When I worked in offices I always used to hate the term "Humpday" (Wednesday). As in, "Hey guys guess what... it's humpday!" Humpday of course refers to the middle of the week. Going over the heinous hump to get to the better side. It always just made me think of two animals in the wild humping or two gross people in South Philly doing the nasty.
In Philadelphia humpday meant going for cocktails at some lame bar named "Rouge" or "Firm" or "Velour". But in New Orleans on humpday we have music in the square! I attended last evening with some girls from work. I haven't been in a long time. It was fun. There were alot of young urban professionals which I forgot New Orleans had. They were dressed in pumps drinking Abita and listening to The Bucktown Allstars. My friend Margaret was trying to soak it all in. She is a native of New Orleans who will be moving to Brasil in 6 weeks. She doesn't know when she'll be back so she's embracing all that New Orleans has to offer. She turned to me and said, "This city is so great. This doesn't happen anywhere else". I told her she was right. In Philly a gathering like this would be a big deal. It would only happen once or twice a year. People would get really drunk and there would be atleast a few fights.
But I digress from my inital thought- humpday. Humpday is great in New Orleans. So much better than anywhere else. I saw the utterly handsome Scott Fajita (SAINTS!) walking around like a normal person. He fit perfectly well into this humpday scene. The whole thing got me thinking about how us human beings delegate our days. We really just want to have fun. The weekend is the prize. The Unday is to be determined. Humpday is the vehicle. What's next?
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Seems that the unday is the anti-hump day. Whilst many look to "the hump" as an excuse have a drink after work and cut loose a bit, we unday-ers are pretty much doing that on the daily, and seek the anti-hump just to get our laundry done and the (dreaded) bills paid.
ReplyDeleteHaving just returned from Chicago, where I hobnobbed with many efficient mid-westerners, this has been brought into further relief. People want to have fun, as MosquitoKiller notes, but "out there" it is not socially acceptable. You gotta put on your snowboots and your puffy jacket and get to work on time. In this light hump-day celebrations are somewhat sad affairs, where the repressed fucko spirit is allowed to take a desperate spin around the dance floor before putting the parka back on. Somehow wednesdays at the square with Fujita don't seem particularly humpy. That scene could go down any day of the week - and that is the beauty.
God I always forget that the rest of the USA exists! I haven't spent all that much time in the Mid-West but I do have a memory or two of being there. Once I had a lay-over in Detroit. I was on the conveyor belt walk way when a thirty something man said hello to me. To this day I can remember the exchange. Why does this memory stick? Because the interaction was so abnormal to me. Why should I be shocked and appalled at a man saying hello? Well, to be fair I AM from Philadelphia and even though I have spent 10 years in New Orleans I am still wary and put off by phony niceties. In New Orleans people say hello all the time. But it's geniune and sweet. It feels natural. It's like breathing. "Hello" or "How y'all doin?". But this felt strange. Forced. And that accent. Don't even get me started! It felt invasive. Maybe because it seemed like there was nothing else going on in this guy's world. Like he was moving from one corporate hellhole to another and saying hello was his only party. It was like I could read on him immediately- this guy hasn't partied in YEARS! And that creeped me out. I could smell it. It's what I ran away from. It traumatized me. It reminded me of all those temp jobs I had straight out of college. The copy machine. The robot mailman. The men in ties slapping doen files onto my desk.
ReplyDeleteI ran for the hills or in this case, the swamp. I never looked back. I am at home on the back porch with my wine and my fuckos. I am happy.