10.07
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1 comment:
Just don't be a gypsy and get appointed to serve in Europe. They really really really really really hate the gypsies there. Even people with a good education and time in other countries, who are more than happy to criticize American racism, hate gypsies.
And sometimes, if they're old (and probably a little drunk, but I can't say for sure), they'll yell at you, profanity, on the street, just for having somewhat darker skin and maybe, potentially, being a gypsy.
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