What is there to even do in Connecticut?...

*Please Read "Oh Connecticut, what a random state…" first.*

Well my cousins John, George, Jessica and I woke up early Tuesday morning, met up at George and Jessica’s house and began our journey to sketchy Newark for our train. All five of us, including George and Jessica’s dad, of course had to arrive an hour early, so we meandered around and took in our unfortunate surroundings.

An hour and a half later, there we were hugging and greeting our other halves in Stamford Station. After our long and much needed greetings, we began to walk over to the restaurant of one of my friend’s dads. Layla’s Arabic Cuisine was excellent. We ate falafel, gyro, chicken shawerma sandwiches and oh so much hummus. On top of the great and tasty food, my friends got me into this new drink called MASH. MASH is a mixture between fruit juices and seltzer. For someone who doesn’t even look at soda, this was my utopia.

After lunch, our group of eleven decided to walk over to the Stamford Mall and “shop” a little. Of course us six guys had something else in mind; in this mall of nine floors we decided to play tag. Can I just tell you that it was one of the funniest and hardest things I have ever done. But all things have to come to an end, and because we were “disturbing the piece,” some mall cops accosted us and gave us a stern talking to. By that time the girls were satiated with shopping and it was time to leave anyway. Whatever.

Returning to my friend John Paul’s house we played some xbox, “some” being an understatement. Decided we where we wanted to go eat (after 2 hours of bickering) and began squeezing into John Paul’s mom’s mini van to eat at a Hibachi restaurant. I love Chinese/Japanese food but I hate coming out of the restaurant smelling like the food I just consumed, kept my scruples hidden because they would have caused another uproar. Between our cook David tossing the egg into his hat and the flaming onion volcano, we lost track of time. When we left the restaurant it was twelve o’clock and their mom’s castigated us and demanded that we return home.

The girls slept at John Paul’s house and the guys “slept” at David’s house. The word “slept” is in quotations because our sleeping consisted of chatroulette-ing (which you all know how that ends up), messing with whoever fell asleep first, consuming as much junk food as possible and of course, xbox.

After a huge breakfast at John Paul’s house, we returned to the mall and actually shopped. Our train was at six, so we had until then to do everything we could. When we got bored of the mall, and hungry as well, we decided to go eat at Buffalo Wild Wings. My three supercilious friends had to prove their “strength,” and blow up their male ego even more; and did the Blaz’in Challenge. These wings were disgusting, they shouldn’t even be considered comestibles; that’s how spicy they were. All but one failed, and my cousin John was victorious. He got the shirt and his picture forever put up in the Connecticut Buffalo Wild Wings, and the ability to make fun of my other two friends every time they opened their mouths.

On the train ride home I looked back on my trip to Connecticut and thanked God for my friends and for my vivacious experience. That’s what life is about, filling our lives up with as many good experiences as we can. For life is not meant to be spent grieving and in misery, but to be smiling and laughing. I waved goodbye to Connecticut, to my friends, and to my MASH.

“Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.”

Oh Connecticut, what a random state…

Upon my return from Vermont, Monday night, I was surprised to find out that my Connecticut friends were planning for my three cousins and I to traverse down to Stamford to visit them. This trip included us taking the train down on Tuesday morning, sleeping over, and returning Wednesday night, also by train. Now of course I was all for the idea; god forbid me staying home for anytime longer than necessary in my own home, when break is in session, but my parents did not have the same zest as I did. My mother’s default answer is always no, to anything (and I’m not exaggerating), but after some persuasion and a call from my friends mom, she appraised the situation and was finally lulled into agreeing. All that was left was for my father to also agree, and that takes much more work to do than my mother. There is no buttering up my dad and there is most certainly no flattering that man; not to say my father isn’t a brilliant man, but he likes to be told the exact plan in an extremely laconic way. Any future deriving from that plan would cause my father to deprecate the idea and use his signature excuse of “I don’t see it Christopher.” So trying to avoid that situation, I went over and over every detail with my Connecticut friends until it was permanently burned into my memory.

Sitting down for dinner Tuesday night, I was on my best behavior. Trying not to be so overtly nice, I came down early, helped set the table, and poured him a glass of wine. Being able to read my father like a book, I saw to my demise that he was quite aloof, but that certainly was not going to stop me. I asked him about his day, ate my dinner quickly and slowly asked my father in the most colloquial way possible. Very much like my mother, he immediately terminated the conversation and ceded the decision to my mother. Not so fast, in my household that is worse than a no. It means that my father wasn’t convinced but was not in the mood to argue. Trying to be as suave as possible, I spelled out the syllabus for the two days, not leaving out any minute detail, and had him talk with my friend’s dad. After some consideration (and a back and forth with my mom), he finally agreed as well. I was finally going to see my Connecticut friends after months and months of trying to make this work…and failing.