Yeehah! part I: Well this seems familiar.
It is, almost certainly, an unwise idea to drink substantially the night before you have an early and lengthy flight. There was one fairly epic instance where I embraced the idiocy of that idea with a little too much gusto, and ended up airsick while I crossed the Atlantic ocean, with all the indignity and misery you'd imagine. I am happy to say I have learned that lesson.
Mostly.
Which is to say, last Thursday night was a fairly amazing party (photos from echofoxtrot). The crew at IndyHall, a Philly coworking group founded by a couple troublemakers I've been hanging out with a lot recently, hosted a launch party at National Mechanics, in honor of iSepta and RipIt, both of which came out of collaborations at IndyHall. Alex publicized sponsorship opportunities for the event, and oh did he get them. With almost half of the money coming from Uwishunu.com, Umlatte, and Weblinc, and the other half coming from individual fans, the IndyHall team packed National Mechanics and funded an open bar and appetizers for something like 5 hours. The crowd revolved around the blogging/techy/entrepreneurial community in Philly, and if I were to list the people I met and hung out with through the night, every one of their names would be a link. Some of them would have more than three domains to link to. It's a little ridiculous, but the more I hang out with these guys, the more I get used to it. And the more of these folks I meet, the more I hear "hey Sarah" when walking through crowds at National, and that is an enormously strange feeling. But I very much enjoyed every conversation I had, and left tired and satisfied around midnight, decidedly unsober. But far less unsober than in that epic instance. Which was definitely a good thing.
As a result, I caught my 8am flight to Vancouver without having to rush, and though my stomach wasn't thrilled with me (when did morning-after stop being focused in the head and start being focused in the stomach?) I was feeling pretty good. Although that is probably also because of the triple latte and incredible 20 minute massage I got in the Denver airport between flights. The massage therapist, a calming and very strong middle-aged man, did things I've never had a masseuse do, moving my shoulder blades into strange positions with alarming force, and releasing my tight shoulders by having me press hard against his arm with my head. It was very weird. But very, very effective. And there was a funny moment where he was rubbing one of the oldest trigger points on my back (it's been there since high school) and quietly said, "Hmm. That's been there for a long time." -- and my first thought was, "Damn, is everyone in Colorado an amateur psychic?" (If you don't get why that's funny, you've never heard me talk about my aunt and her subculture of choice.) Of course he knew that based simply on the feel of the trigger and the amount of resistance it put up, and I was pleased that he was that in-tune. Being fluent in the language of service industry gratitude, I left him something like a 40% tip. I will be back.
It was thrilling to see Liz again, and we gabbed excitedly for about 2 hours before we packed up, loaded the car, got coffee, and headed west. It was maybe 7pm when we launched on our 12 hour drive to Calgary, straight through the Rockies, and I managed to get ever so slightly misty when I realized that for the first time in my life, I wasn't going to get to see fireworks on July 4th. I sang the National Anthem to myself quietly in the car, and was all the more proud of my nationality because I wasn't home. It was possibly the most patriotic I've ever felt, on the road in western Canada with an Irishwoman, heading to the biggest rodeo in the world, with my heart solidly in Philly watching the sky light up.
Eventually, I dozed off while Liz forged ahead. When I woke up, the false dawn was pushing through breaks in the clouds just enough to start illuminating the mountains around us. And boy. What a way to wake up.
Mostly.
Which is to say, last Thursday night was a fairly amazing party (photos from echofoxtrot). The crew at IndyHall, a Philly coworking group founded by a couple troublemakers I've been hanging out with a lot recently, hosted a launch party at National Mechanics, in honor of iSepta and RipIt, both of which came out of collaborations at IndyHall. Alex publicized sponsorship opportunities for the event, and oh did he get them. With almost half of the money coming from Uwishunu.com, Umlatte, and Weblinc, and the other half coming from individual fans, the IndyHall team packed National Mechanics and funded an open bar and appetizers for something like 5 hours. The crowd revolved around the blogging/techy/entrepreneurial community in Philly, and if I were to list the people I met and hung out with through the night, every one of their names would be a link. Some of them would have more than three domains to link to. It's a little ridiculous, but the more I hang out with these guys, the more I get used to it. And the more of these folks I meet, the more I hear "hey Sarah" when walking through crowds at National, and that is an enormously strange feeling. But I very much enjoyed every conversation I had, and left tired and satisfied around midnight, decidedly unsober. But far less unsober than in that epic instance. Which was definitely a good thing.
As a result, I caught my 8am flight to Vancouver without having to rush, and though my stomach wasn't thrilled with me (when did morning-after stop being focused in the head and start being focused in the stomach?) I was feeling pretty good. Although that is probably also because of the triple latte and incredible 20 minute massage I got in the Denver airport between flights. The massage therapist, a calming and very strong middle-aged man, did things I've never had a masseuse do, moving my shoulder blades into strange positions with alarming force, and releasing my tight shoulders by having me press hard against his arm with my head. It was very weird. But very, very effective. And there was a funny moment where he was rubbing one of the oldest trigger points on my back (it's been there since high school) and quietly said, "Hmm. That's been there for a long time." -- and my first thought was, "Damn, is everyone in Colorado an amateur psychic?" (If you don't get why that's funny, you've never heard me talk about my aunt and her subculture of choice.) Of course he knew that based simply on the feel of the trigger and the amount of resistance it put up, and I was pleased that he was that in-tune. Being fluent in the language of service industry gratitude, I left him something like a 40% tip. I will be back.
It was thrilling to see Liz again, and we gabbed excitedly for about 2 hours before we packed up, loaded the car, got coffee, and headed west. It was maybe 7pm when we launched on our 12 hour drive to Calgary, straight through the Rockies, and I managed to get ever so slightly misty when I realized that for the first time in my life, I wasn't going to get to see fireworks on July 4th. I sang the National Anthem to myself quietly in the car, and was all the more proud of my nationality because I wasn't home. It was possibly the most patriotic I've ever felt, on the road in western Canada with an Irishwoman, heading to the biggest rodeo in the world, with my heart solidly in Philly watching the sky light up.
Eventually, I dozed off while Liz forged ahead. When I woke up, the false dawn was pushing through breaks in the clouds just enough to start illuminating the mountains around us. And boy. What a way to wake up.
