Two Scoops of Friendship on a Sugar Cone

I live for 3am field trips in the middle of the week. Or any day of the week. And at any time really. The more last minute the better.

I'm dying for a spontaneous road trip to Maine or South Carolina, but being that most normal working people don't just up and drive to a different state for fun, I usually end up settling for a midnight stroll or a 7-11 run.

There's something about spontaneity that is extremely fun. You want to drive to New Jersey to make a BBQ in a forest at 11am in the wintertime? Sounds fun. Airport runs at 4 in the morning? Why not. Anything to get out of the house, change of scenery, to unknown destinations. But unfortunately for me, most of the people I know are not the spontaneous type. They get into pajamas at 8pm and once they are in pajamas there is no leaving the house. It's either a pajama issue or it's the issue of "I have work at 8am and need to be in my bed by 11pm." This is what I have to put up with; working, responsible, mature individuals (adjectives I don't appreciate having to compete with.)

Maybe it's a good thing I have responsible friends. Or maybe it's a good thing they have me. Who knows? But there's no denying that I make their lives more fun. After I beg them for hours, drag them out of bed and offer bribes, eventually, (if I'm irritating and pushy enough) they will go for ice cream and sit on a park bench with me in the middle of the night. They get a free ice cream and I don't have to give up my dignity by going for ice cream alone. This is called true friendship.

Temple Drama

You know how some people say that the way you behave on Rosh Hashana is a reflection on how you will behave the rest of the year? Well...I may be spending this year really angry at mean old ladies.

Here's the backstory:

I paid to reserve a seat for Rosh Hashana for 2 reasons. Reason #1- so I can leave a sweater on my chair without it getting stolen. Reason #2- so I can come late and still have a place to sit.

So when I show up on the first day of Rosh Hashana, in the middle of services, I am quite surprised to find an older woman sitting in my seat. I didn't want to be disrespectful, so I played dumb counting the chair numbers outloud so the woman would clearly hear that I am seat #129. It didn't work. She looked away and continued praying without bothering to apologize or offer to move. So I uncomfortably mumble, "okay...I guess I'll find another seat..."

Though multiple people (including the Rabbi) gave me speeches about being a pushover and offered to put the woman in her place themselves, I wasn't about to embarrass an old woman in front of everyone on Rosh Hashana (even though she kept yelling at the kids and rolling her eyes in frustration at anyone who was irritating her.) I was going to be the bigger person.

I decided that instead of approaching her, I would simply wait until the services were over and then I'd leave my machzor on the chair for the next day. So you could imagine my surprise when I came at the end of services only to find that she had left a duffle bag on my chair. A duffle bag. Like she was moving in. Camping out. In. My. Seat. 

When I showed up the next day and she was in my seat again, I was surprised and frustrated all over. And when you aren't sitting in your reserved seat, you're sitting in someone elses'. So I had another whole day of playing musical chairs.

While I may be a so-called pushover (I think this just means I'm nice to people who don't deserve it), my friends aren't exactly the type to let this fly. At the end of services, a friend of mine (though I tried to convince her not to) marched right up to the woman and told her off (in a nice way of course) while the woman played dumb about not knowing it was my seat and how she wanted to sit next to her friend and yada yada yada.

Maybe G-d knows how much I love playing musical chairs. Or maybe this was a test of my patience or of my ability of giving people the benefit of the doubt. I don't know. But my mom always taught me to respect my elders (even if they don't appear to deserve it).

So although I may be the biggest pushover who's deathly scared of confrontation, at least my mom is proud of me.