In-N-Out, or Furthering the Fast Food Agenda

What does one do when a 7pm flight gets delayed even further? Go to the airport at 4pm like normal? No. Not in Phoenix.

In the vein of my Chick-Fil-A epiphany, I made a bee-line straight for In-N-Out burger in Tempe by the ASU campus (thanks to MJC's awesome directions :)). Definitely still just fast food, but the fries alone made it worth it. The freshness was definitely a startling discovery... especially watching someone make fries from POTATOES. Who would have thunk it? Really, it was more fun to be able to say I finally ate at In-N-Out than anything else, but it made me giddy all the same.

Then I was off to Popagano park to wander around. I found out the Botanical Gardens were there, and headed over only to find that they were closed early for a luminaria display tonight... that started at 5:30, exactly when I needed to be dropping off my rental car. I glanced through the gates though, and was sad I had to miss it. The cashier directed me to walk up to Hole in the Wall trail, and so I did. I watched most of the sunset from this glorious rock formation, before heading back to the airport.

It's days like this, when I've ditched my presenter (even if they're a great one) and have some time to myself that make me so happy and remind me why I have this job.

Re-routing and Overloading My Way Through Chicago

Instead of flying on a painfully long flight home on Friday night from Burlington, VT I had planned on an easy direct to Chicago to spend the weekend with Krista and CJ. Oh, if only that had been what had actually happened.

The two days out on the road before this weekend were pretty good. Sadly, I gave up my free day on Veterans Day up to fly trans-con to Manchester, NH. In Manchester, I sat in on a seminar for the first time. I was out with Ken Vieth, who is an amazing artist and art teacher. Unfortunately I was really not feeling creative for whatever reason and what I created that day during the hands on part of the seminar was disappointing. It was a great project though, and I intend to attempt the art on my own time at some point this coming week. We had a great talk on the drive to Burlington, VT as we drove towards a sparklingly beautiful sunset. He was the kind of guy who’s had amazing life experiences that he’s willing to talk about at length, but he also is a question asker and was interested in what stories I had to share as well. I really appreciated talking about my own issues with figuring out what my life’s passions are and what direction to go in after this BER year.

Burlington is on my list of favorite places in the country. I got him to join me out for dinner on Church Street, a fun pedestrian area of town that also has a Ben & Jerry’s store (pumpkin cheesecake ice cream anyone?!) and we wandered a bit just enjoying the college atmosphere and New England architecture. After the seminar the next day, we had a while before our flights so we went down and parked downtown and walked to Lake Champlain, which was staggeringly beautiful with mist and late-afternoon sunlight streaming across it. After one more scoop of Ben & Jerry’s we headed off to the airport, where we were greeted by the most glaringly awful flashing screens I’ve seen in a while.

Turned out, there was the remnants of a hurricane sitting over all of the major east coast hub airports. Ken’s flight to Newark was outright cancelled while my connection flight through Philly was delayed 6 hours. By working my PM magic and working with a brilliant US Airways ticket counter agent (she is getting a commendation letter from me, she was THAT great in the crisis!). Ken and I both flew on a US Air flight to LGA, I got him a car to get to Newark while I changed terminals and got on an American Airlines flight to Chicago, arriving barely half an hour late. Considering the situation was pretty shitty overall, the feeling I got after managing the whole thing seamlessly was amazing. This job has really given me skills that are real world applicable. If anyone wants to know exactly what to say to a ticket counter agent in this kind of situation, call me. :) Also, I was capable of getting my presenter from one airport to another, while getting myself from one terminal of a huge airport to the other terminal, through the correct security line, and still have a front of the plane aisle seat.

When I got on my American flight to ORD, I was pretty excited to actually be making it to my destination, but definitely planning on downing a glass of wine. When my seatmate sat down next to me though, I realized the universe was making it up to me for the previous stress of my day. The cut,e 24 year old NYC equities trader next to me who has family in Seattle was not only fun to talk to, but also all about proving himself to the older, better traveled, attractive female on his right. After he started name dropping celebrities I knew I was about to get my drinks paid for. And that is another thing this job has taught me: let them pay, even if they make fun of you for knitting. That way I get to keep my per-diem for exciting hotel stays in places like Nashville and Miami.

When I arrived in Chicago, Krista and CJ came and picked me up for a chill weekend in Chicago. I’ve already done all of the touristy stuff, so I just wanted to see their new neighborhood and maybe go thrifting. And did we! CJ is the most amazing chef ever... she whipped me up a salad to make up for the fact that I’d barely had time for a luna bar for dinner and then the next morning, after a trip to the most amazing ukrainian deli/grocery store, we had a scramble/fry that was potentially the best thing I’ve had in weeks (excepting my mom’s squash soup... *hint hint*). She also figured out the proper name of the coffee drink I wanted--a coranado or a wet macchiato... damn it I wan to be back in a place that understands “flat white.” Krista took me for a terrifying yet exhilarating scooter ride around the neighborhood and showed me her super-secrect favorite gift shop which was definitely worthy of being favorited.

Then we went to the thrift store. I am not allowed to disclose the actual location of this amazing treasure trove (as if I could find it myself if I tried), but Oh Damn. Thank god I threw a space bag in my suitcase to crunch down some of the amazingness I purchased. I got an extra pair of black flats (Nine West and brand new), a knock-off yet adorable Prada bag (which I call affectionately Frada), tons of sweaters and tops, and an American Apparel skirt, nevermind the already squished contents of my suitcase. We had a blast, and then to top it off, we went to possibly the world’s largest whole foods to grab dinner and to gawk at the rich Lincoln Center folks. People actually get glasses of wine and drink as they shop. How yuppie-fabulous can you get?

Now I am in the Pittiest of Burghs, about to meet an old friend for dinner before starting a week out with one of my favorite presenters from last year. It makes up for the fact that I’m headed to Akron and Detroit this week as well.

You Are My Lucky Star…

My mother constantly says I live under a lucky star, and I have to say I agree. When my cab driver picked me up in Long Island to drive us to LGA airport, I left a solid 2 hours to allow for traffic. We made it the 60 miles in about 65 minutes. Before you think anything, just know that we also left our hotel at 5pm. The driver was in as much shock as I was, probably even more!

Sometimes I am stunned at how lucky I am, but maybe I just recognize it more often. There’s plenty of unlucky things that have happened already: my flight was canceled yesterday, my tortillia soup in San Antonio was disgusting, there have been multiple issues with my faxes for work, my projector bulb died, and let’s face it… I haven’t gotten a presenter who liked to go out of the hotel. But for all those things that are bad (the flight and the bulb being by far the worst), it’s always worked out. I got put on a better flight than I was booked for yesterday. My projector problem was fixed in less than five minutes. And actually, for all the bad food and exhausted presenters, I’ve still gotten out and gone into more cities in the last few weeks than I’ve ever managed before in a similar string of time. I even maximized time in Seattle by running off to Leavenworth with some friends to eat brats and take fall photos.

Rochester was a fun city to be in actually. There was beautiful old architecture and lots of newspaper buildings and statues around town. I wandered during lunch and then picked up a sandwich at a shop on my way back to the hotel. Then today in Ronkonkama (Long Island) I met up with another PM and we found lunch in a little part of town called Sayville, which was adorable looking and had AMAZING pizza. This is the kind of life I lead now. Sometimes I just want to explode with happiness and amazement. This is an almost daily experience. How did I get here again?

I really am a lucky girl. I can hardly believe it sometimes. But the more I believe it the luckier I get. I really think it’s half grace, half attitude—half blessing, half my own openness and efforts—never all my own credit, but partly my fault. Or maybe I just like to think so.

Packing

Part of me agonizes about moving home. It feels like I'm just giving up on being independent. I realize how much money I can save, how much more Zoe snuggles I'll be able to get, and how much commuting I will cut out... but it's so sad to end the Wedgwood Era. Writing the Craigslist add for the apartment made me realize how great this place was, and how much I'm going to miss it and it's "Easy walking distance to grocery store, bank, post office, library, restaurants, and yoga studio!"

BL's decision to leave made everything so much more real. It suddenly didn't make sense to have an apartment empty all but maybe 6-10 nights a month, at even the cheapest rent in town. Plus, who would pick up the mail? Would we turn off the heat only to have to come home to a freezing apartment and inefficiently warm up the apartment for a day? I didn't want to not be KN's roommate, but coming home to a completely empty apartment week after week suddenly seemed hard to fathom.

Moving back in with the Parents is not really ideal in my "growing up" theory, but ideal in practice. The kitchen will be stocked (by me and my parents, I'm not getting nor expecting a free lunch) with things that I can cook--in particular, fresh items (milk, cheese, vegetables) that I could not eat in the day that I would be home for. The laundry machines are in the house, and while I don't expect Mommy to do my laundry, I can throw in a load and leave... coming back a few hours later to change it--something impossible when you're using a shared laundry facility in an apartment complex. I'll be 15 minutes from the airport, and not so far from friends that I won't be able to see them when I come home. Plus, I'll have ideal storage space for my raspberry wine as it rests.

So I've packed up my books and my blue glass into liquor store boxes and have agreed to share a u-haul with BL for the big stuff (Daddy and his SUV just won't tote the full sized bed like the pickup could). So now I just get to wait for a few days before Load #1 heads south. Piece by piece, I'll dismantle the room I've grown to love, and probably have to paint it back to the icky white it started out. I'll move to the room I'd left behind, and probably have to reshuffle quite a bit to make it function like I need it to: As a big welcome home hug.