Today I went to Coventry Village, which is where I’ve been told most law students hang out. It was nice enough. I didn’t really see any bars, but maybe it was the time. I did find a cool restaurant, Tommy’s, and did most of my reading for Introductory Week while having a dark cherry soda in the bottle. Simple pleasures I say. I took some pictures of Coventry and also of the Ascension Feast in Little Italy that I will upload later.
Tags: 1L, Cleveland, Food, Little Italy, Summer
I know I’ve terribly neglected this endeavor but trust me, it’s been one CRAZY last week.
I left for Cleveland exactly one week ago and was supposed to arrive Saturday morning, but American Airlines had completely different plans for me. I landed in MIA, and because the gate attendant was too busy arguing with me over how heavy my bags were, in spite of me saying I was more than happy to pay, he forgot to give me the customs form which you apparently now (at least in AA) get prior to boarding the plane, instead of during the flight. Anyway, this meant I had to run to the forms section before entering the country and therefore ended up at the end of the customs line when six different international flights landed at the same time. I got in and was greeted by a woman who looked at the ticket on my checked bags and said “Uh-uh, go to that counter”… Uhm, OK? I go to “that counter” where I meet the woman who is possibly the rudest “costumer service” rep I have ever met. She opens with “So, what did you do? Why did you miss your flight?” Of course, this is the first time I’m hearing that I’ve missed my flight to NYC, where I’d made plans for the night.
Me: “I didn’t know I’d missed my flight, what time is it?”
Rude Attendant: “Too late for you to board, that’s what time it is.”
Me: “OK… Then what do you suggest? I have plans to be in New York to night, and I need to be in Cleveland by tomorrow morning…”
RA: “Well there’s nothing I can do, it’s not the airline’s fault.”
Me: *Deep annoyed breath*
RA: *Types for five minutes* “You can be in Cleveland tomorrow at 6PM and leave for NYC tomorrow at 11AM. It’s all I can do”
Me: “There aren’t ANY OTHER flights? Can you reroute me to Chicago?”
RA: *five minutes of typing* “I said that’s all I can do. Here are your new boarding passes.”
Me: Fine. “Will I need a new baggage claim ticket?”
RA: “No no, you keep your bags with you overnight ma’am”
Me: *thinks* HELLZ TO THA NO LADY! “Uhm, well, everyone in this line seems to be in the same situation and they’re all checking their bags for their flights tomorrow… Any reason why I can’t?”
RA: *five minutes typing, hands me new baggage claim tickets* Take them over to the TSA guy over there”
Me: *fake smile* Thanks for your help!
Anyway, she didn’t give me hotel vouchers even after I argued for them, and then went to another AA rep who could only give me a distress voucher and who also informed me that there was a possibility I could have been put on standby for a flight that would have left Miami at 6AM for JFK and gotten me to Cleveland a lot earlier, but that now it was too late because she’d checked me and my bags in on the other flights and there was nothing I could do. This AA rep was A LOT nicer and offered to get me a voucher, but her supervisor said no and they ended up giving me a distressed passenger voucher which is only discounted. A shuttle was supposed to pick me up but after I stood and waited for it for over two hours with a heavy backpack and carry-on bag, I desisted and ended up sleeping in the airport. Of course by the time I tried to get back to the gate, they’d already stopped allowing people in and had to stay outside until 4:30am when passengers could enter again. WHAT… a night.
Almost 20 hours and three gate changes later, I boarded to New York and thought I’d gotten the row all to myself, when a man came and sat next to me. He seemed nice enough, albeit a little chatty but I knew I’d doze off the minute we took off. Well, he had different plans. We took off and he promptly grabbed a nail clipper out of his bag and proceeded to loudly and slowly clip his nails. REALLY? Why on Earth are nail clippers even allowed on an airplane, and where exactly did he learn using them on one is acceptable under any circumstances??? I then wrapped myself in my hoodie in order to prevent being blinded by my new friend’s flying nails and eventually fell asleep, but was woken up every twenty minutes because the air conditioning was on way too high and the temperature in the airplane seemed to want to prepare me for the Cleveland winter.
I land in New York, my eyesight intact, and ask the AA rep at the gate where the connection to Cleveland was. She doesn’t even look up from what I’m assuming can only be as important as checking her Facebook and says “You can check the monitors”. Sometimes I feel my life is an episode of MTV’s Boiling Points. And if it is, then this is where I finally lose it. “No. I have been traveling for almost 30 hours, I have walked around the entire Miami airport because of gate changes so no. I am not going to look for a monitor. You can look it up, please.” She sighs and gives me the gate number, which thankfully was just 3 gates down from where we’d landed.
I board a little American Eagle plane headed to Cleveland assuming my adventure MUST by now be over, when halfway through the flight a man starts loudly singing. At first it’s just a few lines here and there and then suddenly he’s singing one song after another. And he doesn’t speak English, so every time the flight attendants come and tell him to respectfully shut up, he only turns up the volume. He’s drunk off his face, and again I’m wondering why drunks are allowed on airplanes? I didn’t think they were, and this man got drunk during the flight because I could smell the alcohol and I was two rows in front of him, so he wouldn’t have been allowed to board if he’d been drunk before. Anyway, I finally land in Cleveland, wait for my bags (no issues there, thankfully!) and get on a taxi who of course gets lost getting to where I’m staying, but 50 dollars later makes it and I drop myself on a mattress where I sleep for the next 16 hours.
So far I’ve really liked the city and I’ll talk more about that in a later post.
So this week was kind of amazing. Lots of paperwork, legal stuff, property transfers, bureaucracy at it’s best… and the verdict is: any way you look at it I won.
One-way ticket to Cleveland booked
December trip to San Francisco booked
Great food eaten
Housing arrangements made (or at least started)
I registered for Law School orientation, which means that as of August 13th I’ll have my official 1L schedule, which means childhood dreams DO come true.
This all deserves a BIG FAT LML!
I’ll be updating this blog more frequently now that my move to Cleveland is imminent and hopefully I’ll have a lot to say just by virtue of moving to a city I’ve never even visited before in my life.
Until then, xx.
Oh, and I Love My LIFE!
I like good days, and as a 0L I’ve been trying to make every single day one. I’ve also been trying to put in as many gym hours as possible because it’s highly possible that I will not have time for 2 hour workouts once I start law school. Therefore, I have completed a brutal 12-week program and then moved on to a high intensity muscle-building program. The latter seems to work great with long periods of rest, so I have taken every day since Saturday off. Okay, so maybe that may be a little more rest than necessary, but I actually feel fine. That doesn’t often happen to me. Missing a workout usually brings in me stages of grief. It starts in the morning when at first I don’t know I’m missing it I’m just “postponing it” to the afternoon. At noon, I usually enter the Denial stage and say to myself things like “what’s ONE workout less?” or “it’s SO nice to have a day of not working out.” At 3 pm I start thinking about how empty the gym is, how much I pay per day and how “working out is a privilege not an obligation”. At this time I also start randomly doing push ups. At around 5 pm, when it’s obvious that I’m not going to go (I refuse to go to the gym here when everybody’s just getting out of work) Anger sets in and stays in until I fall asleep, then wake up the next morning and eagerly eat my oatmeal and egg whites before heading out to train like I’ve joined the NOH8 army or something – what. Well, today was not like that at all. In fact, these past four days of not going to the gym haven’t been that way at all, but today was particularly grand.
I started out taking care of some Very Serious Pre-Law-School Business and then headed back home to read a little bit. I read until about 2 pm when Operation Find a Taxi I of the day began. I had told my friend Her that I’d meet her at her orthopedic appointment at 3 pm. It takes about 10 minutes to get from my apartment to the doctor’s office, but I thought I’d get an early start… Well, the Taxi cards begged to differ. After about 45 minutes of trying to get a cab, I finally decided to start walking. I finally found one when I was about three blocks away, but knowing I was already late I thought it would at least get me there before the appointment ended. Well, I was wrong again. I got to the doctor’s office and the secretary told me Her had already left. I peeked out the window and was lucky to see her sitting there, seconds before my phone rang. I ran down the stairs, we met and headed over to the Orthopedic Store to return the Rental Crutches which she’d been using since May. When we got to the store, we were told that in order to reclaim the deposit, we had to head to the store they had been originally rented from. And so I engage in the extreme sport that is crossing a street in this city with a person who has just reclaimed the power to walk and make it the six blocks to the “original store”. When we attempt to return them we are greeted by Incompetence. We give them back the crutches, and after 15 minutes of waiting around I approach the cashier and ask her what’s going on. She then proceeds to summon all five people working at the store and they all reach a verdict: “Your total comes to 37x, would you like us to deduct it from your deposit?” Uhm, WHAT?!? The original deposit was 30x, and I was told (and it was WRITTEN on my invoice) that renting them was 5x/month. It’s been exactly two months and seven days since I came to pick them up so how could it POSSIBLY be 37x??? Well, we were informed right then and there that 5x is apparently the monthly rate “for the first month”. Well, that makes complete sense… We say we’ll pay 5x plus whatever pro-rated fee they’ve decided on for the extra seven days, and we are met by the cashier saying she must call the DIRECTOR. The Director comes and tells us they tell absolutely every costumer that the monthly rate of 5x only applies to the first month, after that they charge at .9x/day. I was of course never told such a thing, because even if I haven’t yet made Fortune 500 I do have use of common sense when it comes to basic Home Economics and that would have certainly upset my High School Art teacher – who also taught Home Ec. Well, the Director tells us she’ll have to call her SUPERVISOR on the phone, and as she dials the other five store assistants hover around her, because apparently speaking to her is a five person job. Well, she gets off the phone and tells us that this has NEVER happened before and repeats that EVERY costumer is warned about how their “monthly” rate isn’t monthly at all, in spite of the written invoice clearly stating the opposite. Her goes on to lecture the Director on Costumer Service – “WHAT?!?”. The Director listens and then offers her closing argument, after us having stood there for almost an hour, thereby indicating that we have no intention to leave without the Deposit: she is “willing” to give us the deposit money back and charge a monthly 5x. Uhm, well her willingness is what I call “good disposition”..?
So, the title of this post isn’t intended to be sarcastic at all. It actually was a good day. The deposit was recovered and a celebratory cheeseburger with a side of beer and fries was had, followed by a little shopping and walking 30 blocks in the rain. All in all a good 0L summer day where the absurd reigned, because really, that’s what life’s about… I think?