Working Downtown...or something like that.

Right after I posted my last blog entry, I realized that I completely forgot to acknowledge and celebrate Mayka’s rich Mexican heritage like I usually do. I knew she would bring it up sooner or later. First off, let me apologize. I did not intentionally fail to recognize you, Mayka. You are, in fact, the Tustison Family’s own affirmative action program. Anyway, I’m sorry, and by the way, most of my friends are Mexican…

There’s nothing like working downtown. Just like many things, it has its pluses and minuses. Many different smells litter the air with aromas of blooming flowers and rushing water, while other times the only thing you smell is the sidewalk-vomit left over from the weekend excitement or the guy on the bench that’s been reading the same 1980 Wall Street Journal every morning since I got here. There are some very unique characteristics that define a thriving metropolis like downtown San Antonio. While Trevor works in the thriving metropolis of Provo City and Mom could be confused as an extra on Sex in the City when she heads off to work, I thought I’d give you all (y’all) a very brief taste of what it’s like working downtown in the 8th largest city in the United States.

Streets & Traffic
Downtown is very accessible. The usual traffic jams are expected during the hours of rush, but Jenn and I have seemed to find the less stressful routes, especially in the morning (aka the bus). Jenn goes in to work at about noon and therefore confronts much less traffic than we would in the morning. The streets are very well maintained, with a majority of the downtown avenues paved with brick. Truthfully, I haven’t walked through the valley of the shadow of death that is the South side of downtown but I do work in the heavy commercial and tourist area, which, after 5 months, basically qualifies me as one of 50 Cent’s entourage members. What this has to do with streets, I have no idea.

Ambience
For those that don’t know, I work on the third floor which is really the 4th floor if you count the mezzanine. Pigeons constantly come to my window. They have large talons.

Today, I was in my office when my coworker and I heard a lot of raucous going on in the street. At first we thought is as some kind of parade and then I was told it was actually a Pep rally for one of the local high schools. This “parade” had the students, the band, and the baton twirlers who would even give Mom a run for her money. I waited for the Hopscotch team but they never materialized. The band was followed by the entire football team and loyal girlfriends/fiancées. At least four of them were either pregnant or carrying a stroller. See, that’s what I don’t get. It seems that every time BYU plays on national TV, the announcers have to mention that most of the BYU team is married or has kids—and that this may somehow assuage their passion for victory. What gets me is that they rarely mention that most of the guys on other teams have girlfriends and kids. And some of them probably have to divide their time between their kids’ moms. It’s kind of like if you put a guy on Maury Povich who is seriously involved with three different girls and probably has kids with them, everyone in the audience(well, mostly guys) wants to take this guy out, buy him a new wardrobe and watch And1 tapes with him all day. Now, take a polygamist with three wives, put him on Maury and suddenly everyone wants to take turns kicking this guy in the crotch. Obviously I’m not condoning polygamy in any way, I’m just saying….And yet I digress.

I thought this parade was a superb display of school pride. They marched up and down the streets, waved their school banners and yelled out their school spirit like the best of them. I even thought I heard something about San Dimas football. I was just waiting for Fellis Bueller to turn the corner and come out singing Danka Schoen (I was his dad looking out the window. That, my friends, is how exciting it can be down here).

And by the way, this homecoming/prep rally was almost better than Madera High’s rally. I remember having prep rallies in the morning during third period. They would announce it for almost two weeks straight but everyone (including the teachers) always forgot. Usually, they would have to ring the fire alarm to make everyone actually leave their classroom to go to the stadium. And then you would sit down by yourself, even though you were always pretending to look around for your friends who were “supposed to be here anytime and that’s why I’m saving these seats.” The rally itself usually consisted of some famous school personality, like the vice principal, welcoming everyone there. I think one year they tried to sing the alma mater but the neighbors filed attempted murder charges. After that the football players would do some stunt which always brought boos from most of the crowd, with their smiling cheerleaders at their side. These were the same cheerleaders that went to our water polo game one time and started cheering “GO BLUE, GO WHITE, GO BLUE AND WHITE” whilst both teams had blue and white caps (did I just use ‘whilst’). After the rally, you would always look up like you’re trying to find your make-believe friends and then pull the Trevor face (you know, the one where he gets upset, conveying the message that you just ruined his life. Not to be confused with the This-Pizza-Is-Way-Too-Hot-But-I-Decided-to-Take-a-Bite-Even-Though-it-Just-Got-Out-of-the-Oven Face.) Of course, if you went back to that Homecoming Pep Rally during High School, you would pause to look around and find out that everyone else has that look on their face, followed by the same face I pulled when I found out that Utah brought back Ostertag (the face where you knew that it was all inevitable). I’ll get over it though. He can always team up with Antoine “(the original) Big Dog” Carr and possibly expand his flooring business, NBA (Nothing But Awesome) Flooring. (By the way, I think I just broke the record for the number of parenthesis in a blog).

Well, this has turned into a very random blog entry. Where was I?

(to be continued...)