i seriously begin to fear leaving this city
So the family reunion in Pennslyvania could have gone better. It was great to see everyone, of course (all immediate, nuclear Maases in one place at the same time (all of two hours) for the the first time in two years!), but I have had fewer weekends more fraught. First, the train breaking down, the extensive waiting for a new engine to be attached, and the truly disheartening revelation that once we were moving again, we still had to detour around this section of track that maintenance crews had ripped up. Presumably, had we been on time in the first place, they would not have ripped up the track YET. Ended up quite late with Dad miserable about having to do station pick-up duyt after his bed time. Then there was the hotel, which was terrible but not so terrible that anyone would have cared if only Mom had felt less guilty about booking it and bemoaned and apologized less. Also we managed to get lost en route to every single place we drove. Every time. I believe there is an evil Vibe of Harrisburg at work; I got horribly lost the last time I was in the area as well. And considering that this is the bit of PA containing Intercourse and other smuttily named towns, I'm not sure whether it's more appropriate to quip, "Oh well, getting there's half the fun," or "I demand satisfaction!" One of the other towns is named Blue Ball, so perhaps the latter.
And the weekend's masterpiece of inconvenience was my forgetting my purse at the restaurant Saturday and thereby losing my money, phone, train tickets, and all forms of ID. The place closed before we realized the problem, opened after I had to catch my train back in the morning, and was located several towns over from our hotel, in the opposite direction my parents had to drive to get home. There was an elaborate plan in which I would get the train only to the Town of the Restaurant and get Lisa's locally located friend to drive me on the purse pick-up mission, but Amtrak asked for ID for the first time since ever I have dealt with them, and Mom and Dand ended up driving me. And I ended up getting the train 4 1/2 hours later than the one I had intended. I am getting downright fucking superstitious about my long distance travelling luck. I've already gotten a message from U.S. Airways saying my flight out to Nevada next week's been pushed back, and there's another message telling me to call regarding schedule changes to my return flight lurking on my phone. Am rather afraid to call.
Anyway, whining aside, the good bits of the trip: the family, Mom briinging me homemade zuchinni bread, Lisa bringing me good organinc beer, Skip loving his birthday present (but then how hard is it to please a 9-year-old with a video game?), the Hershey factory (well, Skip loved it; it was a little frightening, in my opinion), getting my photo taken with a hedgehog garden ornament so that all might exclaim over our striking resemblance, excellent Amish food in quantity, and my awesome new hat. Seriously, Amish farmers' markets turn out to be the place to acquire really quality leather cowboy hats for little money. And why would I need a black leather cowboy hat? Just because it's awesome, really.
[ETA: Scratch that. I have just discovered the Gothabilly movement on Tribe. Clearly, the hat was a foresightful purchase.]
And the weekend's masterpiece of inconvenience was my forgetting my purse at the restaurant Saturday and thereby losing my money, phone, train tickets, and all forms of ID. The place closed before we realized the problem, opened after I had to catch my train back in the morning, and was located several towns over from our hotel, in the opposite direction my parents had to drive to get home. There was an elaborate plan in which I would get the train only to the Town of the Restaurant and get Lisa's locally located friend to drive me on the purse pick-up mission, but Amtrak asked for ID for the first time since ever I have dealt with them, and Mom and Dand ended up driving me. And I ended up getting the train 4 1/2 hours later than the one I had intended. I am getting downright fucking superstitious about my long distance travelling luck. I've already gotten a message from U.S. Airways saying my flight out to Nevada next week's been pushed back, and there's another message telling me to call regarding schedule changes to my return flight lurking on my phone. Am rather afraid to call.
Anyway, whining aside, the good bits of the trip: the family, Mom briinging me homemade zuchinni bread, Lisa bringing me good organinc beer, Skip loving his birthday present (but then how hard is it to please a 9-year-old with a video game?), the Hershey factory (well, Skip loved it; it was a little frightening, in my opinion), getting my photo taken with a hedgehog garden ornament so that all might exclaim over our striking resemblance, excellent Amish food in quantity, and my awesome new hat. Seriously, Amish farmers' markets turn out to be the place to acquire really quality leather cowboy hats for little money. And why would I need a black leather cowboy hat? Just because it's awesome, really.
[ETA: Scratch that. I have just discovered the Gothabilly movement on Tribe. Clearly, the hat was a foresightful purchase.]