Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Except Not Trains.
I bought my plane tickets for the muskratjamboree! shoemaster was there through the whole process, so she can attest as to what a frustrating experience it was. I bought from Air Canada and to fly out of Hamilton I have to go to Montreal first, and then down to Boston. WHY? If I hopped on a GO bus and went to Toronto I could fly direct to Beantown for the same price, but then I'd have to pay extra for the bus and transportation to Pearson International Airport. So I'm going to both Montreal AND Boston! Yay?
I'll leave Hamilton at 7am on Thursday, fly to Montreal, get my connecting flight, and land at Logan International at around 10:45am. Which means I can participate in all the fun Thursday afternoon pre-reg stuff. Hooray! And I'm not leaving until Sunday evening, which gives me time for either a) sightseeing or b) hanging out with the remaining fangirls at MJ. I'll be home by around 10pm Sunday, and all around it'll be a good trip, I think. I'm still weirded-out because I've never flown south, only to and from BC and Alberta. It's odd to contemplate a plane trip that lasts less than an hour or an hour and a half.
And speaking of transportation, between my three jobs I've been taking the bus a lot. I've discovered a lot of great CBC podcasts (Definitely Not the Opera, Words at Large, Outfront) but there's still a lot of downtime spent waiting for the bus, riding the bus, and cursing the bus. But I do have an odd little story to share.
It's been very cold here the past few weeks, as it has been everywhere. And on Thursdays I have to catch the very last bus from where I work at the community rec centre to my transfer point on Main Street. So it's cold, and dark, and very, very late. I arrived at the oddly-lit bus shelter and there are already two people standing inside wearing gigantic Inuit Parkas. Which no one ever wore back home in northern BC but seem fairly popular here in Southern Ontario. Who knew?
Anyway, these two people had the hoods on the parkas drawn close about their faces, obscuring themselves entirely by the fur trim and length of the hood. They were standing almost nose-to-nose, and the man was reading to the woman. It made for a very odd scene: the cold and dark and these two people standing so close together, faces unseen, reading from what I think was a very poorly-written fantasy romance. And they didn't seem bothered by the presence of others, even though the shelter was by this time very crowded and the guy had to keep raising his voice to speak over these two teenager girls near the door. This city seems very strange to me sometimes.
Well, I should go and scrub out the bathroom and do grocery shopping and vacuum and a bunch of other housefrau-stuff. Where are the robot housekeepers? The Jetsons lied to us, f-list. They lied.
I'll leave Hamilton at 7am on Thursday, fly to Montreal, get my connecting flight, and land at Logan International at around 10:45am. Which means I can participate in all the fun Thursday afternoon pre-reg stuff. Hooray! And I'm not leaving until Sunday evening, which gives me time for either a) sightseeing or b) hanging out with the remaining fangirls at MJ. I'll be home by around 10pm Sunday, and all around it'll be a good trip, I think. I'm still weirded-out because I've never flown south, only to and from BC and Alberta. It's odd to contemplate a plane trip that lasts less than an hour or an hour and a half.
And speaking of transportation, between my three jobs I've been taking the bus a lot. I've discovered a lot of great CBC podcasts (Definitely Not the Opera, Words at Large, Outfront) but there's still a lot of downtime spent waiting for the bus, riding the bus, and cursing the bus. But I do have an odd little story to share.
It's been very cold here the past few weeks, as it has been everywhere. And on Thursdays I have to catch the very last bus from where I work at the community rec centre to my transfer point on Main Street. So it's cold, and dark, and very, very late. I arrived at the oddly-lit bus shelter and there are already two people standing inside wearing gigantic Inuit Parkas. Which no one ever wore back home in northern BC but seem fairly popular here in Southern Ontario. Who knew?
Anyway, these two people had the hoods on the parkas drawn close about their faces, obscuring themselves entirely by the fur trim and length of the hood. They were standing almost nose-to-nose, and the man was reading to the woman. It made for a very odd scene: the cold and dark and these two people standing so close together, faces unseen, reading from what I think was a very poorly-written fantasy romance. And they didn't seem bothered by the presence of others, even though the shelter was by this time very crowded and the guy had to keep raising his voice to speak over these two teenager girls near the door. This city seems very strange to me sometimes.
Well, I should go and scrub out the bathroom and do grocery shopping and vacuum and a bunch of other housefrau-stuff. Where are the robot housekeepers? The Jetsons lied to us, f-list. They lied.