What do gypsies, nudists, and "furries" have in common?

They have all, at some point, attempted to be my clients. Working in the hospitality industry is quite interesting to say the least. I don't think I really knew what I was getting myself into. But oh the stories...it's so worth it.

Flash back to about 6 months ago, my first month on the job. Now to start each day, I attend a meeting with my colleagues to discuss business opportunities. It's exactly like the movies-- about ten executives in business suits gathered around a boardroom table equipped with strong coffee in environment-friendly cups. So just like any morning, we proceed to go around the table and present our opportunities.

So far, so good.

A few weddings, an appliance convention, a corporate conference, nothing out of the ordinary.
So finally, the last person presents his opportunity. "Good morning team. I would to present an opportunity for (insert month and year)."

Okay, good start. Sip some coffee. Man dunkin donuts coffee is good.

"This opportunity is called Fur Fest," he says.

Ok perhaps some type of conference about animal furs...this is Chicago, and sadly, people do skin bears and wear them to stay warm. I mean...it gets REALLY cold. My pea coat doesn't always cut it."

I couldn't have been further away from the truth.
He then says, "Just to give everyone a little background on this opportunity. They will need all the hotel space and they will be in costume for the duration of the event."

Okay so they will be wearing the fur coats during the week. I bet they will get hot. Looks like we will need to make sure the temperature in all the rooms is low. I know I would be hot if I wore a fur coat all day in a meeting. Probably some extra water stations. I bet they'll be REALLY thirsty wearing those coats.

"They will also be parading around the public space in these costumes."

Okay now, I'm getting confused. Why would people in fur coats wear them all day and then proceed to parade around in them? Is this a fashion show?

Finally, I speak up. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm a bit unclear about this conference. So what exactly is it, again?"

"Well it's a conference for adults that dress up as their favorite animal. They also generally assume the behavior as whatever animal they dress up as," he states very matter-of-factly.

WHAT?! Nearly choke on my coffee and almost spit it out all over the business suit next to me. I scan the faces around the table looking for similar reactions from any of my colleagues. Nobody even flinches. It's as if he just presented an opportunity for a company that produces magnets or office supplies. I am genuinely shocked.

Then someone says flatly, "Yeah, I've heard about this. Most of them act like the animals they are dressed as. And they may have adult themed meetings in the evening. However, all activities must be confined to the meeting space and children under 18 are not allowed in the evening sessions."

Again, I glance around the table and it still appears that I am the only one aware that we are talking about grown adults dressed in animal costumes participating in parades and "adult themed" meetings in the evening.

"Wait...WHAT? Are you serious? Is this for real? Who are these people? Why do they do this? Is this a joke?" It's as if I can't control my mouth...the questions just keeping coming... finally I realized everyone was staring at me with blank looks on their faces. Clearly still under the impression we are discussing an office supply conference, I assume.

Turns out, we didn't have the available dates, so it was a no-go. Which is bittersweet. What I wouldn't give to see a bunch of adults in costumes parading around. Did you know they even swim in the pool in their costumes?? One time, I got pushed into the pool wearing jeans and a sweater and I almost drowned because my clothes were so heavy. I can't imagine wearing a tiger costume and trying to swim. I wouldn't last a second.

Anyway, my point is...I am still fairly unseasoned when it comes to this industry, because nobody else seemed to be phased by adults in costumes participating in an animal diving contest. And you haven't even heard the gypsy and nudist wedding stories... to be continued...

All work and no play make business conferences a dull week

BNET's definition of a business conference: a type of meeting held between members of often disparate organizations to discuss matters of mutual interest. Conferences are held for a variety of reasons, including resolving problems, making decisions, developing cooperation, and publicizing ideas, products, and services. They may take place within an organization but often draw people together regionally, nationally, or internationally, and involve a large number of speakers and delegates.

Girl on Go's Definition of conference: a type of meeting held for an organization usually lasting five business days, although it is suggested (expense report permitting) to add a few extra days to familiarize yourself with the location of the conference. While conferences are held for a variety of reasons such as education, personal development, or team building, there are some side affects you must be aware of:

1) Sudden motivation and extreme can-do attitude

2) Increased socialization and intense urge to extend meetings with colleagues until the wee hours of the morning. (After all, networking is a large component of conferences.)

3) New friends (Predominately made from networking the previous night until 4 AM)

4) Love (See above)

5) Lack of sleep (See above)

6) Temporary Alcoholism (See above)

7) Weight Gain (See above, plus the excessive amounts of meals, snacks, and open bar that is showcased and encouraged during conferences)

8) Debt (Thank goodness for corporate American Express cards)

9) Loss of memory (See #'s 2, 3, 5, 6)

10) Depression (See #'s 5-9)

While these side affects are not listed in any particular order, this is usually the order in which they occur. I hope that wasn't too confusing and you were able to follow. I will explain soon with my adventures at a conference I attended several months ago. Stay tuned. You don't want to miss this one. I may or may not have left the conference in "love" with the man of my dreams...who forgot to provide me with one small detail...he was engaged to his high school sweetheart of seven years. Neat.

Tall, dark, and handsome

Extremely good looking men should not be allowed to drive cars. Especially in the mornings when I am exhausted and easily distracted. Take today for example. I almost caused a huge 1,000 car pile up all because of the tall, dark, and handsome gentleman in the BMW next to me. Well I think he was tall. He was sitting down , obviously, so it hard to tell. But he was definitely handsome. No question there. I'm sitting in Office Space style traffic belting out John Mayer (yes, you can belt out John Mayer, just in case you were wondering), windows down, sunroof open, I'm sure I was the poster child for cool. Mid song, I looked over to find TDH (tall, dark, and handsome) watching my performance with a look of deep adoration on his face, or maybe that was a slight smirk...Anyway, he liked it. So I glanced over at him, tossed my hair seductively over my shoulder, and then turned my head back to the road, where I realized the line of traffic in front of me had stopped moving completely. With a look of terror on my face, I slammed on the breaks, my body lunged forward, and my purse flew off the seat and all the contents scattered all over my floorboards. I screeched to a hault leaving about 2 inches from the bumper of my classy little honda to the mercedes in front of me. TDH was not amused. It's like he and Mercedes driver had some type of bond over luxury vehicles. He shot me a disgusted look, quickly switched lanes and drove away. Nothing better than starting out the day with a broken heart.

Sugar packets and first dates

So you may wonder...what do sugar packets have to do with first dates? Well let Girl-on-the-Go tell you a little story. It all began one night, at a particular Chicago hotspot. After one too many $1 bottles, which by the way, is an unbeatable deal for Chicago, a bad decision was made. A bouncer at this fine establishment asked my number, and at the time, it seemed like a great idea. I can't say that I regret it though, because then I would never be able to tell this story.

Anyway, this particular gent, we will call him "Greek", did not wait the normal 2 days like most gents. Oh no, he called me within an hour of getting my number. Why I didn't run immediately is beyond me. However, I agreed to meet him for dinner later in the week. I was coming straight from work so I met him at the restaurant, which I suggested. A sidenote--I love food and all types of food. I am the least picky person you will meet.

Anyway, I arrived first and grabbed a table. A few minutes later, Greek arrived. Mind you, the last time I saw him was after spending $15 on $1 bottles, you do the math...so his appearance was obviously a little fuzzy. He's not a bad looking guy by any means. So he has a seat and we start with the usual first-date small talk. How was your day, are you hungry, questions of that nature.

Well right away, I noticed something strange. Greek had an obsession with overly lengthy eye contact. You know what I mean...when someone is so intently staring you in the eye that they don't even blink once or shift their gaze. This makes me extremely uncomfortable. I felt like we were having a staring contest that I wanted no part in. I was praying that Brooke Burke or some other bombshell would walk by to capture his gaze, but this prayer was not answered. The awkward staring lasted the duration of the evening.

I should add that this guy is also a comedian. Or a struggling comedian. So the majority of the conversation is Greek attempting to crack one-liners and me offering sympathy laughs and trying to give the guy a chance. Well we were on the topic of something relatively deep--(i.e. If we preferred enchiladas or burritos, guacamole or sour cream), and Greek reached across the table and grasped my hand. My hand was just innocently sitting on the table and before I know it, Greek has my delicate little hand in a death grip. The look on my face probably resembled the fear of a child seeing the movie It for the first time. I panicked. This guy was staring me in the eyes and grasping my hand across the table....on a first date...during a conversation about our Mexican food preference.

Think quick girl-on-the-go! My eyes surveyed the table for a method of escape. Yes!! Girl-on-the-go quickly discovered a solution. Sugar packets. So i broke the hand on hand contact, and quickly grabbed a sugar packet. This sugar packet was a lifesaver. I held the sugar packet, folded it, and whatever else you can do with a sugar packet to occupy my hands so Greek couldn't reach across the table and attempt to hold my hands again. And guess what!! It worked! Although after about 20 minutes of sugar packet fun, the packet tore and spilled all over my hands and the table. I quickly grabbed a sweet-in-low packet to fill the void. Greek observed this obsession with sugar packets, and noted "Wow, you really like sugar packets." To which I eagerly nodded and a little too enthusiastically said, "Yes, Yes! I love sugar packets!"

Well after an hour of hearing about his dreams of being an underwear model, his audition to be a hand model for a glove advertisement, and about 10 sugar packets later...I decided to go with the "Well this was great, but I'm tired. I've had a stressful week and I need to get home." To which he replied, "Well, I can think of a few ways to de-stress you. Want to go back to my place?"

WHAT!? At what point during the painfully uncomfortable and awkward date did he ever get the impression I wanted to go home with him?? Um, hello. Sugar packets?? Do you seriously think a girl that was into you, would be more interested in the ingredients of sweet-n-low than your underwear modeling ads? WOW.

So I politely declined. Greek then says, "Well, I don't have a car. Can you give me a ride?" So being nice, I said ok...so after the longest 15 minute drive of my life, we finally arrive at his apartment, which just so happens to be less than a mile from mine. He looks at me with this crooked grin on his face, and says..."Are you sure you don't want to come up?" "No. I do not. I am going home."

Then he looks at me, looks at the door of my car, looks back at me, and actually takes the chewing gum out of his mouth. He then looks at me and says, "Where should I put this while we..." and then leans over, shuts his eyes, and tries to kiss me. Wow. I was shocked. This guy clearly can't take a hint. I swiftly turn my head and he ends up kissing my chin. So then I said, "Ok, see ya." He finally gets out of my car, and just as I am about to drive off, I see him peering at me through my sun roof. Then he says, "So, want to do this again sometime? I had a great time." To which I reply, "So this is bad timing...I'm not really looking to date anyone. But thanks for dinner! Have a good night!" And drive off by myself into the sunset or rather the vast amount of rainbow flags that decorate Halsted (for non-Chicago readers...Boystown)...

You might think this is the end of this story, but you would be wrong. More to follow. The saga of Greek unfortunately continues. Just remember, sugar packets can be a lifesaver on an awkward date.

Girl on the Go

Over the past several years, my friends have been saying "Gigi, you must write this stuff down!! You have the craziest things happen to you!" So finally, I have decided to keep track of the situations I get myself into. I know that some days, (i.e. getting a text from a lovely gentleman i like to call "Chase" telling me I have overdrafted my account, running out of gas on day 2 instead of day 3 of my empty fuel tank warning, or finding out my latest wedding clients are actual gypsies), I could use a good laugh. This blog has 3 purposes. 1) Vent so I don't jump out my window from my 3- story Chicago apartment.
2) Provide entertainment to you, my loyal readers, which at this point, is 1 person. You have to start somewhere. 3) Remind myself and others that life is comical and should never be taken too seriously.

So to begin, I will explain why my blog is called "Girl on the Go". This was a nickname given to me recently. A "girl on the go" must be prepared for any situation. She must be a quick thinker, a problem solver, and resourceful at all times. She must also possess at least one credit card that isn't maxed out, because unfortunately, a "girl-on-the-go" will get herself into situations where plastic gold is necessary.

The nickname came about one day when I made the mistake of wearing a cap-sleeved sundress on a sunny day in Chicago. Capped sleeves+sun=farmer's tan. Not an elegant look. After about 2 hours in the scorching sun, I discovered the classy tan lines I was getting from this mistake of a dress. A true Girl-on-the-go moment, I ran to the nearest Old Navy, bought a green $10 sundress, $5 pair of sunglasses, and a $5 necklace. After informing the lady at the register of my alleged farmer's tan crisis, she hesitantly agreed to let me transform in their fitting rooms (after consulting not one, but two managers.) A little more than $20 and a little less than 10 minutes later, I was a whole new girl ready to take on the Chicago sun. I even rigged my hot pink lace bra to become strapless, because we all know that hot pink and green would look incredibly tacky. Plus, who likes exposed bra straps? No thank you. From this moment on, I took on a new identity-- Girl on the Go.