Back from Chiiiiiicago

Just got back from Chicago yesterday. Definitely had a blast. Got wasted every single night and got to make friends with the people in the firm. Most of them are really cool. Especially the ones in other offices who I will probably never see again, which kind of sucks. Some cool peeps: Chicago girls, Julie Baltimore and Phoenix Bradford (the coolest straight boy I know and who I developed a crush on). Anyway, hopefully I’ll remain in with these people through email and get a chance to reconnect if I am ever visiting their respective cities.

The training sessions, replete with long boring lectures during the day and excesses of alcohol in the evenings, seem like such a haze. I know drinking wasn’t on my agenda, especially since it’s Ramadan. But with complete intransigence, I indulged myself in the decaying elements of the city; malls, bars and pubs. Can’t say it wasn’t fun though.
There goes my month of redemption. Shit happens. I should’ve expected it and perhaps should’ve known better.

I really don’t have the time to write about the torrid events of each night, but some distinct happenings include:

* Indulging in personal emaciation and tomfoolery due to heavy drinking every night of the week
* Getting shit-faced on wine my first day in the city and distinguishing myself by being the only one to arrive late for class the next day
* Jolting from a wakeup call from Angela Vogler (HA, HA, HA)
* Running voraciously around Chicago during a dull and tiring Scavenger Hunt
* Bloating myself with free food every night. Highlights include Ginos and the Chinese place where you create your own stirfy
* Partaking in the handwriting analysis, personal caricatures and 75c beers at the Blue Iguana
* Droning trolley ride around the city where one of the Managing Directors asked our tour-guide to “get us out of this fucking prison”
* Shopping at the cool hip stores flanked on Madison Avenue. Loved Marshall Fields, Saks Fifth Avenue (SO overpriced) and Hugo Boss.
* Crushing over Bradford: coolest straight boy ever.
* Stumbling around Boys Town, the abominable gay Mecca of the city, only to extremely disappointed by the lack of hot men

I’ll add more light on the last event. Unable to bottle my mania for unvisited gay establishments, I ended up waddling inside Boys Town, trying to find out where to go and who to bring back to my hotel room. However, I was unpleasantly surprised to discover that there was nobody worthy of such honor. Maybe, I went to the wrong places but I feel that Chicago men care a lot less about personal appearance and hygiene than DC men. Most men were was dressed as if they’ve never picked up a fashion magazine. And they have no excuses for their inability to look nice because Chicago is full of awesome stores. I guess every city has it’s own flavor. So yeah, Love Chicago but not so much the gays in Chicago.

Another thing I want to talk about is straight people. I know this blog doesn’t really talk about my interactions with straight people, which is not because I don’t KNOW straight people. It’s just that most of the time straight people are dull and boring. Not so much, I found out, after this trip. Straight people are as, if not more, lascivious than gay people. Give them a few beers and witness the blatant public display of their incontinence. As you’ve probably guessed, I’m referring to my colleagues right now, who, despite being in “relationships”, were all over each other after drinking a few beers. I don’t mind sex or romance in the workplace. In fact, I think that, though weird, it’s sort of inevitable. However, I just don’t want to SEE two of the people who I work with impetuously humping on the dance floor with complete disregard of the people around them. That’s just rude and inconsiderate. And thanks to the unrelenting display of affection all week, I’ve lost a lot of respect for some of my colleagues.

Before I forget, I MUST talk about this handwriting analysis thing. So basically, on our last day in Chicago, the training peeps organized a handwriting analysis activity inside the restaurant where we made our own stirfry (delicious). I had my qualms about this whole affair especially after glancing at the senile hippie look-alike who was going to provide us information that we already knew about ourselves. But nevertheless, I decided to give it a try. And boy, was I amazed. That woman had some skills. She told me a bunch of stuff that I thought was quite on the mark. She said that I enjoy my freedom and won’t settle for anything or let anyone barricade my independence. I’m always looking to learn and expand my horizons and want to be challenged, which is again pretty accurate. And I also have a creative and spontaneous side to myself, which I strive to balance with the side that demands order and organization. But what caught me off guard was her remark about me putting up a happy-go-lucky farce in front of people so as to conceal my private self.

Yeah, so basically I’m not really who people think I am. And it’s not that I want it to be that way. It’s just that it’s easier to be someone that you’re not. People don’t understand emotions, love, feelings, especially relating the same sex. And I don’t think this is only related to my sexuality. It’s not worth it making other people understand unless the stakes are really high. And perhaps they are not, in this case, since I am the only one who has to deal with myself. I live alone. I sleep alone. And for the time I’m with people, I can pretend to be what they want me to be.