{"id":5514,"date":"2013-05-07T01:00:09","date_gmt":"2013-05-07T05:00:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gadflyonline.com\/home\/?p=5514"},"modified":"2013-05-07T09:55:29","modified_gmt":"2013-05-07T13:55:29","slug":"wake-up-ambassador-stone","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wake-up-ambassador-stone\/","title":{"rendered":"Wake Up Ambassador Stone"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Wake_Up_585x585\"<\/a><\/p>\n

I laid in bed on top of damp sheets staring up at the molded ceiling which just started to leak.\u00a0 Drip, drip, drip, water fell into various pots and buckets spread around the room.\u00a0 My grandmother\u2019s \u201cfriend\u201d allegedly fixed this problem the day before but I could tell Jim didn\u2019t have a clue what he was doing by the way he strapped on his useless seventy piece tool belt, like he was about to build a dining room table.\u00a0 Idiot.\u00a0 Jim just wanted to impress Grandma Stone so he could get some more of her homemade raspberry cobbler\u2014 unfortunately not the kind you eat with a spoon.\u00a0 He was disgusting.\u00a0 They were disgusting and very loud in the adjacent bedroom.\u00a0 I could hear my Grandmother trying to quiet him down, \u201cYou\u2019re going to wake her up\u201d, she would say.\u00a0 Every Friday night he would come over for dinner, hours of the game show network, then late night dessert.\u00a0 \u201cJust because there\u2019s a wall doesn\u2019t mean I can\u2019t hear you banging my grandmother\u201d, I calmly told Jim while he was \u201cfixing\u201d my ceiling.\u00a0 He fell off the ladder and busted his nose on the way down.\u00a0 I guess I startled him. \u00a0Mom used to say I walked around the house with ghost slippers.<\/p>\n

Drip, drip, drip\u2014the robotic sound of water picking up-tempo like a metronome.\u00a0 My dad would have fixed it.\u00a0 The rain began to sweep into my bedroom creating an \u201cunder the sea\u201d kind of effect.\u00a0 I got up and shut the window as lightning struck and lit up the rumbling sky.\u00a0 This was the first thunderstorm to ever make me smile.\u00a0 \u201cMaybe our flight will get canceled,\u201d I thought.\u00a0 I proceeded to open up my door\u2014although sleeping with the door open always made me uncomfortable for some reason\u2014 to get some kind of air circulation going.\u00a0 I plopped myself back into the concrete bed.\u00a0 Back into soggy sheets, sweating, dripping, roasting, melting, helpless, like Donald Duck spinning in a set-it-and-forget-it machine.\u00a0 The oscillating stand-up fan might as well have been a baster filled with oil and meat juices.\u00a0 The clock read 4:50 am and I hadn\u2019t closed my eyes all night.\u00a0 Tends to happen when you think you\u2019re about to die.<\/p>\n

In less than five hours I would be on an airplane for the first time ever.\u00a0 \u201cHow will they find our bodies if we end up in the Atlantic Ocean?\u201d I thought.\u00a0 My Grandma said it was the fastest way to Europe.\u00a0 She also said that not too many thirteen-year-old girls from South Boston have ever traveled overseas.\u00a0 That meant I was supposed to be thankful.\u00a0 Thankful that I was selected by the Student Ambassadors Association of America\u2014along with thirty-nine other middle school students from all over the city\u2014to represent a country that didn\u2019t care about the neighborhood I grew up in or the people in it.\u00a0 I remember my Dad explaining to me what gentrification meant after we walked home from our favorite little league baseball park that was no longer there.\u00a0 \u201cBasically rich people move in, and poor people like us get kicked out,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cWhere do they go?\u201d I asked.\u00a0 \u201cAt this rate we\u2019ll all end up in the Charles River,\u201d he replied.\u00a0 There\u2019s a Whole Foods there now.<\/p>\n

I can\u2019t say that I was thrilled to be a United States Student Ambassador, a fancy title that was handed out to everyone at the first delegation meeting\u2014the first of ten.\u00a0 Maybe if we had taken a cruise ship with batting cages on board.\u00a0 I pictured myself smacking homeruns off the edge of the deck into the ocean.\u00a0 It was after all the middle of July, the heart of the Major League Baseball season.\u00a0 On a three-week trip I calculated that I would miss fourteen games including the all-important all-star game and home run derby, which was of course at Fenway Park that year.\u00a0 Fenway Park!\u00a0 Nothing was more important to me than baseball.\u00a0 I stared at a picture on my nightstand of my Mom, Dad, and I at my first Red Sox game.\u00a0 I don\u2019t remember it, I was only two years old, wearing a \u201ccute\u201d Red Sox branded outfit, but I looked like I was having a good time.<\/p>\n

The basic essentials filled the rest of my room.\u00a0 A dresser stuffed with old clothes and books, an overflowing hamper, posters of Dustin Pedroia (my favorite), Ted Williams (Dad\u2019s Favorite), Carlton Fisk (Mom\u2019s favorite), and a wooden desk that I would carve drawings into instead of actually doing homework.\u00a0 A packed suitcase lay next to my bed with a Student Ambassador lanyard draped across it.\u00a0 \u201cI can\u2019t breathe,\u201d I said whipping sweat off of my forehead.\u00a0 The heat was unbearable: I had to turn on the air\u2014a forbidden act in that house even if it was ninety-two degrees inside.\u00a0 Ninety-two<\/i>, I stared at the thermostat which I swear was sweating even more than I was.\u00a0 I had never touched the AC before, but figured 64 degrees would do the trick.<\/p>\n

Cool air pumped down onto my warped body.\u00a0 \u201cHopefully Grandma stays asleep.\u201d\u00a0 It actually got comfortable enough for me to get underneath the covers, which had finally dried up.\u00a0 I began to drift in and out of consciousness.\u00a0 Next thing I know, my grandmother banged on the door.\u00a0 It sounded like a sledgehammer.\u00a0 I popped up, kind of disoriented.\u00a0 Clock read 7am, and I was FREEZING\u2014which meant Grandma woke up in the North Pole as well.\u00a0 \u201cKat,\u201d she said.\u00a0 That\u2019s what everybody called me.\u00a0 Kathleen sounded like some southern house wife with five kids and a dog, I refused to acknowledge it. \u201cKat, are you up?\u201d she said while continuing to bang.\u00a0 I always hated when she said that.\u00a0 \u201cOf course I\u2019m up, you\u2019re banging on the damn door,\u201d I murmured.\u00a0 If only I could\u2019ve had five more minutes.\u00a0 \u201cJust five more minutes please,\u201d I said to myself, staring up at the ceiling.\u00a0 She continued to bang.\u00a0 \u201cKathleen Evelyn Stone,\u201d the point of no return, I had to stick out my stubborn defiance until the end.\u00a0 When she opened the door I flipped over and closed my eyes. My mom used to always give me those extra five minutes.\u00a0 \u201cKat\u201d, she said again.\u00a0 I continued to ignore as I felt her eyes piercing through my skull.<\/p>\n

Then, out of nowhere, she grabbed the covers with both hands and ripped them off the bed.\u00a0 \u201cGrandma, come on\u201d I said.\u00a0 She had a huge smile on her face. \u201cCold isn\u2019t it.\u201d\u00a0 She bawled up the covers.\u00a0 My long and skinny legs dangled off of the twin bed. \u201cBut it was boiling last night.\u00a0 Give me the covers back.\u201d\u00a0 \u201cI gave you ten extra minutes.\u201d\u00a0 \u201cPlease, just five more minutes.\u201d\u00a0 My Grandma was actually a very sweet and caring person, if you looked past her dark sarcasm, short temper, faded tattoos, and 5\u201910\u201d, 200+ pound frame.\u00a0 She began to laugh at me like a military drill sergeant waking up the new crop of soldiers.\u00a0 \u201cWhat are you going to do with five minutes besides make me angry?\u201d\u00a0 She had no idea that five more minutes would have completely changed my life.\u00a0 For some reason, whenever I would wake up before the sun cracked the sky, an extra minute felt like an extra hour.<\/p>\n

\u201cI swear, that\u2019s all I need.\u201d\u00a0 I put on my award winning puppy dog face.\u00a0 \u201cPlease?.\u201d\u00a0 I thought I had her in the palm of my hand.\u00a0 Then she smiled at me.\u00a0 \u201cCome and get \u2018em.\u201d\u00a0 I smiled back then tried to snatch the covers from her.\u00a0 She moved them out of reach then tossed them on the floor behind her.\u00a0 I got out of bed and tried to force my way past her.\u00a0\u00a0 I was giving it everything I had and my grandmother wasn\u2019t even breaking a sweat.\u00a0 She may have been old but she was strong as hell.\u00a0 I wanted those covers back.\u00a0 She began to laugh at me.\u00a0 I wasn\u2019t ready to throw in the towel just yet.\u00a0 She grabbed the covers, tossed them on top of my head, and wrapped me up.\u00a0 I began to wriggle and squirm like a mummy being prepped for burial.\u00a0 I could barely breathe.\u00a0 \u201cStop it!\u201d\u00a0 I shouted, sounding like a muted trumpet under five feet of water.\u00a0 I give up, I give up.\u201d\u00a0 She continued to laugh.\u00a0 \u201cI need an apology young lady,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cOk!\u00a0 I\u2019m sorry, I\u2019m sorry.\u201d I said, waving the white flag.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat was that?\u00a0 I couldn\u2019t hear you.\u00a0 Speak up.\u201d\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m sorry!\u201d, I shouted.\u00a0 Then she picked me up and threw me on the bed.\u00a0 \u201cGet dressed.\u00a0 You\u2019ll have plenty of time to sleep on the plane.\u201d\u00a0 I fought off the covers as she walked out of the room.\u00a0 Breathing heavy.\u00a0 Exhausted.\u00a0 Then, like any other kid would, went right back to sleep and got five more minutes in.<\/p>\n

—<\/p>\n

Daniel K. Hunter is a Brooklyn based writer and an alum of Berklee College of Music.\u00a0 He’s the co-founder, a long with his brother David, of the literary and lifestyle blog Writers and Hunters and is currently hard at work on the Epistolary Novel “Wake Up Ambassador Stone.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I laid in bed on top of damp sheets staring up at the molded ceiling which just started to leak. Drip, drip, drip, water fell into various pots and buckets spread around the room. My grandmother\u2019s \u201cfriend\u201d allegedly fixed this problem the day before but I could tell Jim didn\u2019t have a clue what he was doing by the way he strapped on his useless seventy piece tool belt, like he was about to build a dining room table. Idiot. Jim just wanted to impress Grandma Stone so he could get some more of her homemade raspberry cobbler\u2014 unfortunately not the kind you eat with a spoon. He was disgusting. They were disgusting and very loud in the adjacent bedroom. I could hear my Grandmother trying to quiet him down, \u201cYou\u2019re going to wake her up\u201d, she would say.<\/p>\n

READ MORE.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":149,"featured_media":5564,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,218,200,219],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5514"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/149"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5514"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5514\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5571,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5514\/revisions\/5571"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5564"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5514"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5514"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5514"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}