Warning: Long Winded Airport Layover Rambles
We were stuck in Dallas for three-plus hours, and I tend to wax philosophic when trapped in close quarters with humans and other scenery.
This trip did not begin at all well, I must admit. I always print out my e-tickets the day before I plan to leave, but when I went into the spare bedroom, I found that the printer had gone to that great ink-jet in the sky without my knowledge (or even a service). "No worries," I told myself, "there's a Kinko's just down from the store, I can stop on my way out to Mom's." (Mom said I could leave my car at their place and they'd give me a ride out to the airport)
So I left work and stopped at Kinko's. Ten minutes later I'm explaining to the assistant that none of the websites are even loading, and I thought they had broadband! He had no idea what was going on, but got on the phone to his help desk. I got in the car and drove down the block to Circuit City. After all, I was going to need a new printer anyway, might as well go ahead and get it, set it up at Mom's, and just print the ticket there. The salesperson sold me the wrong UCB cable, so when I got to Mom's my laptop kept saying "printer? what printer? there's no printer here!"
I phoned the Kinko's in Mom's town. Their geeks thought that the servers were fine, but I asked them to do me a favor and try to sign online. Five minutes of "hold music" and they pick the phone up and go "er ... I guess our servers are down too." Finally we stopped by my mom's roomie's office and used her computer to sign online and print out my tickets.
I'll admit, by that time my bipolar disorder had kicked in and I was having pretty much of a tantrum. I thought about tossing all of the electronic geer off the roof, but reminded myself that all of my slash was stored on that laptop, and talked myself out of it. I thought the airport probably had some sort of system for morons who lose their e-tickets, but honestly, I didn't feel like risking it just in case that system turned out to be maniacal laughter and "sux to be you!"
We had a huge storm in North and South Carolina on Easter (most egg-hunts were cancelled because nobody wanted to have egg-dives). On the drive up to the airport some of the rivers were flooded nearly to the level of the highway. I didn't see any houses underwater, but probably some of the people who insist on building on flood plains beside every natural water system did find out once again why it's called a flood plain.
So I got to the airport OK and caught the first flight out. It was delayed because the plane in front of us hadn't left yet - their scheduled time of departure was noon-ish, and it was after 2pm already. Thirty minutes after we were supposed to leave, we took off.
I kid you not, just as the pilot revved up the engines and the thrust shoved us back into our seats my iPod shuffled onto a new song: Learning to Fly by Tom Petty!!
One of these days, I'm going to take a packet of topographic maps along on my trip. I always wonder what river we're flying over, and which mountains. I love the way river systems look like trees from the air ... or maybe trees look like little river systems, huh? I know we crossed the Mississippi and the Missouri - but I'm never sure which one is which and compared to the rivers in SC, both of them are feckin' huge.
So now I'm stuck in Texas for three hours ... home of the ten-gallon hat, the longhorn, the armadillo, petulant gods, languid angels, and satin valkyries. No, I did not see Liz, Seph, or Noel ... or if I did, they were not together which means I did not recognize them. OK, I think I'd probably recognize Seph even alone, he's distinctive enough. I did see plenty of other scenery however, even if I did not get any big injuny dudes.
I do like people-watching, especially as a writer, especially as a slash writer. I always look for the subtext ... so to speak. So, if any of you were to meet me in an airport, what would you see? Aside from the gender-non-specific bit, that is. Look for the chubby geek sitting somewhere with a journal or laptop, watching. You know I'm short coz all velyr are short. I basically have two modes of travel, too. Either I'm doing Mach 3 with an irritated expression on my face just like all the other businesspeople (which means I'm on a business trip, no?) or I'll be be-bopping along to some music nobody else can hear. I'm really good at weaving around in crowds, though I might trip over my shoestring and bang into a wall - I'm a klutz, but I'm observant and fairly graceful. Once I tripped over a pothole, went into a roll, landed back on my feet, and kept walking - then looked back to find my gf of that time staring at me with her mouth open in shock.
No matter which travel-mode I'm moving in, there's a 90% chance that one hand will hold a latte - the 10% that I do not have coffee, I've either just tossed the empty cup away or I have not yet passed the coffee shack. I have two sets of luggage - the battered brown leather and a set of LL Bean wacky neon/aloha colors. Being bipolar means never having to settle for one mood. If you see a short chubby geek with a latte and you notice their steps match up exactly to "Beautiful Day" by U2, just lean over and ask "seen any good velyr lately?"
Three feckin' hours layover ... and me on my 25th hour without sleep!! I hope I'm awake enough when we land to walk off the plane and actually find my way to the baggage claim. I'd be just as likely to keep walking and end up on the runway.
Three hours plus, because when it finally came time to board, they could not find out flight attendants. Seems the three of them were on another plane somewhere, which had been delayed! The announcer kept thinking he saw them and going "OK, we're going to begin boarding any minute now!" I was sitting next to a nice couple about my age with their adorably geeky eight-year-old grandson (OMGWTFBBQ now I really feel old!!!), and we were "volunteering" passing people to be shanghai'd into being our flight attendants. We decided that fill-in flight attendants wouldn't have to be as polite as the real ones, and could say things like "Shut the feck up and fasten that damn seat belt before I put your tray table where the sun don't shine!" And they'd just throw you a warm can of soda and no little cup of ice and you'd be happy they didn't hit you in the head with the can.
Scenery wise, I like my men the way I like my coffee: creamy brown colour. I also like them hot and sweet, but that's neither here nor there. So I tend to look for velyr (who resemble Asians or Aboriginals) or other ethnic mixes. Of course, British men are quite nice, with their pale skin, dark hair, and beaky noses - I do love big noses!! I really like a man with long hair, but I'm not that picky if the rest of the package is nice. And hands ... I love musicians' hands, with long, strong fingers!! Edge drives me nuts just looking at his hands!
I think I'm more picky about women, but I think that has a lot to do with the American culture - you know, the whole Barbie, Thin-Is-Beautiful, Plastic society we have concocted! I can't stand women with tons of makeup, or plastic surgery, or anorexia. When I look at the female half of the scenery, I look for someone who looks like she knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it. I don't care for those "helpless" women who look for a man (or a butch lesbian at least) to do things for them - women who dither around or get flustered at the slightest thing just turn me off. I like a natural-looking woman who doesn't fuss too much ... hmmm ... seems like I look at men ... like a man looks at things, visually ... and I look at women like a woman looks at things ... emotionally.
*shrugs* You did know I was a gender-non-specific-cyber-being already.
I also like people who aren't freaked out by the aging process. Grey (or balding) hair and wrinkles can be a huge turn-on if the person under them is confident! I actually think salt-and-pepper hair is more interesting than one colour. And a weathered face has so much more character than a smooth one!
Anyway, I managed to get to ABQ - turned out I sat right behind the cute kid and his grandparents, so we had fun. I slept part of the trip, which meant I was awake enough to stagger to the baggage claim and meet B. I'm staying in his kid's room (the mother has custody in case I have not mentioned that fact before) and when we arrived, B goes "Oh, let me just change the Pokemon sheets and put on the Harry Potter ones!" He knows me so well!
It's now the next morning, and I'm sitting in his condo looking out at rainclouds over Albuquerque. The Sandia mountains are barely visible underneath the gray, and you can't really tell where the mountain stops and the clouds begin. B. has to work today and Wed, but he's trying to get Thurs and Fri off so we can take his son and go somewhere fun.
So my cellphone rings at 5:30am ... and it's J, back at my house. He can only find one cat, and he's been calling the other one and rattling the food bag and everything you do to try to attract a cat. He's afraid she might have gotten out, or be lying in a corner of the closet dead or something. I tell him, "calm down, walk over to the ottoman and pick it up" ... and he goes "NINJA!!" I named her Ninja because she isn't one, and her favorite thing to do is get underneath the ottoman and do a convincing imitation of a meatloaf. She won't move unless you shove her out from under the thing, and she was afraid J was going to toss her out the door into the rain. Then I tell J that ABQ is two time zones back from EST, and he goes "OMG!!!! And you didn't get any sleep yesterday either!!" I'm evil that way, I like making people feel guilty ... but just for a moment, and then I told him I'd actually gotten eight hours since I had gone to bed as soon as I got to B's.
We're going to celebrate B's birthday along with his son's on Wed, so I'll be walking to Old Towne sometime today to look for presents - wasn't about to lug extra weight along on the plane. I also need to go find some groceries, as B has whole milk which gives my ex-gallbladder fits. Plus I need something to drink besides water, and he's a health nut so he doesn't keep sodas or Powerdade! *sigh*
The clouds are beginning to clear off. I love the view from B's living room! You can see the half of ABQ, the airport, and the Sandias - he's on the 9th floor. His bf lives just downstairs, and he came up this am on his way to work to say good morning, give me a hug, and drop off b'day presents for B and son. He's a good guy, but a little hard on himself and melodramatic sometimes ... er ... that would be the "aging queen syndrome" wouldn't it? I like him, he's got a good sense of humor and he's smart, plus he's cute and cuddly (but don't tell him I said so coz he'd get a big head and all). He's not nearly as melodramatic as another friend I have in Charleston who can't get through a day without creating some crisis to have a hissy fit over.
*yawns, stretches*
I think I'm going downstairs and walk to the market, maybe find some lunch.
This trip did not begin at all well, I must admit. I always print out my e-tickets the day before I plan to leave, but when I went into the spare bedroom, I found that the printer had gone to that great ink-jet in the sky without my knowledge (or even a service). "No worries," I told myself, "there's a Kinko's just down from the store, I can stop on my way out to Mom's." (Mom said I could leave my car at their place and they'd give me a ride out to the airport)
So I left work and stopped at Kinko's. Ten minutes later I'm explaining to the assistant that none of the websites are even loading, and I thought they had broadband! He had no idea what was going on, but got on the phone to his help desk. I got in the car and drove down the block to Circuit City. After all, I was going to need a new printer anyway, might as well go ahead and get it, set it up at Mom's, and just print the ticket there. The salesperson sold me the wrong UCB cable, so when I got to Mom's my laptop kept saying "printer? what printer? there's no printer here!"
I phoned the Kinko's in Mom's town. Their geeks thought that the servers were fine, but I asked them to do me a favor and try to sign online. Five minutes of "hold music" and they pick the phone up and go "er ... I guess our servers are down too." Finally we stopped by my mom's roomie's office and used her computer to sign online and print out my tickets.
I'll admit, by that time my bipolar disorder had kicked in and I was having pretty much of a tantrum. I thought about tossing all of the electronic geer off the roof, but reminded myself that all of my slash was stored on that laptop, and talked myself out of it. I thought the airport probably had some sort of system for morons who lose their e-tickets, but honestly, I didn't feel like risking it just in case that system turned out to be maniacal laughter and "sux to be you!"
We had a huge storm in North and South Carolina on Easter (most egg-hunts were cancelled because nobody wanted to have egg-dives). On the drive up to the airport some of the rivers were flooded nearly to the level of the highway. I didn't see any houses underwater, but probably some of the people who insist on building on flood plains beside every natural water system did find out once again why it's called a flood plain.
So I got to the airport OK and caught the first flight out. It was delayed because the plane in front of us hadn't left yet - their scheduled time of departure was noon-ish, and it was after 2pm already. Thirty minutes after we were supposed to leave, we took off.
I kid you not, just as the pilot revved up the engines and the thrust shoved us back into our seats my iPod shuffled onto a new song: Learning to Fly by Tom Petty!!
One of these days, I'm going to take a packet of topographic maps along on my trip. I always wonder what river we're flying over, and which mountains. I love the way river systems look like trees from the air ... or maybe trees look like little river systems, huh? I know we crossed the Mississippi and the Missouri - but I'm never sure which one is which and compared to the rivers in SC, both of them are feckin' huge.
So now I'm stuck in Texas for three hours ... home of the ten-gallon hat, the longhorn, the armadillo, petulant gods, languid angels, and satin valkyries. No, I did not see Liz, Seph, or Noel ... or if I did, they were not together which means I did not recognize them. OK, I think I'd probably recognize Seph even alone, he's distinctive enough. I did see plenty of other scenery however, even if I did not get any big injuny dudes.
I do like people-watching, especially as a writer, especially as a slash writer. I always look for the subtext ... so to speak. So, if any of you were to meet me in an airport, what would you see? Aside from the gender-non-specific bit, that is. Look for the chubby geek sitting somewhere with a journal or laptop, watching. You know I'm short coz all velyr are short. I basically have two modes of travel, too. Either I'm doing Mach 3 with an irritated expression on my face just like all the other businesspeople (which means I'm on a business trip, no?) or I'll be be-bopping along to some music nobody else can hear. I'm really good at weaving around in crowds, though I might trip over my shoestring and bang into a wall - I'm a klutz, but I'm observant and fairly graceful. Once I tripped over a pothole, went into a roll, landed back on my feet, and kept walking - then looked back to find my gf of that time staring at me with her mouth open in shock.
No matter which travel-mode I'm moving in, there's a 90% chance that one hand will hold a latte - the 10% that I do not have coffee, I've either just tossed the empty cup away or I have not yet passed the coffee shack. I have two sets of luggage - the battered brown leather and a set of LL Bean wacky neon/aloha colors. Being bipolar means never having to settle for one mood. If you see a short chubby geek with a latte and you notice their steps match up exactly to "Beautiful Day" by U2, just lean over and ask "seen any good velyr lately?"
Three feckin' hours layover ... and me on my 25th hour without sleep!! I hope I'm awake enough when we land to walk off the plane and actually find my way to the baggage claim. I'd be just as likely to keep walking and end up on the runway.
Three hours plus, because when it finally came time to board, they could not find out flight attendants. Seems the three of them were on another plane somewhere, which had been delayed! The announcer kept thinking he saw them and going "OK, we're going to begin boarding any minute now!" I was sitting next to a nice couple about my age with their adorably geeky eight-year-old grandson (OMGWTFBBQ now I really feel old!!!), and we were "volunteering" passing people to be shanghai'd into being our flight attendants. We decided that fill-in flight attendants wouldn't have to be as polite as the real ones, and could say things like "Shut the feck up and fasten that damn seat belt before I put your tray table where the sun don't shine!" And they'd just throw you a warm can of soda and no little cup of ice and you'd be happy they didn't hit you in the head with the can.
Scenery wise, I like my men the way I like my coffee: creamy brown colour. I also like them hot and sweet, but that's neither here nor there. So I tend to look for velyr (who resemble Asians or Aboriginals) or other ethnic mixes. Of course, British men are quite nice, with their pale skin, dark hair, and beaky noses - I do love big noses!! I really like a man with long hair, but I'm not that picky if the rest of the package is nice. And hands ... I love musicians' hands, with long, strong fingers!! Edge drives me nuts just looking at his hands!
I think I'm more picky about women, but I think that has a lot to do with the American culture - you know, the whole Barbie, Thin-Is-Beautiful, Plastic society we have concocted! I can't stand women with tons of makeup, or plastic surgery, or anorexia. When I look at the female half of the scenery, I look for someone who looks like she knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it. I don't care for those "helpless" women who look for a man (or a butch lesbian at least) to do things for them - women who dither around or get flustered at the slightest thing just turn me off. I like a natural-looking woman who doesn't fuss too much ... hmmm ... seems like I look at men ... like a man looks at things, visually ... and I look at women like a woman looks at things ... emotionally.
*shrugs* You did know I was a gender-non-specific-cyber-being already.
I also like people who aren't freaked out by the aging process. Grey (or balding) hair and wrinkles can be a huge turn-on if the person under them is confident! I actually think salt-and-pepper hair is more interesting than one colour. And a weathered face has so much more character than a smooth one!
Anyway, I managed to get to ABQ - turned out I sat right behind the cute kid and his grandparents, so we had fun. I slept part of the trip, which meant I was awake enough to stagger to the baggage claim and meet B. I'm staying in his kid's room (the mother has custody in case I have not mentioned that fact before) and when we arrived, B goes "Oh, let me just change the Pokemon sheets and put on the Harry Potter ones!" He knows me so well!
It's now the next morning, and I'm sitting in his condo looking out at rainclouds over Albuquerque. The Sandia mountains are barely visible underneath the gray, and you can't really tell where the mountain stops and the clouds begin. B. has to work today and Wed, but he's trying to get Thurs and Fri off so we can take his son and go somewhere fun.
So my cellphone rings at 5:30am ... and it's J, back at my house. He can only find one cat, and he's been calling the other one and rattling the food bag and everything you do to try to attract a cat. He's afraid she might have gotten out, or be lying in a corner of the closet dead or something. I tell him, "calm down, walk over to the ottoman and pick it up" ... and he goes "NINJA!!" I named her Ninja because she isn't one, and her favorite thing to do is get underneath the ottoman and do a convincing imitation of a meatloaf. She won't move unless you shove her out from under the thing, and she was afraid J was going to toss her out the door into the rain. Then I tell J that ABQ is two time zones back from EST, and he goes "OMG!!!! And you didn't get any sleep yesterday either!!" I'm evil that way, I like making people feel guilty ... but just for a moment, and then I told him I'd actually gotten eight hours since I had gone to bed as soon as I got to B's.
We're going to celebrate B's birthday along with his son's on Wed, so I'll be walking to Old Towne sometime today to look for presents - wasn't about to lug extra weight along on the plane. I also need to go find some groceries, as B has whole milk which gives my ex-gallbladder fits. Plus I need something to drink besides water, and he's a health nut so he doesn't keep sodas or Powerdade! *sigh*
The clouds are beginning to clear off. I love the view from B's living room! You can see the half of ABQ, the airport, and the Sandias - he's on the 9th floor. His bf lives just downstairs, and he came up this am on his way to work to say good morning, give me a hug, and drop off b'day presents for B and son. He's a good guy, but a little hard on himself and melodramatic sometimes ... er ... that would be the "aging queen syndrome" wouldn't it? I like him, he's got a good sense of humor and he's smart, plus he's cute and cuddly (but don't tell him I said so coz he'd get a big head and all). He's not nearly as melodramatic as another friend I have in Charleston who can't get through a day without creating some crisis to have a hissy fit over.
*yawns, stretches*
I think I'm going downstairs and walk to the market, maybe find some lunch.