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September 6th, 2009 I’m walking through my intern farm at work with a stack of cases. Jack is the only other intern at work today, so of course I have to trip right by his cubicle. My cases become airborn and crash everywhere. I’m scrambling to pick up the cases when Jack spins around in his chair with a huge Cheshire Cat grin:
Ugh. September 5th, 2009 There are two vets at my animal hospital: Dr. Smooth and Dr. Timid. Dr. Smooth just graduated from vet school. He’s young. He’s hip. He has a soul patch. Dr. Timid is middle aged, quiet and serious. She always looks worried, like she is about to tell you something went horribly wrong and your dog will, in fact, never regain control of his bowels. Have fun with the slip and slide! So of course Dr. Timid was working today. My dog was in the back of the hospital getting a heartworm pill and a nail trim. I was waiting in the lobby looking at a freaked out boxer when Dr. Timid came from the back and ushered me into a small room. Dr. Timid looked especially concerned today. She told me that the dog has an ear infection, and that he has to be hospitalized for the heartworm treatment. The vet looked so worried that I kept expecting her to say “…and then he will die!” But Dr. Timid’s real concern was the bill:
I don’t know if she expected bawling and hysterics, but Dr. Timid appeared relieved that she wasn’t getting a show. September 5th, 2009 The vice president of the University of Minnesota just sent out an email:
Really? Let’s see, here are some gems from the University of Minnesota’s public safety department: On Thursday we had a murder:
And a mugging:
On Monday there was a rape:
And another rape/sexual-assault the Friday before that:
The University of Minnesota has a total enrollment of about 51,140. It’s near downtown. Lower income housing abuts campus. If the university is going to insist on emailing all 51,140 students for every rape, murder, and robbery that happens in the downtown area or at the state fair – whether or not a student is involved – then they are going to scare us. Saying someone got shot, raped, robbed or whatever near campus is going to make people feel unsafe because most students – especially freshman (and 1Ls) are not going to pause and remember that campus is huge, and all of downtown is “near campus.” I think the campus safety alerts should be used sparingly – ie, four times in one week is excessive – and only for real campus safety concerns. There’s a difference between, say, last year’s bicycle groper and shooting threat, and a drunk non-student getting raped at an unknown location or a teenager who got shot as part of a fight. Maybe these alerts are amazingly effective and I’m just unaware of how useful they are. But I suspect that the alerts probably do more harm than good. September 4th, 2009 The now-1Ls are fully oriented. I hope. The past few days consisted of constant information sessions, Q&As, herding, “mingling” and moving furniture for 220 people. Oh, and plenty of free food and coffee. I am tired and amused, which isn’t a terrible way to start 2L year. Now excuse me while run off to the office… September 2nd, 2009 Orientation has started, so I guess the summer is officially over. I’m reliving orientation as an orientation assistant. The law school is really responsive to student feedback, so a lot of the boring and useless things from last year’s orientation were axed. Some of the 1Ls were still bored, but they have no idea how much better their orientation is. Besides an awkward, overlong vegetable analogy, orientation has gone well. None of the speakers said anything crazy and none of the 1Ls irreparably embarrassed themselves. I think asking for anything more is unrealistic. We even did a quick etiquette session in my orientation group where the other orientation leaders and I told the 1Ls how not to be obnoxious. The top 5 “DO NOT” items on our list:
I figure if my 1Ls can avoid doing those five things, they’ll be fine. I thought about writing a grand “1L summer retrospective” post, but that would be duplicative of my “one year in Minnesota” post and way too exhausting to do right now, so, quickly, the highlights of summer:
The summer was hilarious, but I’m ready to start the school year. August 30th, 2009 My bedroom window was stuck open for most of the summer. I was too lazy to call the maintenance people, but this wasn’t a big deal because my apartment is not air conditioned and my windows are open most of the time. I only had the urge to close my window in the middle of the night when there was thunder or police drama outside. These midnight fix-it attempts always failed because there is only so much wrestling I can do with the window before I remember that I’m exposing my underbritches to the entire neighborhood.1 So, I would give up, and forget about the window problem. The low point was a few days ago when there was a huge storm that blew directly into my window. It was possibly the most pathetic scene ever: It was 3am, and I had towels spread on the window sill. The towels were weighted down with chicken noodle soup cans.2 The only thing that was keeping my bedroom from flooding was the cover of a plastic storage tub that I held against the window screen with both hands. Every gush of wind rattled the blinds and flung water onto my bed. I felt like I booked a room on the Titanic. The dog wasn’t amused. This lasted for about an hour and I felt like a royal idiot. But then I forgot about the window the next day. What finally made me fix the window was a radio report that the temperature is going to dip to 46 degrees tonight. The little Miami-boy in me said “Hells to the nah!” and I attacked the window when I came home from work. After pounding the window and pinching my finger, I finally got it to shut. There was no way I was going to have a 46 degree wind blow on me all night. No, no, no! And my window will stay shut for the rest of the summer, because I’m not reliving my Titanic experience. 1 It’s dark outside, my bedroom light is on, and here I am in my undershirt and underwear rattling the window…what better way of getting the neighborhood’s attention. “HELLO!” 2 Can which are probably rusting now… August 27th, 2009 I got frustrated today and decided to stop moving furniture. August 19th, 2009 I am halfway through a habeas case at work when Jill, a coworker, turns to me and says:
Sure enough, reports are coming in that a Tornado touched down near my apartment. The local websites say that the storm is heading northeast. I work southeast of downtown Minneapolis, so I figure it is safe to leave work and check on the dog. And I am wrong. The drive home is the second-most terrifying drive I have ever been on. I am a quarter mile away from work when the radio tells me that tornado warnings were just issued for the area that I am driving through. Where’s Helen Hunt when you need her? The tornadoes that hit downtown were rain wrapped, so the blinding rain that I hit on the Mendota bridge is not appreciated. I am convinced that my car will be tossed into the air Back-to-the-Future style and I will be forever known as the idiot who died while driving during a tornado watch. But there are no flying lessons in store for me. I manage to avoid the tornado-hit sections of town (and the flooded highway) and make it home to a “What the hell are you doing here?” look from the dog. I walk the dog and decide to go back to work, but I forget that the highway is shut down and I end up following a detour right into the tornado-hit area of town. Trees are down, cars are damaged, and bored-looking cops are directing traffic away from the neighborhood. It was a mess, but nothing like Miami’s hurricanes or last winter’s snowmageddon. Everything turned out fine, but I can’t help feeling like I traded one natural disaster for another… Edit: here’s video of the tornado August 16th, 2009 Last night I went to the clubhouse with Jack and his boyfriend John. We are posted in my favorite room, the video bar, which is like a gay sports bar that plays music videos instead of football. The Ting Tings are playng when the bar tender plops these small red drinks in front of us. I shoot the bartender a look like “What the heck?” and he says,
Jack is amused. I panic. I panic as if the bartender just placed Saddam’s lost WMDs in front of us.
I shove my drink away. Jack drinks his. Sure enough, twenty minutes later, I feel an arm reach from behind me, into my shirt, and I feel a crusty old-man-hand clutch onto my chest like I’m Anna Nicole. The Creep is latched onto me, and he’s squeezing his cheek against mine, as if he’s wiping his sweat off. I am in a gross, drunk, choke hold. Jack is amused. I’m livid, but I slap on a fake “wtf” smile because I don’t want to cause a scene in front of Cute-Guy-in-Corner. After a few seconds of sheer terror The Creep slithers away. Jack and John are laughing at me. I’m bug-eyed and roaring. And of course Cute-Guy-in-Corner saw the entire assault, and is laughing at me too. So I’m standing there perturbed, and suddenly I hear all this shouting behind me. Had The Creep returned so soon? I turn around just in time to get out of the way of a Hot Mess who falls into the side of the bar. He catches my bitchy glare and decides to BELCH loudly, in my ear! I mean, girlfriend just let it rip. This was one of those ground shaking trucker burps. The bartenders are shocked. Half the bar is glaring, the other half is laughing. The night is officially messy. It was as if someone sent out a mass text to all the crazies and informed them of my presence: Hello, hello, Jansen is in the building. Proceed to harass. One at a time! I realize that The Creep who bought us the drinks has placed himself under the music video screen that I’m watching. This way he can pretend that I’m looking and smiling at him when I’m really just watching Beyonce. I realize this too late however, and The Creep comes back around the bar and wipes his sweat on me again. He then slithers away. Jack, John, and Cute-Guy-in-Corner are all amused. The two cowboy hat-wearing lesbians sitting next to me are also laughing. I glare at them and they look away. I then turn to Jack:
The Creep waits about an hour before making his final move. This time I was prepared. I notice his arm reaching from behind me and grab it before he can latch onto my chest again. I then turn around and glare. He sees 10 types of crazy in my eyes and says he will leave me alone. Jack is laughing.
August 15th, 2009 I sleep with my window open. I want to say this has something to do with “enjoying the Minnesota summer” but the truth is that my bedroom window has been stuck open for a few months and I’m too lazy to call the maintenance people. Last night I regretted not getting that stupid window fixed because around 2am someone started shooting. I live in one of those “just outside of downtown” neighborhoods where the distant sound of gunfire isn’t unusual, or a cause for concern. The problem with last night’s pops-in-the-night was that they were close enough to the building to freak out the dog, so I had an inconsolable bullmastiff to keep me awake for another hour or so. So this morning I was exhausted, but I decided to bike to work anyway. The bike ride to work is 20 sweaty miles in the name of fitness, up hill, each way. On the way back, I had just crossed the Mendota Bridge when my rear tire deflated. A nail changed me from “hardcore biker guy” to “awkwardly sweaty pedestrian.” The tire was completely loud and flat by the time I found a bike rack. I left the bike in the park bike rack and then walked to the train station to learn that it was closed for construction. So I hiked about a mile through a set of cherry-pie neighborhoods1 to the next train station. I then tried to ignore the glares from the high school girls who clearly thought I was too stinky and sweaty to be on the train. I felt like leering at them and asking for change, but I just mopped the sweat from my face and stared awkwardly at my bag. The walk from the final station was another two miles, so by the time I was a few blocks away from my apartment building I was done. I was so tired that I was just offended by my own exhaustion. So of course it started sprinkling. I shook my fist in the air and muttered “Don’t you DARE!” and then got embarrassed that I had actually threatened the sky. Obviously, a few screws came loose on the Jansen train. But my crazy threat to the sky worked, and the sprinkles stopped.2 After cleaning up and walking the dog, I drove to the park to pick up the bicycle. My bicycle usually doesn’t fit in my car, but the tire was so deflated that it gave me the few inches I needed to squeeze the bike in my back seat. The bike is still in the car. I’m waiting for the rain to stop before I drag it upstairs. It’s been storming for a few hours, and Harley is appreciating the thunder as much he appreciated last nights gunshots…excuse me while I coddle a 100lb dog. 1 Shutters, sprinklers, geese, ponds, picket fences, Americana goodness. 2 You can call me Rick James. |
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