The Club

We decided to shake things up a bit and hit the downtown club scene Saturday night. Back in our early to mid twenties we knew the hot spots. We had connections, guest lists and VIP status. We knew the DJ's spinning each weekend. Week after week, bouncers greeted us with friendly winks as we passed through security and bartenders smiled as we strolled through the club.

Dolled up and ready to go by eleven, the gang of us partied through the wee hours of the morning, drink after drink, we partied hard. As the beats spun, we were on fire. We rocked the dance floor and occasionally the speakers.

We were there once. But as it would seem not anymore. With absolutely no idea where to go and no connections, we counted on the younger generation to help us out. Just like old times, we were picked up at eleven by our DD and headed out to a club suggested by a young twenty something male.

Just wasn't like the old days. Hip twenty somethings grooving to the music, fighting for spots to showcase their moves on the speakers, clanking cocktail glasses and drooling over each other. We witnessed the occasional fall off the speakers, boys exposing their bare chests and gals busting out their moves in barely there skirts.

As we sipped our twelve dollar cocktails high above in the VIP section we surveyed the club goers down below. We shared a few laughs at their expense. We saw ourselves ten years younger. We were old.

My how quickly we forget that we were there once. All we did was look forward to Saturday nights. We partied hard well after the clubs closed; fallen off speakers; been carried out of the bar and forgotten people behind. We killed the party scene.

Now in our thirties, there were a few stifled yawns as the clock struck two. We were more excited to kick off our heels and crawl into bed than anything else. I keep telling myself it was just the club, because I know I still have it in me to party like a twenty something.

Wingmen

Men just seem to have this unwritten code that has been passed down from generation to generation that girls are simply just not privy to. Being a woman, I can only guess that at some pre-determined age- like fifteen, boys are quickly taught some of the important rules of the dating world. Take for example, the wingman philosophy. Whether at seventeen, twenty two or thirty (I suspect this role carries on in their later stages as well) men just have each other's back, constantly looking out for one another and helping their buddies approach women.

Let's take a closer look at the concept: A wingman's role is to support his single friend in picking up a woman. The single guy spots a woman with the intentions of seducing her, and his wingman backs him up, by chatting up one of her friends or engaging the woman herself and making comments which make his friend seem more attractive. Voila! Single Guy and Single Girl hit if off. This whole social interaction appears to be a very calculated maneuver- but it works. Simple 3 step process.

In my experience, women are so very very different. Winggirl is a foreign concept in our circle. We were never taught the simple approach. Women are certainly aware of the notion, but for some reason or another choose to ignore the rule ( you know what I mean- single woman sets her sights on single male, a plan is made, friend sets herself up for the screening process, friend signals that she's going in, she chats him up, bats her eyes, flips her hair, lingers on his every word, giggle's at everything he says, she realizes she is enjoying the guy's attention, friend ceases to exist and twenty minutes later she realizes that her single friend is waiting in the corner for her to return with some sign that its good to go). Not so simple. Long drawn out twelve step process.

You'd think by thirty, women would have figured it out. I think we need to take a few pointers from our counterparts and revolutionize the winggirl philosophy. Probably won't happen in this lifetime- but it's worth a shot. Maybe the single gals should just start going out on the town with their male friends only... I think they may have our best interests at heart.

Just One Drink

By thirty, we have poise, insight and experience. At this stage, we've learned our limits and discovered that making bad choices have consequences. We realize that crash diets really don't work; that we can actually say NO and enjoy it and we've been through enough to finally be able to spot the red flags.

Who knew that our wisdom didn't apply to our love for partying? You'd think that by the age of 30 we would have the experience behind us to know that one drink usually leads to two and that hitting the bars and guzzling back too many cocktails is directly linked with severe fogginess, throbbing temples, random flashbacks, couch potatoism and a strong declaration to never pick up another drink again.

We find ourselves painfully reliving this lesson, over and over again. Will we ever learn that we just can't handle it like we used to in our early twenties? Will we ever learn that it's okay to just have one drink?

The Reason

I believe everything happens for a reason. People we meet, the things they say and do. Each person or situation has some small effect on our lives, and somehow we grow or change as a result. Maybe a stranger’s conversation sparks inspiration or creative genius. Sometimes a friend’s kind words or experiences instill bravery and courage that make you wake up and want to make a change.

Sometimes I wonder why certain things happen or why certain people show up in our lives. It seems somehow these encounters just seem to happen for a reason. Sometimes an opportunity presents itself, and we are faced with hard choices. We may not get the job we had a hearts set on; relationships we thought would last through the ages just weren't meant to be; some doors close. But quietly observe what is being presented. When when one door closes, another opens. Look for the opportunities. Listen to what people have to offer. You just never know why they've shown up.

What I can tell you is that at this point in my life, I believe that every experience big or small up until now has shaped who I am, and has led me to exactly where I am supposed to be, at exactly the right time and for the right reasons.

I am about to embark on the biggest adventure of my life. The opportunity knocked and I am walking through the door.

Ask yourself the hard questions, make the hard choices. Remember that things happen for a reason and live your dreams.

The Adventure

Turning thirty has brought a whirlwind of changes, challenges and excitement. As a result of a certain sequences of events, I’ve made a decision to pick up and travel across the world to teach English.


One of my goals has always been to teach children- so I took a TESL course at a local University. Surrounded by early twenty somethings with looming graduate statuses were buzzing about, excited to teach abroad somewhere in the World. The world was at their fingertips. Some chose Italy, one had his sights set on Greece. Others chose Japan, Germany and South Korea.


Out of 20 classmates, I was one of three people over the age of 30. My initial intentions were just to complete the course and maybe tutor for some extra cash. You know… stay safe and comfortable exactly where I am.


With all of their excitement and spontaneity, I stopped and really questioned myself. Why couldn’t I do that as well? What exactly was keeping me here? After some intense internal battles- I finally made the decision to go for it. I had nothing to loose. Being somewhat of a free spirit helps, but I figured there was no better time in my life to live a little. This is our one shot at making our dreams a reality… and so I’m living it up.

As the 4 week countdown begins its only fitting to borrow from the Genius himself. Dr. Seuss wrote in "Oh the Places You’ll Go":

Congratulations!

"Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!"

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.

"You can steer yourself anydirection you choose."

You're on your own.
And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who'lldecide where to go.



For a full version of the book complete with photojournalism by an Australian Backpacker please visit http://www.photohype.com/HBjourneyGerri.htm

Vacationland

My dedicated fans have been asking for more, and I realize that I haven’t written a single word since May. Most of you might have thought I got sucked into some shady cult given my last posting, but fear not I am alive and kicking.

So much has transpired over the past few months, which I promise to explain in later postings- but for now I owe this one to Vacationland.

Everyone needs a little down time, a little sunshine, and a lot of drinking, laughter and of course kicking it back a few years and being fifteen for a few days.

As I rocked out to Michael Jackson’s ( aka MJ) greatest hits on the drive down I looked forward to Vacationland.

As I approached my girlfriend’s beach front cottage, I caught a glimpse of her awaiting my arrival. Armed with colorful acrylic wine glasses and some classic Chardonnay, at two in the afternoon, vacation was under way.

Settling in, I took it all in. The sea air, the sound of the crashing waves against the beach. One cottage. Two couples. One very adorable and single guy two doors down... plus me. What are the odds?

Road Rockets in hand my girlfriend and I made it to the local bar...barely. We were joined by my girlfriend’s good friend from two doors down. We’re not so sure how we made the walk home- mangled, but the chivalrous Mr. Two Doors Down offered the ladies a ride home on his scooter. Relief struck us as we exited the bar to catch a ride on a sleek and stylish, two wheeled bike (or so we assumed).

Turns out, the glimmering silver object reflecting off the moonlight was in actuality a handled-bar skateboard with mini wheels. We nearly died of laughter- but also nearly died trying to actually use the damn thing ( due to levels of alcohol consumption). There was a bail out, more laughter and a black bruise to boot. Good times. We still suspect he stole it from the kid down the street.

As the sunshine rolled out, so did the memories. The gang of us beached it by day and binged by night. Over the course of the next four days we managed to* gaze at the stars, get super D (aka drunk) , takeover the door man’s job and card people at the bar, get kicked out of the bar, return home, make a bonfire, catch the sunrise, walk the beach like 15 year old teenagers drinks in hand at 5:30 in the morning, play beach baseball, be seduced by swingers and took a car for the ultimate ride.

Oh to be single, sexy and free in Vacationland.

* the inspiration for the prose was perfectly summarized by "Pete" and so I sheepishly admit that I borrowed some of his material. Thanks.