notes from the road: Seattle

I spent much of the last week in Seattle. I took very few pictures, and none actually of Seattle, but I would say this one kind of sums up how the week went:

all the dessert

Yes, that’s 10 distinct pieces of dessert and yes I tried them all. (Not shown: the second lemon square.)

Seattle is a lovely city. Some of the highlights: Pike’s Place, of course (my favorite shop is Old Seattle Paperworks on the lower level), and The Purple Cafe, our best meal of the trip. I highly recommend both.

Our last night there was May Day, and I’m not sure how much of a national news story it was but some peaceful protests turned not-very-peaceful a few blocks from my hotel. I watched on the news as police clashed with protesters, using pepper spray and flash-bangs to control the angry crowds. Watching things explode as helicopters buzzed overhead was uncomfortably reminiscent of a few weeks ago in Boston. Luckily, it seems to have all turned out okay except for some minor injuries, but it was a stressful couple of hours.

So that was Seattle. I’ll try to take a more interesting picture next time I travel. :)

Disney World Report, Part 1

So I wrote a “Ciao off to Disney World!” post but uh obviously forgot to post it. So. Hey I’m back! With pictures! Look, there I am in front of Cinderella’s Castle!

Basically, I had a blast. I wasn’t really sure what to expect from Disney World—I knew there were rides, and Disney characters, and fireworks, and… stuff? but yeah. Didn’t really understand what I was getting into. And it’s a hard place to describe to someone who’s never been, because it will sound chintzy or dopey or ridiculous. But then once you’re there… there really just isn’t any place like it. Which, if you hate it, is good because that makes it really easy to avoid. And if you love it then it’s, well, magical.

Sorry, I have the post-vacation blabbers. Let’s try this again.

Disney World! Yeah!

First off, I need to brag that on the Buzz Lightyear ride I went from a paltry 20,000-ish points on the first day to 330,000-ish on the last night which makes me a SPACE ACE. Hells yeah.

But yeah, I didn’t quite understand going in what exactly I was getting into, and frankly I think that’s kind of the best way to do it. It makes it even more wondrous. If someone tries to explain Main Street in the Magic Kingdom, or the magical electrical parade, or the Pirates of the Carribean ride or Maelstrom, it just doesn’t work. How do you explain Peter Pan and do it justice? You just can’t.

And I love that only about half the rides are traditional rides like roller coasters or spinning teacups (LOVE) and then half of them are just you in a thing looking at stuff. Does that sound cool? Not particularly. Is it cool? YES. And even the traditional roller coasters aren’t traditional. They’re themed, they tell stories. They’re magic.

Oh man the brainwashing got me.

There is just so much to do and see and experience. Yes it’s expensive but it is totally worth it, especially when you consider that most days you can be in a park for 10-12 hours. Do you have any idea how many aliens you and Buzz Lightyear can shoot in 10-12 hours? A LOT, let me tell you.

So. Yeah! I guess that’s the immediately-post-vacation thought rumblings. Pardon any incoherence, I’m a bit short on sleep. To recap: it was fantastic, and now I am tan. Lalalala.

I think I’m going to have to make a top-ten rides list, though. Stay tuned.

Preview? One word: DINOSAUR!

flying fun

So let me share my adventures of yesterday. Really, one of the weirder flying experiences I’ve ever had.

So I’m in Asheville, North Carolina. And I’m checking in, going to take a small plane to Atlanta to catch the last plane back to Boston. And I notice that my connection time in Atlanta has been shortened from 45 minutes to 15 minutes. Ho shit. Not as bad as the other jumper to Atlanta; the plane scheduled to leave an hour earlier than mine is leaving an hour later than my delayed flight. So I guess I’m lucky.

But still, 15 minutes. I prepare to run.

Then the Delta people start giving us hope. The flight’s landing 15 minutes earlier than they’d thought, and if they hurry they might land at 9:15 instead of 9:30. That extra 15 minutes could mean the difference in sleeping in a hotel in Atlanta and my bed in Boston.

So we board in record time. Everyone has connections that are in jeopardy. We board, we put our bags away, we sit, we are the best passengers ever to passage.

And then we sit on the runway for 15 minutes. We are the only plane trying to leave Asheville, and we just sit there. Sit. There. The 15 minutes Delta claimed they’d made up poof vanished away. They never explained that.

We land in Atlanta at 9:28. My next flight leaves at 9:45. 17 minutes.

I hauled ass through the Atlanta airport. We landed at the farthest end of Terminal C and I had to take off at the farthest end of Terminal B. (Really, Delta? It’s like you enjoy our pain.) I’ve never really had to run through an airport before; I either have time or I miss my flight by such an egregious amount that I have to reschedule. But this time I run. I look like a doofus, but as long as there’s hope I’m going to run.

I get to the gate at 9:46. There are a group of people milling around on standby. I ignore them.

“Please tell me I made it in time,” I gasp to the nice Delta lady.

She looks at my ticket. “Girl, I just gave your seat away!”

No what. But then she checks me in and I’m in the exact same seat, so I don’t know what the hell she was talking about. And I’m in! I made it!

And then we wait.

And wait.

And then the Captain comes on the speaker to let us know that they are currently changing out a wheel on the plane.

Well that’s reassuring.

And then a few rows behind me I hear a stewardess ask if anyone speaks Spanish. A woman near me volunteers.

To spare you the minute-by-minute events and figurings-out I went through, basically: a girl was suspected to have chicken pox, and they couldn’t let her fly if she had chicken pox, so she and her father had to leave the plane and go get tested by the Atlanta Fire Department. Since neither spoke English, a 3rd passenger went with them to translate, because apparently nobody in the Atlanta airport spoke Spanish.

So then we wait. We’re waiting for the chicken pox test (who knew it could be done so quickly?) and we’re waiting for our Samaritan Interpreter to return. Meanwhile the teenager sitting next to the chicken pox girl is freaking out because she has never had chicken pox, and her friends are egging her on and freaking her out more.

At this point I’m just like, “wtf? is this real? I just want to go home.”

Finally the Captain comes back and announces that the passenger “who was feeling ill” is in fact okay and will be returning! We’ll be leaving soon! Huzzah!

And then we wait.

Nobody returns.

We wait.

The Samaritan Interpreter comes back, gets the backpack belonging to the girl who left, and takes it up front (again, I’m unclear on why there wasn’t someone from Delta doing this). She then returned to her seat, two standby passengers were brought in to fill the two empty seats, and finally, finally, finally, the door is closed.

So apparently the ill passenger was feeling to ill to fly after all.

We take off about an hour late; I finally get home to bed around 2am. An eight-hour work day, followed by an eight-hour travel day. But now it’s the weekend! Commence lolling about.

where am I?

Well, at this exact moment I am sitting on my bed with one foot in my suitcase and one in a pile of laundry. But if you’re reading this tonight or tomorrow or the next day I am in Dallas, TX.

Being in Dallas, TX, goes against all of my principles and my moral upbringing, and I am only journeying there because my job seems to think it is necessary.

My job thinks it’s necessary for me to go a lot of places in the next month, which is going to be exciting but tiring. Don’t expect to hear too much from me, and for what you do hear to be along the lines of “zomg tiiiiired.”

So, I’m in the process of cleaning all the things and packing all the things and trying to figure out how to take my hair gel since I’m not checking luggage (the container is sort of clear, but it’s a 5oz thing… but there’s really not more than 2oz left… should I risk it?).

Also, has it really been nine years? God.

hoooooome

Back from Chicago. I love Chicago. Really, I love that city. Like whoa.

My favorite part (aside from the lovely friends I hung out with) was Frank Lloyd Wright’s Robie House, on the University of Chicago campus. Specifically, the living room:

A mere photo cannot capture the awesomeness that is this room. (I did not take this picture as that is against the rules.) But basically I want to go back with a sleeping bag and never leave. I think I actually reached the apex of joy in the moments I stood in that room; it’s all downhill from here.

Also I had Chicago-style pizza which—like, really? Why is that not the standard?

Yay Chicago.

current whereabouts unknown

I am currently on a beach.

Well, I’m currently on a couch in a beachside house approximately five and a half feet from the ocean. Oh yeahhhhhh.

Making my own little spring break, here. Four days of just me and the ocean and a writing buddy. Love it.

in which grace has a hard time making up her mind, volume 32

Today I decided it was time for an upgrade.

I’m an adult now, see, so I need nice professional things and not gross college-like things. This applies to clothes, food, and–today’s adventure–luggage. See, I’ve been using an enormous computer bag/backpack-like thing that I bought like five years ago as a carry-on suitcase–it’s not even a proper backpack. So my luggage collection is that bag (which is covered in weird straps and whatnot that always get caught on things) and an enormous wheeled bag that I took when I was going to England for four months. But nothing in between, and nothing small that wasn’t irritating slash ugly.

But I’m going to Seattle in a couple of weeks for work. The ratty and gross college student style really just doesn’t work in a professional setting. So today I went luggage-shopping. The goal: a small wheeled carry-on, preferably in a vaguely interesting color or design, for a reasonable price.

I hit two stores, Marshall’s and Macy’s (opposite ends of the spectrum, what?) and took a total of about an hour and a half. Yeah I know. I’m a total pain in the ass to shop with. Marshall’s was a relatively quick stop, it only took me like fifteen minutes to rule out the one bag that I was considering (yes, I examined the same bag for fifteen minutes). Then I went to Macy’s and spent the next hour or so in their luggage department.

There were really only three or four bags that fit my requirements of size, style, and price, but I gave them each a fair and equal shot at impressing me. I opened them, I closed them, I wheeled them around. I made up my mind and then unmade it. I got distracted by bags I couldn’t afford and bags I didn’t need. I debated between purple and burgundy–which goes better with my purse? which is a better representation of my style?–and decided on blue. Then I realized the burgundy was actually my favorite color and that bag had a cool little zipper thing, but wait this other bag had it too–

Yeah, really, shopping with me is hell on wheels. I recommend you avoid it.

I ended up with a nice little something (brand forgotten already) in navy blue. I’m all set to be professional in Seattle, and I can take it home for Thanksgiving too!

Look at me all grown up.