November 21
This is Aislin. She is not reaching sadly away from me in fear. No, no. She loved me. I could tell.
The Trip:
Hi there. How are you? Me? Oh, you know. Same old. I got back from Chicago a few days ago. People here (my grandmother...) had been warning me that it was going to be cold there, and that I needed to bring a wintery blend of sweaters,layered animal pelts and giant hats, and I kind of pooh-pooed her reasoning that it wasn't yet cold in Connecticut, so really, why would it be colder in the MIDWEST than in NEW ENGLAND? This is New England! It's downright nippy! Friday morning, when I left home, it was sunny and probably 60 degrees. Friday afternoon, in Chicago, it was grey and windy and fucking cold. That was only the beginning of bad weather to follow.
I met Kerry and Aislin (see above), who'd been patiently waiting for me at my baggage claim area, and we squealed and kissed and loved one another all the way to the cab (actually a minivan driven by a huge, silent, surly guy who clearly wanted us all to die. Immediately.) and to her hotel. We sought out and found food in a hipper-than-thou kind of bar/restaruant where we sat and hung out and ate--oh, and here's an example of the brain dead waitstaff:
Kerry: I'd like the whatever sandwich, with a side of the smashed potatoes. What's in the smashed potatoes? Are there onions? I don't want onions...
Waitress Who Stared at Baby as Though it Was Poison: Um, onions? No. No onions.
15 minutes later.
Waitress Who Stared at Baby as Though it Was Poison: Here you go! Here's your food, here are your smashed potatoes. There's onions in them. You still want them, right?
Kerry: Um. No. That's why I asked if they were onions.
Waitress Who Stared at Baby as Though it Was Poison: (giving Kerry look) Well, there are onions.
Kerry: I'll take fries.
Waitress Who Stared at Baby as Though it Was Poison: You don't want them?
Kerry: Fries, thanks.
Their chicken ceasar salad was weird, they poured a delightful cosmopolitan, we sat and bullshit happily, waiting for Erin to show up...
...Okay, I'm not going to give a blow by blow of the weekend--I usually don't. It's boring for you to read and for me to write, but I will say that it was a really nice time. Jessie's wedding was beautiful (I have a few crappy photos [the sad reality is that if you give a terrible photographer a really nice camera, you will still get terrible photographs] but I feel weird posting them before Jessie's even back from her honeymoon. Oh, screw it, I'll post one. Scroll to the bottom...), and I got to hang out with super cool people I both like and love (heh, I'll leave it to them to fight about who I like and who I love!), got my hair done in a weird, puffy way, had lunch with THREE babies, (not just me and three babies, but me, three babies, and some parents. [I know this is getting all meta, and I'm sorry, but Amy is nice. So is her baby. She made me laugh and laugh.] Oh, and people who weren't parents, either. Did you follow that? Me either. Move along.) did some shopping, had some good sushi, laughed so much I peed:
(Me: Show me the photo you just took, I don't believe it's going to be good...
Kerry: Here. Look.
Me: Oh, JESUS CHRIST!! LOOK AT ME!!! LOOK! I LOOK LIKE A MEAT MOUNTAIN!!!
Kerry: Oh, NO YOU DON'T!Sure, it's not funny now, but you ought to have been there.)
Watched my first episode of the Sopranos, was chauffered around by Wendy, who took me to Chinatown at my request (Imagine my surprise, then, that while we were eating the place started filling up with cardiologists from the American Heart Association Scientific Sessions taking place about 2 miles away. 40,000 cardiologists in town at the same time as me. Can you imagine how funny this story would be if Dr. B. had walked into the restaurant? "Uh! Dana! I need something typed for me, maybe we can borrow a computer from someone..." He didn't, but man, that would have been funny. In a horrible way. I was tweaking nontheless, and as we walked out, I said "BE NICE TO YOUR ADMINISTRATOR!!!". I felt good for having said it, but am sure no one had any idea what I meant.)
Chicago is a nice, nice place to be sure, but I was really happy to be back in balmy Connecticut. Sure, Connecticut may not be as exciting as Chicago, but we won't get that kind of cold (it SNOWED, folks. Right there for Jessie's wedding. November 16th, honest to god SNOW. I about peed.) until February, so there's that.
Ho HO. While I was in the airport in Hartford, passing through the first metal detector, I was pulled off the line. The woman wanded me and pat me down and said in a glum voice "If this wand beeps, I am going to touch you in that location." Obviously, it didn't beep, so I went off on my merry way.
Next, before boarding the plane, I was pulled aside again. This time, I had to take my shoes off while two people went through my bag. I was rewanded and while this is going on, the one of the people going through my bag says "You smell NICE! Whatcho wearin'??" I tell him the name of the perfume (Kenzo Jungle, since EVERYONE seems to like it. Feel free to check it out yourself.) and he says "Is it in here?" I nod, and he ROOTS THROUGH MY BAG until he finds the bottle and pulls it out. He and his (toothless, and yet, perhaps only 22 year old) co-worker exclaim over how nice and sophisticated and SEXY, but not at all over stated or brassy or stinky it is, and I guess they decided that someone who smelled the way I smell would not be capable of doing any harm. I was allowed to board. They went through my WALLET, too. That was weird. At O'Hare, though? Not a thing. Good to know. Very reassuring.
Oh, and just so you know: if you stay at a house where people smoke (heh, Erin!) be prepared to Febreeze the shit out of your monkey when you come home...
And The Tragedy:
Remember my car? Yeah, me too. Sadly, I had an accident last week, and it's dead. Forever. I am unhurt, and I hurt no one else. Unfortunately, I am without wheels now. Want to give me a ride? Buy me a car? Yeah, I thought so...
the other day - home - tomorrow - email