For those of you paying attention, you might notice it’s been a gazillion years since the last post. I’ve been busy. Very busy. It was, of course, the last semester of my senior year and now I am a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, with a Bachelor of Arts in Biology from the faculty of the College of Arts and Sciences. Yay. Now, to poverty as a science major in the real world. I am balancing two jobs. One takes up a majority of my time, in smell and taste research at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania, and the other is an accompanist job with Bruce Montgomery and the Gilbert and Sullivan Players. On top of that, I hope to add other accompaniment gigs and maybe some work with the ELP here in Philadelphia. I’ll be living on campus, same place as last summer, with hopefully cool people on my block. Some of the same people are around, like Eugene and Molly and Leo and Bianca, and some are totally new. Hola. I guess that’s the update on me.
This is all rather commonplace and boring, now that I’m home after a two-week vacation in paradise. Namely, Miami Beach; Montevideo, Uruguay (and Colonia, Maldonado and Punta del Este); and Buenos Aires, Argentina. All this came as part of the Glee Club “Don’t Guay for Me, Argentina” Pan-American Tour of 2005-2006. As accompanist alongside the fashionable and fobby Andrew Ma, I enriched the Glee Club’s sound in university and school auditoriums, old cathedrals and in the street. No piano in the street – I was just singing along with Club to earn some money for beer and assorted necessities of life.
First, Miami Beach. Exciting town. We performed at the University of Miami for the Miami Penn Club there (they were rather small and disorganized, but they asked us, so we complied) and the rest of the time we spent in South Beach and trolling for topless women on the wonderful, wonderful beaches. The weather was swell and the water was warm, and with nothing to do, everybody got sunburns. We played the flashing game with these chicks on the third floor. We dared them, they flashed. It was great. Granola club – me, Neha, Alex. Alex started this old-man Jewish comedy routine with Ben, and the yakketa-yakketa’s continued from that day on. We also had the infamous Ryan and hotel concierge (aka Tiago the cabana boy) incident, where empy hotel rooms were used to explore the Hershey Highway. I played intense frisbee on the beach with Griffin and Snitkof, and blew lots of money along the cafes of South Beach. Andrew Ma pouted for Steve’s ID to use at guay bars and clubs (where Kneeland came blazingly into form) and Lacoste became all the rage, all the way into BA and beyond.
Kneeland showed Keutmann’s passport at Space and got caught out, and when asked for additional id, he again showed Keutmann’s passport. When the police asked to see Keutmann, Rob kept the pressure up by, uh, holding the conversation close to him. Ay, federales indeed. Only after Keutmann went to Space and calmed the police officer down were the five people that had gone there allowed to leave unmolested, unarrested and very embarrassed.
Neha got her Cleveland Steamer update (also the Red Dragon and the Donkey Punch) and Steve belligerently asked for a mojito at 11 in the morning. Walking down the pedestrian boulevard by the hotel was magical, because we found Van Dyke’s the first night, got booze and sorbets, and went there every night thereafter. Eating along that stretch was great, especially Sushi Samba (“the best meal I’ve ever had” and then the runs shortly after). The old woman with the saggy prunes at the entrance to the beach had everyone’s engines going – away from her. “Say, is that a lightship out there?” This during our numerous parties on the beach at night, with nothing but a few cases of beer. Rob booted and rallied, in the sand. A couple people peed in the sand. And then covered it up, with more sand. Andrew told a racist joke really loudly, and ‘vaguely romantic’ had mindsex in the surf.
Will bought a leopard print thong and wore it on the beach to great acclaim. He had his suit on over it and then slowly dropped them in front of Ma-Ma, who ran away screaming “I can’t take you anywhere!!!” Following that, Will ran slowly, Baywatch-style, into the water. The butt floss subsequently made it into pictures with ladies on bachelorette vacations, who wanted scandalous mementoes as well as to redden Will’s ass with hard spanks for no apparent reason. He covered it up and didn’t show his thong any more after that.
“By the Sea” was done in the surf by all and looked very retarded. Andrew slept through it, I was late and Alex was embarrassed. People hooted. We went to see Star Wars on the first night and found out the tickets were wrong; they were for the next night. We blamed David. We went to Senor Frogs. I didn’t like it, except for the hot, hot waitress. Oh god. So hot. SOOO hot. So many people took pictures of her with excuses like, “Andrew, look at the camera!” when he was behind the waitress and Nord talking.
We sang not far from Van Dyke’s with a statue and a crooner as begging competition. Singing such dumbass favorites as By the Sea (again) and Don’t Forget Your Old Shipmates, we made some more money that went toward (as mentioned earlier) beer, and also those noodle things to eventually NOT use in the pool or in the ocean. Great job. There was a shark in the water on the one day, and the only retards still in the water on the sandbar were Glee people. Everyone else was waiting on the sand, watching in horror as the fins lazily waved closer and closer and closer…. I think Albert ate it, though. ALBERT HUNGRY, ALBERT SMASH.
Neha and I spent some quality time doing our laundry at a gay bar slash laundromat that should have won the award for Cleanest Ass (Alex, stop claiming credit for that one). After figuring out the machines and noticing guys making out, we waited on the corner instead of inside. Neha was going for five dollars, me significantly more. I yelled stupid shit, apparently, and then had food at a diner. Keutmann and Rob joined us after their Space encounter. The whole time I was thinking, I’m doing my laundry at a gay bar? No way. Do they, like, do their laundry after doing it in the bathroom? Cause that’d be SO convenient. And then Steve went to bed early. Ha-freaking-ha.
That was Miami. More on U-Are-Guay and Muy Bien Air in another post.