All posts tagged: Carlos Santana

Signs of a Good First Date

Here’s how a first date is supposed to work: Man shows up on time—even a bit early—and politely asks the hostess if it would be possible to get a table now, as opposed to half an hour from now.  (Check.) Man greets woman with a hug and a kiss on the cheek and discreetly-but-not-presumptuously places his hand on the small of her back as they’re being led to their table.  (Check.) Man and woman engage in such animated small talk that the waiter must come by three times to inquire as to whether or not they’ve even looked at the menu.  (Check.) Man wholeheartedly supports woman’s decision to order red sangria as opposed to white (thank goodness—that could have been a major deal breaker), then proceeds to order an entire pitcher. (Check.) Man and woman exchange online dating horror stories, fill each other in on what was really going on in their heads during the wedding reception where they first met (turns out his story is almost as good as mine) and confess their “nerd” …

Welcome to Miami

You know those idiots from the Midwest who lose their minds when they go to the beach?  They only have a weekend in Florida so they hit the sand with nary a drop of sunscreen, determined to squeeze as much tanning as possible into a 48-hour period, and then act surprised when they get back to their hotel and discover that their thighs now resemble cherry popsicles? I hate those people. Which is why I’m all the more irritated to find that I’ve inadvertently joined their club. My weekend in Miami started out well enough.  Much to my surprise, my younger brought not one but three pairs of shoes.  I found a handsome Dutchman-cum-surfer to talk to on the bus from the airport to South Beach and even though our little chat lasted only a few blocks, I was proud of myself for having had the courage to strike up a conversation in the first place. By 9:00pm, I had slipped into my designated Friday night club outfit and was enjoying my first mojito of …

Miami Bound

So today, I’m heading to Miami.  I’ve never flown to Florida for just a weekend before, and it seems rather decadent.  My guilt over carbon emissions, however, hasn’t kept me from packing six pairs of shoes into my carryon, nor has it kept me from agreeing to fly to Miami in the first place. A few weeks ago, I received a text message from my mother.  “Your father and I have decided to fly to Miami for a week.  You have 90 minutes to decide if you’d like to join us for the weekend.”  She sent the same text to my brother and even though he has rather selective hearing when it comes to his cell phone, he responded well within the allotted time. As such, I find myself at the departures gate with my six pairs of shoes, my laptop and my equally over loaded younger brother.  I wonder how long it will be before he discovers that he’s forgotten his sunglasses, his flop flops or some other essential ingredient and no, before you …

Something Akin to Cabin Fever

Between snow days and sick days, my bank account’s not looking nearly as healthy as it once did.  Nonetheless, when I brave the snow to deposit this week’s paychecks, the branch manager invites me into his office and urges me to consider upgrading my free checking account. “With your assets, you’re eligible for a Crown account.” “What’s the benefit of a Crown account?” I ask, eying the handsome loan officer in the next cubicle. “A free safe deposit box, free checks, free…” But I’m not really listening.  I’m too hung up on the man behind the class partition to consider any serious financial maneuvering (and yes, upgrading my account comprises serious financial maneuvering in my book.  I’m still recovering from the process of opening an account in the UK three years ago and am already dreading Wachovia’s switch to Wells Fargo.  I’ll have to think of a new password for my online banking and register a new debit card when the time comes.) I thank the man for his advice and tell him I’ll think …