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Being my second day alone in my new apartment, I decided to leave the safety of the resort in pursuit of none other than…. Wait for it… a liquor store. I debated asking someone here but the human interaction seemed too hard so Siri found one for me instead.  The thought crossed my mind that although .2 miles away, Aki Liquor could be in a bad neighborhood.

After walking one block, all of the Caucasian people had disappeared.  Still I wrote this off as a coincidence, reminded myself it was 3:30 in the afternoon and I wanted a damn glass of wine (is that too much to ask for???)

A few blocks later, I spotted the store, but was stopped by a tall, black woman, who I’d guess was 70 and a crack addict based on her lack of teeth.  Also, she was a fucking weirdo, but I’ll get to that.  As she pleaded for ten cents (what’re you going to do with ten cents anyway…), I beelined for the “liquor store.” Honestly, the result was pathetic.  There were three varieties of white, and even in the most desperate situations they were deemed undrinkable. I asked the Asian Woman behind the glass window at the counter (RED FLAG: I repeat: behind the glass window) where there was another store but couldn’t understand her response.  Before leaving the store, I asked a Mexican patron if he could direct me; he was high and wanted my phone number. I loudly asserted the existence of my boyfriend.  At this point, a friendly (but large) black man intervened, trying to give me directions. Here’s another issue: everyone gives driving directions.  When said black man, Dwayne, found out I didn’t have a car, he said he would just take me there, which I thought meant walking, but he actually meant in his car.  Before getting into his SUV, he stopped to give Cracky ten cents (the fuck?), to which she responded, “Take care of your brother,” among other nonsense I couldn’t decipher.  I asked myself if this was a good idea (no), then if I thought I was endangering my life (no), and settled on getting in the car. As we pulled away, Cracky made two guns with her hands and winked at me… greattttt. Making small talk, Dwayne revealed that he in fact he built the building I live in… awkward. We continued chatting and he seemed friendly enough, even though he insulted my intelligence by telling me I looked out of place in the ghetto (… I speak Spanish.) However, I did begin to worry when he asked me if UCONN was in the UK…

Shortly thereafter, he dropped me off at a 7-Eleven.  After about 15 seconds, I determined that they didn’t in fact sell any alcohol.  Frustrated and hot as hell (84 degrees and sunny), I asked two college looking “bros” where I could find some fucking alcohol.  They were actually extremely helpful, and knew about Aki’s but deemed it “poor people alcohol” – knew I didn’t belong there. After this brief conversation, I headed out again, persistently in search of a drink.

Eventually I did find a convenience store with alcohol, and even better, it’s next to a nice Asian Nail salon, where I now have an appointment tomorrow.

All in all, I’m now sitting on my patio, with a hefty glass of wine and some block cheese, cursing myself for choosing the poop colored zippo over the orange one.

Ah yes, just another day in the life…

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^Above: It was so hot my eyeliner turned to mush all over my face… mmmmmm sexyyyyy

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