I am trapped in Memphis. Very much against my will, so thank you Mother Nature for jack squat. I really thought I would make it to Indianapolis without a hitch, but no. I had to sit on the tarmac and wait out a thunderstorm as my last-chance plane to Indy rolled out.
Of course this would happen, because the moment I walked into the Memphis airport the only thing I wanted to do was race to my connecting gate and never look back. The ceilings are much too low, the lighting is dim and fluorescent, and everything smells like smoke despite the multitude of announcements over the intercom decrying smoking in the terminal.
The story of the airline workers (and getting lost in the bowels of this hotel) is such a nightmare that I just don't have the heart to recount it. Suffice it to say that I am in a Not-Such-a-Holiday Inn and I fly out at 6am to ATLANTA only to connect to a flight to Indy. All the while I am fearing for my life. I mean really - holy GHETTO.
All I really have to say now is that I hope to never set foot in this place again.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Stone Cold Sober
If I drank alcohol, I would be an alcoholic. I know this because I am always drinking something like Diet Coke, and if I'm not, then I'm thinking about how I wish I were drinking something like Diet Coke. Which is one of the many reasons I don't drink. Last night I remembered another reason: getting drunk makes you look like a total idiot.
Example: A girlfriend and I went out for some late-night dancing in Seattle. We were the first on the dance floor, getting our groove on while everyone else was getting hosed. Miraculously, an hour later the floor was packed with people who suddenly had zero inhibitions where they were previously chalk-full of them an hour before. Girls thought themselves the new Britney (with considerable less balance), the dudes ogled with bottles (and very likely roofies) in hand, and the cougars (bless their hearts) took advantage of anything male that came their way. Such a delight for a connoisseur of human folly such as I.
After hours of dancing and interesting encounters, we tried to bus it home - a total disaster - and just talked a cab into a ridiculously low rate to take us home instead. But I am convinced that had I been sloshed out of my mind, I would be dead. So thank you Diet Coke for giving me a good alternative to mind-blowing inebriation.
I hope that the next few cities on my itinerary hold as much, if not more, intoxicated ridiculousness. I have a feeling I won't be disappointed.
Example: A girlfriend and I went out for some late-night dancing in Seattle. We were the first on the dance floor, getting our groove on while everyone else was getting hosed. Miraculously, an hour later the floor was packed with people who suddenly had zero inhibitions where they were previously chalk-full of them an hour before. Girls thought themselves the new Britney (with considerable less balance), the dudes ogled with bottles (and very likely roofies) in hand, and the cougars (bless their hearts) took advantage of anything male that came their way. Such a delight for a connoisseur of human folly such as I.
After hours of dancing and interesting encounters, we tried to bus it home - a total disaster - and just talked a cab into a ridiculously low rate to take us home instead. But I am convinced that had I been sloshed out of my mind, I would be dead. So thank you Diet Coke for giving me a good alternative to mind-blowing inebriation.
I hope that the next few cities on my itinerary hold as much, if not more, intoxicated ridiculousness. I have a feeling I won't be disappointed.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
a tail for tuesday
Not so long ago, on a warm and balmy afternoon, I was lounging on my bed reading. A salty breeze was wafting in through the window, blowing my blonde locks ever so gently across my pillows. The down comforter swaddled my tired limbs, beckoning them to submit to its warm embrace.
I could hardly keep my eye lids open. I placed my finger in between the pages to mark my place, and set the book down on my stomach. Strange dreams faded in and out with the breeze. Seasons seemed to drift by, but minutes later . . . I felt something stir my long straight strands. Just the wind, I told myself. I could hear the blinds on the window stir, like they are wont to do everyday around noon when the ocean air blows through the town. Just the wind.
No more than a few minutes later I awoke again to an odd sensation. Self, I thought, Why is my hair moving so much?
WAIT.
Why does it feel like there is something on my head??
I tilted my face up toward the window, and what did I see? A big lizard face staring right back at me.
OH MY GOSH! I yelled as I rolled off my bed. Satan Lizard scurried to my bed post, and then I realized that this was no ordinary lizard, this was an ALLIGATOR LIZARD. Named so because 1) It has a really long snake-like tail, and 2) It BITES. And hisses.
Sam! I yelled, Get in here and catch this thing! Sam came rushing in and asked, Where is it? I pointed to my bed knob. Sam ran to the garage to get a glove, and consequently spent the next 20 minutes screeching as he tried to corner it. Lance came home soon after, thank goodness. He informed Sam that smacking a lizard with a glove won't get it out of the house. Within a few minutes it was trapped in a bucket, and after a brief study of it we realized that this same lizard was in the house the day before! It's mismatched tail gave it away. Apparently setting it free in a neighbors yard across the street was not far enough.
Unsolved mysteries: How did it get in the house two days in a row? Why was it sitting on my head?! And what kind of reasoning capabilities do these lizards have?!
Suffice it to say I have kept my window shut ever since.
The end.
I could hardly keep my eye lids open. I placed my finger in between the pages to mark my place, and set the book down on my stomach. Strange dreams faded in and out with the breeze. Seasons seemed to drift by, but minutes later . . . I felt something stir my long straight strands. Just the wind, I told myself. I could hear the blinds on the window stir, like they are wont to do everyday around noon when the ocean air blows through the town. Just the wind.
No more than a few minutes later I awoke again to an odd sensation. Self, I thought, Why is my hair moving so much?
WAIT.
Why does it feel like there is something on my head??
I tilted my face up toward the window, and what did I see? A big lizard face staring right back at me.
OH MY GOSH! I yelled as I rolled off my bed. Satan Lizard scurried to my bed post, and then I realized that this was no ordinary lizard, this was an ALLIGATOR LIZARD. Named so because 1) It has a really long snake-like tail, and 2) It BITES. And hisses.
Sam! I yelled, Get in here and catch this thing! Sam came rushing in and asked, Where is it? I pointed to my bed knob. Sam ran to the garage to get a glove, and consequently spent the next 20 minutes screeching as he tried to corner it. Lance came home soon after, thank goodness. He informed Sam that smacking a lizard with a glove won't get it out of the house. Within a few minutes it was trapped in a bucket, and after a brief study of it we realized that this same lizard was in the house the day before! It's mismatched tail gave it away. Apparently setting it free in a neighbors yard across the street was not far enough.
Unsolved mysteries: How did it get in the house two days in a row? Why was it sitting on my head?! And what kind of reasoning capabilities do these lizards have?!
Suffice it to say I have kept my window shut ever since.
The end.
Monday, May 11, 2009
the devil on the airplane
In betwixt the sleepless nights lying in starched hotel sheets and logging a series of nauseating transcontinental flights, I have come up with a few observations that I wanted to share with the internet universe.
But you know what? I'm TIRED. So the musings about the Austin woman with the matching bejeweled crosses on her purse and jeans will have to wait. As will the story of Phat, my conspiracy theorist shuttle driver in Virginia.
However, something almost amusing happened a couple days ago:
I boarded my flight Saturday morning after 3 hours of sleep the night before. I knew that for the next eight hours the only sustenance I would have would be the Nutri-Grain bar I took from the hotel, but on the flipside I had the second half of Harry Potter #7 to devour for probably the fifth time (I had read the whole first half on the flight over), so I felt slightly unstable but not quite If-I-hear-one-baby-scream-on-this-flight-I'm-going-to-have-a-rage-blackout.
As I was stowing my carry-on, I glanced at the man sitting in front of me. He had this debonair aura about him that was magnetic. Perhaps it was the dark blue suit and red tie. Or the subtle level 5 Mystic tan. He looks like someone famous, I said to myself. Then, a few minutes later, as I was flipping through one of the airline magazines, there he was! In the magazine. Featured as . . . the Devil?
It's Ray Wise, and apparently he plays Satan himself in the show Reaper, which I have never seen. But I'm pretty sure I've seen him in an episode of Law and Order: SVU. And he's also VP Gardner in 24 Season 5, in case you wanted to know more, which you probably didn't.
Anyway. The point is not that I saw a "celebrity." The point is that even Mr. Wise is having to cut back his spending these days, as evidenced by his descent into slum-class with the rest of us mere mortals.
But you know what? I'm TIRED. So the musings about the Austin woman with the matching bejeweled crosses on her purse and jeans will have to wait. As will the story of Phat, my conspiracy theorist shuttle driver in Virginia.
However, something almost amusing happened a couple days ago:
I boarded my flight Saturday morning after 3 hours of sleep the night before. I knew that for the next eight hours the only sustenance I would have would be the Nutri-Grain bar I took from the hotel, but on the flipside I had the second half of Harry Potter #7 to devour for probably the fifth time (I had read the whole first half on the flight over), so I felt slightly unstable but not quite If-I-hear-one-baby-scream-on-this-flight-I'm-going-to-have-a-rage-blackout.
As I was stowing my carry-on, I glanced at the man sitting in front of me. He had this debonair aura about him that was magnetic. Perhaps it was the dark blue suit and red tie. Or the subtle level 5 Mystic tan. He looks like someone famous, I said to myself. Then, a few minutes later, as I was flipping through one of the airline magazines, there he was! In the magazine. Featured as . . . the Devil?
It's Ray Wise, and apparently he plays Satan himself in the show Reaper, which I have never seen. But I'm pretty sure I've seen him in an episode of Law and Order: SVU. And he's also VP Gardner in 24 Season 5, in case you wanted to know more, which you probably didn't.
Anyway. The point is not that I saw a "celebrity." The point is that even Mr. Wise is having to cut back his spending these days, as evidenced by his descent into slum-class with the rest of us mere mortals.
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