DUI on a golf cart: REID #221
I'm back in the sunshine state...
SHORT:
As always,
I am in Florida for Christmas
With my 17 first-cousins —
My siblings and I?
Are the only Jews1.
MEDIUM:
Happy Holidays.
I spent yesterday evening helping my mom think of “the three funny things she said” recently. One involved a waitress with laryngitis. One was actually a text message and not spoken aloud. And the third is a complete mystery. Let me know if you can crack this case based on these extremely helpful clues!
As I mentioned in the poem above, I’m in Florida. My dad’s dad lives here, so every year we make the pilgrimage… along with his 6-7 New England-raised siblings and their 2-3 kids each. Picture Conclave — but instead of robes, everyone’s in head-to-toe Patriots gear and instead of choosing a new Pope we’re arguing over which cousin is most likely to get a DUI on a golf cart.
All while “Mary Did You Know?” is blaring from a speaker.
[Which, btw, I feel like… there’s no way she knew. Right?]
LONG:
Jess and I flew out of Newark, which meant dragging suitcases down icy stairs to the N train, then through freezing wind to Penn Station for NJ Transit. The train was so packed we had to stand shoulder-to-shoulder… a perfect way to prepare for Florida (by practicing the art of sweaty, silent misery).
Jess has a personal vendetta against the Newark AirTrain, which fits two people max and moves slower than Betty White circa… today (RIP). Also, last time we rode the AirTrain, two European gay guys shoved us out of the way to board, leaving us stranded.
This time?
More Europeans. More pushing.
Jess’s whole body went rigid, and they started muttering on a loop: “I’m feeling Euro-phobic.” For a moment, I genuinely thought they were about to Hulk out2, rip the AirTrain doors off, and yeet3 those guys straight into the Hudson.
After the tram, we had to walk 12 minutes to an elevator labeled Earhart. Not exactly comforting—historically, when Earharts go up, they don’t come down. Or do they? WHERE DID SHE GO?
The good news is, when we finally made it through security, we saw something beautiful: a trophy engraved with: 2024 Best Brownie in Terminal A, Newark Liberty International Airport. Displayed proudly outside of the Terminal A Starbucks!!! Congratulations to them on such a prestigious award!!!
[[The trophy did have a giant cookie on top, which felt like kinda a slap in the face to the brownies on their big day. But maybe it was a cookie competition with a special nod to brownies?4]]
Also, I’m gonna be brave and say it:
Both the Tampa and Newark airports had an alarming number of people dressed as Santa and elves. Employees, travelers, families picking people up.
I do not get the appeal.
Then again, I’m Jewish. The closest we ever came to “dressing up” for the airport was wearing shoes that came off easily for TSA and dousing ourselves in Purell after arriving a solid 4-6 hours early.
What else?
On the plane, the woman in our row asked if we were on college winter break. Without thinking, Jess and I were like, “Yep.” Later, she pointed to School of Rock on Jess’s screen and said, “That came out before you were born.” And we were like, “Totally.”
Then, while deplaning, she told us (unprompted) that “[she’s] a New Jersey politician and has only lied once.” We felt bad for lying more times on the plane ride than she did during her entire career. But also… she’s a politician—“only lied once” was probably… lie number two5.
When we landed, we ate at Qdoba, because the only place worse for vegans6 than the airport is the part of Florida where my uncle lives. They were out of guac, so we ate dry bean burritos. Tasted like drywall!
Finally, around 8pm, we arrived at the house and were immediately approached by my cousin who said, “It’s crazy how I’m so young—like 21—and you’re… not.” — absolutely!
Another cousin (age 13) spent the whole night running around calling everyone “short and bald!” (objectively hilarious because most ppl in the family are 6’2)7.
Anyway, sending strength to ppl with family (or not) this week8.
Snack of the Week: was nothing. The food in Florida (or at least this part) makes me somehow ill, hungry, and full all at the same time.
C U Next Tuesday
Thank you for subscribing to this newsletter. Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s not [it’s a lot like when people slip on ice]. If this is your first time reading, pls check out the archives.
Sincerely,
Reid Pope
Bonus Jonas Zone:
here to make things a little more historically accurate, I suppose
Anti-European Hulk would be called… The Continental Rift? The Croissant Crusher? The Bratwurst Basher? The Incredible Vulk-swagon?
Just learned “yeet” — trying to stay young
Does a cookie count as a brownie when it has chocolate chips in it? What about when it’s full double chocolate? Can a brownie ever be a cookie? Pls weigh in.
Or 700 or 800 or 900— does this make sense? This newsletter is so hack and boring I’m sorry I’m in FLORIDA
Jess is vegan for new Reiders, I am not
not me hahahaha in my dreams <3
Thanks to the hurricane, the only working shower in this house is the one attached to mine and Jess’s room, so everyone’s traipsing through—including Uncle Mark and Aunt Lucy from the trailer out front. This morning, my dad burst in to unlock the bathroom door so they could come in and pee. Awesome!!!!
jersey politician, school break, school of rock... amazing (also max was on my lap while reading this but has now decided he's DONE, after meowing nonstop for what i now realize was cuddles)