Sunday, August 2, 2009

COS Snapshot #2 BEING JOHN MALKOVICH (OR MEGAN McCREA)

the entrance.
After our oh-so-strenuous day of...sitting in (very cramped) chairs, eating, and...sitting in chairs some more, we're exhausted. We deserve a nap.
My roommate C and I have been asleep for an hour(?) two(?)~impossible to tell in the mid-afternoon shadows of our hotel room~when I hear familiar voices tramping by our room. It's M and R!!!! I'm so excited I nearly bolt out the door when I realize--"oh, hey...I'm only wearing underwear!" Now, I'm not THAT familiar with Chuuk, but my (killer) instinct tells me that this may be, somehow, culturally inappropriate.
Seeing that I'm sitting up (and, hence, awake), C does the most rational thing in the circumstances: hops onto my bed and starts beating me senseless with a pillow. Now, I'm generally a pretty peace-loving individual (um, hence the PEACE Corps), but I was not about to let C get away with THAT lying down (well, or sitting up, as it were). I hop to my knees and rebut.
Soon, things have escalated--she's now standing over me, beating down upon me like some kind of fluffy downpour. "Oh yeah?" I think, "I'll show YOU."
I jump up and wind up for the superhuge pillow smack of all time. (BeWARE, C.) Unfortunately, doing both of these things simultaneous proves not such a wise decision--my (impeccably yoga-trained balance supahstar) body plummets off the bed onto the ground, smashing table, wall, and floor all nearly at once.
All conversation outside ceases.

C: Omigod!! Are you okay???
Me: [still half-realizing that I am on the floor] Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.
Voices from outside/above: Is everything all right in there?

I triumphantlysheepishly emerge in a towel. "No worries."

N: I KNEW it was you! I heard a crash against my wall and was like, 'What? Oh, Megan must be my neighbor!

I give hello hugs all around. Guess you could say that, the consummate theater major, I always know how to make an entrance.

*************************************************************************************
megan mccrea, queen of the high seas.
Now, given that the last two times I piloted a kayak, I:

*1: Palau, October: (at first, unbeknownst to me) took on so much water that my boat was suddenly travelling along at a seesaw-like angle, all my possessions floating in a miniature (quickly-growing) pond behind me, the boat travelling at approximately the speed of a dying snail until finally, mercifully, B & I got the badboy beached.

*2: Pohnpei, December: on this illustrious occasion, four friends ane I were out on kayaks. ONCE AGAIN the back plug was jacked-up (what's that saying again? 'Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on...?'). Only this time, when it was pointed out to me that I was taking on water, we were:
-300 yards from the island
-in a strong current
-at sunset.
And so, of course, when my friend G pointed out my situation to me, I did the only rational thing, in the circumstances~panicked and flipped my boat, throwing all my possessions into the water and all my friends into a state of terror. Only through their support, ingenuity, McGyverness, bandana, and wicked strong arm muscles did we (and the boats) somehow miraculously reach shore safely.

How J (she of the wicked strong arm muscles mentioned above) had persuaded me back out on a sea kayak in Chuuk I HAVE NO IDEA. (Temporary amnesia, mayhaps?)
Nonetheless, there we were: she with her handsome red kayak and shapely paddle, me with my handsome blue kayak and...two foot-long plastic child's canoe paddle. (What can I say? I'd checked out the last equipment on the lot.)
So, I'm Fisher-Pricing along as we behold the sunset and mull a sundry of topics. The problem, however? I keep falling further and further behind.
"Wait up!" I'm yelling, cursing and spitting and muttering obsenities under my breath at my stupid children's paddle.
J watches me from afar. Her lips curl into a smile. She starts to laugh.
"What?" I ask, through slightly gritted teeth.
"You're paddling backwards."
"What?" I'm befuddled. [My boat seems to be going forward...I don't get it.]
"You're sitting the wrong way."
And so I am. So THAT'S why my boat's steering like a drunken sailor. It all makes sense.
Amused by her discovery, J calls over to our friend N, "Hey, N! Megan's paddling backwards!!"
She (and I) await the expected laugh. Silence. N is unimpressed(?).
"Hey," she calls, "it's MEGAN. She's not bleeding all over the place--she's doing good."

*************************************************************************************
alanis morrissette and japanese fine dining.
Guess you could say that I've always been susceptible to contests involving food. You see once, as a kid, we were eating a dish with white rice on the side. The (full) pot was passed to my brother first, and he took (what I thought was) more than his fare share.
"K!!" I whined,"leave some for the rest of us!!"
"Megan," my dad turned to me, you-are-absolutely-ridiculous look splashed across his face, "I'll bet you FIVE DOLLARS you can't eat that whole pot of white rice."
"Oh yeah?" I motion for the rice to be sent down to me. Two hours (and a healthy stomachache) later, I was rich.

A few years later, I purchased my first CD: Alanis Morrissette's JAGGED LITTLE PILL. I memorized all the tracks, wholeheartedly adopting Alanis' own particularly screamy, angry brand of feminism as my own.

Little did I know that these two (seemingly unrelated) events would come into play on the same fateful night, in order to burn my tongue off.

As we're sitting around one evening, drinking beer and exchanging stories, JG has a great idea: WASABI-EATING CONTEST!!
Somehow, though he brought up the idea, he talks R and C into actually DOING it. As they prepare to face off, they exchange verbal jabs.
"You really think you can take me?"
"Oh, so you're gonna man up and challenge me?"
etc. etc.
Well, as soon as I hear the phrase, "man up," my Alanis genes kick in. "What's that?" I ask, poised to pounce. "Are you saying girls can't eat wasabi??"
The two exchange a look, meaning, "oh boy--we've got a live one!"
They shrug. "What do you think?

Me: Because women can do ANYthing men can do.
They: Oh really?

And so began a triumphant night for feminism, a losing night for my GI tract.

Oh, Megan. You [you you] oughta know.

1 comment:

littlefieldmccreafam said...

Dear Megan,

Please please PLEASE stop competing for a Darwin award. Use that good brain of yours and think ahead before trying death-defying feats such as crazy kayaking and wasabi-eating! Feminism does not equal masochism.

Guess who--