First Night In New York...

I wanted to come to New York and gain some experience with playwrighting. Little did I know that on my first night here, I'd be on stage, in a re-enactment of the scene from Friends where Chandler gets locked in a vestibule with Victoria's Secret model Jill Goodacre. Of course, I'm playing the role of Jill, but in an ironic and daring twist of street theatre, I'm also playing the part of Chandler!

Going on 8 hours of sleep in 72 hours, I minimally unpacked and after a wonderful lunch/orientation with Miss Winn, at 1pm, was about to take a nap when the doorbell rang. Oooh! Visitors!

I head down the stairs, into the vestibule and see a FedEx sticker attached to the front door window. Oooh! Visitors with gifts!

I open the door, try to catch Mr/Miss FedEx, but they drive away. Oh well. Can't Winn them all. As I grab the sticker there's an audible 'click'. My stomach sinks. The door knob does not turn!

I'm locked inside the vestibule- a 3x3 tiled room, split in half with two steps and rough carpet designed to get NY muck off your shoes. No phone, no keys, no money, just me and two copies of sports illustrated, one cigar aficionado, and one TONY. Two hours later and I'm well versed on ESPN's new fantasy football league on Facebook, non-cuban cigars from the Dominican Republic, and what's going on in New York this week. Even learned Italy's answer to Futball American... a strange game that's a mix of ultimate fighting, soccer, and football. I felt like the luckiest girl in the whole world! Not! I longed for a Vogue...

I guess I should have found a place in TONY where I could meet a man who would be impressed with my sudden, unplanned knowledge of fantasy football and cigars. Shrug. More important matters were pressing... like my bladder!

Three hours go by and the three glasses of water and 1/2 glass of diet coke are done with their tour of me. They urgently want to continue their tour of New York via the sewer system. It's broad daylight with people teeming everywhere. Another hour goes by... it hurts really bad. Another hour goes by... can't take it any more. I hear the sounds of bottles clinking outside. Some homeless lady is going through the recyclables. She leaves. I peep out, attach the door to the wall so I'm not locked outside, make a mad dash to the trash bin, pull out a wine bottle, and stroll back to the front door. My choice in urinals was not perfect; this bottle of wine was opened with a knife that only cut the topmost foil leaving behind a rather sharp tiny circle for me to work with. My kidneys hurt so much, this might actually feel good.

Logistics dictate that the going was slow (yay kegels!), yet I'm terrified someone might now come home. LOL, what a way to meet the neighbors! I'm holding the bottle by the neck and am about 3/4 done when I feel a very warm sensation through the glass... the bottle is completely filled!

Now, only one time before I peed into a cup... I was 18 and started a 50 mile drive to the mall with a 32 oz glass of Mountain Dew. The drink was gone in 10 miles, and though I made it to the mall, I was unable to make it inside to a restroom. So, being the resourceful type, I peed into the same empty cup that was previously just full with Mt. Dew. To my surprise, when finished, I had completely filled the cup!

Perhaps it was the boredom of sitting alone in a tiny room, or maybe it's just a fact of peeing into bottles, but there is a momentary sense of accomplishment in holding such a large quantity of liquid that was just inside oneself. Mostly though, there was relief. The sky was getting dark and I knew I could now wait the rest of the night, so spirits were up.

7 hours later, Warrin from down the hall comes home and rescues me. I had to convince him I was was who I was, but that was aided by having friends with cute and memorable faces.

Exhausted, I then slept for 18 hours straight.