Simone

“If you could spend an entire day with anyone in the whole wide world, who would you spend it with?”

My first instinct is to say Harry Styles. I blurt it out before she even finishes the question. But suddenly—as determined by my own judgment, and the groans of my father—this choice seems vapid and irrational. While I would make the absolute most out of any time spent with him, I imagine it’d be very hard to have a normal day with Harry Styles. We’d have to lock ourselves in a hotel room or something, which, while I’d have no problem with, could prove daunting and awkward. Possibly even boring, given all I know of him are brief interviews from Seventeen, and fragmented, sporadic tweets which make sense to no one but him. Harry could be a raging psychopath for all I know, hiding behind the facade of good hair and billowing Saint Laurent men’s blouses. I am going to change my answer. Sorry, love.

At first I feel defeated when I realize how many of my possible choices are dead, but then I remember this is only a game! There is my medium grunge idol, Kurt Cobain, my ghost boyfriend, River Phoenix, my feminist role model, Anna Nicole Smith, and so many more. I could spend the day discussing the state of the world with Martin Luther King, or Alexander Hamilton, or Gandhi. I could have tea with Jane Austen. I could ask Tupac and Biggie who killed them. And so I’ll pick a deceased person. Can I even pick a deceased person?

I decide to ask.

“No, only alive people. I don’t want you hanging out with anyone dead.”

Of course she doesn’t want me hanging out with dead people. She’s my mother.

I’m stumped. No Stanley Kubrick, no Buddy Holly, no Jimi Hendrix. And why am I only thinking of celebrities? That is so rude. I should be choosing people I’ve actually met. How shallow of me to choose the rich and famous. But honestly, a day spent with any person I’ve encountered in personal experience could probably be managed within the realm of reality, so why waste my hypothetical wish on someone I know? I’m stumped again.

I’m a teenager. I’m picking a celebrity.

I need to hurry up, seeing as we are playing a question-based game at a dinner party, and there are 11 other people waiting to answer, likely with better answers than mine. I must choose someone famous, but worthwhile, and smart, who has made an impact on the greater good, and on society, as well. A name instantly comes to mind.

“Malala—no, Ezra from Vampire Weekend.”

OK, so Ezra Koenig might not be as vital to the education of young girls in countries with oppressive governments as Malala Yousafzai, but Vampire Weekend has had greater personal effect upon me. His songs have brought me joy, his tweets, laughter. And Ezra is beautiful. So handsome, and funny, and smart, and clever, and lovable, and handsome…

The next day I’m in the car. We are driving home from brunch, reminiscing about how fun last night’s dinner party was. I think back to my answer, and try to think of more. Maybe Mick Jagger or Keith Richards. They’d be fun, and very cool. Although, I feel like anything they’d tell me (especially Keith) would only encourage me to make improper decisions under the assumption that they would not affect the length of my life span. Ezra was a good choice, a really good choice, but I’m afraid if I spent only one day with him I wouldn’t have enough time to make him fall in love with me the way I am in love with him, and then I would end up in a heartbreaking situation, reminiscent of Morello’s storyline http://orange-is-the-new-black.wikia.com/wiki/Lorna_Muccio in Orange Is the New Black.

And thus, I learn there is no adequate answer. Also, that I take mindless party games way too seriously. ♦