Well here I am. I have managed to survive a bit more than a month in the US of A. For a while I really thought that I wasn't going to make it. After months of exotic travel and years of bizarre living conditions, becoming a full blooded "American" seemed a bit too terrifying to truly accept. Now, however, as the stomach is once again calming to the food, my job search is (hopefully) nearing a result, and my life in Denver shall soon be realized; I feel like I'm going to make it.
But before I decided to devote my bloggues to the wonders of suburban-all-American-style-livin', allow me to tell you about some of the things that really scared the shit outta me upon entering this immensely strange place.
FOOD- Whooooooooaaaaaaa now that was quite the adjustment. It could be that I was drinking too much tap and river water in Central America or (which I think is more likely) I could have just been too overwhelmed by the crazy diet they have here.
The first day back in the States I was visiting friends in Chicago. My friend JP took me to a famous heavy metal style hamburger joint where you eat 30 pound burgers while Pantera rages from the speakers and kung fu movies play endlessly on the omnipresent flat screens. Only in America. After we dined on the half-heifer heart attack cakes we left to go for a bit of tux shopping for my friend's upcoming wedding. Along the way, I felt like my stomach was bursting and that I literally had no vacancy for all the toxins boiling away in my belly. I asked my friend for a fruit shake as I was accustomed to drinking light mango shakes on the beaches of all my little hot spots. He of course brought me a cornucopia of 8 fruits crammed into a brick of a smoothie. I drank it to what I thought was delight until about ten minutes after.
Driving along the streets of Chi-Town, as the locals secretly call it, I started to feel a bit of both queasy and nauseous. I ask my friend, "are we close to your house?"
"About fifteen minutes. Are you al.."
"Dude I just want to....uh...maybe lay down or drink some water or take a nap I think." I interrupted awkwardly.
We continued along the street until my friend spoke, "I'm just waiting for you to POP!"
Well that did it. I burst. I yelled for him to pull over and chucked the car's weight in vomit out of his slightly open door. The puke went about 80% all over the bus stop and 20% on the passenger side door of my friends 2 week old Volvo. It was amazing. I could feel, first, the cold, mildly refreshing smoothie followed by the warm Heavy metal burger, all the way up to the oven roasted pear shooting out my nose like a spit wad. Quite a relief in all.
I puked like this about once a day after eating for the first two weeks. I even puked up the filet mignon and sea bass at the aforementioned wedding. OOPS!
DOG PARKS- Another thing that really scared the shit out of me at first was going to the dog park or DP as my parents called it. I was frightened by the realization that people's pets could actually have better personalities than themselves.
You enter into the park on any random day and it is full of people watching their dogs fight, sniff, and hump with utter delight. The dogs go and have fun and while a bunch of random people walk around waiting for you to make eye contact or yell at your dog that is playing with their dog.
"Oh they play so well together, don't they?" The random old lady will ask.
"Yep, sure do," says me, the guy who doesn't really know why he is here and just wants his dog to crap so he can leave.
"I've seen these two playing a lot. The other dogs tend to be so dominate and aggressive, don't you think?" She smiles.
"Yep, sure do," I really don't know why we are talking about this.
"Your dog's name is Sophie isn't it? That's my dog's name too." I neglect to tell this woman that, like all of our family dogs, this dog has been named after a famous Hooker. It's just something we do. However, we spare the knowledge for some.
Eventually after we talk about how many tennis balls there are in the park and how small some other dog is and how much "yucky slobber" another one has, I say "nice to meet you" and walk over to another quadrant of the park. I say nice to meet you and yet we never actually met. We are actually socializing servants for our pets. We talk about our pet's personalities, names and funny quirks without ever actually talking to each other. It would be like if you just started talking about a tree to someone just because you were both standing next to it. It makes me feel uncomfortable.
You also have those buttholes who go the to "pick up chicks." I would too, but this park is filled with regular North Face wearing Colorado family people. One old fart once showed up while I was with my mother and thought he might try a little cougar hunting. He looked right at her and said "Excuse me, what do we we do here? I never been to one of these before. You see my girlfriend left me with the dog and moved off to New York and now I don't know what to do." After he said that I knew that there was something that pissed me off more about this man other than the fact that he had his sweatpants tucked into his socks.
I immediately wanted to yell, "Oh you don't know the complex science of a dog park sir? Well let me inform you. You see we all bring our dogs here, have sex with them and then let them run around in circles for about 30 minutes. Everyone else has been here a while so that's why all the sexin' is all over. Go ahead, I mean your girlie left you anyways so this will be refreshing."
Come on man. Your opening line is going to be how you don't know how to take your dog's leash off and then the closer is that, despite your impeccable style, you have just failed in your relationship and got stuck with the chick's pet while she went off to make millions in NYC? I just don't understand people. My mom of course enjoyed his pathetic effort and he did figure out how to take his dog's leash off. Good boy!
COLD WEATHER- I don't really have much to say about this except that sometimes it gets cold as nuts out here. Last week it snowed almost 12 inches in two days. That is a lot of snow for October. It's much colder than a tropical island. Much colder.
So while there are many other things like these that could be classified as "culture shock," I have gained the confidence to move on and become a part of this community. I think the days will be good and as long as I admit that there are pants in socks morons everywhere in life, I think I'll survive. I will be domesticated.
