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Places You Have Come to Fear the Most
I'd like to start out with an apology to anyone I woke up at 3:00 AM on Saturday night in a rare burst of drunk dialitis. I feel safe in issuing this apology here because I wasn't using my cell phone to make the calls, therefore the calls didn't go out to anyone I would normally pick up the phone and call. So it could have been any one of you and if it was? Wow. I'm sorry. And if "Brandon" happens to read this ever - you rock and we're totally hanging out for New Years. So - my trip. I hate flying. I hate hate hate hate flying. I hate the waiting around in the airport, the waiting around on the plane, the waiting around during the layover and the waiting around at the gate. I hate take off and landing and turbulence and air pockets and crazy airplane noises. I hate sitting on the North Carolina runway for 20 minutes because the air space over Atlanta has been shut down but nobody knows why. How terrifying is that news in a post 9/11 world? My mind immediately clicked into survival mode as I began calculating how many more days I'd need off work if I just rented a car and drove home and would the airlines reimburse my money for this ticket? Because it's not my fault that they scared the crap out of me 8 seconds before we were supposed to take off and I had a nervous breakdown. Holy Hell I hate flying. Hate. It. Now that that's out of the way...the rest of the trip was...good. I didn't go to the beer festival (insert your "WHAT?!" here). I know. I know. It was the only reason I went out there last weekend. I paid $200 to fly across the country to attend the damn beer festival. I talked to Miss M. about a month in advance and asked if we should get tickets early. "No. No." She said, "There will be about 11 of us going and nobody wants to put that on their credit card, we'll just buy them at the gate, it'll be okay." Of course it wasn't okay! The beer festival sold out by 2 p.m. on Saturday. It was like someone had pricked my tiny happiness balloon with a pin and it just sort of started wooshing out of me. Approximately 137 phone calls were made, schedules were shuffled, plans were made and then changed and then changed again and 4 hours later it looked as though everything would be okay. We did manage to salvage the evening, we drank ourselves silly on Franklin street (at a bar called "The Library" - how cool is that? I kept cracking up when Miss M would tell people that we spent most of the evening at "The Library" in Chapel Hill since the Beer Festival sold out. It makes us sound super fun.) Irish Car Bombs put in an appearance, as did buttery nipples. Pictures were taken that I don't remember, and at some point I lost the battery for my camera. I have no idea. We all crashed at Miss M's place and the world seemed to do some kind of bizarro flip flop overnight. Sunday didn't carry with it the carefree hedonism of the previous days. I woke up in an empty living room with an empty feeling in my stomach. Everyone left without saying goodbye. The mood didn't lift as the day went on. Conversations were had that left a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach. I let out a sigh of relief when my plane touched down in Minnesota last night because here everything is what it seems. So - needless to say, I left things on a rather strange note. I am happy to be home (that's a bit of an understatement), but I'm happy that I went. I did have fun, even though I didn't necessarily get anything that I wanted. I think I might have learned some stuff though, so I'm going to try to build from there...and I suppose that, in the end, it will be all about the building. Reading: Use Me by Elissa Schappell. I'm not usually a fan of short stories - I prefer the meatiness of a novel, but this is okay so far. I did finally finish Cause Celeb and I did totally love it. It's completely different than the Bridget Jones stuff, but it's a great novel in it's own right. Recently Saw: I was too busy making new best friends on my flights home yesterday to see anything worth mentioning. |
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