How Undressing Furthered My Career

I just celebrated my 33rd birthday and therefore have been taking stock of the last year of my life.  I recently started a new job and feel that you, the internet, would like to hear how I landed this job.

Drumroll...............  How Undressing Furthered My Career (dedicated to Michael)

(to set the mood)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YdMaZRVUU8


No, I'm not a stripper (although I'd love to burlesque!).
A couple of years ago, I was in Arizona for a work-related training.  After class one day, several of us students and trainers got together for dinner.  I knew some people, others I was meeting for the first time.  As we sat there drinking and getting to know each other, one of the trainers asked a question that he loves to ask when he meets new people.  "What is the funniest craziest thing that has happened to you at work?"

Several people sat there pondering the question but not me.  Without a moment's hesitation, the craziest story I had (and had forgotten until then) popped into my head and I knew I had to tell it.  By the time I was done, everyone was laughing and this stranger was a stranger no more.  He said that my story was one of  the best ones he'd heard in all the years he'd been asking.  Two days later, he offered me a permanent position at his park. 
(Sidenote: permanent jobs are EXTREMELY hard to come by in my line of work so this was awesome!)

So what was that story, you ask.  Well, here it is!

The Spider Incident

"It all began with a spider who took up residence in a quiet, cool, calm location: my hat.  This spider found my hat hanging on its peg in a loud busy office.  My hat had not moved in a week or so and therefore made a fantastic little home for this poor happless spider, who I guess I should be thanking.

One morning, very early and alone, before my usual coffee-induced momentum had kicked in, I went to put up the flag outside of the vistior center.  Blurry-eyed and somnambulatory, I grabbed my hat off its peg, picked up the flag and headed for the door.  I put my hat on as I was walking outside (per uniform standards of course) and sleepily stumbled the 20 feet or so to the flag pole.

I guess now is a good time to mention that I'm not truly alone.  There was one other person working at that hour - the park's superintendent.  His office window has a glorious view of the flagpole, not 30 feet away.

So I wave to the superintendent, knowing all too well that he watches us put up the flag like a hawk, looking for any little thing we may do wrong and therefore be "un-American".  He waves back and watches as I unhook the rope from the pole.

It is at this time that the SPIDER, residing in my hat without my consent or knowledge, freaks out and decides to make a run for it.  He crawls down my face, waking me in a way that no amount of coffee can do.


He is not a small spider either, he's one of those thumbs-sized squishy guys.  I shriek because something is crawling down my face and I'm just not okay with that!  I swipe at my face in an efffort to knock the offending creature off, but accidently knock him directly into my shirt.
The superintendent watches on.




It should be noted that the flag that I was previously carrying so reverently has now been tossed to the ground in my arachnid-induced hysteria.  The hat has also hit the ground, right where I threw it and began to jump on it.
The superintendent watches on.

The spider that has been knocked into my shirt is now scurrying into my bra in an effort to hide.  So, with flag and hat on the ground, and the superintendent watching horrified (because he doesn't know about the spider), I rip into my button-down shirt to rummage around in a vain attempt to get whatever is crawling on me away.  To add to my embarrassement, I do the "there's a bug on me and I dont' know what it is but it must get off" dance.  This should never be witnessed, expecially by your boss.  This dance is ususally accompanied by expletives, and I'm expletive-ing away.  The spider makes a jump for safety onto the ground and scurries away, never to be seen again.

Spider - 1, Me - 0

Now realizing that I am insect-free, the sudden understanding that I'm also hat and flag-free with my hand in my bra standing in front of the big boss hits me like a ton of bricks.  Seriously, cue Acme Brick Company and Wile E Coyote.  I freeze, look up at him, yank my shirt closed, and sheepishly put the hat back on before very solemnly raising the flag to its lofty heights.  I slump back inside the visitor center to arrange my clothes and wait for the inevitable raging superintendent phone call that will end my career.

Guess what, the call never came.  me - 1, spider - 0

Nobody was told about the Spider Incident, at least until the aforementioned dinner.  I credit my superintendent's very reserved and shy demeanor around women to the Spider Incident remaining a secret.  I don't think he ever even knew there WAS a spider.  I'm pretty sure he'll never speak to a woman again because we must all be crazy.

The End."

And that is the story of how undressing furthered my career.

Driving into the Ocean... It Could Happen.

Ok, so my earliest memories of traveling were road trips to Louisiana with my mom to visit her bf.  What I remember, or have been told, is that there was lots of singing - Patsy Cline, Mac Davis, Mel McDaniel (who sang Louisiana Saturday Night).  Little girl me in the back, big girl mom in the front - braving the interstate with no cell service and no males! (I will revisit this scenario in a few more years... stay tuned.)  This must have instilled the need for road trips, and road trip tunage, at an early age.  It also was the start of yearly migrations across damned interstate 10!

A few years later, while heading on yet another family trip down 10 east, my father passed down a bit of travel wisdom.  He told his young, naive, impressionable daughter to 'make sure daddy stays awake and doesn't miss the exit or we'll fly right into the ocean'.  YES! You read that right - playing mind games with small children and toeing that screwed-up-for-life line.

Here, I'll illustrate it for you so you truly get the horror that was going through my mind:

With this image in my head for years, its truly remarkable that I ever drove near a body of water again.  Needless to say, I made sure that everyone in my car stayed awake and paid attention, hopefully annoying every adult in the process.  Serves them right.

A few years later, 'daddy' would play a similar prank on my grandfather by explaining to me that I needed to remind my poor forgetful grandpa to check his gas gauge constantly as we motorhomed it to Ohio.  I did my duty, and was anxious the entire vacation.

Now that I've grown up, I can see that those roadtrip antics weren't things I needed to worry about.  Ok, maybe the gas thing.  Only god and myself know how many times I promised something in return for making a gas station appear on the dusty desolate horizon!  Behind the wheel is where I feel most comfortable (ahem, cough, cough, control freak) and this is a good thing as I'd spend the majority of my 20s crossing the US, back and forth.  Kinda like Forest Gump, same good tunes but way less hairy.

Surfing the Couch

So I'm still stuck on the couch, and since I'm bored, my brain is wondering to "anywhere but here".  I fully believe that all adventurous trips must have been conceived while someone was sick, on a couch.

Places I'm dreaming of visiting:

Borobudur, Java, Indonesia

Taj Mahal, North India

The Subway, Zion NP

And then there is always back to El Yunque, Puerto Rico and my favorite hammock so far.

Climb Every Mountain, Shop Every Mall

Most days I feel like Maria Von Trapp standing on a mountaintop, singing at the top of her lungs.  However today I feel like a zombie underground trying to claw my way to the surface.  Today I have food poisoning.  What better way to spend a miserable day on the couch than start a blog!

So! Welcome to High Rises to Hiking Boots, or a City Girl Goes Wild.  (Not yanking-my-top-off wild, more like Jack London's Call-of-the-Wild).

See, I grew up in the suburbs of one of the largest cities in the US.  I did typical suburban girl things: softball, dance, giggling with friends about boys, worshipping the mall like it was church, driving WAY too fast on the freeway, screaming at the sight of bugs and most slimy things; you know, the usual stuff.  I also did some atypical suburban girl stuff: shopping for banquet dresses at drag queen shops, learning why the ladies' pictures in New Orleans' French Quarter had black bars across them, borrowing my boyfriends' car without a license... and wrecking it.

Some would say I'm spunky or the more tame "fun-loving".  I refer to it as naively adventurous!

So how did I go from this:

to this?:

Welcome to my blog.