Caterwauling

I’m fortunate enough to get to do some traveling throughout the year, and now that I live in a “big city,” I realize how small the world has become.

When I stepped on my first airplane 15 years ago (ironically, to come to the same city I’m in), it really was like landing on a different planet. There were so many things to see and do — so many stores and restaurants that just weren’t available to me at home. The travel bug had bitten me.

These days, I’m rolling through stores and thinking, meh, I’ll order it online. Suitcase space is at a premium because, unlike the old days, I’ve got to accommodate a laptop, camera, iPhone, and chargers for each. Hell, electronics get their own suitcase. But that’s the good thing about it — I can find a Disney store at my local mall and online. Sure, perhaps the cutest stuff is in the theme park shops, but if I go home and wish I’d gotten something, I *can* get it.

And when I get hungry, again it’s like “meh.” I try to look for things that I can’t get at home. Not that I go to the Planet Hollywoods and Hard Rock Cafes of the world by choice, but I COULD if I wantetd to. Instead, I chose to eat at Tutto Italia in Epcot’s World Showcase and have the best glass of wine a girl could enjoy there. (Incidentally, everyone in the Italy section of Epcot’s World Market is required to speak with an Italian accent. Even the Asian waiter. Talk about being in character.)

My hotel has a stunning view of Sizzler, Shoney’s, IHOP and Waffle House. Now, most aren’t available to me at home, but I don’t really care about those. I just hope that folks don’t arrive here from Idaho and think *wow* that must be some good Southern eatin’! (I admit I did partake of the Waffle House — I call it the colonic of the South, although that was yesterday and I’m still waitin’.)

I once thought this city was too big, too fast, too unfriendly. Now I’m used to it. Six-lane highways don’t bother me anymore. I’m impatient now, too. I’ve had more than one hotel worker ask me if I’m from New York. (Was it my awesome matching luggage in a color other than black or the fact that I abhor INVISIBLE COMPETENCE?

Y’all might have heard my rent check bouncing in D.C. as I decided to go on an unbudgeted theme park extravaganza. I did Epcot, Universal Studios and Islands of Adventure. I’m not a theme-park girl but hey, it beats working.

What’s also different now is that if I want to do something, I do it. I think I did my last Orlando adventure for about $400 — and that was saving up for several months because I made four bucks an hour. This trip was a total whim and I spent that much on the hotel before I even got here. No doubt I’ve spent that much on cabs and theme park tickets, too.

But the film on France at Epcot made it worth it. (The usher was awesome — in his fake French accent, he wished us “Buenos Noches” as we exited the theater. Hah!)

Last night, dinner was at Universal’s City Walk. And yes, I’m 8 years old and say “Shitty Wok” like they do on “South Park” every time I see a sign for it. Heh. I was between Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville or Bubba Gump’s Shrimp. Co. I opted for Bubba Gump because the drink menu was better, oddly enough.

It’s good to be a grown-up; I mean, I’ll be doing some VERY creative financing to recover from this trip, but at least I can. I figure, I’ve been pretty unhappy for the past five months, and not spending if I didn’t need to. This week? I needed to!

But no good times go unpunished, unfortunately. I managed to twist my ankle somewhere in there too, which is awesome because I have to wear heels for the rest of the trip. ARGH.

My foot is swollen and I had to take off my toe ring (I can’t find where I threw it, either.) I had to break down and buy a pair of Crocs, those ugly motherfuckers, and let me tell you — those are the most comfortable shoes I have ever owned. Of course I paid premium Disney prices for them, but insofar as souvenirs go, getting the feeling back into the bottom of my feet is a win. Unfortunately, that feeling is PAIN, but if I can wait till I get back to D.C. to seek medical attention, I suppose I will live.

I must have walked 40 miles in a brigade of boots, flip-flops, cheap Wal-Mart sneakers and now finally mah Crocs. My grandmother used to insist on buying good shoes, but I became the poor man’s Imelda Marcos and if there were no Payless or DSW, I’d never be able to afford them. But for saying I own about 120 pairs, I cannot name one that makes me look AND feel good. Perhaps Gram was on to something after all — she always said you can always buy new shoes, but you can’t buy new arches. I get it now. After this trip, where I’m ready to cut off my feet at the ankle, her advice finally makes sense.

Anyway, the fun ends first thing tomorrow. I’m doing some laundry now (who the fuck doesn’t put a change machine in the laundry room? I had to cart my gutchies and laptop around the hotel to find someone who could give me five bucks in quarters!) and am hoping for the best for the rest of the week.

But at least I had a couple of days of sun and fun and good food. And I’m not allowed to complain about going back to being overworked, because that’s what’s going to pay for this epic adventure after all.

I was trying to keep track of my day via Twitter, but even when I can call it up (which I can’t right now), it doesn’t look like all of my twits went through.

So, in sum, my day started off with a crack o’ me arrival at the airport to fly to a secured destination. There were lots of children on the flight, which was surprisingly not horrible. I sat with this woman and her 4-year-old daughter, and the wee one looked EXACTLY like Suri Cruise. Now I know how she was conceived — by a very nice couple from Jacksonville, Fla.!

The kid — Megan — was fabulous. She saw my iPhone and, at age 4, said, “Is that an iPhone?” I was in love. That will be my child someday. I wanted to adopt her right then.

We were sitting on the tarmac for a really long time, and I know it was long because I was the last one to board the plane. Damn boarding zones — I was at the ass-end of it. They basically did up to Zone 5 and said, “Anyone else we haven’t acknowledged can get on the plane.” Way to feel special there, eh?

So time goes by and finally the pilot comes on, “Yeah, the engine won’t turn over. We tried tapping it; it’s going to need another attempt at a tap and we’re ready to go.”

Megan’s mommy looked at me and said, “What do you suppose that means?” I said, “Look out the window and you’ll see another plane pulling up to us to provide a jump.”

Anyway, we finally got rolling, and although I admit I’ve got a death wish, I admit I was praying the engine didn’t give out at 34,000 feet — for Megan, if for no other reason. And if my plane isn’t going to land safely, for God’s sake can’t it be AFTER I’ve had my vacation?!?!

My hotel is about as ghetto as it gets, although it is better than the Stratosphere in Vegas by a landslide, but I’m surprised to say the Peppermill in Reno looks like a freaking luxury resort in comparison. It’ll do, though. It was 85 degrees here today, so I wandered the town on foot. (And oh boy do they ache.) I stuck my feet in the outdoor whirlpool for a while around 9 p.m., although that seemed to make things worse.

I picked this effing hotel because it said it offers shuttle service. To clarify, as I learned today, it runs three outbound shuttles in the morning and three inbound ones in the evening. So if you check in at 2 p.m., like I did, you’re SOL.

I had a nice drink while I was out. I wanted to have more but it’s a 2-mile walk between Land o’ Bars and hotel. But it was an outdoor drinking situation with a D.J. who was spinning some good stuff. I mean, she played Bon Jovi, so there was a brief squish factor to mah undergutchies because they were also playing the video with the song. *squee.* I heard Jamie Lynn Sigler’s new song and it was awesome. Must go look that up immediately, if not sooner.

Otherwise, I’ve been inside my head today. The hotel mirrors are very unforgiving and that put me in a funk — especially after I got two warm chocolate-chip cookies at the front desk with my room keys. Mmm. But I’m admittedly hormonal and not at my best today — and I’d spent 3 hours talking to a 4-year-old who’s smarter than i am. Go figure. She even drew me a picture, which I have next to my quasi-functioning laptop.

A couple of friends told me to “get my groove back” while I’m traveling. You know, I think my groove done got up and went. (And these same two friends have always given me similar advice; perhaps I should introduce them.) I’m beginning to think I have no groove left to get back. I’m also beginning to think that, while I never thought of myself as the type of girl men could introduce to their mothers, these days they might as well because she’s probably met worse. I hope, anyway.

It’s 10 p.m. and I’m officially incoherent. Not that anyone could tell the difference, but humor me. Here’s to hoping that, in the land where dreams can come true, maybe one or more of mine will count for something, too. …

It’s been a whirlwind week here on the scenic South Strip of Las Vegas. So much to report, so little inclination to share the comedic wonder that is my life. I have to do some quick work and attempt to sleep before a flight leaving at the crack o’ me, so greetings and salutations and adios and sayonara all at the same time.

Executive Summary:

1. Met a boy.
2. Saw Zumanity.
3. Bought Zumanity panties.
4. Ate lots of five-star cuisine.
5. Put in some significant spa time.
6. Didn’t gamble.
7. But learned how to play craps.
8. Have been snarfed/barfed on a million times and now I’m sick. Yarr.
9. Who the fuck cares about anything else? Didn’t you see in No. 1 that I met a boy??!?!

All right, be good until Hurricane Goddess blows back into town. Kisses!

My next work trip is closing in and, alas, the angels are singing hallelujah because I was just asked to go a day earlier than scheduled. Mostly because Goddess likes the airlines to believe she’s a terrorist because she doesn’t buy her ticket until two days before takeoff.

Alas, as the only soul who hadn’t yet made a reservation, I was the obvious choice to go out and get the party started set up. And thank God — the sooner I can start using the corporate card, the happier I will be. And when I come back? Many hangovers Payday will have occurred. w00t!

I’m just glad because I had wanted so badly to book a few extra days but, alas, I’m not exactly cash-flow-positive. So, hurrah, I get to work remotely, but it’s also time (mostly) to myself before the rest of the team arrives. Am psychotically in love with this job today.

Good thing I didn’t unpack much from my last trip!

Speaking of being a hoe on the go, I’m uploading 90 photos of Lake Tahoe to Flickr as I type this. Check ‘em out!

I love how so many bloggers apologize for being away for a few days, because they are doing such a disservice to all four of their readers. Me? Meh. *waves to the two of you who read this crap regularly*

November is also National Blog Posting Month, which requires daily posting. So here I am, kicking off my month on Nov. 3. Don’t EVER have high expectations of me — I’ll do my best NOT to meet them!

I’ve been catching up on sleep and that’s about it. I set my alarm for work on Thursday morning, let it play for an hour, said fuck it and turned it off. And slept till nearly noon. I’ve never done that before. It was awesome. Am fairly certain it was the highlight of my week. Well, that and the tranny who waited on me when I went out to dinner that day who couldn’t get anything right but had a mad-fierce prance.

I’ve sort of had it with incompetence. I was telling one of my friends about the insufferable ineptitude with which I’ve been dealing this week, and how I just don’t have it in me to fight anymore. And he said it didn’t sound like the Goddess he knew — that I don’t let stupid shit slide, as a general rule. And I felt stupid for not fighting for my due, when he put it that way. But can’t “being too tired to fight right now” serve as a plausible excuse for the time being? I mean, it’s taking everything in me to look at the bright side. I can’t focus one extra iota of attention on anything else. Once I get back my strength, I’ll be fine. I promise.

One thing I do know is that I’m ready for a new car. Going from driving a veritable tank in Reno to my twee wind-up Matchbox wonder has sucked mightily. I liked sitting up high and when I wanted to merge, people let me merge because they certainly wouldn’t have won a fight against my big, bad Pacifica. Now I’ve got to deal with idiot D.C. drivers again who think it’s cute to shine their headlights into my car and tailgate me at 80 mph. (And the sheer irony is that I got a speeding ticket for doing 36 in a 25. Am counting blessings that I wasn’t caught at my “normal” speed!)

Oh, terrific — Maddie just shat on the carpet. Again. Talk about something I don’t miss while I’m traveling. Good news is, as soon as I pay off these expenses, I’ve got another trip waiting for me. …