Ahem.
The drive up to Omaha was nice; depending on the day, the time of day, and the traffic, the trip between here and there usually takes about five hours -- a little more or less depending on if we stop for food/gas/to pee/etc. Between my front door and Daisy's front door, it is 304 miles -- 4 hours, 38 minutes taking the route we take. That figure doesn't generally waver too much, honestly; we'll usually stop in York, Nebraska -- where the I-80 junction is -- to pee and/or get something to eat, as it's the 2/3 point of the trip there (roughly), or conversely, 1/3 of the way back here. As such, we always stop there, usually at the Walmart in York.
There's a secondary reason I like the Walmart in York -- it is the only place I've ever been able to find the electronic cigarettes I actually love and adore, the Mistic SiX disposable e-cigs. I saw them once there, back over the New Year's trip, and purchased them -- and then never saw them again anywhere. Anywhere. While the ones I got over New Year's lasted until the beginning of April or so, I've still looked for them for months in every store and smoke shop in my area (and now, Daisy's area) and have never been able to find them again. The only place I've ever seen them is in that particular Walmart in York and on the manufacturer's website above (which, if you've clicked on it, you can see that they are "currently unavailable"). They didn't have them in York this time again, as you might have guessed, nor did they have them anywhere else we looked in Omaha the entire time we were there. And yes, we looked -- Daisy was adamant that we look for them everywhere we stopped, even if we were tired and didn't want to mess with looking for them. Because that's Daisy for you -- always trying to make me be healthier than I am now, which I can't fault her for.
As an aside, she did tell me yesterday that she noticed that I've been smoking a lot less compared to before.
"It's because I have to do it outside when I'm here," I told her, motioning around her parents' back porch, where we were standing.
I specifically bought a new ashtray to take with me to Omaha so that I didn't have to ash up her parents' backyard or porch area. When I left yesterday, I cleaned it out, dumped the contents into a ziploc bag (in order to not stink up the kitchen trash can) and brought it home with me. I tried to keep it as far out of sight as possible, and when I was around Daisy's parents, family, and/or friends who didn't smoke or hated smoking, I stayed as far away from them as possible when I did need to smoke. I fully realize it's a horrible, disgusting habit, and I don't force others to be subjected to it; my vices are mine alone, and while I'm okay with being judged for being a smoker (in most situations, anyhow) I am indeed self-conscious about it. Daisy's nephew is also highly allergic to many, many things, including smoke, so when they were in town on Sunday I didn't smoke at all the entire time they were there out of respect and cautiousness.
But I digress.
"No, it's not just that," Daisy said. "I noticed that you're smoking a lot less when we're on Skype or when you're at home in general, and haven't been smoking as much when you're here compared to before."
In reality, I probably am, but I have been trying to cut back a bit. My allergies have been killing me as of late (though they were fine while I was in Omaha, amazingly enough), and the cigarettes probably aren't helping. And a large part of it is that when I am traveling or when I am out doing things, I'm definitely out of my element -- it's not as comfortable to smoke as it normally is when I'm here at home in my Man Cave, with my computer and coffee on the desk in front of me. A larger part of it is finances, as well; tomorrow I get my last paycheck for the foreseeable future, my last paycheck as a GTA, and I no longer have a regular income that I don't have to worry about allocating part of to smoking materials. While I did not spend a ton of money while in Omaha, I did spend a good chunk of what cash I took with me, and the remainder of that cash (all from my federal tax refund) will be used to purchase groceries with for the majority of the summer. I have to be somewhat cautious with my budgeting again until I find a steady job, and that means I have to cut back on my smoking regardless, whether I want to or not. I told Daisy all of this in explanation, which is also why she wanted so desperately for me to be able to find those electronic cigarettes I like while we were in Omaha together.
As an even further aside from this (before I get back to the main story), I have still not yet received my tax refund from the state of Kansas, so I put in an information request on their website to, y'know, actually make sure they received it. Here's what I found out, once I entered my information:
A return requesting a refund has been received and is currently being processed by the Department of Revenue. If you filed a paper K-40 income tax return, your refund will take a minimum of 16 weeks for processing. Thank you.
Good lord. Sixteen weeks?
Yes, I did file a paper return -- I always do. I mailed it, as well as the paper federal return, on April 11. Today is May 24. That means that I won't get my refund, roughly, until around the beginning of August -- at which point I may sorely need it. My state refund is only $83, which is about average for me given any typical year, but sixteen weeks is four months. This should tell you how slow and/or inefficient the state of Kansas is when it comes to anything involving money. At least they got it, however. That's definitely a plus.
Anyway. After that long and super-involved digression, let's get back to the main story.
Daisy and I safely arrived in Omaha around 7:30 Saturday night, at which point we unpacked everything and quickly went out to dinner -- her parents wanted to do something special for me to celebrate graduation (even though I told them they didn't have to in the least), and on the way there Mama called and asked where we wanted to go to eat. I'd mentioned wanting to go out to a Chinese buffet place at some point while I was in Omaha -- there are several of them where Daisy can eat because they have hibachi-style grills where food is made-to-order, and Daisy could eat vegan options via that opportunity...plus, and this may make me sound a little shallow and/or sort of selfish, but it's been years since I've been able to eat at a Chinese buffet. The one in Newton is hit-or-miss, and I haven't been to it since late 2010 or early 2011; I'd feel like a total fat bastard going to a buffet alone and eating my fill. The sad thing is that I absolutely love Chinese buffets; I don't generally "eat out" unless I go to one. Yes, I do order pizzas, and yes, occasionally I'll pick up some burgers and fries on the way home from work if I'm tired and don't want to cook, but if I want to go to a sit-down place? A buffet, especially a Chinese buffet, is always my first choice. Most other places are too expensive and/or I can't eat my fill for one low price. I'm all about economy and filling my stomach to near-bursting when I go out to eat, which probably makes me the typical fat American. If so, so be it.
Anyway, they thought that was good, and we scouted out which one to go to (read: which one Daisy could get the made-to-order vegan stuff at) and we went out to dinner. And it was amazing. I hadn't eaten anything other than a bit of soda and a package of Corn Nuts all day before driving up there, so I was staaaaarrrving. And I ate. A lot. I ate myself into a conscious, Chinese-food-coma of sorts. At one point I was wishing I had four stomachs, like a cow, so that I could keep eating. Yeah, it was that good. Mooooooo. It was great to spend some out-to-dinner time with the parents, as well; that's something we've not done before, mainly because there hasn't been time or because they wanted to cook/grill especially for me at home. I told Daisy well in advance of my trip that they didn't have to do anything special for me; I'm just me. Yeah, I'm marrying their daughter, but that doesn't mean I deserve any special treatment or anything. I also told her a long time ago that it would be less expensive and much less stressful on them to simply go out and do something like this one night I was there instead of trying to plan out a menu for a big meal at home and spending hours in the kitchen working on it, if they wanted to do anything special at all, that is. Daisy's parents had already given me a graduation card and gift; they didn't even have to do that at all -- I sent them an announcement because they're basically my parents too, already, and I see them as such. Because I knew they wouldn't be able to make it to the ceremony (and I would see them the next day as well), I wanted to do something to show that yes, they were loved and knew they'd appreciate the thought/sentiment. Really, that's just the kind of person I am. Being able to visit and having their hospitality and warm welcome when I do visit is all I could ever want, and definitely more than I would ever ask of them.
Anyway, dinner was great, but that was not the end of our night -- Daisy had scheduled several days prior that we would go out to this Cuban cafe place called Gusto's for dancing and mojitos with her best friend, a woman I've known only via Facebook for the past, oh, eight or nine months or so, but never had the chance to meet in person because she was out of town when I was there over New Year's (not to mention that it was nut-numbingly, ass-chillingly cold over that time as well, and we didn't go out to do much). I reluctantly agreed to this; it's not that I didn't want to meet said friend, because I did, desperately -- I adore her, and she's always been sweet to me -- but because I am so not a dancer and generally hate the nightclub environment. Also, after drinking copious amounts of alcohol the previous night, the thought of downing mojitos one after another really, really sounded somewhat disgusting to me, when normally I would be game for a few of them for the sake of being social.
As yet another aside, you may have noticed that I am tiptoeing around this friend's name; this is intended. Said friend is a frequent reader of this blog, though I don't think I've ever mentioned her by any name or codename here before, but she also seems to be an intensely private person and I don't want to share any identifying details or anything like that which may make her inadvertently hate or resent me somehow.
Ahem. Moving on.
This Gusto's place is a really unique, strange place, at least to me -- during the day it is apparently a quiet cafe, with good-sounding food and a well-stocked bar, but during the night, all of the tables are moved to the back patio and it becomes a dance club, complete with insanely loud music, laser lighting effects, and a $5 cover charge. This is interesting to me on multiple levels, obviously. Daisy and her friend like to go there on occasion -- they (or at least Daisy was, at one point) were taking informal salsa-dancing lessons there, and Daisy has been going there for a long time, to the point where she knows the owner of the club pretty well (and he was a really sweet guy).
However, here's the problem with places like that, at least for me -- again, I am not a dancer and tend to avoid the club scene like the plague. While I was incredibly excited to finally meet the aforementioned friend, and was very happy to do so, places like Gusto's make me twitch uncontrollably. Add to this that it was a very tiny little place in a strip-mall-esque row of buildings, and my somewhat normally social, jovial self gets really overwhelmed and claustrophobic/agoraphobic.
The club was very dark and very loud, even before people started showing up to dance. We sat in a booth in the back of the club while the ladies got their first mojitos, and I could neither see nor hear the conversations that I was a part of. I am somewhat hard of hearing anyhow due to many frequent, recurring ear infections as a child, and I know that I have measurable hearing loss from it. Couple that with my hyper-vigilance of my surroundings, and I can hear everything going on around me as a loud roar, but have a lot of trouble hearing words directly spoken to me in loud environments. I also have very, very poor vision in dark environments, and unlike most others, my eyes don't adjust past a certain point; being in a dimly-lit environment is almost as bad to me as being in one that's pitch black. I, basically, become mostly blind. I do know that this is more than likely caused by many years of daily computer usage for hours every day, and that's probably also why I seem to need to wear my glasses on a more frequent basis now, but as a child and into my teen years, even, I could read a newspaper across the room in the dark. Now I can't do that anymore. To be able to fully see, I tend to squint a lot and I need a lot of bright light -- a lot of light. Even the fluorescent lights in our offices at the university were at times not enough for me, when for my colleagues they were so bright that they got headaches and turned them off in favor of desk lamps and the like. This is also part of why I don't really like to drive at night unless I've got my brights on or there are a lot of streetlights -- my eyes have gotten considerably worse over the years.
Well, couple all of these things with a drinking-and-dancing environment, and as I told Daisy and our friend by the time we left, that club became my personal definition of hell. I'm sure if there is a hell, it's where poorly-coordinated, fat white men who hate darkness and loud music go to serve their eternal sentence. That's not a slight against the club, the music, or Daisy and our friend in the least -- it's just not my scene. Really, really not. And it made me flustered and frustrated and really unhappy, even after we moved outside to sit on the patio, where it was more brightly lit and the music wasn't as loud. I actually enjoyed a fair amount of the music, and I did partake in tasting of the mojitos Daisy ordered (they were pretty good, even though I'm not a fan of anything mint) and was happy the ladies enjoyed dancing, even if I didn't take part in it myself. That's just a personal failing on my part, really -- I tried the best I could to be supportive and understanding that the ladies loved this place, but it was really, really hard to hide how much I hated that environment. Again, that's not on them, that's on me; I feel like such an old, stubborn man sometimes. But, as I wanted them to enjoy themselves, I mostly stayed out of the way and sat outside on the patio, alone, smoking and watching their drinks and purses for them. I did not want to be a Debbie Downer just because I wasn't having any fun; part of being in a relationship is supporting what your betrothed enjoys, even if you hate it, and trying as best as possible to put on a game face while said significant other enjoys it. Again, I did this the best I could, but I didn't do it very well -- I'm pretty sure that they both could very easily tell that I hated the situation and was simply tolerating it for them.
In my defense, however, I will say that it was well after one in the morning, after we'd spent the past two days constantly running around and being social in myriad situations, first at school, graduation, and then the party...and then driving to Omaha, going out to dinner with her parents, and quickly changing clothes to go out again to this club. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and my patience and energy for being awake, social, and mobile was rapidly running out at this point, as I am generally not an active person. Daisy claims to be somewhat anti-social, but she is much, much more social than I am or have ever been (unless you want to count ten years ago or so in those calculations). I'm also sure that the fact that I drank so much on Friday night contributed strongly to my fatigue as well, though it's not like I necessarily needed to say that.
About forty-five minutes before we left the club, while I was sitting on the patio alone and trying not to fall asleep (desperately, desperately trying), it began to rain. It started softly, a few big drops here and there, at which point the ladies went inside to dance and everyone else who had been sitting outside did the same. That woke me up a bit. It started off and on, and there was lightning in the distance, with a few low rumbles of thunder. I didn't think much of it at the time; I knew that it had been predicted to storm pretty strongly over a good chunk of the weekend, with the worst of it supposed to hit the area in the overnight hours and on Sunday. Those few drops of rain, however, quickly became a monsoon-like downpour, and as the ladies went in and out between dances, I also quickly moved to the corner of the patio that was covered by the roof in order to stay dry. The storm quickly moved in and escalated, with big lightning bolts and loud thunder. I watched it languidly, smoking a few cigarettes while they danced, and it appeared to move off and dry up a bit by the time they decided we should leave. So, we gathered our stuff and did so.
This was not the end of the night, however; the ladies were hungry again, so we stopped at Taco Bell. I bought their food for them, even though our friend gave me a $5 bill to help cover it (I tried to tell her she didn't have to, but she made me keep it). It was the least I could do after I was sort of standoffish and somewhat disturbed/irritated by the club scene; I hate being a spoil-sport in any situation. And, again, it's not their fault I wasn't a fan of the place. As we parked across the lot, the storm fired up again full-force and positively raged around us as we ate our tacos, burritos, and nachos. It didn't stop this time, either; as we took our friend home it was storming/raining so hard Daisy could barely see to drive, even with the wipers going full-force. We got her home safely, however.
This was still not the end of our night, though. Because Daisy's sister, brother-in-law, and their three children were coming in the next morning, and since Daisy already had presents for two of the kids (purchased mostly, I believe, from the Dollar Tree the last time she came down here to visit me), she wanted to get something for the third so that he wouldn't feel left out. This meant we were making a 2:30 AM trip to the local Walmart in the storm before we could go home. I was okay with this, of course -- middle-of-the-night Walmart trips were more my scene, more my environment, than anything I'd done in the past several days at that point.
We spent over an hour in Walmart in the middle of the night; Daisy couldn't decide what to get her nephew. I gave all sorts of suggestions the best I could, trying to help, but most of them proved fruitless. She didn't want to get him any action figures, she didn't want to get him any toys that made noise (something that could have been solved by removing said toys from the package and removing the batteries before giving them to him) and she couldn't make up her mind.
"All of the Transformers have guns," she said, frowning.
"...yes, love," I replied. "They're Transformers. They're warriors."
I could have gone into the intricacies of the Autobot/Decepticon war, but chose not to.
This was just one example, though, of how hard it was for her to find something for him. The kid's a toddler; I'm not sure how old he is, exactly, but he's probably preschool-aged or close to it. I had many action figures with guns when I was his age, and I turned out fine, but okay -- I wasn't going to argue with her. Daisy knows best what is appropriate for her nephew, and what her sister would find appropriate for her child. I sort of went off and nerded out over some of the toys myself, especially the toy guns and airplanes, helicopters, etc. Did you know that the Super Soaker people have revamped their entire line of water guns now, and now have water cartridges for them? As well as bulletproof-vest-looking vests that can be plugged into the guns for a constant pressurized water supply? Neither did I. I was enthralled, and immediately a bit jealous that toys weren't this awesome when I was a child. Back then, we had to pump our massive Super Soakers until our arms were sore (or, conversely, until the pump broke and the water tank would no longer hold pressure).
Mental note: new plan for Daisy's birthday next month -- Super Soaker party.
Ahem.
She ended up finding a set of Monsters Inc. figurines for him, or something like that. I didn't really get a good look at what they were; she bought them and stowed them away in the house somewhere once we got home. The storms had finally stopped and moved off a bit by the time we got home sometime after 3, and we both exhaustedly (and quickly) went to bed. Her sister and family would be there in the morning around 10, so we had to sleep fast.
So that's the tale of my first day in Omaha. Yes, I know it's long. But, as you can see, it was also a very long day. My final post in this series, coming soon, will detail the rest of the trip there and our return home to Newton.
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