windstorms and footlongs

I had to take my state insurance test on Tuesday. I printed out the directions from the test center’s website and then I mapquested them, I also googled the address and printed that as well. I am anal. It didn’t help that my husband kept telling me to leave myself an hour and a half travel time…for a half hour drive…just in case there is traffic. He is the grand poobah of anal-ness. The letter that came with the registration receipt said that we had to be there a half hour before the test (which began at 10) or we wouldn’t be allowed to take the test and forfeit our test fee. I studied the night before more than I should have since I was totally burned out by the time I went to bed. I had dreams of floods and windstorms and every other peril I had just studied. And in my dreams I settled each and every claim before the next disaster struck or I woke up to pee.

After sucking down the last of a second cup of coffee I went through a mental checklist…2 pieces of ID, check….a #2 pencil, check….tissues in case I sneeze, check….cough drops in case I cough, check….2 Aleve in case I have a headache, check….all six printouts of the directions to the test site, check….and last but not least, my travel mug filled with coffee number three. The belt parkway was oddly empty and I knew this had to be a bad sign. It is never, ever empty at 8:30 am. When I got to my exit I turned on the radio. 1010 wins…needed a little news…didn’t want to over stimulate my already over stimulated brain with Lady Gaga this morning. An accident (which I am sure I could have settled expeditiously with my new found knowledge) on a parkway….three parkways away had caused a major back up all the way back to…you guessed it, my parkway. And there it was.   Bumper to bumper traffic as far as the eye could see.   I so hate it when my husband is right!

 

I finally arrived at my turnoff and needed to look for 80th street. 86th, 85th, 84th, 83rd, 77th…what the %&$!  Since I couldn’t U-turn I kept going and in my perplexed state still located 80th Street even though it wasn’t in numeric order…(what is it with Queens??) and the complex that housed the test site.

The instructions clearly stated to pull into the parking garage, park and take the elevator to the 3rd floor and continue on to the test room. I pulled into the parking garage which was empty. Not a few cars empty, I mean empty empty…Omega Man empty….(for those of you too young to relate to the Omega Man movie, think I Am Legend with Will Smith....empty). I didn’t see any elevator on the first floor so I circled around to the second floor all the while bending my head down since it felt as if the low garage ceilings were going to behead me. The second floor was just as empty and no elevator there either. I went to the third and last floor of the garage…nothing! No elevator, no cars, no test site. I checked that my doors were locked and looked on the forms to see if there was a phone number. Again, nothing. I drove back down to the first floor still ducking but more confident that I wasn’t going to be decapitated and back up to the third floor where I saw a parked car that wasn’t there a few minutes ago and parked next to it.  Right next to it.  As close as I could, next to it.  As I got out of the car I looked around to see if there was anyone lurking, skulking, hiding….you get the picture. I was alone. The instructions also said to look for a sign that said Test Site. No sign. I saw some doors. Locked. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a security guard and just like that he was gone…through a set of doors that said ‘employees only’. Not a soul around. I positioned my keys between my fingers the way I had been taught years ago in case I had to fight off an attacker. I could jab him in the eye and temporarily blind him giving me time to get away.  Who was I kidding? With my short stubby arms the guy would have to be under 5ft for me to even reach his eyes and besides, I am sure I would be running and screaming….not jabbing and tai kwon do-ing. Another set of doors opened up into a mall. I felt like Dorothy landing in Oz. The garage, so grey in all its cement-ness and here was this super modern mall with amazing lighting and marble stairs. I was on the third floor and from where I stood could see clear down to level one. Not a soul. Malls obviously don’t open before 9. I called out a feeble unanswered ‘hello’. That’s it, test be damned, I’m outta here and I returned to Kansas and my car. Before I got in my car the elusive security guard came out of nowhere again only this time I was able to get his attention before he wafted out of sight again. I explained my predicament and he pointed me in the direction of a staircase I had previously avoided out of fear (ok maybe I just didn’t feel like walking up the steps). I went up those stairs, down a long outdoor corridor, around an inordinate number of overgrown planters and into a courtyard with stores, and office building and a Subways. Not the train stop, the home of the footlong!

The office building of course was my destination (although I did make a stop in Subways after the test) and I proceeded to the floor listed on the directions. It had to be the most humid day of the year and between the garage walking and the stairs and the corridors and the planters I was sweating like a pig. The elevator alone had to be over 90 degrees. I hadn‘t, until this point, seen a soul other than the shadowy security guard and a Chinese man behind the counter in the Subways but as the elevator doors opened there were all kinds of people walking back in forth in and out of offices all ignoring the sweaty fat chick that just got off the elevator. I started down the hallway and saw a ladies room which considering how much coffee I gulped down this morning seemed like a good idea. Locked. I passed a room with its doors open and lots of people crowding in…must be the test room….nope, Weight Watchers meeting. I continued down the hallways checking my watch (ok no watch, it was my cell phone), sweating and cursing until I finally found the room. It was 9:15...early with 15 minutes to spare! The sign on the door said it wasn’t opening until 9:45 with the test beginning at 10. Cutting it kinda close aren’t they? There was nowhere to sit. It was hot. I was early. There was no one else there yet. I had to pee. I walked down to the Weight Watcher room figuring to ask for the bathroom key, but as I neared the door I realized they might be thinking…‘hey where you going sweetie, get your ass on the scale”…so I got back on the elevator and went down and outside. It was raining.  I thought about going into the Subways (I hear they have amazing breakfasts) but I had eaten at home and I already needed to be upstairs on that scale…so I passed. I sat on a wet metal chair grateful what little breeze there was. At least when I got back to the test site they would think I was rained on instead of just clammy with sweat. At 9:45 I went upstairs on the suffocating elevator, passed the locked bathroom and the Weight Watchers scale, down the corridor and to the test room. I tried the door, still locked and still no one waiting like me. Still nowhere to sit, I considered sitting on the floor but knew how long it would take for me to get up so I just leaned on the wall shifting my weight from one bad knee to the other. Finally a man came and jiggled the door, then another and still another. Then two girls. It was now 9:50. It had been an hour since I parked in the portentous garage. A woman sauntered up to the door, Subways bag in hand, opened it with a key, propped it open with a door stop and welcomed us. An hour later I was in Subways ordering a 6” Jared’s ‘healthy special’ on Garlic Parmesan bread. Oh, and I passed my test!

policies and painted toes

Why can’t I go anywhere and just have it be a normal experience?? I was asked to get my insurance license. I was asked to take 40 hours of insurance instruction to work 16 hours a week….go figure?! I got to the class and immediately chose a seat in the front like the teachers pet I had always wanted to be in grammar school but never got the chance because a girl named Cindy who was always so cute and so smiley and brown-nosing…..oh, sorry.. lost control there.  A very nice girl sat next to me, I mean RIGHT next to me which I found a bit odd since there were at least 30 empty seats in the room. But she was soft spoken, well dressed and looked sweet. She removed her bottled water from a bag and turned to me and said…”Don’t touch that.” I laughed thinking for sure she was kidding, and she proclaimed again, “I’m not kidding, don’t touch that.” No problem. I opened my books and got my pen and highlighter out of my bag. “We were supposed to bring a highlighter?” she asked me not even looking up from the bag she was rummaging around in. “No, I just brought one in case.” I answered her but really wanted to knock her precious bottled water off the desk. “Can I have yours?” OK is this chick kidding now or what? I started looking around for some hidden camera, some Punk’d personnel but instead I simply said, “No, sorry, I only have one.” I should have left it at that, but me always having to make a joke added, “Trade you for your water…!” With that she picked up her books and water and moved to the furthest seat away from mine. Guess she can’t take a joke. As we waited for the teacher to set up the dry erase board which he abandoned after three futile attempts, I began to wonder what the hell was in that bottle. I imagined it to be some high priced imported vodka, or some illegal propellant she was going to ignite and turn this tiny conference room into a fire bomb…and then I saw her drink from it. That ruled out the propellant at least.

I turned my attentions to the well dressed, handsome man that sat in the seat ‘water girl’ had abandoned. He smiled, I smiled, he smiled again, ditto ditto ditto….What the hell?! If he was Asian (which he wasn’t) I would have bet we would have still been bowing to each other rather than getting around to karate chopping each other. I wondered where all this smiling was going to lead us. The water girl raised her hand and asked where the bathroom was. The teacher who had finally accomplished arranging his books and was beginning the class told her where it was and she got up taking her coveted water bottle with her. She never returned. Was it something I said?

As the teacher asked us to read along with him I looked down at my feet to see if I had room to stretch my rotten, stiff, left knee out straight before I ended up in traction. I wished I hadn’t. The man in water girl’s seat wore flip flops and toenail polish. Five toes, five colors. Big toe, blue. Little toe, green. And a rainbow in between. Suddenly the stiffness in my knee didn‘t matter as the pain would have been a welcomed reminder that I was indeed still awake and had not fallen asleep during the boring insurance rhetoric. I attempted to read along with the instructor as I repeatedly glanced down at his toes. His right foot had one color at least, white, but they had letters on them and it infuriated me that I was not in a position to read what they said. I dropped my highlighter. Ooops. I bent down and saw that the letter on his big toe was an I but that was all I could see. I was getting distracted and the instructor was way ahead of me at this point and I was lost. I re-read from the book what I missed while reading toes and surprisingly was even able to answer a question he threw at me unexpectedly.

We broke for lunch. The little Spanish girl I met when we first got there leaned over and asked if I wanted to go to the diner with her. I was starving and thrilled to be with someone who as far as I could tell, had nothing painted on her toes and no bottled water. As we walked to the diner I told her about the water girl and the flip flop man. She said she saw water girl in the bathroom even before the class started and she was talking on a cell phone about how bad the weather was in New York. It was sunny, clear and mid 70’s.

On the way back from the diner water girl was outside the classroom still clutching her water bottle. She leered at the two of us and just as I thought we were far enough past her to avoid a confrontation she throws the water bottle at us. It didn’t hit us and it didn’t even open but my little Spanish friend flew into a rage. Suddenly she was yelling and gesturing at water girl who looked calm and quite frankly bored. I took her arm and told her to calm down, that the girl was obviously a kook, and the class was gonna start. Back in our seats we waited for flip flop man to return from lunch as she positioned herself so that as soon as he opened the door she could read his feet. Foot. He came in and sat down beside me again and did his I smile, You smile, I smile, You smile routine. I looked over my shoulder to see if she had been able to see what this guy painstakingly painted on his toes but she shook her head side to side and I knew it was up to me now. I put my bag on the floor between our chairs so that I had reason to bend down several times and attempt a reading. I managed to get another two letters….X an X….maybe this was just some design and not a word after all?? I caught up to the instructor again and decided to concentrate on insurance rather than worry about what design this guy had on his toes. When the class was over my friend reminded me that water girl could be outside waiting for us. We assured each other we had each other’s backs (I felt so…ghetto!) and walked to the parking lot. Thankfully she wasn’t there since me and my posse of one would have been taken down in a heartbeat by water girl. Can’t wait for class tomorrow!

....calling Dr. Bates

It’s official, I limp. My leg, the one that I already had fixed a few years ago, is killing me again. Not the same behind the knee pain, not the pain that the doctor swore would go away if I lost weight, and definitely not the pain that two Aleve’s every six hours was gonna remedy. This pain is different. It starts in my cheek. To be blunt, my left ass cheek. Runs down the back of my thigh, gets to the knee then magically rotates to the front of my leg causing my shin to feel like I just ran the New York marathon. Or the Boston marathon. Or even just walked up a flight of stairs at this point. I complained to everyone, everyone that wouldn’t tell me to lose weight. Everyone says it sounds like sciatica. So I googled it. (while we’re on the subject, what do you get when you google, GOOGLE?) Sciatica is a condition caused by the sciatic nerve becoming inflamed…what inflames it, it doesn’t really say. Could be this, could be that, might be the other thing….so googling wasn’t the answer.

At the suggestion of another friend (who did hint at weight loss) I called the local chiropractor. He has been in business since the 70’s and is a character and a half. He lives above his office with his ‘Ma’.  ‘Ma’ has never been seen so I am usually thinking 'Norman Bates' when I am on his table and if he ever starts a taxidermy collection I will find another doctor, pronto. The last time I was there which was for migraine headaches….he put his hands on both sides of my head and like a killer ninja twisted my neck around so fast that I thought I was destined to die within minutes. Instead the headaches went away immediately. Of course I had a stiff neck for like a month, but the headaches were gone and never came back. He was my hero back then, so I had no trepidations in calling him for an appointment. I got his machine and started to leave a message when he picked up mid message….chewing. Not his secretary, not a service, just him in full oral mastication. I explained who I was, what was wrong and that I would like to come in as soon as possible. In between chews he said “YES”. Just “yes”. After several more questions to ascertain when he wanted me to come in he told me his ‘Ma’ died. I am not even sure how he snuck that in to the conversation but it was out there now and I had to deal with it. After telling me that she had been ill for months, and telling me that she was in a better place, and describing how his world crumbled when she died and how he was sure he couldn’t live without her, I realized that he hadn’t told me when she passed on. So I asked. Bad move! Wednesday….this was Thursday! So ‘Ma’ died yesterday and two days before he wanted to see me. The man that doesn’t want to live without his ‘Ma’ was gonna massage my left ass cheek and potentially cripple me. I just know it! The pain in my leg was subsiding or was it mind over matter?!   I told him I would be away for a few days and that I would call him when I got back, extended my condolences again, hung up and googled ‘chiropractors’.  Dr. Bates would have to heal a bit more mentally before I let him manipulate, knead or twist any body parts.

I went back on the computer and looked up everything that included the words pain and leg and came up empty. I did find a website for sciatic pain exercises. Since my printer decided to fail at this crucial moment I drew small pictures of what I was supposed to look like when I got into the positions the website deemed miracles for sciatica. I got down on all fours only to immediately have the dog bound over thinking it was playtime. After distracting him with a chew toy (and threatening to cut off his already cut off balls) I began to arrange my legs into the positions I had drawn. Now the problem with my stick figure drawings is that I am not, I repeat...not, a stick figure. So when the bad leg has to cross underneath the good leg I had to wonder, where does my stomach go? I pushed the bad leg as far as it would go, heard something snap….waited, felt no pain…..so I continued. The pulling sensation on my left ass cheek told me that I was doing the exercise right and if the website was right, after a few times I should be good as new. Like bothering a bad tooth, it both hurt and felt good at the same time. I was ready to move on to the next poorly drawn exercise which involved pulling the balls of my feet toward my body while practically laying face down on the floor. Don’t bother trying to picture it, you can’t do it. Well I guess it can be done, but not by me and certainly not by anyone who has breasts or a stomach and an inflamed ass cheek from dreaded sciatic nerve disorder that I have come to self diagnose.

I attempted to go back to the first exercise that I had mastered only this time when I heard the snap….something snapped. The pain radiated down my leg, up my back, across my ass and then everything went numb. As the tears welled up, believing that I had just made myself a card carrying member of the Christopher Reeves fan club, my dog came over and licked my face. This is significant for two reasons…in his eight years he has never licked anything other than his own ass and for the first time I didn’t care that he stinks. I accepted his compassion until thankfully the numbness gave way to great big waves of pain which at least told me that my exercise program had not crippled me. I managed to get back onto my feet and walked limped into the kitchen to find my Aleve.

I am calling Dr. Bates in the morning.