In the past few weeks I’ve stored up a lot of memories that I need to get out before I forget all about them! You see, I find as I’m aging I am showing signs of growing up to be like my mother insofar as I seem to be losing my mind… and by that I mean that my short and long term memory seems to be failing me more than it used to. There are hints of a moment in time and trails of thought that lead nowhere. So consider this Blog preservation for posterity’s sake!

Well, I met the Dalai Lama a couple weeks ago. And I have a story. Right before the U.N. General Assembly and all that chaos was to begin, the Dalai Lama was in town, giving his teachings and making his visits. His protective detail was orchestrated by none other than the U.S. Department of State Diplomatic Security Service (say that three times fast!). So, when he toured in New York City, they called on some of us schmucks to help pre-post some of the bigger events. Pre-posting is just what it sounds like: before an event, you post a site with people to control crowds and keep everything in check. Well, one day I was pre-posting at the lecture series at the Beacon Theatre. Myself and four other guys were sent to post the lunch site (which happened to just be upstairs in the Beacon Hotel) – lucky for me, I was put in charge of the schedule and post assignments (bet the boys loved that one!!!). In any case, there were four posts: 1. downstairs at the elevator bank, 2. upstairs by the elevator bank, 3. upstairs by the food preparation room, and 4. upstairs by the Lama’s room. At the point that the DL was coming upstairs to eat, I was talking with the guy upstairs by the elevator bank. Well, to get to his room the DL would have to exit the elevators to the left, take a left, followed by another left and continue down the hallway to his room. At the first left, you can also go right and there are three more rooms down that hallway. So Simon (one of my guys) stood right at that turn in the center of the hallway, essentially blocking anyone’s path in that direction. His back was to the elevators. I stood right at his back, against the wall and facing the elevators. When the Dalai Lama got off the elevator, there were two men in his party who walked out before him. Both of them got out of the elevator and turned left. Well, the DL stepped out, locked eyes with me, and instead of turning left and following his colleagues, he turned right into Simon! Needless to say, Simon was a bit surprised, having not seen that one coming at all. And I had to stifle a smile as I extended my arm in the other direction and said, “This way, your holiness.” Well, the DL wasn’t even remotely flustered and he grabbed my arm in a gentle death grip kind of way and just grinned.

After we saw him safely to his room, we decided that flesh on flesh contact with the DL was good enough for a blessing of five years, while flesh to cloth contact was only good for about two. So far, I was ahead.

When the Lama came out of his room to return to the Theatre, he did it again! First he stopped and spoke to these two random women who somehow got rooms on the same floor – one of them burst into tears as soon as he touched her! (I swear, the Dalai Lama is like a rock star in that way!) Then I was standing there again, pointing him in the right direction and he grabbed my arm and just held it for a moment, staring into my eyes and smiling. So, according to my and Simon’s theory, I’m good for another 10 years or so! Next thing you know, I’ll be blessing YOU guys!!!

So enough of that foolishness. You can now officially say that your friend/child/random acquaintance/lover Ryan is a totally ridiculous personality with enough randomness in her life that she jokes about the Dalai Lama.

While the Dalai Lama was in the Theatre, I called my mom. My mom and San (that’s my stepdad) had just seen the DL in Boston when he was lecturing there. So I wanted to call and let them know of my good fortune in getting stuck on his protective detail. They were awfully excited so I told them all about how I’d like to take one of the monks (there were about 50 of them on stage with the Lama at this event) home with me and keep him for the good karma. I had mentioned this to Simon and he regarded me as a total freak after that, but I knew my mom would understand (she always does – that’s what mom’s are for). There is just something about all those monks that really marks them as different, and I’m not talking about their clothes or the Birkenstocks. There’s an inner peace they just exude, especially the older ones. And the Lama tops them all. Boy, would I love to take him home!!! It would be so nice to have someone around all the time who exudes gentle kindness at all times. That must be terribly relaxing… Needless to say, anyone reading my Blog at this point couldn’t possibly understand what I’m trying to convey unless you’ve actually seen the Lama. Had I not met the Lama, I would be regarding myself as a total fruitcake right now…

On to the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA)! I can honestly say that in my lifetime, I hope to never have to do something like this again!!! It has been more than a week since my protectee left, and I still feel drained. But let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

I returned from my forty days with the Secretary’s Detail (another experience I hope never to relive) just in time to begin my work as an advance agent for South Korea’s Foreign Minister Yoon Young Kwan. I took one day off to go rub shoulders with “the Lama” (I often say that in my head much like you would say “the Dude” to Jeff Bridges in The Big Lebowski) but the rest of my time was spent scouting locations, writing site surveys, and preparing things for a detail of six people, none of which are from the New York area. Let’s just say that most of my days prior to the Foreign Minister’s arrival began early and ended very, very, VERY MUCH past my bedtime.

Well, my detail began on Sunday, September 21. FM Kwan’s plane landed and we were off! I had some excellent people on my detail, including two NYPD detectives, an ATF guy, a U.S. Marshal’s Service guy, two guys from the Miami Field Office, and our Shift Leader, a guy out of the Chicago Field Office. The only kink in our plans was the Agent-In-Charge (AIC), this guy out of the New Orleans Resident Office.

At first I thought the AIC didn’t like me, and then I realized that he actually HATED me. By the middle of the week he was telling my detail that I am incompetent and he was telling me how to put one foot in front of the other. Every time I did something, he had something critical to say. And it wasn’t in that nice, constructive criticism kind of way. It was more of “I’m right, you’re wrong, so just accept it” kind of way. By Wednesday I was ready to punch the guy every time I saw him. So we became like Clark Kent and Superman – never in the same room at the same time. If he was coming, I was going – and vice versa.

Unfortunately, the rest of my detail had to deal with him instead. He was incredibly disrespectful to my entire team and I was impressed with the professionalism my type-A personality guys were able to put forth when dealing with him.

Lucky for us, nobody outside our detail ever knew of our problems within. My contacts at the Republic of Korea Mission/Consulate were extremely pleased with our level of protection and often bought our detail lunch or dinner when we were out. Once, the manager of the restaurant even paid for our meal!

In the end, our detail was one of the smoothest running details at UNGA. Many of us became friends and we all were united against the AIC. At the wheels up party (it’s called wheels up, because the protectee is no longer under our protection once “wheels up” for the airplane has been called), we even drank a toast to our AIC – to not having him there, that is!

For those of you in the NYC area, I highly suggest the wine bar/restaurant we went to that evening: Vin, at the corner of Northern Blvd and 163rd in Queens. The food is excellent and wine is superb! I’m not sure about the cost since our NYPD guy arranged the whole affair (the owner is a friend of his family) and the owner picked up our tab, but I am sure it is comparable to some of your moderately priced New York eateries.

After a while, we moved our party to downtown Manhattan and the Lit Lounge, where Vince and I were meeting up with friends for the evening. My detail guys came and they staid until the 6’6” ATF guy over-consumed and vomited on the floor. Which was alright with me because, as I’ve mentioned in other Blogs, there is only so much of my true personality that these cop boys can handle. And I was READY to PARTY! All our NYC crowd was there: Starr, Dara, Mark, Brandy, Michael, Katherine… let’s just say the party ended around noon on Sunday, when a fairly hungover Ryan was escorted home in a red Maxima chariot by her knight in shining armor, Vincent. Many thanks to all who were there…

During all this UNGA craziness, Vincent also decided to initiate me to this new thing called Friendster. If you haven’t tried it out yet, I think you should – especially now, while you still don’t have to pay for the service. It’s more addictive than crack and all you’re doing is trying to increase your number of friends. Looking at what I wrote, I wouldn’t be interested in the service either, but I think you should go ahead and at least check it out. You never know. When we were at the Lit Lounge last Saturday (the 27th), I added the bartender to my growing list of friends as I ordered another drink and he asked, “Are you on Friendster?” So I grabbed his email address and I am now connected to over 100,000 people! I think I will eventually grow tired of it, but for now you can find me there at least once every couple of days. (Go to www.friendster.com)

Well, now it’s back to that job thing. I was wondering if any of you guys knew people in any of the following fields: music, publishing, television, radio, movies – basically, a lot of the visual and audio arts. I think my next direction may be to try and find a job as an assistant of sorts (or work my way up to that). And if any of you know someone I should know, then I would love it if you could act as a conduit and pass my resume on up the line. Or, if you have any suggestions for jobs, I’m all ears (and no Andrew, I do NOT want to be a trash collector). Just let me know.

Other things I’ve done lately:
1. I went to a taping of the Late Night with Conan O’Brien show. I haven’t had a moment to watch the actual show yet, but it is highly probable that Vince and I were on t.v.
2. Vince and I went out to dinner and a broadway show on Friday: Tao and Nine. Tao is this Asian inspired restaurant that looks an awful lot like Buddhakhan in Philadelphia. The décor is fabulous, but the food is so-so – I will not be back for a return performance. And then Nine is this show with Antonio Banderas, Mary Stuart Masterson and Jane Krakowski (from Ally McBeal). I enjoyed it a lot – there were many great performances, and Antonio can really sing. Nine was a solid dramatic piece.
3. Last night (Saturday) Vince and I attended our friend Toni’s play in Greenwich, CT. She plays Julia in Agatha Christie’s “A Murder Is Announced.” She was fabulous and I would have told her so immediately had she not run off and disappeared so quickly! We finally caught her in the parking lot outside of her home, pizza and car keys in her hands. Then we invited ourselves in and spent some quality time with her, her hubby Mark, and Leo (their new kitty!). After all this time apart, it was nice to catch up.
4. I now suffer from a head cold. Pure misery.

Alright guys, I am winding down…The exhaustion that comes with being sick is catching up with me and I want to stop writing so I’ll just give you some teasers to look forward to in upcoming blogs:
• Philadelphia visit, October 11-13
• Poconos and hiking, October 17-19
• Da’ Momma and the Maize Maze in Massachusetts, October 25-27
• Punkin’ Chunkin’ (http://punkinchunkin.com), November 2
• New Orleans with Mom and Joe, November 12-15
• Eagles game, November 23
• Thanksgiving and mom visits NYC!, November 26-29
What fun!!!

Okay, I’m leaving you now. I’ll see you next time. Same bat time, same bat place, same bat channel…

Many of you have either a) expressed a desire to know why I am quitting my job in the near future, or b) told me that I shouldn’t quit after I worked so hard to get where I am. So here I am to explain to all the inquiring masses why it is that I no longer want to be called a special agent extraordinaire.

Let’s start with the basics. Do you understand what I do on a daily basis? If I am not assigned to a protective detail or away on a TDY (temporary duty), then I work on criminal investigations. Criminal investigations involve conducting records checks in various police databases and then going out “in the field” to conduct interviews with various people involved in the case. Most of the people I investigate are NOT terrorists, drug dealers, child smugglers, gun smugglers or serial killers. Rather, they are poor immigrants who can barely rub two pennies together and live in terrible neighborhoods.

In any case, I harass them, and then if I am “lucky” the AUSA (Assistant U.S. Attorney – at the state level, these same lawyers are called District Attorneys) decides to prosecute the case. Then I get the joy of picking up the subject of my investigation, slapping some handcuffs on them, and then sitting with them in lockup or court for an entire day, usually until some time after when I would like to be asleep.

After that, I get to write up a PILE of paperwork, which would keep the average person locked up in their office for about a week. As I am not an average person, I am locked up in my office for about two weeks.

That being said, I am not the kind of person who wants to carry a gun. I hate my gun. I don’t want to shoot it. I don’t want to carry it. And the belt! Do you understand that to keep the holster rigid so that you can pull out your gun effectively when you need it, the belt must be incredibly tight!?? Well, I confess that it hurts. A lot. For some reason, my left kidney gets really sore more often than not. And for a girl with only one left, that worries me.

Of course, there is always the shoulder holster. But in order to carry that on the job, you need to qualify with it. I am not even sure that the shoulder holster is the best way to carry a gun. Now, we all know how clutzy I am, so it really is sheer luck that I don’t shoot myself every morning I put my gun on! Nevermind actually holstering it under my arm, facing my back!!!! That’s practically asking for it…

In any case, so there’s the gun. And then there’s all the equipment. There is probably about twenty pounds of equipment strapped to my waist on any given day. To be honest, I can’t even put everything I am supposed to carry on my body because my waist is too small, but I digress…All that added weight certainly takes its toll on your lower back. With the amount of back problems that run in my family, I am not really looking to increase my odds of going down in a hail of agony because some disc in my back has ruptured.

Then there’s that whole “cop” issue. I don’t enjoy interviewing people for a living. Not this way, anyway. The whole process seems very dishonest. What we do, mind you, is all legal – that being said, I really feel like I am cheating these people out of some basic human dignity by twisting my words to “my” own advantage. In my heart I don’t even want to arrest these people. I can’t fault them for wanting to travel home to see their families. Granted, they are breaking a federal law when they apply under someone else’s identity, or whatever, and if you don’t punish people in some way, they are liable to commit the offense again…but I just have no desire to scream at someone, handcuff them, or sit with them in court for fourteen hours. It’s just not my bag, baby…

Then there is the PRS (protective details). Do you understand what we do when we protect someone? Most of my experience has been standing outside of hotel rooms for hours at a time, staring at a doorknob and wishing that housekeeping would show up, just so you have some diversion. Honestly, it’s not that exciting. Yes, I do have a gun on me, I have used night-vision goggles, I do know how to shoot a submachine gun (along with an uzi, M-4, shotgun, etc.), I do see Colin Powell on occasion along with other varying degrees of famous people…but the hours of my day are spent either on my ass, or standing uncomfortably, both without ever challenging my brain.

The only difficulties in my job are 1) overcoming the agency-wide discrimination against and extreme dislike of female agents, 2) figuring out where to go to get a question answered, 3) working weekends and missing out on time spent with family and friends, including weddings, graduations, holidays, and birthdays, and 4) not giving myself a nine-millimeter headache some days.

What really drew me to this job was the promise of overseas travel, and that, my friends, is an incredible benefit. I love that we go everywhere, do everything, and get to stay in five-star hotels. Honestly. And the only thing that keeps me going is the promise of this aforementioned travel. But then I get to thinking about it, and I remember that I will still be doing the same shit, only in a new and exciting location. I still don’t get time off, and I’m still expected to be some glorified security expert/cop. Not exactly beneficial when I start thinking of it that way…

What you guys don’t see about my job is how my personality changes when I go into work. I can’t be myself, and women have so much more to prove in order to be taken seriously. No one wants to invite you out after work, and I can’t really accept the invitation if I was since there is this whole crazy concept of the “corridor reputation.” The only information that gets passed around the office is rumors and lies. That sounds pessimistic, but it’s true. If you want to know where to get your access to your computer reestablished after you’ve been away for too long, no one has the answer, but if you want to know who sucks at life and is sleeping around on their wife, everyone has a ready response. It’s simply amazing. And that’s the kind of thing that, as a woman, I have to avoid. I cannot put myself in a situation that could compromise my reputation. Hence, my not being able to fraternize (c’mon guys, you all know how I get when they let me out in public).

So it’s a pretty lonely, depressing, and anesthetizing experience. I feel like I have to silence my mind and quiet my personality in order to survive each day. I can barely get out of bed and I am only thinking of the time I finally get to be home at the end. And then I get home and I am mean to Vince because I have no one else to take it out on. My Vincent is really a saint for putting up with me all this time, during this failed experiment. I always wanted to be that woman who defies all odds and excels beyond everyone’s expectations, but in this job I can’t breathe. It is pretty much a given that if I could stand working there day to day, I would be promoted and move up to some supervisory position within the next four to five years, but my heart isn’t in it. I need to go. I miss having fun in my life. I miss loving my Vincent as kindly as he loves me. And I miss seeing my friends and family on weekends without feeling guilty for taking off the time (yes, in my office, if you don’t want to be called for duty, you have to “block” the weekend).

Some people have told me that I need to pay my dues and I am totally for that – just not as a federal agent. I would much rather be happy.

So, my dearest friends and da’ momma, I really appreciate your kind words, your concern, your advice, and your desire to talk to me about my decision, but there really isn’t much more to add to my diatribe. I do not like my life the way it is, so I choose to change it. What’s funny is that tonight I just read my friend Ben’s final article in the Graduation issue of the Daily Pennsylvanian, our college’s newspaper, and in it he talks about getting into life over your head and putting yourself into situations that might be a little scary. Well, that resonated with me because I feel like I am doing just that. All my life I’ve lived with a plan. And now I don’t have one. It’s the scariest thing that I’m about to do, but it’s exhilarating at the same time – kind of like jumping out a perfectly good airplane with only a parachute and a belief in your own immortality to get you safely to the ground. With Vince, my friends, and my family as my parachute, and a healthy belief that I will live forever (or at least through this), I will soon be stepping out into the frightening world of unemployment. Let’s hope for a soft landing…

Home, where my thought's escaping
Home, where my music's playing
Home, where my love lies waiting
Silently for me…

And so I am here again in lovely New York City, tired as you would imagine after nearly 40 straight days of work with only one day of rest (i.e. no weekends off). But today finds me nearly three days out of work, now having spent a weekend at the Shore with some of my closest friends for a little thing Vince and I like to call our “Mourning the Loss of Summer” Party. I’m sorry you missed it…unless of course you were there. Which, if that’s the case, you’ve probably been kissed by me more than any sensible person would want, and then some. How good it is to be home!!!!

In any case, my thoughts from my last blog have not changed in the slightest. I am on the verge of quitting my fabulous job in the hopes of finding something more fulfilling. As I was discussing with my new good friend Michael this past weekend, I am looking forward to a job that will make me MORE me. He has a lot of good things to say, that Michael does, and one of them had much to do with the act of creation that so many people do each day, making something out of nothing for the rest of us to enjoy. Well, I want to join the ranks and do something that matters, raise something up out of the dust and air, and make it beautiful – starting perhaps with my inner self (which has been struggling with this new career and trying to avoid the crush of normality and closemindedness that seeks to overwhelm my better senses).

So let me now give a shout out to my party attendees, whether they want to hear me or not: Kathryn: stop apologizing, or make up for it by becoming our new house girl! ; Michael: I know I made a good friend when I met you, and thank you for the conversation – it was the first spark of intelligence I’ve seen in more than a month of work!; Starr: as always, you are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey….; Corinne: you’ve made my Vincent the happiest man on the face of the planet, and if you can believe it, I’m even happier than he is knowing that you were able to attend and we were able to get you drunk!; Jimmy: my gay boyfriend, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways…; Tyler: thank you a million times over for teaching Vincent that alcohol, sparklers and a box of firecrackers should never mix!; and Saleah: great shots of your butt cleavage to be coming soon to an e-mail near you! The rest of the party attendees just haven’t handed me their email addresses so I’m afraid they will not be mentioned in my blog, unless they send me their first born and a favorite limb… Actually, after all my professions of not wanting children, why again am I asking for your first born? Just a simple limb and an email address will do.

And back to whatever point it is that I am always trying to make on this thing (i.e. my blog). Did I tell you that Vincent started a blog in secret? Well, he did and you may now find him on http://neodem.blogspot.com. Just you and he, real personal and up close…

Well, truth be told, I am still exhausted and now I have to go clean the little “surprise” Chi-Chi left for me on our bedcovers. Then I can finally lay me down for that long-deserved, much-needed nap I’ve been meaning to get. I need to be well-rested for my requalification test tomorrow (i.e. with my handgun – what fun!).

Wish me sweet dreams and maybe I’ll consider putting one of you lucky readers in them! Miss you, love you, running away now, bye…

[first written on: 08/22/03 07:00:00 PM | Ryan Janda]
I’ve let time slip by yet again, but this time I have a valid excuse. I haven’t been at home in New York since the end of July. In fact, I write this with still more than a week to go in the month of August, but you won’t even see it on my Blog until September, I would think.

In any case, where in the world is Ryan? Well, at the moment of writing, I am in Wainscott, New York, which is a small section of the Hamptons. I am listening to Beth Orton and trying to rid myself of this damn pesky headache that attacked me as soon as I got out of work this afternoon.

Needless to say, I am on a temporary duty with the Secretary’s Detail. As in Colin Powell. Nothing new and exciting here, just a simple vacation. For him, anyway.

There have been a few star spottings along the way, of course. We saw Alec Baldwin pulled over by the local police, and then again on other random times. Then we saw Tommy Lee, and one of the guys saw the actress Julie something-or-other from Ed and nearly lost control of his bowels. At the club next door to our hotel last Saturday night, the guys saw Carson Daly and P. Ditty (is that really a name? I even feel stupid putting it to paper…). Oh yeah, and I’ve seen Colin Powell.

For the most part, the work here has been relatively boring. I think, however, it is propelling me toward a new conclusion: it’s about time for me to quit. The more I work, the more I realize that I don’t like this job for several reasons. The only real perk for me is the overseas travel, and all the benefits associated with that (i.e. the free plane tickets, the free housing, the percentage pay increase, etc.). Everything else about the job just isn’t me. The time away from family, friends, and my Vincent; the criminal work; the protective details where I just stare at doorknobs; even carrying a gun – these are the things that I don’t like about my job. On top of that, I have to constantly deal with the sexism inherent in law enforcement and it just brings me down to a whole new level. There is nothing I say that anyone gives credence to, and my intelligence is being ignored. It’s shocking to me that this kind of work environment still exists.

On top of that, most of the people I work with (especially here on the Secretary’s Detail) are incredibly lazy. It is terrible to see a complete dolt be praised or promoted ahead of someone who is truly deserving. Some of these agents in supervisory positions really need to get their heads out of their collective tushies and take a look around. This agency is flagging, and it’s poorly run. Good riddance, I say.

Of course, I know that I will find more of the same in other jobs I may run to, but it all comes back to my original point which is: this job isn’t me. My parents always told me that it is better to find a job that makes you happy than to find a job that pays well. So I think it’s time for me to begin searching – again. I learned quite a bit from my mistakes and small successes over the past year in this endeavor and I know I can lend my experience to something greater. Maybe try number two will be the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow.

Here’s to returning to New York and my Vincent in September…

Where oh where have I gone? Where oh where can I be…?

And the million dollar answer is: Washington D.C. I am back on the trail again, off to our nation’s capital to do crime-fighting at its finest: guarding the ever-holy door knob. Yes, I know, you are all slobbering in your envy, but really, you cannot come. Apparently, our fearless leader of DoS is not exactly the kind of man who wants you to stand outside his bedroom door.

But ME on the other hand, why, I am more than welcome! So it’s off to a month of the Secretary’s Detail, where I get to spend the sunlit hours sleeping and the long nights guarding our national treasures: every sewer plate within a five-mile radius of Colin Powell.

As you DCers already know, I will be in your area beginning tomorrow and spanning through the 14th (at least as the current schedule stands). Call me if you want to see my bright and shining face.

In other news, I was recently handed a lovely spot on the Israeli Foreign Minister’s detail (Silvan Shalom) – right in time for my mother’s visit to NYC. Just like when Michelle visited…. In any case, I must say that if I never see the inside of the NYC Toys R Us with a detail again, it will be too soon. I was dodging and weaving through aisles of toys, running around shelving, dodging the Israeli Shin Bet (who, despite requesting our assistance, also insist on sending out a contingent of no less than 15), and toppling small children. It was a full-contact sport, and all so I could stand to the left or right of Shalom when he and his personal shopper made any move throughout the store. Because, as you know, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to take a bullet for someone else (and yes, said with all due sarcasm). At least I was able to get a workout, having not been able to make it to the gym for several days.

Did I mention that Shalom actually got spotted? Yes, I am serious. A group of Israeli kids just so happened to be in Toys R Us at the time and completely bum rushed the guy. The Shin Bet people stood aside to let them pass and then there was me, the total a$$hole standing in their way saying, “No.” They began speaking in Hebrew to me, so apparently my completely blank stare wasn’t getting through to them. I said, “I don’t speak Hebrew.” Oh, those poor children! They seemed so confused. In any case, they finally had their way with the foreign minister and snapped several dozen photographs with him. I felt like I was protecting Madonna or something.

Well, despite all the shenanigans, throughout the detail I though of our lovely Yael. Yes, yes. Some of the Shin Bet even had names like Michal… on an unrelated note, one guy was named Israel, and I thought he was joking at first. How was I to know that it is a very popular name in Israel? Go figure.

There was another woman named Enat (phonetically spelled, it is pronounced something like “A Gnat”) who actually had the Star of David tattooed in her front teeth. How do you approach someone like that? “Hey, I’m a Catholic, what are you?” She smiles. “Oh….oh, I see…”

Whatever. Very hardcore. But nice. The funniest thing I saw with Enat was one of the housekeepers at the hotel trying to convince her to turn to the New Testament and Christianity. I don’t think the housekeeper was winning any points that day.

Speaking of the hotel, however, the following famous people were spotted within a span of 2 days:
Mark Paul Gossler (remember Zack Morris? He was on site to shoot a scene for NYPD Blue)
Larry David (Seinfeld anyone? Curb Your Enthusiasm perhaps?)
Peter Boyle (most recently the father on Everyone Loves Raymond)
Barbara Walters (needs no introduction…but she talks just like my grandmother!)
Lauren Bush (supermodel extraordinaire)
Luis Guzman (Carlito’s Way, Punch Drunk Love, Traffic, Magnolia…)

Yeah, so now I can say that I held the elevator for Barbara Walters…whoopee!

Other than that, my mom was here, like I mentioned earlier. We wined, we dined, we walked through the park… Glorious good times, my friends. Twas nice to see da’ momma and San…

Now, like I said, I am off to DC and wherever for the month of August. Then it’s the UN General Assembly here in New York for the month of September. So it’s looking like if you email me, I won’t be getting back to you until October. You’re looking at one very busy girl here!

I will have you know that I will have both my cell phones on me while I travel, and therefore will be able to communicate somewhat. So call. Call. CALL!

Begun on Wednesday, 10 July 2003 and finished on Saturday, 12 July…

Well, it’s a lovely Wednesday morning in which I am writing – from my lovely Ford Contour, somewhere in downtown Manhattan. Apparently there was some confusion about who was to do what today and I am waiting for my squad leader, who left to bring a coworker to the airport, to come back to his apartment. I am feeling very much like a stalker. Good times.

So. I’ve managed to miss yet another month in which I should have written more and wasted less time. Unfortunately, I don’t even have the excuse that I was out of the country. I spent most of my time at work, investigating my criminal caseload. There’s nothing quite like invading the homes of those less fortunate and more cockroach-ridden than you, and telling them that they’ve committed a federal crime and they better fess up so you can throw them in jail. I mean really, the fun times never end.

This guy, Doug, with whom I’ve been working a lot lately, even saved me from getting a cockroach in my hair on a recent case. I was leaning against the wall, the cockroach was busy walking down the wall, and inches before the two of us meeting, Doug sends out the warning. I am eternally grateful. In fact, Doug even went one step further and got on his hands and knees in the kitchen to go through the trash in search of evidence for my case. All in a days work, baby, yeah.

In the life o’ Ryan outside of work, Vince and I have been keeping busy. On June 14, Vince formally graduated from Drexel University with a Masters Degree in Software Engineering. Of course, we didn’t attend the ceremony, but we reminisced about it on June 15th when we attended his cousin Bruno’s graduation party – he just finished up at the naval academy. Vince’s favorite part? The jealousy that comes from wishing you too could be paid for flying planes for a living. My favorite part? The MUMMERS!!!! They came, umbrellas and all, from our old stomping ground of South Philadelphia. For those of you who wonder – what the hell is a Mummer?! – I have the following for you: http://mummers.com/. They have links for all the Mummers clubs.

Well, we spent that Sunday afternoon with Vince’s Mom, Joe, Grandmom, Grandpop, and we even saw his sister Nicole and her husband Christian for a few seconds (before they quickly departed to “go take care of their new puppy”).

Oh shoot, I just figured out that I got the dates all wrong…not that you care, but Vince did officially graduate on June 14, but Bruno’s graduation was the Sunday before, on the 8th. Now don’t you all feel better knowing the right dates – but even more so that Ryan is losing her mind at such an early age?

The day before Bruno’s party, we were scheduled to attend Field Day Fest here in NY – an all day music festival held at Giants Stadium. The headliner was Radiohead, but also scheduled were Beth Orton, Beastie Boys, Elliott Smith, Blur, Underworld, Liz Phair and Beck. Originally it was supposed to be a two-day camping event in a huge field in Calverton, NY, but there were problems with permits at the last minute and they changed the venue to Giants Stadium and reduced to festival to one day.

To make matters worse, god cried all over us all day. In other words, it poured. So Vincent and I decided to attend the show later in the day, in an effort to stay out of the weather but still see the bands we wanted to see. I saw about ten minutes of Elliott Smith, who really did not impress me at the time, and then we went to our seats in the stadium to wait for Beck to come on.

Oh yes, I waited and I waited. Vince went out to buy me a hot dog. And then I waited again. After about a half hour of thinking the stage crew was setting up for Beck, the girl next to me says, “You know Beck isn’t playing right? He went to the hospital.” And it was true. Beck was accidentally hit by a stage crew member who was carrying something while watching Blur play and suffered from some minor rib damage – although nothing was broken. Eventually the Beastie Boys came on – now, I’ve seen the Beastie Boys play before and I know they are absolutely brilliant when it comes to producing their records. They make sounds and harmonies nobody else would even consider that end up sounding fabulous. All that aside, they suck. More than Hoover, they suck. They cannot sing. They do not dance. I am not entertained.

After about twenty minutes of deliberating, Vince and I went home, missing our chance to see Radiohead. We just could not wait the two hours until they came on stage.

So now I am actually ready to talk about Vince’s graduation weekend. We went to the Shore and staid at his father’s house in Margate. We rode bikes and shopped for the apartment on the Bay in Ventor – Vince’s father had some work done on the apartment and threw everything out so we had to buy a new couch, table, chairs, mattress and spring box, and bed frame. Vince and I even had the pleasure of digging through all the “wonderful” piles of god-knows-what that were still in the apartment. We were supposed to pick out things to throw away, but it turned into a case of us picking out things to keep. There was almost nothing we needed. Sometimes I laugh at how similar Vincent and his father are: they both like to collect things and then, even though they don’t even remember they have it, they don’t want to throw anything away. Personally, I think that your belongings mean more to you the fewer you have. It’s like that law in economics of diminishing returns. The more you have of something, the less you appreciate it. Know what I mean, jellybean?

Now I say all this because when we got back to the apartment a few weeks later, the Senator hadn’t allowed Ruth to throw away half as much as we wanted to. I was amused.

So that was my weekend.

The following weekend, or the last weekend in June, Vince and I spent our first weekend on the town. Saturday found us at Café Gitame for brunch, a quaint little French shop down in the West Village. We walked around window shopping for a short while before attending our first Broadway show: Baz Luhrman’s La Boheme, adapted from the opera and set in the 1950s. Vince adored it, as he adores the opera of the same title, but I loathed it. It was incredibly difficult for me to stay in my seat and not walk out on it like Starr and I did when we went to the ballet. If it weren’t for the fact that Vincent was so enthralled, I would have run, not walked, to the nearest exit (which just so happened to be directly to my left – not that I was looking for one, mind you).

So then we window-shopped some more and ended up meeting my friend Andrew for dinner. Down from Massachusetts for the weekend, Andrew was visiting with his old high school buddies who now live in NYC. We even brought him back to my apartment for a drink before he returned to his gallivanting with the boys. Andrew says, and I quote, “You have a very nice apartment, I must say. One of the best that I've seen out of all my friends, and certainly the one with the most posters/photos of breasts on the wall.” Now if that isn’t an advertisement that will pull all the customers in, I don’t know what is!

That Sunday we devoted to museums. Lucky for us, we made it to only one. The Museum of Sex. It certainly was an adventure just getting there. Apparently, the Museum of Sex is on the Gay Pride parade route. Vince and I had to cut off some transvestites and boys in drag to run across the street without being run down by a float! It was a scream! We only took a few photos, but there we were: in the midst of gay boy heaven.

The museum was incredibly interesting. And that means a lot coming from someone who really hates museums. I can go through something like the Met, or the Louvre for that matter, in about 30 minutes. I am too bored to do anything but yawn and run through the exhibits. But there, at MoSex, I read every last article on the wall and watched every last porn (and yes, there was porn – all the classics, I’ll have you know!). It was very educational. (Did I mention that was the first time I’d ever seen porn in public? I just can’t get over it!!!)

We must have finished with MoSex sometime around 6PM, and we spent another half hour or so with the tarot card reader sitting in the lobby, right by the packets of “Dicklets” and the Betty Paige cut-out dolls. Much like La Boheme, Vince was enthralled and I was skeptical. Every time the tarot lady tried to figure me out, I gave her a blank look. Vince, on the other hand, kept nodding and grinning. Her readings were quite good, if not somewhat general, but her numerology was WAY off. And she even calculated the wrong number for Vince, and then told us about it. It was like, blah blah blah for ten minutes and then, “Oh, that’s the wrong number, but you’re still… and the same still holds true.” Excuse me?

So Vince and I hit a boutique somewhere on Fifth Avenue, near to the Museum, and then it was off to an Irish Pub, across the street from the Empire State Building. And so we ended our weekend.

Finally, the 4th of July. Starr, Vince and I were off to the Shore – this time to the apartment in Ventnor. Lucky for us, they were just finishing up painting and we could move in. A quick stop to Bed, Bath and Beyond for the much needed bedding and we were in like Flynn. Starr and I spent the entirety of the 3rd cleaning the house. Remember how I said the Senator refused to throw everything out? Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Of course, we are not mean, ill-tempered harlots, but rather the kind of girls who throw away the broken fish statue and keep the old photo albums. So we scrubbed and disinfected, washed and put away.

Then we celebrated with a little party of steamed clams and corn on the cob, on the deck by the bay. Beer, wine and everything fine…

Vince and Starr’s friend, Kara, joined us from Philly on the 4th. She brought her boyfriend Angel, and two friends: Rob and Eddie. They called themselves “New York Ricans” and added all the spice we needed to our little party of seven. Most of the day was spent on the beach, drinking fresh-squeezed orange juice and vodka (Starr’s tip of the day: As long as it is fresh-squeezed, you can’t taste the alcohol – and it’s true!). Then we joined the huge 4th of July BBQ, held by the Ruth and Mitchell, the Senator’s head staff members who have a condo in the same building as Vince’s apartment.

After tasting the food and swilling some beer, we seven packed up an Igloo of Rolling Rock and headed out on “Friends,” one of the Senator’s boats. We headed for the ocean to see the fireworks…and that, my friends, is that.

So the rest of the time at the Shore was more sun, bike riding every morning, more fresh-squeezed and vodka on the beach, and a ticket for Vincent for having a headlight out on his car (ha ha!).

And so, you can now consider yourselves basically caught up on my life and history. We are spending another weekend in the wonderful world of Inwood, where we intend to catch up, clean up, and ride our bikes. Good times, my friends, good times…

So I forgot a few things! First of all, I completely failed to mention who it was that I was in Egypt protecting. As you may have noticed, had you tuned into CNN once in a while, both President Bush and Colin Powell were in Egypt for some Middle East negotiating this past week. Well, I was there, making sure Powell got an undisturbed night’s slumber. Yes, yes, that is the excitement that is a midnight shift!

However, it may delight you to know that he hardly ever sleeps (damn those military boys!) and neither does his staff. Everyone is up during all hours of the night – and here I was thinking we were the only people crazy enough to do that!

In other news, Prince Bandhar was also staying at the Hyatt where we were. We were in a villa on one side of the resort, and he was in a villa on the other side. Apparently there were a few more important people staying there as well, but I didn’t pay enough attention to catch their names. I was too busy with my own protectee.

Also, the other thing I forgot to mention was that on the way home I had a nine hour layover in Cairo. What that meant for us was that we had nine hours to explore Cairo. So we rented a van, and finagled our way onto some horses at 3AM. The horses led us to the Sahara, and the Sahara led us to the pyramids. Yes folks, your little country bumpkin has seen the pyramids! And I wasn’t even self-righteous until after the whole affair, when one of my fellow DS guys informed me that the only reason I wasn’t allowed to have the reins of my horse was because I am female. The nerve!

Of course, you don’t want to hear about that. You want to hear about the Sphinx, which could probably fit into a New York closet. I was disappointed that it is only a mere stone when viewed next to the pyramids. It’s a strange, strange thing. The sphinx is actually bigger on Looney Toons…

So, with the little extra time we had after our journey into the Sahara, we went to this little club at the Hilton Cairo. We got a few drinks, danced a little, and got our partying tushies back to the plane. It wasn’t until later that the guys realized they had been in a gay bar and began to regret their adventure! Ah, but I laughed!

Okay, so that’s really all that I left out. You don’t need to hear about the part where I flew for seventeen hours or so…