I've had Katy Perry stuck in my head because on Saturday (it's Tuesday) I went clubbing in the US for the first time, and for several hours I had to endure lots and lots of evil annoying pop music. The only other times I've gone clubbing was in Mexico, but the places I went were more of lounges than they were clubs. I don't get lounges, at least in Mexico. They seem to be places existing for the sole purpose of having to yell a conversation, what with the loud music and everything.
So clubbing here was different. For one, it was an actual club, not a lounge. Loud music with tons of people dancing and grinding and all that good jazz. As a suburban white boy, I did not fit in. I enjoy myself at these places because they're very social, but I'm not so good at playing the scene I guess. The whole night I just kinda danced to myself and when I did try to ask a girl if she wanted to dance, she just kind of looked at me and kept doing what she was doing. I'm so cool you guys.
Switching topic. Speaking of things getting stuck in my head, what's with forgetting the names of things? I had that problem for at least a week. I was thinking of a type of hat that looks like a fedora, so I looked up fedoras and every other hat from the 20's and 30's to no avail. Finally, I'm listening to a Ricky Gervais Show clip when they mention trilbys. That was it. The trilby.
 |
| Fucking trilbys. |
10:43PM
A car of three young dames (that's my new word) pulls up and the front passenger passes a blue drink to the driver in order to fetch her university ID. I inquire as to whether or not it's alcohol. They tell me it's Powerade and offer some to me as proof. I decline the gracious offer and one of them jokes, "yeah, we get drunk while we study." I laugh and wave them on, thinking just as they leave that I should have said, "Yeah, I get drunk when I work." Drat.
10:51PM
Not necessarily now, but earlier tonight and in weeks past I have always come face-to-face with an extremely annoying breed of drivers while working the Gates shift. These drivers always, always, stop short of me between five and fifteen feet, for some reason attempting to show their ID to me from where I can't even see it. And no, these aren't tricky evildoers trying to trick me, they're just incompetent people. You know, I put the stop sign behind the gatehouse for the reason, and it's so you will scoot up to it. It's not a fucking landmine, and I'm not going to shoot you in the face if you come up next to me. You're supposed to do that. Jesus.
11:10PM
The chair I'm sitting on squeaks and screeches an ungodly amount. It truly is like nails on a chalkboard or silverware against china. Not the country, the stuff dishes are made out of.
11:35PM
A guy comes through looking for directions to the Comcast Center. I don't have a map on paper but I do have one on my laptop, so I quickly take it out to him and give him directions. The whole time I'm doing this he's talking at me about his job and sports at my university (a new coach from Texas A&M got hired here) and the universities he's been to and he is just going and going and going. It was actually funny how much he kept talking to the point of stopping up traffic. Eventually I got him through the gate. Apparently I'm supposed to vote for him for something, or so he told me.
11:44PM
Two girls in going out clothes and high heels awkwardly run by my gatehouse, trying frantically to catch the bus. LOL. That is all.
11:54PM
A car comes through with three college-age youths and they have trouble finding ID to present. I mention the fact that without a campus ID or driver's license, I have to turn them around. The driver remarks comically about how now I'm getting serious about my job and they continue to search for ID. Finally, the driver manages to present his license and I take down his info, then send them on their way. Before I do the driver thanks me for being patient and doing my job. I love people like that. I just love 'em.
11:58PM
Just killed a mosquito. Hell yeah. I hate mosquitoes.
12:12AM
My hands are shaking. A girl just came through and when I asked her for ID, she handed me four or five different cards, none of which were ID. Credit cards, gift certificates, stuff like that. I asked for her ID again. She continued searching her car, fumbling around and mumbling hazily, telling me I was being ridiculous right now. She took so long to produce no ID I directed her to the side of the road to look for her ID there. While she was sitting there I cleared the queue to my gate and called her in as a potential drunk driver to police dispatch. This is when the adrenaline started kicking in. I was lucky in being able to get her to the side of the road where I could call out all her vehicle information and keep her there until a cop came along to nab her, who told me to let her through so he could get her. As I did, for a third time the girl presented to me a cinema gift card for ID and I told her to just go through.
I could have called it out better. I get real nervous when I know I'm talking on an entire network of police officers and my coworkers, especially in such a situation. A cop came by later to get my information for whatever reason, praise or punishment. Man, that was intense.
12:25AM
Listening to Freedom Enterprise to chill.
1:18AM
The cop who got the drunk I called out rolls in and tells me the girl was hammered. One of the funniest field sobriety tests he's ever seen he says. Ha ha. I'm glad I did good. I wish I got something from 7/11 though, the last time I called out a drunk driver I got to ask for two things from 7/11. I got an Arizona Arnold Palmer and a Crunch bar. All that sugar was a bad idea. I need to review what 7/11 sells.
1:37AM
Some guys standing outside my gate are having a good time joking about me and other people around us, joking that I'm checking Facebook and all that. They're funny but I hope they don't get too condescending. Nobody likes that. They're making me a bit nervous talking about fighting people. I'm glad I have a radio. Woohoo.
Actually, I just had one of them come in and help me out with reading these damn bus schedules. Thank you drunk black dude, you're a-okay.
1:48AM
I have a nagging fear that whatever I'm writing comes off in an effeminate tone. I sure hope not.
1:59AM
A couple walks up looking for bus times. I oblige them with my newfound knowledge of how to look up bus schedules. The girl tells me she's a journalism major who did an article on her experience shadowing two other Student Police Aides. She told me of a caterer who lets law enforcement individuals eat his leftover meat when he cooks. How come I didn't know about this? I want some of that meat.
2:08AM
A guy comes through seemingly unable to finish his words. Both when I ask him how he is and tell him to have a good night, he starts saying something like "thank you" and then trails off, going "aaa-aaa-aaaaaa-a-aaaaaa-aa--" over and over. I thought he was drunk at first but his stuttering was the only indication. Otherwise he was completely responsive and wide awake, so I guess he just had a speech problem. Seriously though, he was throwing out those "aaaa"s for a good ten seconds before I interrupted him to send him on his way.
2:19AM
A call over the radio comes in. A tip from the owner of a local liquor store saying some guy is cruising up and down the main drag through town, asking girls to get in his car. Creep. The cops are on their way.
Aaaaand that's a wrap! This concludes my second and final South Gate journal.
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