The Trip of a Lifetime: South Africa

I know that many of you have been asking (or will ask) for the the videos and pictures, so here they are! :)

Me winning: http://www.cbsnews.com/sections/i_video/main500251.shtml?id=2507601n

Me learning about Apartheid: http://www.cbsnews.com/sections/i_video/main500251.shtml?id=2523537n

Me on Safari: http://www.cbsnews.com/sections/i_video/main500251.shtml?id=2523884n

Pictures from South Africa: http://travelmonkeysouthafrica.shutterfly.com/action/?a=8QaM2TFqxcsZU

And to answer THE BIG QUESTION question: How was it?

One word: Amazing.


Before the Show
There were so many things running through my mind the days leading up to the show. I had a dream I went to Greece and thought for sure I would win. The next night I had a dream that I didn't win. I was devastated. I almost didn't pack my suitcase. I thought, "Seriously, how can I win? I'm Ariel, I don't win things like this. I'm not one of those people." But I did pack and I started to get really excited and really nervous.

The morning of the show I was shaking and nauseous. I was interviewed by Ed Curran, our very own CBS 2 news weatherman and he asked where I wanted to go. If you watched the news, he only caught me saying Morocco and Egypt. I guess he turned when I said "African Safari." He also said "You're CheekeyMonkey?"

Later, as we were standing outside Dave Price walked by and saw our signs and introduced himself to me. I said, I was indeed CheekeyMonkey, but I had a real name. His face was PRICELESS. As my friend Wendy said, "He looked like he was thinking, 'Great, I have to spend the next 48 hours with this freak.’" Truer words were never spoken.

The Big Win
As I was standing up there, I saw a guy off to my right holding the wine. I thought, "Oh, how nice. Someone is going to Italy. Lucky them! I hope they have fun on the vineyard tour." I thought it would be Melissa (pink sweater), on my left.

Then when they brought out the popcorn buckets, I was a little confused. They had mine and Melissa's together and the other girl, Lola (black sweater) alone. Then I thought that Lola would be the one going. We even congratulated each other before we were live.

When Dave told us to pick up the buckets of popcorn I got really nervous. Mine was so stinking heavy! Then he mentioned consolation prize and I was like, "Shoot. I woke up at 4am to go home with a bucket of Garret's?"

As soon as he said to look for a figurine I thought I was the winner, my bucket was the heaviest, I had to have it right? Then I started digging. I saw the Melissa turn her bucket over and I did the same. I kept checking their piles of popcorn. I didn't have anything. They didn't have anything. Was this a cruel joke!? Then I started sifting like mad. Then I saw it. I SAW IT! It was there in my caramel popcorn...The Giraffe.

My mind was going a million miles a minute. Dave Price was touching me, the Zulu dancers were dancing, people were screaming, I saw a small black cat of some kind, people were talking to me...I was in a daze. Full of emotion and had no idea what to say. Obviously, I was only able to say "Thank you" and "I'm sticky".


Day 1: Johannesburg (Jo'Burg)
We landed after 20+ hours in the air in Jo'Burg. We flew first class ALL THE WAY. It was amazing. There is no way I would have made it if we didn’t. I was able to sleep most of the way there. We flew from Chicago to New York where we caught our next plane to Jo’Burg. We had a one hour lay over in Dakar where we refueled and changed up some passengers. T hen we were off again! We landed in Jo’Burg sometime mid-afternoon. We were then picked up by our driver Joe, and went straight to the Melrose Arch Hotel.

The hotel was gorgeous. It's Jo'Burg's hippest hotel. It reminds me of a W with trendy music, lit up floors, and smelly goods all over the place. I was tired, but excited! I had no idea what was in store for me.

We went to dinner at Moyo, a restaurant across the street from the hotel. Moyo was awesome. It is a blend of African cuisines and culture. We sat downstairs, below ground, where the restaurant was literally built into the earth. There is a living rock that you walk by down the spiral stairs. I didn't bring my camera. I'm kicking myself for this. The place was amazing.

We tried several dishes from all around Africa. Egyptian, Moroccan, Ethiopian and more! It was soooo good. I had the tuna over couscous. Can you say drool? I had my face painted, we were entertained by dancers, musicians and singers. And yes, I got to play the drums. It's not as easy as it looks, it has to sound somewhat good. We did about 4-5 takes on that one. I screwed up my line once or twice. I said, son bonanne, America (hello, America!) I have no idea how to spell it.

As you saw in the video when I won, Dr. Felicia Suttle, the President for South African Tourism was our guide. We also met Moeketsi Mosola, CEO of South African Tourism. We went to dinner with Felicia and Moeketsi. We discussed the recent changes in and the economic advancement of South Africa. I was in awe the whole time. At one point Dave turns to me and said, “Can you believe this? You are sitting at a table, discussing South African politics and economy with two prominent South Africans.” I just shook my head. Unbelievable.

Dave in the Car on the way to the hotel


My Hotel Room


The Giraffe, Chillin'


Me with my face painted


Day 2: Apartheid Museum, Johannesburg
The next morning we set out for the Apartheid Museum. I was a little nervous. I didn’t know what they expected of me. I knew that Dave was going to want me to ask questions to the Deputy Director, Wadey Davie and our Tour Guide, Allegra. I didn’t know much about apartheid and said as much. I was embarrassed to not know. Yeah, I felt like the biggest idiot.

You saw in the segment only a fraction of what we saw in the museum. I started to get a little misty but was able to keep it in. Dave pulled me aside and said, “You have to loosen up a bit. Ask questions. If there is anything you want to know about apartheid and this country now is the time to do so.” I told him I didn’t want to cry on camera and look like a fool. He told me to be honest and do my best. He said if I didn’t loosen up I wasn’t going to enjoy the piece. So, I tried.

Allegra walked us around the museum. She told us about her life during apartheid. She is 32 years old and lived through unimaginable times. Her country was in civil unrest; her people were fighting for basic human rights. Then she told us about the first election. She stood online for 11 hours to vote. 11 hours!! Can you imagine that? People lined up all day to make their voice heard. Here in the United States, we take that privilege for granted. It’s our BASIC RIGHT AS A CITIZEN to vote and we treat it like it’s a chore. I remember the first time I was allowed to vote, it was the 1992 elections. I was the youngest person in the room. People were actually surprised to see me. Now when I go to the polls, I’m still the youngest one there and the place is always empty. That’s very disheartening.

At the end of the tour, Allegra showed us the African flag and told us what it meant. It stood in an area that held many rocks. As you walk through the room, over a bridge you take a rock from the pile on your right and put it in the pile on your left. This signifies your commitment to reconciliation and forgiveness. Both Wadey and Allegra both said that it is important not to forget the past. That we must forgive and not repeat. This idea of forgiveness, especially coming from those who were oppressed is truly amazing. I can’t imagine what life was like for them and to be so peaceful and forgiving is inspiring. I did cry during the taping of that segment. It was very moving. Allegra also told me her personal story; of course we were off camera for all that.

Apartheid Museum




New Constitution


Day 2: Soweto

After the Apartheid Museum, we went to a little town called Soweto. There is so much information on Soweto, that I’ll let you read about. Essentially, it started as a very poor area. From what I understand, the blacks who came to work in the mines were dumped on this land. It had no housing, no electricity, no running water…people had to build their homes out of the materials they could find. Today, the houses that were built still stand today. There are many small dwellings having one to, at most, four rooms. We went in one house that had four rooms where seven people lived. It had a kitchen, dining room and two bedrooms. When families grow too large to live in the house, they often build and extension in back. The back of the house we were in had another tin house behind it. That is also where their outhouse was. Joe, our driver, and Soweto resident, took us around the town and told us all about it. We had children following us throughout the taping. They love having their picture taken and hammed it up for us. The people of Soweto were very welcoming and kind. Even though Soweto looks like a very poor community, it’s not completely. Some people that grew up on Soweto still live there today. Doctors, lawyers, professionals, all living side-by-side with those without any means. They help each other. It’s a wonderful community.

Boys in Soweto




Dave dancing with boys


"Take my picture, lady."


Day 2: Tinga
From Soweto we went to a small airport in Jo’Burg to fly out to Tinga, a Private Game Lodge in Kruger National Park. The place is UN-BE-LIEV-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-BLE. Did I mention we took a charter plane?

Tinga is fantastic. It’s first class luxury all the way. The rooms were beautiful. They call them suites, but it’s like a little house all your own (minus a kitchen, of course). Each suite looks out onto the park where lions, elephants, giraffes, hippos and more just walk around in your own private back yard. They treat you like a king and queen while there. The food is delicious and the people are wonderful. We had such a good time with our Tour Guide Bretton and our Tracker, Mischka. We also had one of the persons who runs the place out with us.

When we landed in Tinga, it was raining. Much to our chagrin, it carried out for most of our evening safari. When I left my room to go on our night safari, there were a ton of monkeys hanging out on the walkway. Yes, monkeys were just waiting for me in Africa! Thank goodness I wore my monkey shirt so they could recognize me!

In the segment you saw that we saw Impala. That’s most of what we saw. Impala. Lots and lots of Impala. We called it the “Starbucks of Africa”. Every time we turned a corner, there was another Impala. We did see a pregnant chameleon, a snake, a Marshall Eagle (that’s being trained to eat anchormen) and finally a giraffe. We were on our way back home and we literally almost ran right into it. He was standing on the side of the road, just hanging out. He stopped suddenly and Dave went, “Holy sh*t! A zebra.” Don’t think he lived that one down.

Then it was back to the Lodge for dinner. I had Kudu. It was gamey and a bit tough. But it was good. They have an amazing chef on site. Her breakfast the next morning was mouth watering. Sure, it was only bacon Jegg and tomato sandwiches, but oh, they were soooo good.

Off to Tinga


See how small our plane is?


The CBS Crew in their Safari car


Dave on Safari


Bretton, our guide


My room...be jealous, it's ok




Our Tracker, Mischka


Greg, the Cameraman


Dave, the weatherman


"Oh shit! A zebra!" -- Dave Price


Day 3: Tinga
The next morning I woke up to a beeping sound. Turns out the power kept going out. I thought it was the phone, I searched for a clock, but there was none. I had no idea what time it was. It was dark so I went back to bed.

10 minutes later the phone rings for my wake-up call. 4:45 am. I get up, go to brush my teeth and what do I see? GIANT KILLER SPIDER! GIANT KILLER SPIDER! GIANT KILLER SPIDER! Now, you know how I feel about bugs. *run for the hills!* I grab my camera, take a picture, then douse it with the bug spray they showed me the day before then I drowned it with super hot water. I went to turn on the lights in the bedroom and then the power goes out. Shit.

Thank goodness I still had my camera with me. I had to use the flash to find my way around. Then I started noticing something. Every time I used my flash, there was a chirping sound. Flash – Chirp. Flash - Chirp. It was very odd. Then I remembered that I was in the wild. And what happens in the wild? Animals can climb into your room and kill you. I stopped using the flash and the chirping stopped. Then it turned into some kind of cry. Yeah, I thought I was going to be killed. I couldn’t use the phone because it was cordless. The flashlight was missing from the room. I seriously thought I was going to be kidnapped by wild monkeys.

I was so relieved when security came to pick me up to walk back to the lodge. You cannot walk around after dark without security. THANK GOODNESS FOR SECURITY! She helped me get my power back on and I had to hurry up and get ready for our morning safari. When I got back to the bathroom, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. For when I went to grab my towel I had GIANT KILLER GRASSHOPPER! GIANT KILLER GRASSHOPPER! GIANT KILLER GRASSHOPPER! GIANT KILLER GRASSHOPPER! That was the damn chirping that I heard. HOLY CRAP!! GIANT KILLER GRASSHOPPER! So, I brushed my teeth, got dressed and high-tailed it out of there. The one thing to remember about safari: It’s outside. There are lots of bugs. In Africa, the bugs are big. Like as big as a Buick. I’m telling you now; don’t be surprised if a giant ass bug is calling your name in the middle of the night.

Our morning safari was much more productive than our evening one. We saw more elephant dung, but this time it was fresh!! We tried to track it. We ran into hyenas (they stink, by the way) and wild African dogs. The wild dogs are very rare and hardly seen. They are an endangered species and very unique. Each dog has prints on it that are as unique as a finger print. They are very cool. We also saw a hippo head in the water, a crocodile, carrion birds that poop on themselves to keep cool, and plenty of baboons. Oh, and more impala. We finally saw the buffalo (one of the big five) and the butt of an elephant (also, one of the big five). GO TEAM!

Seeing these animals in their natural habit was beautiful. Our guide and tracker were very informative and amusing. We had a great time at Tinga and wished we could have stayed longer. Unfortunately, we were off and running again to get back to Jo’Burg to catch or flight to Cape Town.

Giant Killer Spider


Hyena


Impala


Birds who poop on themselves to keep cool


African Dogs


Kudu (a.k.a. dinner)


Look! Paige spotted tourists!


Erika, Dave and Paige


Wildebeast


BABOONS!!!






Yes, Dave, that's a Giraffe.


Plane out of Tinga


Giraffe says goodbye




Leaving Tinga


Day 3:
Robben IslandEarly morning safari, morning flight back to Jo’Burg, afternoon flight to Cape Town and then…the moment. I find from Dave that we are going to Robben Island, where the infamous Apartheid Jail is. The only way we are going to make it there is by PRIVATE HELICOPTER. Again I say, *faint*.

We pull up to the helipad and we are getting ready for our trip across the bay to Robben Island. I see Felicia talking with an older gentleman who turns out to be Ahmed Kathrada, or Kathy, as his friends call him. In a gift bag that she initially gave me on Friday when I won, was Kathy’s book “Letters from Robben Island.” I was just in shock. Utter shock. I got very emotional all over again.

The Helicopter took us to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela, and our host Ahmed Kathrada were held for 18+ years. Kathy talked about his crime, what it was like in prison and how, even in prison, they had to negotiate and bribe, even in prison, to get what they needed. Kathy told us that even in the non-white prison, there was still a segregation of colors. Kathy, being Indian, was afforded more rights that Mr. Mandela because he was of lighter skin. I kept shaking my head in amazement that this all went on. I had no idea to what extent this was like. He told us what it was really like in jail, how the military and government used propaganda to make the outside world believe that things were ok in prison. The military said, “Mandela does light prison work” and the press came and took pictures of Mr. Mandela mending clothing. As soon as the press left, their mending was taken away and they were handed back their axes to break rock into gravel.

We went into the prison where Kathy and Mr. Mandela were kept. As you saw, I was given the key to open the cell where Nelson Mandela spent about 18 years of his life. Standing there, looking around at the pittance that was given to them to sleep on. The bucket they used for a toilet, the cramped quarters…I was overcome with sadness. Knowing that Nelson Mandela and others, like Kathy, were kept in a cell because of their beliefs and their fight for equal human rights was unfathomable. The African National Council just wanted equality for its people, but instead they were beaten, tortured, hung, shot and imprisoned.

What you didn’t see in the segment, was after Kathy led me out of the cell, Paul Linga, the Director of the Robben Island Museum, and prisoner of 14 years, grabbed me and hugged me. The fact that these two men, standing before me, came out of that prison, that era of apartheid, with forgiveness and reconciliation in their hearts was just awe-inspiring. To live through that and still be able to forgive…I have no words. I felt truly blessed and honored to meet them.


Dave and I getting ready for our Chopper flight!


Paige in the ChopperDave prepping us for the ride


Cape Town and Table Mountain from the Chopper


Robben Island from chopper


Lime Quarry where Nelson Mandela worked in prison to make gravel


Me holding the key to Nelson Mandela's cell


Ahmed "Kathy" Kathrada and Dr. Felicia Suttle


Paul Linga, Director of Robben Island Museum and former prisoner


Dave and Ahmed Kathrada


Day 3: Cape Town
After Robben Island, we drove around Cape Town. Cape Town is like the Miami Beach of South Africa. Right along the coast, Cape Town faces out towards the Atlantic Ocean. High above it sits Table Mountain.

That day, my CBS family left. I was very sad to see them go. Erika and Paige, the producers, were awesome. Kenny, my audio man, Greg my camera man, both from South Africa, were fantastic to work with. Dave Price, what can I say. His parents raised a good egg. I was initially worried that Dave might be an asshole. You know when you meet a celebrity and they are a total dick and it just ruins it for you? Yeah, totally not what happened. I was so happy. I heart Dave Price and the whole team!! They were just wonderful and I am totally going to miss them. I wish they could have stayed, but they had to get to London to edit the footage for Wednesday’s show and fly back to New York for Thursday. Dave is off this afternoon for Washington DC where he will pick another lucky winner to go on a whirl-wind trip of a lifetime. And before you ask, no, I have no idea where, they can’t tell me. I know because I asked.

But worry not, I was not left alone. Felicia Suttle stayed with me and we had dinner together at the hotel. I was also able to meet her wonderful daughters, who are just stunning and totally down to earth.

We watched an interview of Felicia’s on a local channel and then watched the Oscar’s about a day after you all. Some of you would be proud at my fashion critiques. Then I passed out at midnight thirty.

Day 4: Cape Town
My last day in South Africa. I was finally able to sleep in. I got up around 9:30, had a leisurely breakfast and I went to Table Mountain with Zani, one of Felicia’s daughters and her friend Vanessa. Table Mountain is high above Cape Town. It’s just gorgeous from up there. You can look down all over Cape Town, there are paths you can walk, you can hike along Table Mountain or even climb it. It was just gorgeous.

We only spent about an hour there because it was time for me to go back to the hotel, shower one last time and say my good-byes. I was very sad to leave South Africa. I had a wonderful time with everyone. You have to understand, this trip was more than what I expected. I really didn’t know what to expect, but this was not it. I mean, think about the images and news we hear out of Africa, in general. Then how much do we really know about South Africa? Can you define apartheid? Do you know why it started? How? What went on? How long it lasted? Do you know when black people in South Africa were finally able to vote?!

We traveled a lot on this trip. We were barely in one spot for more than a few hours. I was living emotion to emotion on this whole trip. I was very moved by the people of South Africa and their struggle. I mean, the Safari was all fun, but it was really the people and their history that moved me and is the most memorable. This truly was a trip of a lifetime.

Me on Table Mountain


Bird on Table Mountain. I think he actually said, "What's up?"


Looking down to Cape Town

Open Letter to People Who Have Offended My Olfactory Organs

To MrStinkyBreath:

What did you have for breakfast this morning? Because your breath smells are telling me that you ate a shit sandwich with a side of mothball chips. Get a fucking breathmint! How can you not smell that funk eminating out from beneath your own nose? Can you not taste that Crappacola in your own mouth? Go brush your teeth! Rinse with Listerene. Do something. I can't believe your wife lets you in the house with stank ass breath like that.

Yours in spearmint,
Monkeygrrl

---

To MsJeanNastay:

Where do you get your perfume? I'm thinking the ladies room at the local funeral parlor. Pee you is right. Not only do you smell like a bed of roses gone bad, but you have a hint of Eu de Urine about you. You are much to well put together to be homeless or to let your bladder go freely, so what gives? And why, why dear Estee Lauder, do you bathe yourself in that concoction before entering an enclosed elevator with me? The funny look I gave you just before breaking into a huge sneezing fit, at which you rolled your eyes at me, was of pure terror. Please go home and wash yourself off.

Love and loofas,
Monkeygrrl

---

To MrCombOver:

You didn't really stink, but your combover was really bad. REALLY bad. You are balding front to back, not side to side. Quit it, you look stupid. Shorn your locks and live free!

Shear Madness,
Monkeygrrl

Knock knock knocking on heaven's door

When I was 17 I got strep throat. A few weeks later I got the flu. I could not seem to kick the flu, it kept getting worse. After a week, I was home sick from school and all I did was sleep.

I started having these weird dreams. I dreamt that I was running. I was running towards something, it was my grandparents' house. I could see their front porch light on. I was also running away from something. I felt like I was being chased and there was a faint noise behind me. As I was running, I would turn to the left andlook behind me. Then I would fall and wake up screaming. The pain in my left side was unbearable. I begged my mom to take me to the doctor.

My mom took me to the local ER and they started me on an IV because I was severely deydrated. The doctor said things looked ok, but wanted a chest x-ray just to see. About 20 minutes later the doctor came back as white as a ghost. "Oh my god, I am so sorry. I don't know how I missed this." He held up my x-ray and my whole left lung was white. It was completely filled with fluid. I was rushed to the hospital via ambulance.

That night the doctor came in to see me. He told my mom that I had pneumonia. My breathing was very shallow and my mom said it was like watching a baby bird, my chest was a constant movement tryin to get air in my lungs. That night I had the dream again. I was running. The noise behind me was getting louder and I was getting closer to my grandparents' house. I just wanted to get inside. I turned to left to look behind me and I woke up screaming in pain.


The next day another doctor came in to see me and she needed to take a sample of fluid from my lung. The only way to do this is with a very long needle and to go through my back. It was very painful and I remember screaming a lot. I slept the rest of the day. I had the dream again. I was so close to my grandparents house. I was running with all my might. "Please! I just want to go home. Please. I am so tired." I turned and saw what was behind me. Black horses with cloaked figures on them. I could feel the horses breath near me. The sound of hooves were so loud in my head. The house was getting closer. "Grandma! Grandma!" The porch light was blaring and I was banging on the door with all my might. "Grandma!" I could see her and my grandfather sitting on the couch. My grandmother answered the door.

"What are you doing here?"
"Grandma, please, I want to come in. I am so tired. I want to sleep, please." I was begging her to let me in. The sounds, the hooves were so loud. My grandfather came to the door.
"What are you doing here? What is she doing here?" My grandparents looked at me confused.
"Please! Please let me in! I am so tired." It was so loud, the sound of hooves was unbearable. "PLEASE!" I screamed.
"You are not supposed to be here. It's not time to come home, yet." My grandmother said.
"The porch light, it's on. Please." I was crying. I was so tired.
"It's not on. It's not time to come home." And she closed the door. I looked up and the light was off and it was silent. I woke up.

I had been taken to surgery where I had a chest tube inserted into my side for my lungs to drain the fluid. My veins had collapsed a couple days earlier so I also had a central line in my chest above my heart. That is how they could give me meds and take blood without disturbing or poking me.

After two days and little fluid I went back for another x-ray. Now the fluid in my lung had hardened (an empyema) and they had to put another chest tube in my back.

While I was in the x-ray room, the doctors had to call my mom at work to get permission to perform the procedure to put another chest tube in. I was screaming "Let me die! Let me die! Let me die!" My mom's boss (who did not believe that I was sick) stood behind her hearing all this and said, "I told you no personal calls." When my mom told her what was going on she said, "Maybe you should take some time off. No pay, no benefits." She obviously could not do that, that was how the doctor bills were getting paid.

My lung collapsed around week 2. I needed a few blood transfusions around weeks 3 and 4. There as more, but I don't remember a lot of it. My mom has told me some things and my dad told me others. I just remember the dream. Clear as day.

I was in the hospital 6 weeks. April 15, 1991 - June 6, 1991. I had a total of 4 chest tubes, 4 blood transfusions, one central line and a collapsed lung.

The dream about my grandparents scared my mother when I told her. When I would spend the summers with my grandparents when I was younger they would turn on the porch light when it started to get dark to let me know it was time to come home. It scared her because it was her parents and they had passed away years earlier. My mom told me that when I was admitted to the hospital they didn't think I was going to survive. The first couple of nights were really bad. Even the first three weeks were very touch and go. I was dying and they didn't know how to stop it. When I told her that dream it made it that more real. She had to leave my room to cry. I don't remember that either.

The Ever Observant Train Rider

I am CheekeyMonkey. I am "The Ever Observant Train Rider". I see you, but you don’t see me.

You are Mr. Self-Importance. You hold your Grande Starbucks in your hand, cut in front of everyone in line just to secure your spot by the door. You do not let anyone off the train while you shove me to the side. Then you usher people in, pretending to be so kind.

You are Ms. Prim and Proper. Sitting there with you hair and make-up perfectly done. You were lucky enough to get a seat and you are reading the latest “bestseller”. You were the perfect shade of eye shadow to match your pastel coat. You hold onto your trendy purse and you never look up. You get annoyed when the seat next to you gets filled. You were probably popular in school, but never the Prom Queen.

You are the Goth, Angst Ridden Student. You could be a downtown art student, but most likely you are an honors student at the local high school. You use your looks to detract from the fact that you are smart. Smart is not cool. You get annoyed at the adults who “just don’t get it” as you shove your way through the crowd. You roll your eyes at all the conformists and click your tongue ring.

You are a part of the iPod Posse. You got your iPod for Christmas, but act like you have had it since it came out. You peek at it at every stop, making sure all new riders know you are a part of the iPod Posse. The Angst Ridden Student really dislikes you. Come to think of it, so does Ms. Prim and Proper as you are brushing up against her perfect coiffeur.

You are the Administrative Assistant, pretending to be something more with your briefcase. However, your vacant look and gym shoes give you away. You don’t care enough to shower in the morning. You don’t think anyone can tell, but I do. I know all about you. I am bored with you.

You are the Frequent Traveler. You get on with all your bags during morning rush hour and stand right in front of the doors while reading the latest John Grisham paperback. Your lips move when you read and you use your Barnes & Noble receipt as your book mark. Your only saving grace is that you don’t dog ear the pages. I would step on your foot, but I am being blocked by your Samsonite.

You are The Hard Worker. Your hands are dirty, but you are a proud man. You probably work two or three jobs and want to give your kids everything. You try not to stand to close and you too are annoyed at Mr. Self-Importance. You kindly smile at passengers getting on and off, but try to remain anonymous.

You are Ms.-Look-at-Me-and-If-You-Don’t-I-Will-Make-Sure-You-Do. You are much like Mr. Self-Importance making no room for any other rider and openly irritated should anyone sit or stand next to you. You, too, have an iPod, with one ear bug in, and you are busy talking loudly on your cell phone disturbing the quiet that we all enjoy on the early morning train ride. You are not important enough to be talking to someone at 7.16 in the am, but you act it. You pretend you are Urban and Street. You are probably from the ‘burbs, or worse, Nebraska. You wear all the latest fashions, in one go. You are fake from top to bottom. No one really likes you. The person on the other end of your cell is probably your Mom.

I am the CheekeyMonkey. I am The Ever Observant Train Rider. You don’t notice me. You step on me, even though I am shoved into a corner. You barely look back and you do not apologize. I am CheekeyMonkey, The Ever Observant Train Rider. You don’t see me, but I see you. Be careful who you are, CheekeyMonkey is always watching.

The Mocha Addiction

On my way into work this morning I was reading The Redeye. There was a quick blurb in "F.Y.I. World" about a chimp in China that needs help to quit smoking. Apparently Ai Ai, a 26-year-old chimp, has a smoking problem. Yes, you read that right, a smoking problem. How does a chimp smoke you ask? Apparently after Ai Ai's first mate Jian Jian died she started scavenging for cigarette butts in her habitat. Eventually the zookeepers began giving her cigarettes on her own and lighting them for her. Ai Ai now has an addiction.

Like Ai Ai, I, too, have an addiction. I am addicted to Starbucks Mochas. I dream about it at night, I think about it while I ride the train to work, I lick my lips in anticipation as I count down the minutes until that sweet mocha-goodness touches my tongue. Mmmm, mocha goodness. I do try to resist. I get off the train and try to remember the way to my office sans Starbucks, but I just can't do it. I have tried weening myself off it by drinking lower-grade mochas. That only increased my craving for Starbucks that much more. The Mocha, like crystal meth, is an impossible habit to break.

It's funny that I am addicted to Starbucks. When I was younger the only coffee houses I frequented were the local ones. The Squeeze, Modo Miko, Coffee Chicago. These small coffee houses became extinct in our neighborhood as Starbucks moved in. I loathed them for taking away my favorite hangout spots. Starbucks had become a beacon for yuppies to move in. Starbucks was the devil. Pure evil.

In 1999 my (then) boyfriend and I went to New Orleans to celebrate New Years. There was a Starbucks in the hotel. I scoffed. My boyfriend thought I was nuts. "What's so wrong with Starbucks?" I gave him the evil eye. "Starbucks is the epitome of a cult. I can't stand them." He looked at me like I had three heads. "Have you ever tried one?" Jutting out my chin I said, "No. I refuse." He dragged me down to the lobby and bought a mocha. "Here", he said, shoving it at me. At first I was taken aback at the flavor. Whip cream, coffee, chocolate. Interesting. I took another sip. More mocha goodness. How could this be? Again, I sip. My brain went into a fit. I was torn between Starbucks the Devil and Starbucks the messenger of the mocha God. How could this be? I take another sip. It was pulling me in. I couldn't escape it. I guzzled the damn thing all the way down St. Charles Street. For the rest of our trip, I had a mocha a day. Looking back I can safely say I blame him for my addiction.

Ai Ai, I wish you the best of luck with your habit. I am trying my darndest to keep mine to a minimum. So far, only 3 Mochas this week.

Got Cat?

We got a new kitten. After days of trying to find the perfect name for her, we decided on Emilie Mae. Emilie Mae has the sweetest disposition. I really wanted this little gray girl kit, but my husband decided he liked the little orange girl much better. We already had a big poofy orange boy, why not another orange one?

Emilie was timid in the beginning. The first night she hid under the dresser and hissed anytime I tried to get near her. The next morning, she was purring and ready to play. On the other hand, it took about five days for my current resident cat, Oliver, to get used to her. At first he was hissing and spitting and even taking cheap whacks at her head. He was not at all happy about this new little intruder. Gradually as Emilie was introduced to him during play time and turkey time, Oliver grew a little more interested and Emilie became a little more brave.

Here we are about two weeks to the day that we took little miss Emilie Mae into our home. Oliver has accepted his new gal and Philippe and I are so happy to see this new kit thriving in our home. Philippe and I were laying in bed and discussing our impending wedding for the coming year. We were going over the menu items for the food tasting at our reception place. Oliver is sitting on the bed, and Miss Emilie is happily cleaning herself. She's just licking away and taking her sweet ol' time. Then I saw "IT". I spotted this little pink 'nub' in the middle of Emilie's legs.

I sprang up. "Philippe! Did you see that!?"

"No, what?"

"Oh my god! Look!" I am pointing and pulling Emilie's legs apart. She seems a little offended, but continues to go to town on the nub.

"Are you sure it is a girl?" Philippe asks, dubiously spying the nub.

"Pam told me it was. She said she checked." I am astounded by what I am seeing.

"Maybe it is her sex organ?" I said, hoping it was. We had really wanted a girl.

"Well, that is some kind of cat clitoris!" Philippe said, shocked.

The next day I call Pam, the woman we got little Emilie from.

"I checked them! I swear! I am never wrong." She says laughing. "That's the one that was stuck in the wall for 12 hours when the vet came." She continues to laugh. My heart is dropping with each snigger on the other end. "The gray one is still available if you want to exchange it."

"No. We will keep...her...him...the cat." I hung up.

I was devastated. I called my husband next. "I need you to call the vet and ask them how they can tell if a cat is a boy or a girl."

"Can't this wait!? I am cleaning. It is only a cat." I hang up. I NEED answers.

As soon as I get home I dial the vet. I am looking for anyone to tell me that Emilie is Emilie and not Emilio. I finally get a hold of someone at my vet's office and explain the situation. She starts to laugh and says, "Well, if there is something pink and poking out, good chance it is not a girl. Why don't you come in and we can check...her...him...the cat out." Oh god. I make an appointment for the next Saturday. I can't wait to go to the vet. I have to know. NOW!

I google "how to tell the sex of your kitten". Oh my god, I got a hit the first time. Petplace.com was very thurough with their information. I even saw pictures. "Oh my god," I moan. There are very upclose and personal shots of male and female kittens in all their glory. I am looking at kitty porn. I quickly avert my eyes to the text: 'For male kittens, the space between the anus and the tip of the penis is longer than the space between the anus and the vagina. This extra space allows for the testicles to descend out of the body cavity and into the scrotal sacs later in life. After about 4 to 6 weeks of age, the testicles can be palpated. They would feel like small peas in the space between the anus and penis.' What? I have to feel? I have to molest my kitten? I groan again. I keep reading. 'For female kittens, since there are no testicles, the space between the anus and vagina is short. The shape of the vaginal opening is a vertical slit, unlike the small circular opening of the penis.' Right. That was very helpful. I peak around my computer and see my unsuspecting kitten askew on the window sil bed-thing. Right. I was going to have to grope my kitten. I start, cautiously, over to "the kitten" as I am now calling...him...her...the kitten. I think the kitten knows I am up to something. The kitten bolts. Great, now I am going to have to chase the kitten in order to feel the kitten up. Fabulous. I finally corner the kitten and speak softly, "Ok, little one, I am just going to check out your..er...space." The kitten mews. My heart breaks, but I must know!

I pet the kitten as I turn the kitten around and peer at it's rear. I eye it cautiously. I get in as close as I dare. I still can't tell. I don't understand the whole space between the anus and the other part. How can you tell without a comparison? Right! I turn to Oliver. He gives me the look of "Don't even try it, you cat molester, you." Then he bolts. I catch and roll him over. He bites me. It's fair. I think this is my ONLY warning. Let me sidetrack for a moment to describe Oliver. Big, fluffy, orange cat. Does not like to be groped. OK? Great, back to the games. As I am trying to get at Oliver's naughty bits, he decides this is not going to happen. I get quick flip and I swear he kung fu'd me as he took off running. Oliver was not giong to help me. I turn back to the computer. I am now looking very closely at the pictures. I still can't see it. Oh crap, I am going to really have to 'palpate...the space between the anus and..." Well, let's find out. I get the kitten back in my arms. The kitten is not falling for it this time. The kitten is mewing and purring and trying to distract me from the awful task at hand. I coo and attempt to calm the kitten. I get the kitten turned around. Oh god...I am feeling around in the general area of the anus, trying to stay away from the little brown eye hole peering right back at me. I can't feel anything. I am flumoxed. Each day I pray and hope that my kitten will still be an Emilie, but as the time to go to the vet for the final verdict grows closer, I know in my heart of hearts that my Miss Emilie Mae is naught. I have misnamed my kitten, groped it and done things I wouldn't trust a low class hooker to do. I am so embarassed, I'm ashamed to even look at the kitten in the eye.

I guess we will just have to wait until we go to the vet.

UPDATE:
When I brought the kitten into the Vet I explained the situation to the the Vet Tech. She lifted him up and immediatley started laughing. "Oh, he's PACKIN'"

We now have two wonderful BOY cats. Welcome Charlie!




















Charlie


Oliver