Darkness....turns to Light!

My first memory of today was trying to bribe a male Filipino nurse.  I wanted water.  Badly.  My final offer was 500 Dirhams (approximately $136) for just a little piece of ice on my tongue, but he would not budge.  Jerk.

I knew I was lying down flat on my back, and everything was bright--glaringly bright--white.  Then I was wheeled around for a bit, turning corners here and there, as I watched the ceiling scenery change from white plaster to neon lights to the stainless-steel elevator innards.  Eventually, I reached my final destination:  one medium-sized room with oak furniture and a massive window.  After hooking me up to machines and IVs, Nurse Jack-Ass-No-Ice left the room and I suddenly realized I was not alone.  Scott (one of my neighbors) and the Spaniard were flanking my white hospital bed.

Now, I could easily add bells and whistles to my description of today's events, and you would be none the wiser, because I would be lying if I told you that the actual details are not unclear.  Nevertheless, I have decided to take the honest route and describe today exactly how I remember it, and I'll save any embellishments* for the "book".

So...where was I?  Oh, well, here's what I remember, in no particular chronological order:  

• I remember looking at the clock and reading 8:30.  As in 8:30 in the A.M.  And I realized that the last time I saw a clock, around the same time that my memories fade, was at 10:30 pm the previous night.
• Scott and the Spaniard were here.  And they looked tired and stressed and nervous and worried, and all I could think was, "What's wrong with these guys?" 
• Scott told me that he had called my parents, waking them up in the middle of their night in Georgia, to inform them that, "Your daughter was in an accident.  She's paralyzed from the waist down."--Hold the phone--what did he just say?  Oh yeah, I think I knew that.   
•  I was so proud of my neck brace, I asked Scott to take a picture of me to e-mail to my dad.  He tried to argue me out of it, because I suppose it probably wasn't the nicest thing to send to a potentially devastated parent 8,000 miles away with feeling of utter helplessness, but in my drugged-out, bump-on-the-head euphoria, I thought it was the most fantastically clever idea ever!  (And sure enough, my dad later told me it made him feel a bit better to see me in such high spirits).
• I called my two closest girlfriends.  First, Taryn, who didn't answer her phone, and then I called her sister Abby, and when she answered I proceeded to tell her that I had broken my back and was in the hospital.  She freaked out and told me that she and Taryn would come over as soon as possible.
• My doctor, Dr. Shaban, came to see me.  He said there was no need for the neck brace anymore.  I don't remember what else he said.  He looks like Santa Claus.
• Abby and Taryn came to visit.  I asked Taryn to take a picture of me, which I posted on my Facebook page as my new profile photo with the accompanying Status:  "Tiffany is in the hospital with a broken back.  Really."
• I have the biggest shiner on my left eye that you have ever seen.  I think things are rattling inside my head.
• My neighbors came by later in the afternoon to visit, because it seems they needed to sleep in a bit after the long night I had put them through. 

Now I know you're sitting there scratching your heads, wondering what the hell is going on, wondering what happened, dying to know the details!!!  So that is why I have saved the weirdest part for last.  You see, lying in that hospital bed all day, I knew why I was here, but I just didn't remember how I knew. I knew how I got here, but I didn't really remember how I knew....Yes, I do realize this makes absolutely no sense, so I will try to explain. I suppose because I had been physically awake through the entire course of the night's events, I was aware of what was happening. It wasn't like in the movies or on soap operas, when the perfectly-coiffed damsel in distress awakens to the sounds of beeping machines, manicured hand gripped firmly by a red-eyed hunk, and asks in a weak voice, "Where am I? What happened?" Because, for some reason, I already knew...but now I just don't remember.  One word:  Concussion (trying to ignore the fact that it's probably safe to say, "Three words:  Concussion and Tequila," but I think, "One word:  Concussion" has a nicer ring to it!).

Anyway, I do realize that you all are desperate to know the details, and so am I!  And I promise, we will get some answers in the next blog post!

*truthful details, events, and/or information that have been gathered through thorough research and interviews with all parties involved, as opposed to my simply making things up for a more interesting and entertaining story.

A Christmas Dinner

I walked over to Spaniard's place around 7:00 pm to begin preparing my dishes for tonight's Christmas dinner.  I could have cooked at my own apartment, but Spaniard thought it would be more fun to cook together.  One might say that I can get a little bit stressed in the kitchen (read:  I'm a complete obsessive-compulsive lunatic who sweats and swears and should be avoided at all costs when wielding a paring knife), and as Spaniard has yet to see that side of me in our few short weeks together, I tried my best to rein it in.  I started with the artichokes...I have never cooked artichokes in my life, so I don't know why I would choose tonight to experiment.  Nevertheless, Spaniard suspiciously gave me a glass of wine to ease my nerves.

Around 8:00 pm the neighbors started to arrive.  Fran was first, and kindly contributed her knowledge and experience in the art of cooking artichokes.  Before long, the apartment was filled with fellow Melrosians and the accompanying sounds of laughter and the clinking of wine glasses.  I was still sweating away in the kitchen.  Around 9:00 pm, cooking completed and looking like a domestic train wreck, I downed the rest of my wine and ran upstairs to my apartment to take a shower and make myself presentable.

By the time I came back down to Spaniard's place around 10:00 pm, the party was in full swing, and I was the only one who was sober.  Realizing that food was the last thought on every one's minds (and not wanting my fantastic-looking artichokes to go to waste!), I herded everyone to the table, spread with festive holiday dishes.  Sensing my stressed-out sobriety, I was ordered to partake in two consecutive shots of vodka to allow me to quickly catch up with the others.

We all sat down at the table and merrily gorged on the good food and good wine.  After dinner, we proceeded to play "Dirty Santa," a game synonymous with Christmas parties in which each guest brings a wrapped gift and the players must take turns either choosing a gift from the pile or stealing a gift from someone else.  Reliving my cruise ship days, I hopped up on the dining room table to play emcee for the increasingly raucous game, thanks to the tequila shots.  The game came to an end, I stole back the Scrabble game I had brought, and the music volume was taken up a few notches.

And.....blackness...... 

Setting the Scene

Out of work slightly early.  Grocery shopping completed.  The weekend is officially here.  Yes, I do realize it's Thursday, but this is Dubai, where our Fridays are your Saturdays and your Sundays are our Mondays.  Anyway, this is not just any weekend, mind you, but the weekend I have been looking forward to with unbridled anticipation.  Tonight:  Early Christmas pot-luck dinner with neighbors at The Spaniard's place.  Tomorrow:  Melrose Place Rooftop Party.  Saturday:  Day by the pool and the start of the three-day countdown to my vacation of the century.

Allow me to break that down for you.

Early Christmas Dinner:  Christmas is about two weeks away, but with everyone traveling during the holidays (a pretty standard occurrence in these parts, considering the relatively poor showing of Christmas cheer and/or the lack of snow beyond the mall's indoor ski slopes), we decided to celebrate a bit early.

Neighbors:  I've lived in a brand new studio apartment right on the beach since October, and I love it.  Considering I'm spending more than half my salary on the rent, I better.  All the tenants moved in around the same time, so bonding was inevitable, but I don't think any of us expected to be living in our very own "Melrose Place".  Friendships were made, dinner parties were thrown, cocktails were poured, and neighborly love became a free-flowing phenomenon.  And, of course, gossip abounds. 

The Spaniard:  I like to think of myself as a pretty smart girl, and I certainly know better than to "shit where I eat".  Additionally, considering I have recently gotten out of a relationship, a boyfriend is the last thing on my mind.  Just between you and me, I thought my exotically good-looking and flamboyant Spanish neighbor was gay.  However, my apparently broken gaydar and every bit of reason flew out the proverbial window a few weeks ago while on a camping trip to an Omani beach.  Spaniard and I have been inseparable ever since, but we have made a concerted effort to hide our budding relationship from the Melrose Place rumor mill. 

Melrose Place Rooftop Party:  Our apartment compound already hosted a massive rooftop party back in October, and this will be Volume 2:  Christmas Edition.  DJ, lasers, smoke machines, and a movie screen are all on the agenda.

Vacation of the Century:  Leaving on Tuesday after work...Four days in London, two days in New York City, five days in Miami and the Keys to spend Christmas with the family.  Finally, the trip will culminate in Sydney to ring in 2009 and explore Australia.  I guess now I should let you in on a little secret.  There's a reason I'm jet-setting halfway around the world to the land of Oz, and that reason is a 6'4" English hottie who we shall call Travis, otherwise known as "the one that got away".  I haven't seen him since we spent two amazing weeks backpacking together in northern India two and a half years ago, and as obsessive as this may sound, I have not stopped thinking about him ever since.  To say that I'm excited to reconnect with Travis would be an absolute understatement (and before you call me boy-crazy, just know that the Australia trip was planned long before Spaniard was in the picture).   

Anyway, more on all that later.  But tonight is the Christmas Dinner at the Spaniard's, the weather is cool-ish, and I'm feeling festive!  I'm heading over to his place now (which means walking downstairs and over to Block 1) with my grocery store purchases  to start cooking.  My contributions to tonight's menu will be stuffed artichokes and a roasted sweet potato dish...

Introduction

Okay, so I haven't found myself an active participant in the blog-o-sphere in nearly four years. I was a complete blogaholic during my year teaching English in Korea and throughout my travels in Southeast Asia. I felt that since my time in all these places could be considered a bit of a novelty, then they were certainly worthy of possessing their own individual blogs (Tiffany in Korea and Tiffany in Southeast Asia ). When I was planning my move to Dubai, UAE in October of 2006, I originally decided to hang up my blogging...um...shoes for good and settle into a normal and hopefully semi-boring and uninteresting to anyone else life and routine. However, I was coerced by my followers (all three of them) to continue recording my activities. Therefore, I created a new blog and was trying to prepare myself for another round.

Unfortunately, only a few weeks into my time in Dubai (and about five measly blog posts later, see: Tiffany in Dubai), I gave up on blogging. My schedule was entirely too hectic, and in all honesty, I just wasn't sold on the idea.

Of course, I continuously regretted giving up the Dubai blog, but in this new era of social networking, I found it much easier (albeit lazier and less creative) to simply throw up some photos and accompanying photo comments on Facebook and call it a photo blog, convinced that they could tell a story without my having to construct a single sentence.

Fast-forward to December 2008, and that's where this blog begins. Okay, I know I am leaving out a huge chunk of uncharted territory, so allow me to provide you with a "Cliff Notes" version of those two years: taught yoga for a year, was the only instructor for six months, worked my hiney off for little pay, got a full time job as a Training Manager in a Dubai-based company, worked my hiney off there for just over a year for okay pay and lots of headaches, traveled to Oman, Egypt, Morocco, Austria, Switzerland, Czech Republic, South Africa, Lebanon, China, Qatar, maybe some other places but I can't remember them now, bought a car, moved around about three times, and finally settled into an awesome little apartment right on the beach in October 2008. Whew! So there you go, a whole two years' worth of blogging right there in one paragraph.

Realizing how self-destructive Facebook has become (read: how addicted I became and how I allowed it to take over my life), I have committed the unforgivable act and canceled my account. This finally gives me the time I need to focus my Internet usage on such important sites as Sporcle and People.com, and of course, my newest blog.

So why do I start blogging now? And why I am bothering with a retrospective blog that begins in 2008 when it's already 2010? As some of you know, something happened to me back then that deserves its own blog. The fact is, I've been wanting to write about this for a long time, mainly for myself, but I've not been in the right mindset until now. I do realize that my memory is not the best, and some details may be sketchy, but fortunately I can pull from some of the many detailed group emails I sent to connect the last sixteen months (and feel free to comment with your memories to help me along!).

I also apologize if my writing skills are a bit rusty, as it has been ages since I have allowed my creative juices any leeway to flow...I can assure you that the thesaurus will be my new best friend.

I hope you enjoy this blog, and I do hope it is not confusing, as I will attempt to start this blog from the beginning, in December 2008.  Based on my memories, emails, etc, I'll work my way up to the present tense, until I have a complete literal timeline.  All posts from the past will be dated with the date on which they occurred, not when they were written.  This should explain why I have dated this very first Introduction post as December 10, 2008, even though I wrote it on May 11, 2010. 

I'll also simultaneously add present-day updates, for those of you who know the whole story and wonder what's going on right now.   These posts will be dated on the day which they were written.

I hope this makes sense, and I'll do my best to fill in the gaps as quickly as possible!

Next Post: A look back at a balmy night in December 2008, when a Tale of Two Legs truly begins!