Tag Archives: bucket list

27 Before 27: Go to a Hockey Game

2 Apr

2013-04-01 19.09.58 In my 27th year of life, I’m attempting to do 27 new things. Full list here.

Going to a hockey game was a high priority for me on this year’s list. I like sports, and nothing beats going to a sporting event live. I didn’t (still don’t) know a ton about hockey, but it seemed fast paced and exciting. I panicked there for a while during the lockout, then I panicked because all of a sudden it was April. But, alas, I found my way to a New Jersey Devils game.

I’m an underdog kind of lady. I like the idea of a team that is somewhat hapless, somewhat less funded, more like me. I must admit, though, that I know next to nothing about hockey, but the New York Rangers come off like a Yankees sort of team, all Madison Square Garden and all. The Devils are endearing to me, because they’re in Newark and that seems like an underdog kind of town. Plus the Prudential Center (more affectionately known as the Rock) is a beautiful arena.

The first thing I noticed as the game began was how difficult and athletic hockey looks. I’ve played my fair share of sports and defending, passing, goal attempts, keeping track of who on your team is open are all difficult tasks enough. These guys are doing it on ice! Hockey is an aggressive sport with a lot of fights and slamming into one another, but it is also graceful and impressive. The way they maneuver around one another, pass, shoot the puck. Hypnotizing. I don’t think I ever felt that awe-struck watching hockey on television.

The New Jersey Devils are also a lot of fun. The reason to follow a team is the camaraderie of the fan base. In any sport, players, coaches, championships, controversies will all come and go. The reason anyone stays faithful to a specific team is because of the community that you become a part of. I liked the raucous nature of the Devils fans. They had a chant that went simply, “Ranger suck, Flyers swallow.” They weren’t playing either team that night. Just chanting it to remind themselves.

But, hands down, the best part of the night was during one of the intermissions after period one where they let little league hockey players play. Their jerseys were down to their ankles! Unreasonably adorable. I’m ovulating just thinking about it.

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27 Before 27: Tango Lesson

4 Mar

In my 27th year of life, I’m attempting to do 27 new things. Full list here.

I bought a Groupon for a month of unlimited tangos way back in the beginning of January. The next day I sprained my ankle, because I’m not graceful, not at all. This is part of the reason I wanted to take a tango/dance class. I’m a girl, after all, and I like the idea of being an elegant, graceful one.

Alas, somehow, in the last couple of years, I have evolved into a tomboy. I play softball, soccer, volleyball. Most weekends you can find me at a sportsbar with a good beer. No complaints. I absolutely love my life and love the things I’m involved with. But I do sometimes look at other women on the subways, the ones with perfect makeup, stylish dress suits, giggling with their lady friends, shopping bags draped around their arms, and I wonder why that’s not me. Like I’m missing the girly gene.

So I walked into my first tango lesson in an old concert t-shirt, athletic pants, and my dirty softball sneakers. All the other women (very few men were there) were wearing slinky dresses and stiletto heels. I felt like such a frump! Why did I wear dirty sneakers to a tango lesson? I’m sure I must have a pair of sexy shoes somewhere! I vaguely remember wearing a pair once.

The tango studio was located off of Times Square and is run by an Argentinian couple. The lady who taught my class had an adorable accent. What I really liked about this class was how slow it was, how careful. We started by just shifting our weight from foot to foot, then doing the basic tango step forwards and backwards, then pairing up with someone and going back and forth across the floor. It was a slow progression, which made it feel less overwhelming once we actually did the box step.

This was so much fun. I quickly had images of myself becoming an Argentinian Tango professional. The dance, the people there, the instructors. I loved it. I wish I had more free time to take advantage of the month unlimited that I bought. I definitely wasn’t good at it or graceful. I had to focus really hard on every movement, but I never felt embarrassed or out of place. I’m so glad I did this. I might have to add this into my sports rotation.

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27 Before 27: Lie Down and Listen to an Album…

28 Dec

rolling-stones-let-it-bleedIn my 27th year of life, I’m attempting to do 27 new things. Full list here.

Let me start by saying that this was a weird one to put on the list. I think what happened was that I was compiling my 26 before 26 list and absolutely couldn’t come up with a 26th thing. So I threw this on there. Have I never lied down and listened to an album? I don’t know. I remember some tumultuous teenage days lying on the floor of my bedroom soaking in Velvet Underground.

This idea came up, because I’m not a big album person. I’ve been told by people that this is a sin to music, that I’m not appreciating an artist’s full composition. I can’t help it. I don’t want to sit through songs I don’t like, that’s what the forward button was invented for!

I’ve also found very few albums in my life where I really enjoyed the whole thing, didn’t want to skip any huge chunks. They always take me by surprise, and I end up falling completely in love. “Blonde on Blonde” by Bob Dylan. “Live from Folsom Prison” by Johnny Cash. “Jolene” by Dolly Parton. “Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen. “Doolittle” by the Pixies. I’m struggling to come up with more. Those are the ones that captured months of my life, and I was happy to have them. Now I have a new one. “Let it Bleed” by the Rolling Stones.

About a week ago, I began reading Keith Richards memoirs, “Life.” Oh man, it is awesome, and I cannot recommend it more. Not the most poetic writing of our time, but it’s fascinating. His theories on life and music, the fact that he wrote “Satisfaction” in his sleep, amazing. The first chapter is about being arrested for possession in some Southern state. I was laughing out loud on the subway. I’m not one to read and laugh out loud.

Anyways, it got me in the mood for the Rolling Stones, not to mention that “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” came on my ipod at a necessary moment in time about a week ago, and I’ve been listening to it on repeat since. If I have to cross this thing off, I’d like to write about this album.

I thought about how to do it. Stretched out on my bed late at night with a glass of whiskey on the nightstand, maybe I’d listen to it at a friend’s apartment who has a record player. But I ended up listening to it on a bus back to Philly on Christmas Night.

I figured the time was right, and I wanted to do it, so I unshuffled my ipod and put the album on while staring out the window as the beautiful New Jersey landscape rolled by.

I’m not a music reviewer, and I am nowhere near an expert, but damn that’s a lovely album. “Gimme Shelter” pumps you up, “Love in Vain” makes you feel pure, beautiful heartbreak, then “Country Honk” brings back the good times. Perhaps this album is just my aesthetic right now. A little bluesy, a little folksy, but a little harder edged. Then to end the album on “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”….I don’t even know what to say, it feels like therapy. It’s all I’ve been listening to, the album that is, on repeat. I might go lie down and do it right now.

“You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you might find, you get what you need.”

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27 Before 27: Eat Chicken and Waffles

12 Dec
The Reverend Al Sharpton

The Reverend Al Sharpton

In my 27th year of life, I’m attempting to do 27 new things. Full list here.

The food to-do’s on my list always give me warm fuzzies. Because, delicious food is the best, and I love trying anything new.

I’ve had fried chicken (albeit not in years), and lord knows I’ve had waffles. But this combo? It seems so odd, but it’s so right.

Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. I think this has to do with the fact that I almost never eat it. I am absolutely not a morning person. Getting up to go to work in the morning is usually a struggle. Most mornings I just have cereal and milk, almost always Special K. But when I have a day-off, boy oh boy do I love to get pancakes or omelets or breakfast burritos or big puffy blueberry muffins. I should stop. I’m drooling.

So for my first Chicken and Waffles experience, I enlisted my friend Gian who is the one who introduced me to the concept. We found a place in Harlem called Amy Ruth’s. The place was charming, and when you are seated, you are greeted with a basket of corn bread. Corn bread, ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. Does anyone get that Chris Rock reference? Are you amazed that I have the ability to reference Chris Rock? I’m kind of amazed with myself.

So back to the chicken and waffles. The waffles part is misleading, because really it’s only one. But it’s massive, and it was fluffy, so no complaints. The chicken part lived up to its half by being about as large as a small chicken. I didn’t even really know how to hack into it, but I figured it out.

Delicious! The salty crunch of juicy fried chicken, combined with the fluffy savory of a waffle, and drizzle some maple syrup on that while you’re at it. I was a happy lady. I’m embarrassed to report I couldn’t finish it. And I was only about a fifth of the way through it while Gian was all but licking his plate. But it was a satisfying day-off breakfast meal. So satisfying that I didn’t even really feel the need to eat the rest of the day. That’s an amazing breakfast.

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27 Before 27: Read Moby Dick

2 Dec

In my 27th year of life, I’m attempting to do 27 new things. Full list here.

Before I read “Moby Dick,” I read “Anna Karenina.” A friend and I decided to read it together, taking on a part a week and discussing it with each other. We were both inspired to read it because of the Keira Knightley movie version that is coming out. I typically enjoy the classics. I’m a huge fan of Shakespeare, Dickens, Austen, Twain. I was that nerd in high school English that loved every last book we read. But for some reason, I really didn’t like “Anna Karenina.” I tried to. But I just didn’t particularly like any of the characters, and the huge chunks about Russian agrarian society was somewhat tedious.

This is when I started reading “Moby Dick.” When I would finish a part in “Anna Karenina” before my scheduled meeting with my friend, I would start in on “Moby Dick.” And I loved it. It was such a necessary change of pace. Herman Melville’s language is so full of images and smells and sounds. It puts you directly in the Nantucket whaling community. And Queequeg! The tattooed foreigner that Ishmael quickly befriends? Loved him. The scene where they are spooning the morning after they meet, adorable. I found myself rushing through “Anna Karenina” so I could get back to “Moby Dick.”

So at last I finished the Tolstoy torture and could fully dedicate myself to “Moby Dick.” This, of course, coincided with reading the part in the book where Melville goes on and on and on and on about whale anatomy and references to whales in literature. It was long-winded, and I honestly didn’t really read all of it. I skimmed over most of it. I mean there were pages of different scientific names for breeds of whales. Really?

All in all, it’s an amazing book, if you cut out the lists and the explanations. If you did that, it would probably be more of a novella. But it made me laugh, it pulled me in. I missed my subway stop while I was reading the end. So dramatic and exciting. Will I ever read it again, though? Nope. Probably not.

“Consider the subtleness of the sea; how its most dreaded creatures glide under water, unapparent for the most part, and treacherously hidden beneath the loveliest tints of azure….. Consider all this; and then turn to this green, gentle , and most docile earth; consider them both, the sea and the land; and do you not find a strange analogy to something in yourself?”

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27 Before 27: Get a Professional Massage

19 Oct

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In my 27th year of life, I’m attempting to do 27 new things. Full list here.

Soon after I made my list, I saw a Groupon for a 60-minute Swedish massage in Chinatown. I jumped on it quickly as it was a 50% discount. Probably one of the main reasons I’ve never gotten a professional massage is because it’s just not the kind of thing I spend money on. I like learning what people spend the majority of their money on. For a lot of girls my age, it’s clothing. For some people it’s travel, concert tickets, fancy electronics, dinners out. I keep a lovely Excel spreadsheet of my finances, and the majority of my money goes to books and booze. A winning combination.

But I thought this would be a nice way to treat myself. My job is physically demanding, and this would help me relax. The place was a little bit sketchy, as the sign for it was on neon green posterboard with clip art glued onto it. But the place itself was nice. I was so nervous. I’m a private, and oftentimes shy, person, and I was freaked out by the idea of a stranger touching me. So one of my favorite parts about the massage was that she started by covering me in a towel and massaging me through the towel. It wasn’t until 5 or 10 minutes into the massage that she started to remove the towel. By that time I was comfortable.

Some parts of the massage felt incredible. I liked having my hands rubbed, and I enjoyed when she pressed points along my spine. Other parts really hurt though. I suppose it was my fault. Early on, she was massaging my neck, and it was hurting me. The masseuse asked me if it was too much pressure. Trying to be tough, I denied that it hurt, and said it was perfect. Ergo, she used that amount of pressure on the rest of me, causing me to wince in pain often, which the lady obviously couldn’t see as my head was tucked into a weird hole in the table. But something in me thought that maybe the pain was a good thing, maybe she was getting out knots or something in my muscles. I don’t know how that shit works. I thought it might be good for me.

The next day I woke up with pain all over my body. I felt like I had an intense workout at the gym the day before, and I felt stiff. Not sure if that is a common feeling the day after a massage, but I was a little thrown by it. All in all, it wasn’t a bad way to spend an hour of my time, and I think it would be better if I just spoke up and said what I wanted. Oh God, that’s too true in every aspect of my life.

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27 Before 27: Write a fan letter

18 Sep

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In my 27th year of life, I’m attempting to do 27 new things. Full list here.

I can hardly believe it, friends. I am one week into my 27th year on this blue dot, and I’ve already knocked something off my list! All that birthday drinking had to stop at some point, so I could get down to business.

Writing a fan letter in some ways feels awfully childish. In fact, when I started this one, after I wrote the opening “Dear Ira Glass,” I giggled at the peculiar nature of it and read it aloud in a high-pitched teenage girl voice. I was nervous to do this, because it’s putting oneself out there. Trying to contact someone who has no idea who you are, yet is someone that you wholeheartedly admire.

So I went with Ira Glass. I thought about Bonnie Hunt, but I didn’t have much to say other than I though her talk show she had a couple of years ago was pretty awesome. I thought about Tina Fey, but she’s truly a celebrity. I don’t think my letter would ever reach her, and I’d bet she receives a lot of fan letters. But Ira Glass, although a celebrity amongst hipsters and nerds, seemed less out of reach. I’ve heard him speak in a ballet studio in Brooklyn. He seems like a humble, likeable, kind guy. Plus I felt like the fact that I’d seen him speak was a jumping off point.

My letter basically thanked him for speaking at the New York Writer’s Coalition event and detailed how I admired him so. There wasn’t much else to say, because I don’t necessarily want anything from him. My dream is that he will be touched by my sincere yet brief note, write me back, and we’ll begin an old-fashioned correspondence like Rilke and his young poet. Ira Glass will become my mentor and my friend. That’s my dream, but I know the chances are slim to none. The one thing that I realistically hope for is that the letter actually makes it to him and that it makes him happy for a day. I sent the letter to him at the “This American Life” address, so I believe there’s a fairly good chance of it making its way to him.

I feel silly about it, but sometimes a kind note can make someone’s day. I’ve worked many jobs, many, many, many jobs, and I was always touched when someone took a moment to mention that I helped them or did a good job, so it’s something that I likewise try to do for others. Perhaps even Ira Glass needs a little pick-me-up now and then.

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27 Before 27

16 Sep

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I’m 26! And I had an amazing transitional week from 25 to 26. The Saturday before my birthday, I invited a hodgepodge of friends to a small gathering at a West Village bar. I’ve been in New York for two years now, and I was touched to realize that I have such an amazing group of people who love and support me. It was one of the best birthdays I’ve ever had, and I still get warm, fuzzy feelings thinking about that night. My phone still can’t take pictures, so the only real picture I have from that night is the one my friend Kristina took of all the Vet office co-workers that were there.

What was amazing about my birthday was that I had my vet office friends, my softball friends, my soccer friends, my Seattle friends, my Think Coffee friends, my roommates, my crazy dentist office friends, etc. At one point my new man companion made a comment that all of my friends were so different from one another, but the one thing they all had in common was that they were all warm, kind, fun people. I feel I’ve done well for myself.

However, I have not done well for myself as far as my 26 before 26 list goes. I only completed 12 things. And many of the items left behind were not so difficult that I have a good excuse for not doing them. But I will do better this year, I will focus, and I hopefully won’t wait until December to knock the first one off.

One thing I decided to do was to roll over the unfinished items to the new list. But I’ve starred them below to keep track of which ones are taking me the longest.

1. Read Moby Dick– It’s a classic. It’s considered one of the great, defining American novels. I know all the basics about it, but I’ve never actually read it. It’s so monstrous and intimidating, but I owe it to American literature to read it.

2. Eat pork belly– I’ve heard it’s delicious. My former life as a vegetarian for eight years makes me somewhat standoffish when it comes to meat which is why I’ve never had it. A funny note, I mentioned to a co-worker of mine that I was putting it on my list, and he told me that pork belly was so four years ago and not in culinary vogue anymore. Oh, New York, you crazy, nonsensical place.

3. Write a fan letter*- Last year when I put this on the list I thought I was going to write one to Tina Fey. However, at this point in time, I would like to write one to Ira Glass! That dashing nerd! We’ll see.

4. Get a professional massage- I’ve had plenty of amateur ones, but I think I’d like to get the real deal. I work hard. I deserve it.

5. Donate blood- It’s such a simple thing that could mean so much to someone, but I’ve never done it, because blood used to freak me out. With my new career as a Vet Tech, it doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s kind of neat.

6. Do some gardening*- Ya know, I actually did sign up for a volunteer gardening project in the Lower East Side, but when I showed up, I was actually assigned to re-paint jungle gym equipment, so I did try. But I failed.

7. Anonymously pay someone’s tab*- Does the fact that I haven’t completed this make me a selfish person incapable of helping my fellow man, or am I just really poor and can’t afford it? Something I should really think about and fix one way or another.

8. Be an extra in a movie or tv show*- I live in New York. I need to make this happen and become immortal on the silver screen.

9. Take a boxing class- I’ve always thought it would be fun. I’m a scrawny girl, but I’d like to become capable of beating someone up.

10. Visit a new baseball stadium- I’ve been to 6 of the 30 major league baseball stadiums, and I think it would be a hoot to see them all. So I’ve decided to put this on my list from now until I’ve completed them all.

11. Do a juice cleanse- I’m trying my darndest to be healthy. But I struggle with staying away from beer, whiskey, pop tarts, pizza, cheese, french fries, Oreos. Need I go on? I’d like to try one of those three day juice cleanses and see how it makes me feel. So many people swear by them.

12. Go hiking*- Such a simple one, but I live in New York. I hear there’s hiking on Staten Island, but that feels like a cheap cop-out. I’d rather go on a hike where I can see something naturally stunning.

13. Pluck my eyebrows*- I told a close friend that this was on the list, and he looked at me surprised. Sigh, yes, I have lovely eyebrows, but is there a chance they could be even more improved!

14. Go skinny dipping*- This is a really difficult one to make happen, because you can’t really just call someone up and say, “Hey, you wanna go get naked and jump in some water?” It’s just got to happen on its own. I guess I should start hanging out by bodies of water more frequently and be the creep in the corner slowly hinting that we all get naked and jump in.

15. Go scuba diving*- Likewise difficult to accomplish in New York, but I should really stop using that as an excuse. The whole point behind my list is to have easy things alongside more challenging ones. Things that will force me to step out of my comfort zone.

16. Go sailing*- So, who’s got a boat? Anyone, anyone…

17. Join a book club*-  Although I scoff at my undergrad degree, I really did love being an English major. I think joining a book club would be a grown-up extension of that.

18. Go to a hockey game*- I really tried! Last winter I was dating a hockey fan, and we kept on making plans to go that just never worked out. Then at some point I realized the only reason I was still with him was because I still wanted to go to a hockey game. That’s wrong. So I broke up with him. Then I was single, and I STILL didn’t go to a hockey game.

19. Go to roller derby- I wish I had the guts to join a roller derby team, but for now I’ll settle with watching other girls be violent and awesome.

20. Go to a dog show- I like dogs, a lot. But I’m not sure if I’ll love this or hate it.

21. Tango Lesson- I love dancing. I’m also really bad at it. The one time I took salsa lessons when I was 21, the stranger I was partnered with got very frustrated with me and told me in exasperation, “You have to let someone else lead for a minute!” I’ll never forget that.

22. Visit a whiskey distillery- I’ve been to many beer breweries, and it’s always fun. And if there’s one thing that I love more than beer, it’s whiskey.

23. Attend service at a synagogue*- Isn’t Yom Kippur this week? What is that?

24. Go to a gun range*- Bang Bang Bang.

25. Play the drums*- I recently went to a jazz club and the drummer in the band was a woman. I admired her.

26. Lie down and listen to a classic rock album and do nothing else*- This one is sooooooo easy. Why on Earth haven’t I done it. No. good. excuse.

27. Eat chicken and waffles- I’d never even heard of this supposedly common brunch option until I moved to New York. Apparently there are a lot of really great places. And I love me some brunch!

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26 Before 26: Do Batting Practice

1 Jul

Just like Matt Kemp

In my 26th year of life, I am attempting 26 new things that I’ve never done before. Full list here.

Boy oh boy, I needed this.

One of the best and most pleasantly surprising things about my 26 before 26 endeavor has been the eagerness and enthusiasm of others to hear about it and to help me. I keep a copy of the list on my phone, and anytime anyone hears about it they immediately want to see it. They go through the list, laughing at some of the items and becoming overly excited about others. I haven’t been as diligent about my list, because life gets in the way. But a new friend from my soccer team, Dave, saw this on my list and insisted on taking me to the batting cages at Chelsea Piers. I was happy to go.

We went on a Wednesday night, after a crappy Wednesday day. I went into work slightly hungover and proceeded to have a bad luck day. I was mainly having issues with catheters. Catheters were so scary to me for such a long time, but once I got the hang of it, I felt so proud. But Wednesday, every catheter I put in would kink and I would lose the flow. It’s heartbreaking, to see the flash, to slowly insert the catheter, to pull the stylet…nothing. No blood. I’d pull the catheter out and see it had bended all weird. Everyone kept telling me that it sometimes just happens with catheters, but I would look down at the blown vein and beat myself up. I was having such an off day with those effing blue catheters.

So I headed to the batting cages to meet up with Dave. It’s a pretty good deal, really. $2ish for a token which gets you ten pitches. Dave went for the medium pitch cage, but I wanted to take whacks at the slow pitch softball cage since that is what I encounter in my Pac-12 softball team. There was a pair of girls who had rented the cage for an hour. They were dripping with sweat, taking turns in the cage. We got to talking with them, and they make it down to the pier once a month to rent the cage for an hour and go to town.

“We’ve got a lot of rage,” one of them told me breathlessly.

Once they left, I took my turn in the cage. It was much easier than actual softball. I knew exactly when the ball was coming and where it would be. I also didn’t have rows of Pac-12 dudes cheering me on. I love my Pac-12 dudes, but I want to do so well for them, I stress myself out. This time, it was just me and a machine. Somehow, nothing feels better then making contact with a bat, hearing that pop, imagining where that ball would go on a real softball field. Such a perfect stress release, and I made a mental note that I must rent the cage out sometime for myself.

Afterwards, Dave and I grabbed a beer at a bar next to the golf driving range. It was perfect weather down my the water, and it was hypnotizing to watch those golf balls sail out towards the water, like a meteor shower. A couple of Dave’s friends showed up so they could practice their golf swings for a tournament they put themselves through, known ominously as “The Cup.” It’s an epic battle amongst old college friends which never fails to entertain me when they start talking about it. There’s even a draft.

I told them that I’d never actually gone to a driving range, and maybe I should put it on my 27 before 27 list. But why put off until tomorrow what you can do today. They invited me to come along and hit a few. I was pretty horrible, but after they gave me a few tips, I don’t think I was so bad. It took a couple of swings before I finally hit the ball, but when I did, one of Dave’s friends Adam said something along the lines of “Yay bucket list.” It took me far away from the worries of a 22-guage catheter.

The next day, my shoulders were so, so sore. But I was relaxed, and 15 minutes into work, I had to place a catheter into a squirmy King Charles Spaniel. I got it right away.

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26 Before 26: Ride a Segway

23 Jun

In my 26th year of life, I am attempting 26 new things that I’ve never done before. Full list here.

Look at me in this picture. Do I have on a hot pink helmet? Yes. Am I standing upon one of the goofiest modern inventions? Yes. Do I look like a fool? Absolutely.

But is the Boston weather behind me practically perfect? Yup. Am I knocking another thing off my 26 before 26 list? Hooray, I am! Do I have the biggest grin on my face, ever? Of course! That’s the smile of someone having the time of her life.

Segways. Where do I start? This was so much fun. If you haven’t ridden one, I highly, highly recommend it. My sister, who accompanied me, was initially skeptical and a bit incredulous that she was spending a Sunday afternoon doing this. But I think she would agree that it was pure fun.

For some reason, when I thought about riding a Segway, I had my heart set on doing it in Boston. A year ago when I was visiting, my sister and I were waiting for a table at The Barking Crab, I saw a touristy, middle-aged couple, fanny packs and all, getting a private Segway tour of the city. I don’t know why I was so taken by those crazy machines, but I certainly was.

It’s all about balance. It feels a little awkward at first, and I would occasionally find myself accidentally moving backwards. But about 15 minutes in, I got my Seg-legs on, and it felt completely natural. Oh, it feels awesome to go 12 miles per hour by simply leaning forward. And dare I say it, but I was good! There was one lady in our tour group who kept running into the curb or running into other people. Amateur.

I felt like a celebrity. Everywhere we went, Copley Square, Beacon Hill, Boston Commons, crowds of people would whoop and holler at us. So many iphones flashing at me and my sexy red Segway. My sister even got cat-called from a car while we were making a left turn.

At the end of the tour, our guide took us to a concrete landing next to the water where we had 15 minutes to play around. We sped from one end to the other, did twirls around each other, and did a little synchronized Segway dancing.

What a day. What a day. One day, when I have so, so much money, I will certainly buy one, and hopefully be on par with the most famous Segway owner of all.

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