7 posts tagged “travel”

This past year has been called "the worst year ever for U.S. airlines." What has your experience with the airlines been like when you've traveled in recent months?

I just flew to DC and San Francisco in the past month and I have to say that it wasn't too bad.  My last connection flight was over-sold and some people got bumped. However, they got a free round-trip ticket, hotel money, and a dinner and breakfast stipend.  If I hadn't been on the road for 10 days at the point and dying to get home, I probably would have taken them up on the offer.

Honestly, I've never really had a problem with airlines or their staff.  It's always other travelers that make me think twice about ever setting foot on an airplane again. 

What are your travel plans for this spring/summer?

Definitely Portland, OR for a conference.  I just found out on Friday that I have somewhere between 45-55 days of "use it or lose it" vacation time that must be used by June 30, 2009.  I ain't losing it so I'm going to go somewhere, I guess. 

What can I say about San Francisco?

I think, like Paris, it's a city that everyone needs to see before they die.   I also think that, like Paris, it's a city that people go wild for, but I merely really like.  Really, really like, but not completely madly in love with.  Which is also the sort of the same problem with Silent Bob.  But I'll get to that in a minute.

The best way to describe San Francisco is imagine if they took Chicago and put it in Europe.  Or maybe Hong Kong.  (Not that I've ever been there, mind you.)  I found that I had to repeatedly remind myself that I was still in the United States.  It's all so beautiful. And the weather is just stunningly perfect.

As for the sights, I did it all.  You name it, I saw it.  I think one would probably need a week to do it all properly, especially if you wanted a "vacation" not a "trip" like I did.  I also had day or half-day trips to Carmel, San Jose (Which did not appear in any guide book, but Silent Bob wanted to show me where he went to school - and it's very pretty), Muir Woods and Wine Country.  But if you really wanted to expend energy, you could probably hit the major attractions and neighborhoods in three days.

I don't know why I didn't love it.  I know I should, but I couldn't quite get there.

Things I would tell/ recommend to people traveling to SF area: (1) Get a muni city pass that lets you ride buses, street cars, subways (but not the BART) and trolleys as well as gives you admission to most of major attractions (2) trolleys are effing scary and I'm surprised more people don't die on them (3) Pacific time sucks, especially if you like morning cable news (4) Union Square is sort of annoying noise wise, but it's a good place to stay transportation wise (5) try to do day trips out of the city (6) Alcatraz is not as scary/depressing as I thought it would be, but there's some bad JuJu coming off the walls in the solitary confinement area (7) the hills are bigger than you think and they're EVERYWHERE (8) it's neat to try things like  In-n-out burger, which we do not have on my side of the country (9) Fisherman's Wharf is unbearably touristy (10) chinatown wasn't as exotic as I thought it would be (11) It's worth it to try and walk across the Golden Gate Bridge (12) the Haight is full of rich kids pretending to be poor (13) the real homeless people weren't nearly as aggressive as I had been warned they'd be (14) the Tenderlion (aka the "scary section") looked nicer than most parts of Cincinnati.  I never once feared for my safety the entire time. (15) if your hotel is near a BART station, take it into the airport from SFO (16) SFO is right on the bay, so when you land, you are pretty sure the plane is crashing.  It's Logan Airport bad.  FYI.

So.  Silent Bob.  He did come up for a couple days.  Which, knowing how much busy he is (full time job [which is more like two given the way they run him ragged] + taking 12 hours of graduate work towards his Masters), just was unbelievably wonderful of him.  I was really honored by it.  Also, it was hard to not feel guilty.  

Here's the thing about Silent Bob: he's really insecure.  So much so, that he constantly catalogs (no pun intended) all of his faults.  And while that's not a turn-off per se, it does have the effect of turning one's ardor into pity.  I found myself almost starting to have maternal feelings for the man and wanting to hold him and stroke his head.  Instead of, you know, other things.  Further, I have a bad habit of being the female version of a "Captain Save-a-Ho" as evidenced by my 16 year whatever with Tiger.  I don't really want to go down that path again.  It wouldn't be fair to either of us. And there's also the nagging thought of "are you just here because you don't think that you can do any better?"
 
I think if I lived in the same town as him and got to see him more than a few days a year, he would calm down and not be so insecure, and I would be able to maintain the romantic/lustful feelings for him.  But were we to live in the same town, even then it's entirely possible that I would be more doing it because I think I should  (he's cute [disregard his FB picture which makes him look like some sort of extra from Deadwood] and smart [like scary smart] and actually hits most of the points on my "list of ideal traits" in a mate) rather than as a result of some sort of fiery passion. 

I just feel very comfortable with him.  Like we've been married 50 years. (Now that I think about it, he's the human equivalent of jammie pants.)  But maybe that's a good thing?  I don't feel the need to be anyone but my absolute self with him, so I wasn't all animated and chatting and trying to be a clown.  I just was me.  Although I was mortified at how I geeked out about over some pelicans.  But, yeah.  It's comfortable.   Again, maybe if he didn't live on the other side of the country, that too would change and I'd feel...more passionate.  Tingly?   Fluttery?  Assuming I'm even capable of such things still.  Now that I think of it, a lot of this could also have been the result of nerves as well.  I mean, why did I think that I'd want to run into his arms and immediately stick my tongue down his throat?  That's so not me!  For me to hug someone is a big step.  You know, about an hour before he had to leave, I was finally starting to feel a slight urge that way.   Unfortunately, as he doesn't want to leave California and I'm not sure I can move across the country, I don't know that I'll ever get a satisfactory answer to this mystery. 

I'm not really torn up about it, which is another mystery all together.   I'm honestly just perplexed about my feelings.   Like, how is it that I just don't know my feelings toward someone?  Is there some sort of subconscious block going on that's preventing me from moving forward and committing to romantic feelings?  Am I trying to make more out of it than is there because I've got nothing else better to do personal life-wise?  Is this a common thing and it's just a shock to my usual "black and white feelings towards people" self?  I just do not know.  Maybe I'll try another visit (longer, and in his home turf so we're not both tourists) and see how things go at the big conference in July.

But anyway, San Francisco is awesome.  Check it out.

Okay, I'm still exhausted and threatening to become weepy, but let's get back into the saddle.  And then I'm going to bed.  Even if it's just 8:30.

Okay, Toronto was cool.  Not as awesome as I was expecting, but perhaps I built it up too much.  Lord knows it was pretty much the mirage I kept marching towards to keep my sanity since early September.   So, I didn't have the coup de foudre that I have had with other locales, such as London or Washington, D.C., and I doubt that I'll ever yearn for it, but I did enjoy it.  It's on the list of "places that I could see myself living someday."

All in all in reminded me of Cleveland....and that's totally not an insult.  The only thing that really disappointed me was its lake access.  There's islands right offshore of the downtown area and so you couldn't stand there and stare off into the great expanse of water, as one can in Cleveland or Chicago or my beloved U.P.  At any rate, it was nice to be in a big city again.  For the life of me I cannot figure out why I like big cities so much, since they are pretty much the complete opposite of what I have grown up with, but they really just feel right to me.   Big cities and the sticks.  No middle ground for me.

The conference programs weren't great, but I did learn some stuff.  I have to say, it was nice to go to a conference and not be all worried about personal issues beforehand, such as "am I going to have sex and should I have gotten some stuff waxed?" or "is that crazy bitch going to beat me up?"  I'm starting to become known to people, and surprise of surprises, people seem to like me.  I swear, despite the fact that sometimes it seems like the world and society is specifically designed to make me feel bad about myself, I really don't have bad self esteem.  But at the same time, I am somewhat surprised that people, you know...like me.  Not only notice me, but like me.  It's very weird to get my head around, because I for the most part feel like I just blend into the background.  I found myself being very Stuart Smalley-ish at times on this trip.

I also realized that I have really got my shit together when it comes to my career.   There's the aforementioned people knowing me thing, there's the fact that I realized that I'm doing comparatively a lot of stuff, people ask me to do more stuff because they seem to think I know what I'm doing,  and I know what path I need to take to get to the next step in my career.   Considering where I was last year at this time, I'm pretty impressed with myself.  Go tortuga.

Speaking of last year, I got to hang with a former co-worker and my replacement.  My replacement is just at the point where he's starting to realize how dysfunctional that place is.  He'll survive it, though, at least I hope he will because he seemed like a good egg.  Stereotypical, almost painfully geeky librarian, but a good egg nonetheless.  I also had another confirmation  (as if I needed another) that moving to my current job was the right move for me.  My former co-worker asked me, in all seriousness, "Does [my boss] talk to [me]?"  See, our former boss was a ghost.  I could literally go days without seeing him, let alone talk to him.  I honestly think the most I ever talked to him was during my interview. 

Her question really took me aback, because my current boss is pretty much the complete opposite.  In the movie of my life, after I get asked that question by former co-worker, there will be a smash cut to later that evening when I was out to dinner with my boss and we talked about (a) cheesy television shows (b) teen vampire fiction and (c) our favorite erotica authors.   The thought of even having that conversation with old boss is so beyond the realm of possibility that I can't even imagine it. And I have a good imagination.

I also got to do a lot of thinking on this trip.  The emptiness in my life (due to work taking over) that I was complaining about two weeks ago turned out to be a boon.  My decks were cleared and my mind could wander wherever.   (I also had a birthday and that always turns one to introspection.)  Really, even though I was in a big city, I felt like I was on retreat in Thomas Merton's hermit shack.  I tried to notice what (and who) I missed and what I could live without. I read an entire novel for the first time in who knows how long.  I went for long walks.  I ate when I was hungry and slept when I was tired.   These are things that I guess most people do on their own without any prodding, but I apparently need to go to another country to do.

I decided that since my shit is together career wise, I'm going to start working on more personal things.  Nothing like "learn to love myself" or any of that kind of bullshit, because I'm already there.  Basically, I want to get some hobbies.  Try some new and different things.  Nothing extreme...although I am sorely tempted to dye my hair some sort of funky color.  I just think that since I've pretty much broken out of my ruts over the past two months out of necessity, this is going to be a good time to find some new ones.

This reminds me...on my actual birthday, I had nothing on the schedule but to sightsee.  I got it in my head that I was going to go up the CN Tower.  Now, you have to understand Gentle Reader, I am scared of heights.  Terrified of heights.  I can't stand on a kickstep at work without getting nauseous.  But I saw the tower and it didn't look too tall, and I thought, This will be a great kick-off to The Year of Doing New Things.  Then I got to the tower and yeah, it doesn't look too tall....when you're on the other side of the city.  When you're standing at its base and looking straight up it, that mofo is pretty darn tall.  So then I thought, Fuck that noise.  NOT going up the tower will be a great kick off to The Year of Doing What Feels Right. 

So Ladies and Gentlemen, I hereby declare my 32nd year to be The Year of Doing What Feels Right.   

I was pleasantly surprised to discover when I got back home an e-mail from a long lost law school friend wishing me a happy birthday.   Don't get me wrong, I really appreciated the e-mails and Facebook messages I got from people wishing me a happy birthday, but this one was just so unexpected.   It was nice.  This guy is one of a series of near misses I've had in the romance department over the past few years.  We almost got there and then...he started dating this chick my so-called best friend set him up with.   It's happened time after time after time during the past ten years.  It's now to the point that I choose to run away rather then sit around and wait to be introduced to the new chick.  And I'm almost positive that the new chick is always right around the corner.  Maybe some day I'll be able to balance romance with sanity, but today is not that day.

So, I need to end this post on a sad note...My friend and blog hero Bill has decided to hang up his keyboard and stop blogging.  Even though I only started re-reading his blog a few months ago, it quickly became a daily stop again.  So everyone raise a glass and give Bill a toast for several years of good work.  We'll miss your blog, dude.

(Part 2 of 3.  One. Three.)

A week ago tonight I was in this bar listening to this band and falling in love...with the city of New Orleans.

I am much too tired tonight to write more because my first day back was not a gradual slide back into work.  It was a hit the ground running type of day.  le sigh.

(Part one of three.  Two. Three.)

So.

I am back from six days of conferencing and then four days of "vacation" at my parents farm.   Ten days but it seems like much longer.  I've been away long enough that the comfortable little rut that I've worn for myself in my daily existence isn't so comfortable right now.  I'm sure after a few days I'll be fine again, but right now the thought of going into work tomorrow almost makes me want to cry. As did the thought of leaving my parents' farm and coming back to my apartment. 

And now I present to you some highlights of the past ten days....

Okay, so the first thing you need to know about New Orleans is that it is, as Susan M. would say, "Hot as Balls" down there. (Actually, lots of people say that, but Susan M. was the first person to say that to me, so I always associate the phrase with her.) Now that I think about it, that's not the first thing you need to know about New Orleans.  The first thing you need to know about New Orleans - only if you are flying in, that is - is that the approach to the airport is right over Lake Ponchartrain.  It's not Boston/Logan Airport bad, but it's pretty bad and I, for one, would have really liked to know that we were making a normal landing and not rocketing to a fiery death in a swamp.  So FYI.

So I landed, collected my bags and walked out of the airport into the oppressive south Louisiana heat.  I had been there before two years ago when I interviewed at Shaquille O'Neal's alma mater, but I was shocked anew at it.  My guide books tried to say that Louisiana has an enchanting Caribbean climate.  Don't believe it.  It is hot as balls. 

I had the most delightful cab driver take me to my hotel.  And by delightful, I don't mean that he was particularly nice or that he was a good driver, because he wasn't.   However, he had an interesting life story and I always enjoy hearing those.  Basically, Mr. Cab Driver was originally from Montenegro.  I got off on the wrong foot with him by responding to this piece of information with, "Oh, that was part of Yugoslavia, right?"  I thought I was showing that, unlike most Americans, I am down with European geo-political history.  Mr. Cab Driver responded gruffly with, "You know, we were a country before World War I."  Well fuck you, too, then.

Mr. Cab Driver did not grow up dreaming of becoming a New Orleanian cabbie.  He started off his career in the Navy.  (The Montenegran Navy?  No, the YUGOSLAVIAN one.  Harumph.)  He then became a general merchant marine type sailor.   This brings us to 1992.  For those of you not down with European geo-political history, this is when Yugoslavia broke up, because, as my cabbie rightly insisted, they really were several different countries glommed together into single nation.  As a result,, the United States halted trade with Yugoslavia.  Unfortunately, for Mr. Cab Driver, when this happened his boat was in the port of New Orleans and seized by the U.S. government.  No one would pay for a plane ticket so that Mr. Cab Driver could return home, so he spent seven months living on an un-airconditioned boat in New Orleans harbor, most of that time during the hot as balls summer.  He eventually jumped ship, learned English, and became a tax paying resident alien.  God Bless America.

At this point, I just want to say don't worry, I'm not going to do a day-by-day travelogue.  It pretty much all runs together after Saturday.

Anyhoo, Friday I check into my hotel around 11:30, unpack and decide to explore the city.  My first stop?  544 Camp Street, an address known to any of you as obsessed with the movie JFK as I am.   I regret to inform y'all that 544 Camp Street is no longer the building that Lee Harvey Oswald, David Ferrie and Guy Banister worked out of.  It is now a federal court house.  I was crushed.  I mean, I had planned to re-enact the scene with dialog and everything!

531 Lafayette Street. 
Remember whose office this was in '63? 
Sure. Guy Banister....  
I want to show you something. 
Take a look here. 
544 Camp Street. 
531 Lafayette Street. 
Same building, right? 
Different addresses, different entrances, both going to the same place... 
...to the office upstairs. 
Guess who used it? 
Lee Harvey Oswald. 

Since I couldn't re-enact JFK, I continued my jaunt through downtown New Orleans and headed toward the French Quarter. I stopped for an iced coffee on the way and was pleased to discover I knew exactly what they meant when they said "cold brewed" coffee. Go me.  Although it was good, the coffee was probably a mistake.  Now, I had been up since 5am.  I had nothing to drink except caffeinated beverages, and there I was walking around in the hot as balls New Orleans' heat.  Dehydration was becoming a problem.  Well, the dehydration wasn't that much of a problem.  The hallucinations I was having because of the dehydration was the actual problem.  

I was alert enough to realize that swaying and stumbling along Bourbon Street wasn't going to make me stand out too much, but if I were stopped by Johnny Law, I probably wouldn't be able to convince them that I wasn't under the influence of some possibly illegal substance.  And the smell!  The whole city smells bad, mostly like a combo of sewage and bad cheese, but Bourbon Street has a mixture of bodily fluid smells layered over the top of that.  I was already in bad shape, but that just made me woozy.  I was pretty sure that I was going to end my day by calling my boss from the NOPD drunk tank, which just would have been beyond awkward.  I actually think she would have been cool with it, but she also would have razzed me about it until the day I die. 

I also thought it was entirely possible that I was going to die and my body would never be claimed and I'd end up in a pauper's grave 800 miles from home.  That made me sad.  I started to cry.  Then I mentally slapped myself, said, "Jesus Christ, tortuga, get a grip and some water and sit in some air conditioning."  Right at that moment, a little bodega appeared before me.  So I got some water.  And then I came outside and saw the St. Louis Cathedral, so I went inside and sat down for about a half hour.  The nice thing about churches is that you can collapse on your knees from exhaustion and people leave you alone because they think you're praying.

After I left the cathedral, I decided to walk back along the Mississippi River, since I am a river rat at heart.  There's a raised walkway with this beautiful cast iron handrail along the edge.  I grabbed onto the rail in order to get myself up the stairs and - hand to God - heard my flesh sizzle.  I said words that someone who just spent the previous 1/2 hour in a church shouldn't say.  By the time I got back to my hotel to shower, get room service and go to bed, I had decided that I hated New Orleans, would never return after this trip, and actually sorta wished that I never came there in the first place.

Since this is has turned out to be a hellishly long post and I'm tired, TO BE CONTINUED...

Tune in tomorrow to find out how I came to love New Orleans, why I am re-evaluating my life (again) and maybe just a little about Silent Bob.

I have returned from my conference.  Some brief observations before I go to bed and sleep for two days straight:

(1) I played the professional game and did my career some good.  

(2) On Monday night, as I was sitting in a little jazz club on Frenchman Street, far away from the hustle and bustle of the touristy areas, I fell in love with New Orleans.

(3) I love the town, but it is officially stupid hot down there.  I had the exact same things in my suitcase last Friday as I did today.  However, today's version of my suitcase weighed 6 pounds more.  I can only assume it's humidity/sweat soaked into my clothes that's bringing the extra weight.  Ewwww.....

(4) I have two graduate degrees and I can't figure out how to work a cell phone.

(5) And now, for those of you that like doing the slow drive by of the car wreck that is my personal life, the Silent Bob update...Actually, it's going to take me a little while to process everything that happened over the past five days.   I had gamed out several possibilities as to what was going to happen, and as it turns out, the correct answer was NONE OF THE ABOVE.

****

ETA:  I realized after I got some sleep that I had all my conference crap and books in the suitcase.  So it was probably only about 1lb of sweat.  Still..ew.