Can't Read My Polka Face

Yesterday I experienced my first Dyngus Day at Buffalo Central Terminal and The Adam Mickiewicz Library with my family and my love. Click on the links for more info on Dyngus Day and the history behind the two places we visited. But in a nutshell, think of Dyngus Day in Buffalo like a Polish St. Patrick's Day celebration. It's unreal! I hadn't been in either place before but I was so excited about going into the terminal! I wish there weren't so many cops around so we could sneak off and explore the rest of the terminal but just being in the main area of the building, even though it is completely run down, was breathtaking. Yes, even with non stop polka music from Those Idiots. I've had Polka Face in my head all day.



My mom found a picture of me and the boy on buffalo.com and I found us in the background of a buffalo news video too! Unfortunately, I can't find any footage of me sticking out my tongue in a lewd fashion behind my mom as she got interviewed from another news channel. Speaking of, more bad news: I forgot my camera. But thank goodness for cellphones! I was able to snap a few (crappy) photos inside Buffalo Central Terminal.

Cologne, Gasoline and Italian Sausage

There’s an area downtown littered with bars that attracts douche bags and sluts. In fact, you might find those Jersey Shore fucks fist pumping there…Snooki came to town just a few months back! Wait that probably isn’t something to brag about. Anyways, it’s rare I stumble down douche drive but when I do I try my best to make sure I’m good and drunk. This particular night a few years ago was a success! I drank enough booze to fuel two lawnmowers. Believe me, after spending a night at these bars you’d have to drink at least that much just to stop yourself from choking on your own vomit all night. One sure sign that I’ve had too much to drink is when my mouth salivates at the sight of the truck that serves greasy meat, or as it’s known around here, “Street Meat”. Tasty, right? We joined the line and started with the usual small talk while waiting to order.

“What are you getting?”

“I dunno, maybe a cheeseburger. What are you getting?”

While my friends and I are having this delicious conversation the guy in line ahead of me decides to chime in with his wise words as he overhears that I want an Italian sausage.

“Hey, I got your Italian sausage right here!” he says while grabbing his bulge which I’m sure was 97% balls and 3% wiener. Instantly I was impressed with his wit, creativity and originality. I turned my head slowly to share my look of disgust and noticed that he was the epitome of a douche bag. He was wearing black dress shoes, ripped jeans with a button down shirt that seemed to have lost a lot of buttons, gold chains, at least three bottles of gel in his hair to get it to blow out all nice like and he smelled like he rubbed every cologne sample he could find from a magazine all over his body. Were his eyebrows waxed? I don’t remember.

I started by ignoring his comment which only made him say it louder and more often. The genius and his comrades laughed as he continued to tell me what I could do with his sausage (or cocktail wiener), he was right where I wanted him. Suddenly I started to comment on his offensive odor.

“Oh, God! What is that smell?” I started to sniff heavily as my friends nervously laughed. “Ugh! Oh! Oh, God! It smells so bad! Do you smell that?” I said to the prize standing next to me.

“Uh, no.”

“Oh, God…it smells like cologne...like really, really bad cologne. You don’t smell that?” He knew it was him.

“No,” he said while his smile escaped his face.

“Oh my God! It’s horrible! Someone really reeks!” I continued to yell as he tried to ignore me. This wasn’t working. I had to take it a step further. The car parked on the street behind me smelled like it was leaking gasoline. Perfect. “Is that gasoline? Do you guys smell gasoline?” I asked my friends. They encouraged me to stop and I was not going to let that happen. This was just about to get good! I was crossing the line and it felt so right, so good. I continued to sniff around and yell that someone smelled like gasoline and cologne. My Italian sausage friend kept looking over at me and he looked angry. This held so much more satisfaction than any name I could call him!

“Do you smell gasoline?” I asked him.

“No, not really,” he said while trying to blow me off.

“Ugh!” I moaned over the stench, “It smells so bad! Like gasoline and cologne.” I continued to dramatically sniff while his friends ordered their street meat until I finally sealed the deal and began to put my nose as close as I could to his body and inhaled deeply.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” he yelled.

“Oh my God! I think it’s you!” I shouted. “It’s you!”

“Sssssstoooop,” my friends whispered as I continued to ignore them.

“What?! No it’s not you crazy bitch!”

“No, it really is you!” I leaned in closer, “You smell like gasoline…and cologne.” I said this a few more times until I could feel him glaring down at me.

Our eyes met as I was practically resting my head on his chest. Right at that very tender moment a cab pulled up in front of the car that smelled like gasoline and a skinny, blonde kid in his twenties stepped out. Italian sausage spun around and knocked the kid out with a punch and took off running. Blondie laid on the cement in shock as a small crowd started to form. We decided pizza seemed like a better option and left.

McDonald Adventures

After saying that we would only stay out at the bar till about 11pm, we heard the "last call" warning and hurried out the door. It was 2am and one of my friends wanted McDonald's. We walked over to the golden arches, which might be comforting to some but repulsive to me, and got in line for the drive thru window...on foot. Drivers and their passengers snickered at us as if we were some kind of freaks of humanity. The only thing different about them and us was that they were hiding their fatty selves inside a vehicle, we choose the healthier and more environmental friendly way of taking healthy steps...to a fast food restaurant. It was our turn before we knew it! We stood in front of the intercom system and waited for a friendly greeting asking to try some new item that no one ever really wants...nothing. Hmmm. "Maybe a car has to trigger a sensor?" we thought. The three of us spread out over the cement rectangle, about the size of a SUV, and began jumping in various places. The man behind us kept saying that all he wanted was two double cheeseburgers and fries. We told him to wait his turn. "HELLOOOO???" I said to the speaker. No response. I walked up and knocked on it. Still nothing. Rude. The line was getting longer, so we let some cars go ahead of us. I rested my elbow on the intercom speaker and leaned against it while drivers placed their order. They acted as if I wasn't even there, just placed their order and drove away. Annoyed that they were all greeted and served, I tilted my head towards the speaker as the next car drove up and yelled that they were rude for not serving us because we did not have a car. Silence. Then the driver started to place her order, I tried to speak over her into the intercom this time saying that it's discriminatory not to serve someone because they lack a vehicle. All of this, of course, was me being a jack ass. I don't even like McDonald's. But my friends were hungry and I was bored. After trying to fight the good fight we gave in and got ourselves a car.

We pulled up to the intercom system and one of my friends asked if they served those who do not have cars. Some kid who actually makes more money than me and has health insurance (unlike myself) just gave us a simple "no." The ladies ordered their food and we sped off into the night...well, around the corner to where one of my friends lives. They ate their fast food and yearned for more of it's greasy, salty goodness. So back we went!

This time as we approached the parking lot we noticed a man and woman trying to order without a car. They looked frazzled, upset and best of all...drunk. We yelled to them that we tried ordering food without a car and they wouldn't let us. The woman, Nicole, seemed as shocked as we were. There is no sign with a walking pedestrian circled in red with a line through it or a cardboard sign stabbed in the landscape telling customers "pedestrians not permitted" (it is called a "drive thru", but you can walk into a drive-in movie theater). They seemed bummed, let down and like they were losing their buzz. Just then a light bulb went on over my head. "Do you have cash?" I asked the hungry strangers. "Huh? What?" They asked, obviously disoriented from their hunger and lack of respect from the McDonald employees. "Do you have cash?" I asked again. "Yeah, we have cash," they both said. "Well, get in!" I yelled to them. Neither one of them thought twice about getting into an unknown car. Introductions were made quickly. "Curry," the man said. "Are you Indian?" my friend asked him, "cause I am." He ignored her question...which was probably for the better since she was talking about two total different cultures. My other friend was feeling around under the passenger seat while this was going on and yanked out my orthopedic insoles for when I go walking. "What the fuck???" She asked while flopping them in my face. "My insoles!" I screamed in excitement (I had thought I lost them). I snatched the rubbery footprin shapes and tucked them into the visor above my head. I pulled up to the intercom., everyone shouted out their orders. Curry ordered a happy meal. And happy he was. I pulled into a nearby parking space so everyone could get their orders organized and put into the right hands. Our fast food hitchhikers thanked us repeatedly as they left with their food. I asked them to do one thing, "pay it forward."

We stayed in that parking spot for a little while reminiscing about the night. "Is it really after 3?" I asked knowing that I had to be up at 5:30 for work. Next thing we know a man comes jumping out of the bushes next to us and yelling. It was our new friend Curry! We all yelled back to him and how nice it was to meet the both of them. He continued running and yelling down the street till he vanished from our sight. I'm sure he was on some sort of opiate or psychedelic....lucky bastard. Then we heard yells from behind us in the drive thru line. A rather tall drag queen got out of someones passenger seat and strutted to the car behind them. She began yelling and doing some sort of gestures to the men in the car that were yelling. We felt bad for her so we took it upon ourselves to get involved. My friend began yelling at the men to leave the drag queen alone. "No, you be nice!" They yelled back at her. We all looked at one another and laughed at how immature it sounded. Two can play at that game. My friend began a game of repeat. Anything those hate-filled men yelled at us, she yelled it right back. It continued without anyone missing a breath until they got their food and drove off. I let out a sigh and mentioned to my lovely ladies that it was late and that we should all probably call it a night.

It seemed to be enough excitement for one night...and that was all after the bar! We went our separate ways and said goodnight. On my way home I started to become rather worried about the time. If I raced home and went right to sleep, I'd get a little over 2 hours. Do I even go to sleep? Sometimes it's better to just pull an all-nighter. As I was debating what the best option was I noticed that the car in front of my came to an abrupt stop on the expressway, as did everyone else. I slammed on my brakes like the rest of them and was trying to figure out why I went from 70mph to 0mph in 5 seconds. Then I saw a cop car blocking traffic. He wasn't letting anyone through. "Oh no! It's a DWI stop!" I quickly thought. Had I been drinking? Yes. Was I alright to drive? Yes. But I was still nervous. I started to fumble through my bag looking for either some mints or gum to cover up any left over beer breath. I imagined him coming up to my car...."No officer, I have not been drinking," I would say. "Ok ma'am, have a good night...my, what minty fresh breath you have!" the portly officer would say back to me. "Oh officer! You know just what to say to make a girl blush!" Then I found my mints! I began eating them as if I was shoveling handfuls of popcorn down my throat at the latest blockbuster film. I kept a watchful eye, trying to see where Officer charmer was. My mouth hurt and my throat was on fire. As it turned out it wasn't a stop at all. There has been construction going on and new overhead signs were being mounted, unfortunetly closing the expressway for a while. Aggravated that I wasted all those mints, had a rather uncomfortable sensation in my mouth and that it was well after 3:30am now I grew more and more mad at myself for staying out so late. Eventually traffic was let through and I got home a little before 4am. By the time I washed my face, brushed my teeth, had a coughing fit (I'm sure brought on from the mints) and drank some water it was 4:30. I put my head on my pillow and drifted away for one hour.