NAME: Jessica "Jess" Thrower.
AGE: 25.
LIKES: Sarcasm, flowers, iced teas [a little too much] and animals.
MUSIC: Minus the Bear, The Hush Sound, Postal Service, Something Corporate and Jack's Mannequin.
INFO: In the story.
NAME: Charis Jamison.
AGE: 24.
LIKES: Sleeping in, crepes, daydreams and Music and lots of it.
MUSIC: All Time Low, Forever The Sickest Kids, Cobra Starship, The Starting Line and Fall Out Boy.
INFO: Lived with Jess in New York City before moving to Los Angeles. A musician. Rest in the story.
NAME: Alexz.
AGE: 25.
LIKES: Starbucks, boys, grilled cheese with ketchup, Edgar Allen Poe and her sidekick.
MUSIC: Paramore, Emery, Hidden In Plain View, underOATH and the Across The Universe Soundtrack.
INFO: Lives with Charis in LA. Rest in the story.
Be sure to give me feed back!
Boop Bee Doop Bee Doop. God why can't I get that stupid song out of my head? Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring Banana Phone. I guess one could interpret it as a coping mechanism for anxiety. At least thats what my psychiatrist called it. I bring back things from a happier time, (see:early childhood) to try to make me happier. The supposed cure: 40 mg of Prozac once a day.
I always hated flying. It got significantly worse when I saw the second of the twin towers fall live on channel 7 news right from the so-called comfort of living room. Being a New Yorker, some of the people who died were friends of the family.
Two months ago I gto a job offer with Bow and Arrow Merchandise, the largest distributer of Band Merch in the states. Problem is, the majority of their clients are on the Weat Coast and I was on the East. They said I was an "artist" and they'd be thrilled if I would join their team of "designers." If I was a real "artist," I'd be back in New York in my studio painting, where I belong. Not doodling cartoons and slapping them on a t-shirt with some mediocre band's name written across the top. But put a $19.95 price sticker on it and put it on the t-shirt walls of Hot Topics around the country and BAM, I get paid. So, of course, I accepted the offer. My old roommate Charis who moved to California has a spare bedroom at her house in LA. Its a 20 minute drive commute to work anywhere else in the country. Its an hour and a half according to her.
I know I make it seem like this whole lifestyle change is going to be horrible, but I guess its really not. Its good money, a free place to sleep and a much needed change of scenery.
Eight hours have passed since I left New York's LaGuardia airport and we're still in the sky. And I certainly couldn't be less happy about it. BANANA PHONE! I was mentally cursing Raffi for making that song and my parents for buying me his cassette when I was four. We've been circiling LAX for the past 20 minutes. Theres a rain storm (see: bad omen) and the airport is backed up so we're stuck in the sky until theres a free runway.
Theres a small drop in the plane's level. I gripped the arm rests, accidentally hitting the recline button on my chair.
"Miss!" The gayest flight attendant you could imagine came running down the aisle. He had the shiniest pair of designer shoes I had ever seen, limp wrists and not a hair out of place. Very different from the Times Square street walkers I was used to seeing. He reached my seat. "Miss, we're langing. All of the seats must be brought to their upright positions," he said with his blatently homosexual lisp.
"Sorry about that. It was an accident," I said, bringing my chair back up.
"Have a nice day and thank you for flying American Airlines," he said as I exited the plane after another gruling half hour of doing laps in the sky.
I picked myself up a trolley and made my way to baggage claim. I got that without a problem and phoned Charis.
"Hey Jess," she answered knowing who I was, thanks to caller ID.
"Hey, I'm gonna take car service to your house so you don't have to come pick me up."
"Alright, see you in like half an hour."
It turns out that in LA, half an hour means twice that (see:San Fernando Freeway during rush hour in bad weather). That was another difference from New York and California. In New York, you need to get from point A to point B in x amount of minutes and not a second more, whereas in California, you pretty much expect the delays and sure, you wish they weren't there, but theres nothing you can do about it, and you'll get over it.
I finally made it to Charis' and haul my bags to the front porch.
"Hey stranger," I hear from my left. I turn to meet Charis and another girl around out age. They each had a cigarette in their hands. Charis put hers out in the ashtray shaped like a rubber duck. She put her arms around me and gave me such a squeeze, I dropped all of my bags.
"I see you haven't changed a bit," I said, refering to the cig in the duck, still giving off a bit of smoke.
"I've cut back significantly. I'm down to about a pack and a half a day!" Only for Charis could this be an improvement.
"And shes been crankier ever since. Hi, I'm Alexz. I live with you," she said putting an arm around my shoulder and showing me guiding me indoors.
Cellular Bananular phone.
Send me feedback.
=]
Good to be back.
-Erica.
