Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Rosie Cheeks

Went to Cape Cod a couple of weeks ago for five days. I flew on the red eye to NYC via Atlanta. My friend Rosie (she told me she decided ages ago that if she ever needed a nom de plume it would be Rosie Cheeks, so there you go) picked me up at the airport and we drove up to the Cape.

Rosie is one of my oldest friends - I met her 16 (gasp!) years ago at high school in the Dominican Republic. I was the exchange student, she was one of the few English speakers in the class (having grown up in both DR and the US). We're actually quite different in most respects - culturally, politically, socially, economically, ethnically - which means that some of our discussions can get quite heated, but I do love her dearly. Besides, I could never be nasty about her because she has too much dirt on me.

Some random memories of Rosie:

1. 1989. Santiago, Dom Rep. She fancies this guy at our school so she gets me to tell him that my friends back in New Zealand don't believe me that there are cute guys in Dom Rep, so I have to take a photo of him as proof. Which she then keeps, of course.

2. 1991. New York. We buy the only tickets we can afford to Phantom of the Opera, which means that we're standing right up the back (in our nice dresses and sneakers) and can't even see the chandelier - or half the stage for that matter. Oh well. We were being cultural, nonetheless.

3. 1995. Wellington, NZ. We have a cocktail party in the house I'm living in and Rosie decides to seduce my flatmate, the Gay Hairdresser. Unfortunately for her, he was, and remains to this day, gay. Except he's no longer a hairdresser. Now he's a Gay Maitre D'.

4. 1998. New Orleans (hugs to the Big Easy) (ok so they probably need a little more than hugs right now). Two words: Mardi Gras. One more word: Beads.

5. 2001. Coromandel Peninsula, NZ. I rent the cheapest car I can find which turns out to be a big mistake. For a start, it's a manual, which Rosie can't drive, especially not on the left side of the road. So I have to drive all the way. Secondly, it only has AM radio and no tapedeck even. We learn the words to "Last Train to San Francisco".

6. 2002. Puerto Rico. We manage to lose each other for half an hour in San Juan airport. We go on to have a fantastic over the top casino resort holiday. Thank you Rosie!

7. 2003. Machu Picchu, Peru. Rosie discovers after the first hour on the Inca Trail that she just isn't as tough (= crazy) as the kiwis (consisting of me, the Editter, the Gay Maitre D' and another friend who I'm pretty sure reads this blog but I don't know what to call you - any suggestions?), and hires the cook to porter her backpack. She writes on a postcard home: "Peru is dirty and poor. My next vacation will be at a resort". (There is more I could write, but what happens on the Inca Trail stays on the Inca Trail, right Rosie?)

8. 2005. Cape Cod, Massachussets. Rosie is the Maid of Honor at our friend's wedding. I am the Maid of Honor's Maid of Honor. It is my new calling. Seriously, I was practically the wedding planner - I had the DJ, the caterers etc all coordinating with me. And I got to know everyone because I was handing out the welcome bags as the guests arrived at the reception. Everyone: "Who are you?" Me: "I'm the Maid of Honor's guest. I've met the bride 3 times before!" It was loads of fun and a very nice wedding.

My, we do get around, don't we?

The Cape was beautiful, I managed to go to Provincetown and had a lobster bake and discovered that clam chowder has pig in it so I won't be eating that again (even though it was rather good) and had lobster roll and went to the beach and got burnt (just a little above the neckline of the dress I wore to the wedding, so there was a bright white stripe of cleavage - sexy!) and bonded with a 3-year old.

I very nearly met Fash Mag Slag in NYC. Well, we emailed. But then he never called me and anyway I got back to NYC too late and flew out really early the next morning. I bet I would have humiliated him at Scrabble. That'll be why he "forgot" to call me.