In flight accidents

British Airways. One of the most perfect airlines of all time. Good meals delivered in a timely fashion, individual movie screens on the seat in front of you, and they practically beg you to take their free wine.

The only problem? British Airways picks your seat for you upon check-in.

This is how I ended up in a window seat on the eight hour flight home from London tonight. For a normal person, a window seat isn't bad. A window seat can be a bit of a treat. For me, with my infinitesimally small bladder, a window seat is like a cruel joke. And it can be no better for the poor aisle-seater that has to keep hopping up and down for me.

I tried to change my seat online. I tried to change it via phone. I tried to change it in the airport-- twice. No dice.

So I took my window seat and hoped for the best. The girl next to me was quiet in a creepy sort of way, and reading a tiny paperback with titles in a language I couldn't recognize (but text in English). She got up to use the restroom after the first meal, and I darted up after, sprinted to the other bathroom and managed to make it back to my seat before she returned. Score. One uncomfortable scoot-by avoided.

She returned fifteen minutes later, covered in vomit stains. Then she proceeded to pass out, at which point I remembered the blue pills she'd taken with the meal.

So I watched Slumdog Millionaire and squirmed and tried not to think of the glass of wine, diet coke, and glass of orange juice I'd consumed (I get very dehydrated on planes...I have to drink the offered beverages. Plus I am coming down with a cold). Slumdog ended. I could hold it no longer. I gently tapped her shoulder and said a soft "Excuse me."

Nothing. Not a flinch. Not even a change in breathing pattern.

I tried again. Nope. I only got a response five minutes later when I worked up the never to violently shake her shoulder. She stumbled out of the seat groggily and I made it there and back and had to wake her up again to get back in (it was the middle of the afternoon also. Not many people were asleep).

I came back, watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (more boring than curious, I found) and every once in awhile checked my companion to make sure she was still breathing. After the longest movie EVER, I had to wake her again for another bathroom break. She then passed out for the remainder of the flight.

I had a fantastic time in England. I have probably forgotten one eighth of it already. Years in the future, I will probably forget the gardens at Blenheim Palace or my family's tea party at Fordham and Mason or middle sister and I convincing the youngest sister that Winston Churchill was a minor member of parliament and a famous songwriter (he wrote "Fly Me to the Moon," most famously covered by Frank Sinatra). I will probably always remember that I sat next to a girl who vomitted all over herself and couldn't get up to use the bathroom.

It's sad, sometimes, the way the human mind works.

Argentina, Volume I

Hola from Argentina!

I travelled almost 22 hours to get here, and the first thing I did upon arriving was fall down a flight of stairs. Am currently developing the largest bruise of my life on my right leg (it pretty much extends from my foot to my knee).

That aside, things in Argentina are so far so good. Today I am going out to see the sites: the market and, I believe, the Casa Rosada. Last night I did a bit of shopping, because I needed a winter coat. Then we had a very late dinner consisting mainly of Argentinian MEAT and went to a party in a language school that I think was an old mansion or something.

The friend I am visiting here speaks fluent Spanish and all her friends-- expats and Argentians alike-- speak fluently as well. This means I stand in the corner nodding and smiling a lot, catching words like "yes" and "cold." I can be lazy because I have a translator with me; I don't actually need to learn any more of the language than I already know. Still, I'm hoping to pick up a bit.

This is the first time I've ever travelled without an itinerary in a foreign country and-- one college-sponsored trip to England aside-- the first time I've ever travelled with people my own age. I'm enjoying it immensely, but the priorities and lifestyle are entirely different.

Anyway, that's it for now. I'm sure I'll update later. Ciao.

Something very cool...

My name now appears on the community college's website next to the courses I will be teaching in the fall. It's all official and on the interweb.

In other news...leaving for Argentina tonight!

Through the Wind and the Sand

Blogging to you from a rainy morning in the Outer Banks...but it looks like the sun is about to come out, so I don't think this post will be too long.

I only have a couple more days at the beach and then I'm back into the rat race of sitting at a desk, pretending to work for my father. It looks like I'll be at the family company slightly longer than anticipated (when doesn't this happen to me?), as I'll be staying on for health insurance purposes while I (drum roll please)...

Work my new job as an Adjunct Professor of English at a local community college! (and the crowd goes wild- go ahead) Everything is official now, I only have to go in next week and fill out the paperwork. I have my textbooks and a sample syllabus to reference as I create my own. I'll be teaching two sections of English Comp for very little money...but it's getting my foot in the door, and it will let me see if this is something I actually want to do with my life.

In other news, I haven't had a single drop of caffeinated beverage since I've been at the beach. I figure lazy days when very little is required for me is the perfect time to attempt to go cold turkey. And since I never actually have to be awake, I've been experiencing very few symptoms of withdraw. The ultimate goal is to get to a place where I'll drink caffeine under certain circumstances of extreme exhaustion, but I won't need it to start my day.

And now I'm going to go lotion up for another day of unnecessary baking on the beach. There's a hurricane (Bertha) heading for Bermuda, so the waves will probably be pretty decent.

Hello from the Nile!

That's right, kids, I am blogging to you live from an internet cafe in Luxor, our first stop on our Nile cruise. Thus far, we have visited Cairo, where we saw the pyramids and the Sphinx (plus, I rode a CAMEL, who, in all honesty, did not seem to like me much) and Alexandria, a beautiful seaside town with the world's most fantastic library (seriously, google their site or something- it is AWESOME).

After this, we are going to a coffee shop- pretty much the Egyptian equivalent of a bar- to smoke the shisha pipe and drink Turkish coffee. I will actually probably have kakarde (I might be slightly off on the spelling of this, as I always forget), aka hibiscus tea, which is so delicious.

The people in my tour group are a lot of fun. I have, thus far, found the Egyptians very friendly, if slightly pushy. Tourism is such a huge business here, and people always want your business. But they are also very generous and excited to meet you. So many people here know English that I have had few opportunities to use my little bit of arabic (arabi schwaye), and we are very sheltered from non-tourist culture.

It is time to go chill with the "hubble bubble" now. Maybe I will get a chance to update more later...enschallah (also not the correct spelling at all, but it means "god willing" and Egyptians say it all the time!). Masalema.

Masalema, Kids!

This evening, at approximately 6:30, our AirEgypt flight takes off for- where else?- Egypt. I'll be chillin' with the family, the dead pharaohs, and the Nile until June 28th. While I will try to update with various adventures, I can't promise anything.

A Couple Weeks Later Update

Would you believe that I finished my thesis and, for awhile, gave up writing altogether?

I gave up reading pretty much anything that required a high school education, stopped all novelistic pursuits, and avoided my computer like the plague.

But, some time has passed, my brain is a little less fried, and so I'm back.

What have you missed?

Well, I'm planning my summer trips to Egypt and Argentina (I like vowels this summer). Egypt is considerably more of a hassle, requiring shots, "Mummy Tummy" medication, and some serious wardrobe adjustments. I never realized how slutty my clothes are until I started planning for this trip. Argentina's only issues, during this strategic planning stage, is that I have to fly to Toronto to get there and it will be winter when I arrive.

Also, my future right now is extremely uncertain, as it appears that no one wants to hire me as a teacher. Isn't this what I moved back to Maryland for in the first place? Oops. Also, the incredible backlash that accompanies undergrad graduation has hit again, but this time my degree is higher and my faith in the world is lower. Once again, I just want to shake people down, screaming, "Hello?!? I am super smart! Hire me already!!!"

But it's summer. Glorious, glorious summer. And I am newly graduate. Which means I deserve a little playtime.

Adventure on the High Seas

I am sitting at a desk overlooking the Mediterranean Sea through my balcony doors. Another ship is just a little white spot in the distance and besides that, it's all blue.

I am so happy to be on this boat.

My vacation with the sister in Spain was great...but it wasn't in any way a vacation. It was a trip and I was (except for one less than memorable incident) the tour guide, chaperone and camp counselor all in one. Here, I have a ship to glide me from port to port. There are no more maps and rushing to make flights and finding other travellers to share taxis with. Much nicer.

Anyway, tonight is the formal captain's gala and I must dress for dinner (v. Titanic). Later.

Another one from Madrid...

Today we visited the Prado Museum and the Palacio Real. There was shopping, as well, but no buying. Lunch in the Plaza Mayor- my favorite place in Madrid- was less than stellar. Having paella for dinner tonight and then going OUT...last night we were too tired. We are leaving for Sevilla tomorrow and we might not have internet access then. So...Adios, as they say in this country. Peace out.

A Quick Note Before Dinner...

Im in Madrid and I cant quite understand the keyboard. I took a massive amount of public transportation to get here- bus to NYC, metro in NYC, plane, metro in Spain. Having a fabulous time. My co-ed hostel room has only boys and me and my sister. This is not as fabulous. Not bad or anything. Im just saying.

Today was a lot of exploring, some cafe con leche, churches, shopping and sangria. Tonight we are having tapas and hitting up a jazz club...until the jet lag and the very little sleep in the past 48 hours destroys us.

Anyway: yay, Spain. Wish you were here.

Also, I feel uncomfortable attempting to speak the Spanish language. Its like lines in a play that I keep screwing up...

Sunny, Happy Days

A little update before I flee the country...

Wednesday night my boss gave me free tickets (FREE) to the Os game, and I went with two of my girlfriends. Though I had my first dirty martini ever with dinner (at the Camden Club, overlooking the field), I was sober through the entire evening. I very rarely go out with people my own age in the evenings and have all of us remain sober. It was a happy, silly time, the best part being when we sang all the songs we remembered from middle school during the car ride home. It's nice to know we can still go out in the evenings and have sober fun.

Yesterday was the day of the great Yard Fail. Though we dragged many, many belongings out into our yard, we made very little money. I may have sold my parents' house, however. This made us sad.

Today I attended the baby shower of a girl I grew up with, who is only a year older than me. She is big and glowing and (obviously) pregnant. What? Gah. As a party favor/game, we all had ice cubes with plastic babies in them. Whoever's baby was 'born' from the ice first got a prize. It was wonderfully disturbing. Though not as disturbing as the thought of my childhood friend being a mother.

It's not that I don't think she'll make a good mother. I do. It's just...we're so young still. Too young.

Tomorrow morning, at 10:30 AM, I get on a bus for NYC. Then I take a subway to JFK. This is how the poor travel. By noon on Tuesday, I should be in Madrid.

I'm doing a little happy dance of excitement right now.

Take a holiday in Spain...

A girl needs to see a bit of the world to understand herself.

And on Monday, I'm flying to Madrid. Cities for the grand tour include: Madrid, Seville, Barcelona, Messina, Naples, Rome, Florence, and Nice.

The scariest part of the trip? It's not staying in hostels for the first time or the tiny, city-jumping flights. It's not my complete ineptitude with the language or the fear that my credit cards won't work. It's not the fear of getting drunk and falling off a balcony.

It's my little sister.

Or, my not so little sister, I guess. She's eighteen and though we're meeting up with our parents eventually, we'll be on our own for almost six days. Do you know how much trouble an eighteen year old abroad can get into in six days?

I don't either. Yet.

My sister and I have, for a long time now, been friends as well as sisters. We enjoy each other's company immensely. We do not, however, party together. We do not drink together. We do not carouse.

I have trouble getting my mind around the fact that she is about to enter college...and probably do all I did (and more) in college. And I don't understand why I feel the need to protect her and shelter her from things that I very much enjoyed (and still do): namely, drink and men. Hombres y...sangria y vino.

And you can't keep someone safe from things they don't want to be kept safe from...especially if, when used responsibly, these things are not even dangerous to begin with.

Ah de mio.

Let's Go! find a nice place to sleep...

I've been researching my family's upcoming trip to Spain and the Western Mediterranean in 'Let's Go! Spain and Portugal 2006'. I've been a fan of the 'Let's Go!' series of travel books, ever since I went on a road trip with my college friends through the Great American West. It gave us advance warning on the Mormons (though did not speak of their killer mosquitos), told us what a fabulous cocktail party story the four corners makes, and pointed us towards the Red Iguana, best Mexican food in Salt Lake. 'Let's Go!' is informative and funny, plus I used it when I went to Italy, and I find it the easiest guidebook to navigate through.

Anyway, towards the back of the Spain and Portugal book, some helpful phrases are offered. In the section on accomodations, it lists things like: "Do you have any singles?" and "I need another key."

At the end of the section, it says:

"There are cockroaches in my room."
Hay cucarachas en mi habitacion.
"They are biting me."
Me estan mordiendo.

Yup, Let's Go! prepares you for all situations.

Remember the what?

I first fell in love with the musical Les Miserables when I was in fifth grade. My aunt would play her tape in the car while we were driving to play practice (she was the director, I had the role of Helena...and I hated all the kids who told me I only got a good role because my aunt was the director. I can act, okay?) and tell me everything she could remember about the musical.

Soon after, I tackled the 1,463 page book. I don't remember exactly when, but I remember that people were impressed.

I found the entire thing wonderfully romantic: Eponine's unrequited love leading to her death, Marius and Cosette in love at first sight, the life and death of little Gavroche, being imprisoned for stealing a loaf of bread, and all those students dying at the barricades during the Student Uprisings of 1832. Everyone was poor and suffering in garrets. Sigh.

I was a little too young to have all the points really hit home.

For instance, I loved the final scene with Grantaire and Enjorlas at the barricade. Grantaire finally redeems himself for his horrible drunkeness and asks Enjorlas if he can be executed beside him.

"Turning to Enjorlas gently, [Grantaire] said to him, 'Will you permit it?'
Enjorlas shook his hand with a smile.
The smile was not finished before the report was heard.
Enjorlas, pierced by eight bullets, remained backed up against the wall as if the bullets had nailed him there. Except that his head was tilted.
Grantaire, struck down, collapsed at his feet."

That's page 1252 in the Signet Classic edition for those of you reading along at home.

All of those handsome (so I imagined) young students willing to lay down their lives on the barricades! Willing to die for their beliefs! Sigh and double sigh.

And then I got older and realized Hugo's point: but they didn't accomplish anything.

They were faced with insurmountable odds. They knew they were going to be killed. And they said, "Woohoo! Let's stay here and die!" (except in a much more eloquent and romantic fashion).

Yesterday morning I found myself at the scene of a similar occurrence that happend only four years later in Texas. It was the 170th anniversary of the fall of the Alamo.

The stories are very similar: the wait for volunteers who never come, the decision to die to send a message, the slaughter of every man who fought.

And I was walking around the beautiful gardens of the Alamo and thinking, "How utterly stupid. How stupid to just die for what you believe in."

I can understand impetuous sacrifice that has immediate consequence. Leaping in front of an oncoming bullet, for instance (though wouldn't it be smarter to dive and roll, taking the person down with you?). Undergoing a dangerous operation so a loved one can live. Understandable.

But thinking to yourself (in romantic and eloquent language), "Hey. A bigger stronger army is on it's way to kill us all. There is no doubt they will succeed. Let's stay and die." Where does that line of thinking come from? And where does it get you?

Well, dead.

RUNAWAY!

I intended to write this blog merely to ridicule the Alamo and ridicule the Texans who are so in love with it. But here's the thing: I still find the whole idea STUPID as anything. It would be much better to stay alive and fight then die en masse as a symbol of resistance. But reading over Les Miserables to find that quote, I realized: I still find the whole idea wonderfully romantic.

What's wrong with me?

When it gets dark, it looks like anywhere else...

Tomorrow morning, I will be leaving cold, rainy Maryland around 8:30 AM to hang out in warm, sunny San Antonio, Texas for almost four days.

The highs will be: 78, 81, 80, and a glorious 83.

I keep getting extremely excited about this. I packed my birkenstocks.

And then I remember: I will be inside a convention center for all of the day light hours.

The life of a bear seller is not as glamorous as it seems. Sure, I jet around the country on the weekends. Sure, I make decent cash. Sure, I sell teddy bears to cheerleaders in garish eye make-up.

But I don't get to experience the different places I travel to. When we land tomorrow, we are going straight to the Convention Center, where we will stay until nine. The next day is six AM to nine PM...as is the following day.

Sunshine? No, just the artificial lights of the convention center (this one is the Alamodome, which is pretty funny).

Local cuisine? If you call cold convention center french fries cuisine. I do not.

Night life? Well, we'll probably go back to the hotel and collapse in exhaustion. We'll order take out and watch television until we crash. Then we'll get up at five the next morning and do it all again.

I like my job. Don't get me wrong.

I just want a little sunshine, dammit!

It is way too hard to focus on work when you have a big trip to sunny Austin, Texas coming up in a few hours.

Instead, I have been doing some desktop cleaning and cruising old internet sites. Not exactly post worthy. Then I found a blog entry on this site that generally has very funny reviews of romance novels/chick lit. I missed Blog Against Racism Day- I didn't know it existed. So I'm submitting her blog instead.

And, while I'm posting random sites...if you have a sports enthusiast (especially a cheerleader) on your Christmas list, order their present here. Because that's the company paying for my Austin trip.

Ash Girl At Computer

Today I've been thinking about a volcano erupting over my office building- all of this buried in layers and layers of hot ash and perhaps lava. Years later, there would be guided tours and the nice tour guide would point out my body, hunched over the computer for all eternity. "It seems that the inhabitants of this building spent much of their time on these primitive computing devices."

Certainly not what I want to be remembered for.

I'm going running after work today. When did that become and exciting thing? And I'm going to my parents' house for dinner (read: to watch the tape of last night's LOST episode so I can figure out what all the fuss is about) and my Mom says she is making something she has always wanted to make for dinner but my father wouldn't let her.

My mom...not the world's best cook. So this could be exciting or massively sketchy.

Anyway, while searching for the above pic of Mt. Vesuvius, I came up with this picture of the David's ass. Whoever posted it was one of those annoying people who used their cameras in the Academy, even though there were many signs in many languages asking us not to do so. Not as bad as the people who took flash photos of the Sistine Chapel, but still. Respect the art. Respect the rules of the art.

I see you, David. Shakin' that ass...

Shoes and America

These are the new shoes I purchased at Burlington Coat Factory yesterday, for a mere $12.98. Except imagine them in a dark cream or perhaps a light tan. I've worn them to work today to try and break them in before the wedding on Saturday. They will be accompanying me and my MoMo FaLana dress. And perhaps a purse. No man.

This time last year, I was in Italy for the first time. I remember going to Europe pretty well convinced that I was going to tell everyone I was a Canadian. There were plenty of opportunities for political discussion. In Budapest, my Dad and I spent most of our time with college professors- from Hungary and the States- and there was a lot of discussion about the upcoming elections. The war in Iraq was a huge topic. Our first night in Italy, some Italian men at what was to become our favorite Trattoria sent our table some grappa and engaged us in a haltingly translated political discussion. I proudly informed them I was voting for Kerry. They told me they would vote for Bush, because he was better looking.

At least, that's what I think they said. There was a lot of grappa. And some pretty poor translating by our waiter.

Anyway, the point I was moving towards was today I don't think I would ever consider saying I was Canadian. At least not in the relative safety of Europe. As a country, America has botched a lot of things up. We botched up Iraq and we sure as hell have botched up response to Hurricane Katrina. A lot of people hate us, and we hate a lot of people.

But I still have faith in us, as a country. I'm saying this right now, knowing full well that I will rant against the 'moral majority' and the mixture of religion and government we seem to be promoting. I say it knowing that there are decisions the government could make it the near future that would encourage me to move abroad for a few years.

I still believe in America. And, as dopey as it might sound, I love this country. We aren't our president and we aren't our government and we aren't our groups of extremists. We have the potential to learn from our mistakes. We have the freedom to argue about them, too. And though we very often aren't going about it the right way, many of us are trying to make our country and our world better.

I'm not being entirely coherent. And it's certain I'm being naive. But all I'm saying is, I'm not Canadian. I'm American.