And so it was. I, Rebecca, visited my friend Brienne in the Ocean State. The trip cost a grand total of $26.50. Nay, that was not the ticket price, but the full sum expended in my weekend sojourn.
… but is it still adorably charming when it’s a necessity?
Though I know many people (my former self included) would consider such an amount a steal, to be honest, I’m somewhat unhappy with the $26.50 I spent. On what exactly did I spend such a relatively small or large amount of money? Voila, the breakdown!
$6 = 3 bus rides from Providence to Newport to Providence
$4 = half a 6-pack of Woodchuck cider
$3 = Narragansett tall boy at Brown Grad bar (including tip)
$13 = luxurious, unnecessary hot chocolate with coconut rum and almond liqueur + cider (including tip)
$0.50 = round-trip ticket to Providence
But it wasn’t all money-lavishing! Here’s what was free:
Grumblingly walking amongst the academicians at Brown and RISD, gleefully walking along the Newport Cliff Walk, conversationally walking to and back from Swan Point Cemetery, conversing in regards to the uses and effectiveness of art in feminism and the miens of feminists, watching Timecrimes with a bunch ‘o students paying very, very little in rent, those lucky Rhode Islanders, they. And food. Obviously.
And here, at long last, is my (retrospective) real-time “Twitter” feed on my first-day reaction to the great city of prudent management-or-control exercised by a deity: Providence!
- Not a lot of people on the 6:40 AM bus.
- Just a reminder that today’s college freshmen were born in 1994.
- Just a reminder that today’s college freshmen were 10 when I started college.
- Hope my hoped-for agelessness helps me blend in.
- Brown looks like a little collection of mini chateaux. I don’t see the appeal for (myself as) an 18-year-old.
- This place is so demure, I feel like a hoodlum. Where I live I feel… unremarkably out-of-place, but comfortable. There were cops in my building last night, which naturally scared me. But it ended up not being a big deal. Cops are so sensationalistic. Apparently, there are teenage pickpockets in my neighborhood. Unpleasant news, sure, but I don’t (naively?) imagine it will affect me since I know the ropes, plus it’s a much better nuisance than the gang in-fighting-resulting-in-death around my last apartment, but the cops were so (expectedly, perhaps, but one always hopes for better) patronizing and withholding but I used my skills of “performing gender” and “buttering them up” to find out what was going on. I feel relatively competent these days, even—at times—peaceful. I remember my dad once said something like “you should be able to be comfortable in a first-rate hotel or camping in the backwoods.” Well, my goal is to be warm and empathic in any war zone, or any zone: Elite, miniature college town or the swath of Southern Brooklyn I call my home.
- Providence is like a little winding-road, pale pastel and burnt umber colonial seaside village. I can’t believe this place is dangerous at night.
- “a ‘humanistic’ false universal deriving from the European Renaissance glorification of the male” – a snippet written down from something I read.