Eric Wang

Yeah, That'll Happen #10

My Drama Summer



Ah Summer, I love you. My last Seth Cohen impression, I promise. Summer means a lot of things. Summer means I get to eat deliciously unhealthy Mexican food, which makes me feel like I need to work out. Apparently it's caught up to me, I can no longer just cut the sleeves off some tight t-shirts and let optical illusions do the rest. Not to mention I hate anything with the word "work" in it, or things that require me to shower and do laundry more than necessary.



Summer means the NBA finals. Seriously, who else was waiting for Kobe to cry? Oh you die hard Lakers fans, don't be upset. Besides, there are only two of you, Jack Nicholson and Mark Madsen.



Summer means vacations, which means I see a lot of airports. Those security checks where they make you take off your shoes are getting really old. I've started to wear smelly socks when I travel, just to give them a hard time. Of course, this might not work so well if you get a hot security inspector. It's almost like torture. Same with sitting next to a hot chick on the plane. Why am I so scared of women?



You can find almost everything you need at an airport mall, usually at three times the normal price. It's glorified extortion, that's what it is. Either you pay 9 bucks for a Big Mac at the LAX McDonalds, or you can eat airplane food. This is the other reason I hate LA, aside from the Lakers. Duty free happens to be the glorious exception. Two bottles of Grey Goose for 30 bucks? I wonder how much Banker's Club would be if they sold it there. And why do they bother selling porno magazines at the airport book store? Is porn on a plane really necessary?


Sitting next to an empty seat on a full flight is like waiting for the statute of limitations to expire on your arrest warrant. Five minutes till takeoff, you think you're in the clear, and then Officer Hopkins of the State College Police Department comes bounding down the aisle, reading you your rights and giving you the business card of a good public defender. Damn, almost made it.



The only thing I learned from college chemistry is that gas expands when there is less pressure. Do people have no sense of personal responsibility on a plane? Clearly I do not.



Summer means lots of big Hollywood movies. Have you noticed that most of them no longer come out on Friday anymore? They do this to get inflated weekend box office numbers. I swear, movies coming out on Wednesday are gonna be the next Enron.



Isn't it great that hot chicks just get hotter as they get older, like, Meg Ryan, and the Olsen twins? Happy Birthday to you two, by the way. Speaking of twins, wouldn't it be neat if they made a movie where the two leads looked ridiculously similar? Starring Charlize Theron and Ashley Judd? Helen Hunt and Leelee Sobieski? The Rock and Rob Schneider? Wow, I could do this all day.



Summer means I have to work. The only good thing about work is I can always call in sick. Oh, and the paychecks aren't that bad. I hate work, especially so since I have to drive so far to get there. I spend traffic jams thinking of how I can take the carpool lane, and I came up with a much better idea than the blowup doll from last summer. Get this: A cradle in the backseat. How brilliant is that? Get yourself a Cabbage Patch Kid and a baby seat, put a blanket over it, and you're golden. I wonder what the penalty is for HOV lane fraud.



Summer means I get drunk a lot. There's always one defining drunk moment every year, when you realize, hell yeah, it's the summer. You've probably learned that nothing good happens to me when I've been drinking, but come on, its sort of fun/funny to pass out in your friend's backyard, to wake up covered in ant bites. On a Wednesday. I better call in sick. Thank God for bars that have dollar pint night and don't card. Not that I'm not 21 or anything.



Ok, I'll be the first to admit it, I've come to love text messaging. It costs about as much as a pog, its efficient, and messages always, always get delivered, even if you realize it's a really bad idea later. Move over Drunk IMing, there's a new mayor in town.



And finally, summer means love is in the air. I have this friend, we'll call him a biblical name like Derek McConnell, who used to date this girl. This absolutely gorgeous girl who we ran into the other day at the bar with the goofy shit on the walls and the mozzarella sticks. Now, he hasn't seen this girl since he slightly ruined her life a few years ago, but apparently the rule is, the next time you see her, she'll look fantastic, her new boyfriend will be a huge toolbag, and only heavy drinking, country music, and emo can save you. Unless you're McConnell, who ended up spending the rest of the night hatching a plan to split up the new couple and marry his old girlfriend. It made a lot of sense, but I was also very drunk. Love is in the air indeed.





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