The only thing worse than loosing your passport is loosing your passport two days before you leave for Rome, deciding to drink away the mind crippling thought of it, and then waking up the next morning in an apartment you've never seen before, without a purse containing everything you find valuable. I honestly thought it would be a good idea to go into New York City that night. It was my good friends birthday and I had a few days left in the states. To add to the cause, two huge black ladies showed up at my doorstep that day in what I thought to be an attempted burglary.
"Chloe! You're going to be twenty one years old and you're still opening doors for strangers?" my mom said panicking as she and my family drove down 684 to my house upstate New York. "If two crazy ladies are pounding at the door and pushing the doorbell over and over again, wouldn't you think NOT to open it if you're home alone?"
A part of me knew she was right. However, I live in a house that resembles fucking Ellis Island with the amount of workers who come in and out of our home on a daily basis. Between the housekeeper, gardener, pool man, decorator, plumber, marble-table man, and the Poland springs deliverer (I don't know why he's always around. I should probably check to see if I resemble any of these people…), there was no reason why I should not have opened the door that day.
So expecting to see cute little Pablo the marble table man, the darling Mexican who sometimes joins our family for dinner, I open the door and see two gigantic black ladies with absolutely no teeth standing in front of me.
"Uhh?" I said in a rather confused tone, "What can I do for you two?"
When the older woman opened her mouth I realized she was the more fortunate one. She had one black tooth hanging desperately from the top of her mouth. Imagine what the wicked witch of the west would look like, had she dipped her one snaggle tooth in tar for 600 years. Yes, it was really that bad.
"Where is the lady of this house!"
"Uhh, she's not here?"
"When will she be back," she said sternly, as if my mother owed her drug money. I was absolutely petrified. Before telling this woman where my mom really was, what she was wearing, her maiden name, and social security number, a light bulb went off that this lady was a full-blooded, ragging, psycho. My eyes took a trip down to her feet and then from her Dora the explorer light up shoes, I ventured to her T-shirt that obviously caught everything she has ever eaten since '96.
"Umm…well…," I was trying desperately to make up a bullet proof story, when most people would have slammed the door in her face. Sometimes I say way too much when all I need is a simple, Get the Fuck off my Property. "She'll be home soon. Actually," I said now with more confidence, trying to be as intimidating as she was to me, "she'll be home very very soon. And to be perfectly honest," I was now popping my right hip out with my hand on my hip, trying way to hard (obviously) to look scary, "they don't really like visitors!"
SLAM! I sigh. I smile. I shrug it off.
Two seconds pass…
AHHHH!!!!!!
Please tell me what you would do if you were home alone and two huge black women with no teeth, fully equipped with Dora the Explorer light up shoes, showed up to your door saying, "Girl, where is yo mamma," as if they wanted revenge? I mean, maybe I would have taken them seriously if they had some sort of pitch promising me an everlasting relationship with God, even though we don't talk anymore- things got weird, or a feeling of fulfillment if I donated $400 dollars to the 'save the frogs' foundation in the South America. When I told them 'my momma' wasn't home I ran into my room and called the police. I swear, if I'm at the white house next week drinking beers with Obama for racial profiling, don't be surprised. Bad joke- but honestly, who shows up to someone's door like that? Too much stress for one day. No passport, No visa, no 'mama', no problem! It was time for SAKKI SAKKI….
Bombed.
And that's exactly what I was after me and thirty of my friends left the sushi/sakki bar and headed somewhere uptown near 83rd for some bar action. I should have known to stop drinking when everyone around me was drinking cheap beer and I was the only ass hole drinking a cosmo out of a martini glass. No wonder someone stole my purse. Cosmo is to Irish Pub as boner is to sweatpants. You are sticking out where you should NOT be sticking out.
And unnoticed I did not go. To make things worse, I was doing that stupid walk I always do when I've had a little too much. I had ultimate man stompers (manstompers (n): stelletos that could be used as a deadly weapon. They are often bought after a severely bad break up as retail therapy, a way to prove they are still on top, or, in worst cases, an actual deadly weapon…), and a cigarette in my right hand that I was flailing around as if I were a ribbon dancer dancing with sparklers. Well, the rest I don't remember, however, lets just say when I awoke the next morning, I was severely in for it.
My eyes open. They are bound shut by the make up I obviously didn't take off the night before. I can't feel my feet. Fuck! Where are my feet? I look down, my man stompers that are still on, turned my feet blue. That’s the least of my problems. I look to the right, there's no man. I look to the left. There's no man. I look under the covers. No men, monsters, or bed bugs. Second very important thing to figure out. WHERE AM I? I decided to lift my head off the pillow, which was like trying to lift a dinosaur by a string of thread and noticed I was in a beautiful apartment overlooking a very beautiful part of New York City. Hey! Not bad!
Just as I was about to get up and explore, I heard my friend Kat's voice, followed by my friend Cody's voice. Never had I been so relieved.
Kat came running into my room. I honestly think she was frightened. To make a comparison I may have looked twenty times worse than 'the one-toothed monster' that came to my door the day before.
"Your dad has been looking for you. Your parents have absolutely no idea where you are. They've been calling everyone. I don’t think anyone knew where you were last night!"
I took Kat's phone that was being offered to me, "Oh man," I said with shame. I knew my father wanted to replace the passport today. Maybe he would pick me up. Maybe he was already here. "Kat just pass me my bag, I'll use my phone."
AND THEN IT HIT ME LIKE THE THIRTY FISTS THAT HIT THE TABLE OVER AND OVER AGAIN WITH EACH SAKKI BOMB WE TOOK.
"Kat…where's my purse?
"Oh, jesh, Chlo, I'm not sure. Honestly," she said with a look that read something like, I'm not even sure how you're alive right now, "I don't remember you carrying anything."
This was probably because people were carrying me instead.
"Fuck, I did it again Kat!" I couldn't believe this was happening, "I had everything in that purse. I fucking lost my passport AND visa, and now I loose my license, social security card, and school ID! How am I supposed to get anything replaced!"
Then it hit me harder- there's no way in HELL I'm going to Rome on Sunday. It was breaking my heart to even think about what was in the purse. My camera, blackberry, makeup, ipod, $200, AMEX, Debit Card, Coach wallet, and my mother fucking favorite lighter.
So I do what I'm supposed to do. Call dad.
"Thanks Kat, tell Cody to call the bar we were at last night, we'll see if they found anything."
Lets just say from here out was bad news. I found out my parents had searched my entire room and found nothing but items that would make any parent want to send their daughter to an abusive Russian boarding school for 30 years. On top of that, they never found the passport and visa. My father also told me he was coming to pick me up to get me another Passport.
"Well Dad," I said in a froggy voice, "You see, that's not entirely possible."
"Chloe," my dad said in a stern voice. A voice that I rarely ever hear from him. Anyone who knows my father knows he does not get angry. However, his big thing was always you can have fun until you fuck up; and that’s when I kick your ass. Plain and simple: my father was a pitbull infested with rabies, and I was wearing milkbone underwear…
I explained everything. Calm before the storm.
So I left Kats apartment, stumbling across the street like a wounded soldier, unsure of where to go next.
While roaming I heard, "CHLOE ESPOSITO GET YOUR FUCKING ASS IN THE CAR NOW!"
Before I knew it all eyes were on me, pigeons were leaving their Saturday morning brunch on the pavement to take flight, and I, with nothing left but a bad hangover, crossed the street because even the yellow taxi cab drivers felt my pain and let me shamefully walk to the car.
Before I got into the car my friend Kat screamed something to me that I will always remember. Something that truly foreshadowed the whole outcome of this story.
"Chloe," she said shaking her head, "You are the biggest disaster sometimes. But for some strange, unexplainable reason, its always rainbows, butterflies and happy endings for you."
Although at the time I didn't believe a single word she said, I must admit I do have a pretty kick ass guardian angel that somehow snips me out of the entanglements I weave myself into on a daily basis.
After dealing with police, my crying mother, my horrible excuses (I think I even told my parents that the one-toothed monsters broke into the house and took my visa), we found the Visa and the passport.
Of course it was on the top shelf IN my Roman Western Literature textbook from two semesters ago…
As for the purse, I replaced everything, however, the bastard that stole my purse decided to mail me my license, debit card and American express. I'm surprised he didn't send it in a thank you card. If he did it would have definitely read:
Dear Chloe Esposito,
Thank you so much for being vulnerable the other night at Mad River Bar. I noticed you were the only person drinking cosmopolitans and dancing like an electrocuted squirrel. When you started flirting with the ugliest man at the bar and laughing like a choking horse I had no choice but to steal everything you owned. For your generosity I would like to thank you with your license, debit card and amex. Too bad you cancelled them or else I would have taken all your money too.
Love,
The guy your parents warn you about.
PS, don't open doors for strangers.
So what am I doing now? I'm sitting on a plane on my way to Italy.
Its all rainbows, butterflies, and happy endings.
Chloe.
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