Away Laughing on a Fast Camel, And other random comments

I've got another secret. I have been getting hooked on trash tv. "Trutv -- Not reality, Actuality!" The last show I was watching, there was a man dressed in woman's clothing with a full beard, hairy legs, and a bad curly wig trying to mount a camel. That camel was pissed! He spit on the guy once. Then the trainer got the camel to lower a bit, and just as the guy was able to fit in between the 2 humps, the camel turned his head 180 degrees and hawked a big loggie right in the guys face. It was both disgusting and hiliarious. A sign of the random things that get stored in my brain...so, today's blog is dedicated to letting some of that randomness out.

Elevator People
Grameen is in the same building as some other non-profits. Leaving the building today, 3 people got into the elevator with me: 2 women in their late 40s and a male in his late 20s. As 1 woman entered she said, "We all look like we were hit my a mac truck." "Ouch," I replied and smiled. The same woman jokingly said, "he's a trouble maker, you better watch out." I stepped away and gave him a look like he smelled bad, we all laughed. Right as the elevator stopped at the lobby for me to exit, one of the older ladies said to the guy, "maybe we can meet you in a dark alley one night" with a wink. Hey, if these older ladies are a little freaky, then who am I to judge? I truly L.O.L. at the exchange.

Smart People, Comedians on Bluetooth and Spot the Crazy
DC is a young persons town, with brainaics everywhere. On the trains, people are catching up on a little light reading, like the treaty of versailles. On the weekends, people aren't sunbathing, they are fighting against femicide in Africa. The morning anchorwomen aren't measured by their cup-size, they are measured by the intelligence. Even the homeless are apt to have a couple of books in their carts!! (What kind of counter-revolutionary planet did I just land on??) The only problem, as many a' comedian have mentioned before me, are those damn wireless headsets. With all of the iPhones, bluetooths, and cellulars: how's one supposed to know if the person talking to himself is a crazy loon or intellectual studying poverty in urban aras! I've decided everyone is slightly off their rocker due to their presence in this nexus of "taxation without representation" combined with an identity crisis of being a city of the nation, but a city without a state. Ah, poor DC!

Dinner with the African A few fellow Grameenians recommended I try "Grillfish" on New Hampshire and M Street. For those of you unfamiliar with the finer points of our ridiculously laid out, Paris inspired, nation's capital -- the landscape architect had not studied the finer points of "function" over "form." As such, DC has a lot of useless intersections created due to set of circles, laid out with intersecting state avenues that join the circles at 6+ points. (Really, what was wrong with the Roman grid layout people??)

Wandering from Foggy Bottom to this multi-intersection for a "seafood restaurant" ('cause I have a bad memory and couldn't remember the name of the place), I looked like a tourist with a kick me sign on her back. Result: an African man asked me if I needed help. [Not the same one who I wrote prejudice about!] When I turned to response, I spotted the restaurant, thus no directions required! As I switched off that way, he asked if I were eating with friends -- answer: no -- and self-invited to dinner (if I didn't mind). What the hell, I'm supposed to be broadening my horizons this year, right? Turns out the guy is a Financial Management Specialist at the World Bank for the Africa Region. In other words, he's the guy African leaders have to suck up to in order to convince the World Bank, they have not completely wasted grants/loans that were provided to their countries. And this poor guy got stuck at dinner with me, with my cynicism and constant "why" questions!! Boy, did he not have a clue of what he had just signed up for.

As we walked to the restaurant, I began my rapid-fire, pop quiz to determine creep status. He offered id and retorted I'd prefer that he get in a good smile at the surveillance camera for later docuemntation. I learned he was originally from Cote D'Ivorie, had lived in France where he fathered a child (by a woman he wasn't married to), had worked for the World Bank in Africa, Europe & now the US. He has been in DC for 5 months and will probably be here for 2-3 years. He doesn't visit his kid much cause of the cost of flights, believes he that he himself is lazy (enjoys watching television, movies, and listening to music). I also got into deep conversation about his thoughts on World Bank protestors and why they protest. An explaination of how a country gets credit/grants from the World Bank. The World Bank's organization. His perception of whether the organization is effective in its mission. And what he thought of his management. (Like I said, poor guy). In return, he learned my name was "Elena," I work for an investment company, am volunteering at Grameen, and live 'somewhere' down M Street. I think in his mind though, the real prize was trying to catch a peak down my shirt from across the table. Darn VS miracle bra was giving off the impression that there was something to see, but the power of my T-mobile pink work shirt was hiding all of the goods. Ha!

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My lesson I learned today was that there are a lot of people working, in their own way, to do a little good in the world. And with all of the pain & hurt these people witness in the lives of others, sometimes, a little laugh does a lot to make the day just a bit brighter. It helps keep us grounded.