The Junk Drawer » Travel

Chicken Disrupts Flights at Kauai Airport

Kathy — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 00:31:46 +0000

Kauai, Hawaii – A distraught chicken was responsible for the delay of two flights out of a Kauai, Hawaii airport today after blocking passengers from boarding their flights until his travel complaints were addressed. One passenger was injured.

Charles “Chuck” Poulet, of Duluth, Minnesota, was scheduled to meet his long-time girlfriend, Marie Fowler, at Hilo International Airport, but his Air Pacific flight was rerouted to Kauai a short time before scheduled landing due to poor weather conditions.

Airport officials attempted to book Poulet on another flight to Hilo the next day, but Poulet insisted the airport get him on an earlier flight so he could meet Fowler on time for a surprise marriage proposal.

Kauai Airport customer service representatives reported there were no flights scheduled that would get Poulet to Hilo any earlier than the following morning.

Poulet said he’d been planning this trip for months, since Fowler gave him an ultimatum. She told me last year “If you’re serious about our relationship, you betta put a ring on it,” Poulet said.

Poulet and Fowler have been long-distance dating for five and a half years.

“I started planning this thing where she and I would meet in Hilo for a trip of a lifetime. Hawaii. The ultimate, right?” Poulet said. “I wanted to make it something special, you know? And now it’s all clucked up.”

In addition to landing at the wrong airport, Poulet complained that he was not given adequate time or assistance to retrieve his carry-on luggage, bags that contained not only his preening equipment, such as specially-designed combs and gel products, but also the carry-on that contains the tiny opal ring that he plans to present to Fowler.

“I have to have that stuff. If I don’t show up with a ring and if my feathers aren’t just so, I can’t face her,” Poulet said. “I’m a mess over this.”

Flight attendants could not be reached for comment. However, airport policy states that all luggage, carry-on and checked, must be unloaded for any re-routed passengers who are booked on later flights.

Poulet reportedly nipped at the heels of nearly all passengers waiting to board their flights to other Hawaiian islands, in protest to what Poulet felt was subpar customer service.

Katherine Johansson, of New York, New York, required first aid for an injury she sustained when Poulet repeatedly pecked at her flip-flopped feet. “The guy’s insane. I mean, everyone suffers some kind of delay at airports. People, chickens. Everyone,” she said. “I’m sympathetic to his situation, but weather’s weather. It happens. But now my feet are bleeding.”

Poulet also allegedly flew around the airport in spurts of 10-12 feet at a time, in an effort to disrupt two Hawaiian Airlines flights attempting to depart in the hours after his flight landed.

“We can fly if we need to,” Poulet said. “It’s tough, but it’s possible. If only I could fly to Hilo.”

Poulet confessed, “I didn’t mean to scare other passengers. I just wanted to get on an earlier flight. They said they would pay for a shuttle to get me to another airport, but man, what a hassle.”

Poulet’s behavior caused delays for both flights, 30 minutes and 20 minutes respectively, until airport officials could secure the check-in areas.

Air Pacific officials were eventually able to convince Poulet that he would make it to Hilo within four hours of his original flight arrival time, taking a shuttle van and then a puddle jumper flight to the island. Poulet agreed to the arrangement and accepted vouchers for his flight home to Minnesota on January 18.

No charges were filed.

Public relations director, Andrew Fenton, reported that Poulet was put on a van and given all of his luggage, which Poulet inspected carefully before departing.

“The ring is dazzling, isn’t it?” Poulet said. “She’ll be one happy chick.”

*photo credit: Billy Ayers

Would You Do It?

Kathy — Mon, 09 May 2011 23:16:03 +0000

My husband Dave and I are attending the Tribal Blogs Conference in Minnesota next month.

We’ve been waiting for the best deals on airfare for a little while, but it ain’t lookin’ too good.

He just asked in all seriousness if I would be open to the idea of driving instead “to save money and see a little of the country.”

A thousand miles.

I’m pretty sure I signed a rider in my wedding vows that I was not to be stuck in a tin can with him for more than, say, a four hour stretch of time.

He loves to talk.

I love to shut up.

So what say you? Would you drive 1,000 miles anywhere with your spouse? Have you done it? If you have, what was it like? Give it to me straight. The good, the bad and the ugly.

Go!

I’m an Ill-Prepared Total Slob (UPDATED)

Kathy — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 23:33:02 +0000

So you know those unlucky motorists stranded in snow on a Canadian highway for 24 hours?

Yeah.

Better them than me, because if that were me, I’d be the one pounding on other people’s car windows asking to be let inside because my car ran out of gas, I have no heat and no blanket or anything that qualifies as something smart people do to winterize their vehicles.

I put gas in mine. It makes it go. That’s helpful.

Here’s what I have in my car that’s not:

The front seat: Christmas wrapping paper, a shopping bag, ice scraper and a newspaper from last week that I picked up from my driveway.

The back seat: Jumpin’ Jesus. We have a Consumer Reports magazine, an alumni magazine, a shopping bag, a bag of plastic bags, notebooks, empty water bottle, ice scraper, a Congratulations on Your Graduation card I addressed and stamped a year ago but never mailed, a hoodie from a spring coat and a pair of bacon sneakers.

Nowhere in there is a blanket, first aid kit, water, flashlight, extra clothing and gloves or snacks.

Also nowhere for anyone to sit, actually.

So don’t ask me for a ride or anything. I clearly own and operate a junk yard on wheels. I’m an unprepared Pig Pen.

How ‘bout you?

UPDATE: OK, so y’all got me worried about being impaled by something in the back seat of my car in an accident.

So I got cleanin’.

Do I get a gold star?

Travelogue: Norfolk, Virginia

Kathy — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 13:17:43 +0000

Hey, peeps! I’m home from a business conference I attended in Norfolk, Virginia. Oh, sweet blog, how I’ve missed you!

Here are some random observations I collected along the way:

1. A garden shed with a crucifix slapped over the door and a hand-painted sign counts as a church in the south.

2. I almost threw my back out unloading pillows from my bed every night. It is possible to have too much comfort and too much poof.

3. If the conference staff puts out chafing dishes every day full of delicious bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs and buttery biscuits, and you get accustomed to it, when they start putting out stuff like this…..

this is how much of it you will take.

4. Apparently, the Tyson plant somewhere in Virginia has a Chicken of the Month award for birds on good behavior. We saw a gaggle of them feeding outside the factory on the front lawn.

If death row chickens knew how to fly at a decent clip, they could, you know, leave.

5. The south doesn’t breed tail-gaters or speeders, and everyone politely lets you into a lane when you need to get there. Unlike in the north, where drivers will sooner shoot out your tires than show you the least bit of courtesy. North, take a lesson.

6. After going insane being on the road for eight hours, when your driving companion leaves your neighborhood to return the rental car, and you follow behind, you will laugh so hard you cry when you see her make the first turn the wrong way and wind up in the suburban abyss for an extra ten minutes it kept her from getting the hell home already.

7. Having a panic attack while riding on a leisure yacht going only 2 knots per hour will get you laughed at by total strangers.

8. Having a conference badge hanging around your neck and swinging off your boobs will get you unintentionally ogled by total strangers trying to read your name and university, printed in teeny tiny typeface.

9. Four cups of coffee in the hotel room the morning of the drive home, plus four more during conference events and one more on the way home is sort of too much. It also gives you the crazy eyes, an unforgiving bladder and lead foot.

10. Coastal cities rock it with the seafood. And so do seafood restaurants.

11. That guy who was stuck to my trunk on Philadelphia’s I-95, in the rain and on a shoulderless stretch, can go to hell. You proved that I had every reason to fear driving on that highway and ruined any chance of me ever attempting it again.

12. Southern hospitality is alive and well. When your fat ass knocks over a dozen formerly organized pashmina scarves from a display in a gift shop — not once, but twice — the cashier will apologize to you for the incidents. You will feel like a dumb northerner and pray she doesn’t have a blog of her own.

I’m glad to be back! Missed you guys!

How I Got to Paris on Ten Bucks

Kathy — Sat, 01 May 2010 22:40:40 +0000

Sometimes luck taps me on the shoulder, introduces itself and shakes my hand.

Luck paid me a visit in 2004 and sent me to Paris.

I was sitting at my desk at work, fighting an urge to raid the snack machine downstairs. The urge won and so I grabbed my wallet and headed out the door.

On my way downstairs, I spotted a fraternity student sitting at a table by the elevator, selling raffle tickets for a charity fundraiser.

The sign on the table read “Win a Trip to Paris!”

Curious, I walked over to the table to get more information.

“Tickets are $5 each,” the student said.

Digging through my wallet, I was disappointed to find that I had only a few singles and change I planned to use in the snack machine.

“Will you be around later this week?” I asked.

“Yep, til Friday,” he said.

“Good.” I told him I’d be back later with enough cash in hand for two tickets.

The next day I found the student, paid him $10, filled out a form and received my tickets. A note on the back said the winner would be announced a few weeks after that, and it included a URL with more raffle information. I stuck the tickets in my wallet.

Weeks went by.

And nothing. No phone call to say I had won. Oh, well, better luck next time, I thought.

But then I remembered the tickets in my wallet and thought maybe the winner would be announced on the web site for the contest.

Maybe someone I know won. That’d be nice for them.

And so I pointed my browser to the web site, which revealed an animated image of the French flag.

The caption read “Click here to see who won!”

I clicked on the flag.

The French national anthem began playing over my speakers and the image dissolved gradually to reveal this:

I immediately felt a rush of adrenalin and almost started crying. It was me!!! At least I thought it was me. Feeling like a game show contestant who’d just won a car, I thought for a moment maybe I wasn’t really staring at my own name on the screen.

Winning big things makes you take leave of every last one of your senses.

So I did what crazy game show contestants do. I got up and, arms flailing, ran over to a woman who worked outside my office. “Nancy!!!! Go to this web site!!!! Does it say Kathy Frederick on your screen too?!?!?”

I swear to God I did that and you can ask Nancy. Just don’t ask her how stupid she thought I was at that very moment. She’s such a nice lady, she wouldn’t be honest with you anyway.

There we were, looking at my name and listening to La Marseillaise, letting it all sink in.

Wow. A trip to Paris for ten bucks. You just can’t beat that.

I called my husband and didn’t even say hello when he answered. I simply shouted “Pack your bags! We’re going to Paris!”

He let an expletive slip and we hooted and hollered for a good five minutes, not believing my good fortune.

I contacted the student organization who sold me the tickets and they apologized for not notifying me by phone earlier. They confirmed my prize, told me to contact travel services to make arrangements and the rest is history.

It was the trip of a lifetime.

And all because luck pulled up a chair and gave me a fine How d’ya do?

A Junk Drawer PSA

Kathy — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 23:59:08 +0000

I’m sorry for this humorless post, but I wanted to share a powerful commercial about seat belt usage with you. It’s only 1.5 minutes.

If that doesn’t make you wear your seat belt, perhaps this will. It’s a comment that a volunteer EMT friend of mine left on Facebook after I posted this video there. I don’t know how she handles picking up the pieces of car accidents, but God bless her.

Her comment:

From the kind of first hand experience that sends you home with blood on your jeans for a nap and a shot of Maker’s Mark:

225 pound men in the back seat unbuckled will launch over the back of the seat and push the rearview mirror through the glass, landing in the lap of the front seat passenger and filling the footwell with blood. Impact under 45 mph.
14 year old girls break like glass.
The mother of that same 14 year old, at age 34, lives in a nursing home. She has permanent short term memory loss. About five times a day, she says, with alarm, “Where’s Kelsey?” The nurses tell her, “Kelsey died.” She cries. She forgets. A couple of hours later she asks again. This is pretty much how the rest of her natural life will go. Neither she, nor her daughter, who was launched into the woods through the back window of a pickup truck, had seatbelts on.

I beg all my bloggy friends to wear a seat belt and make everyone you’re in a car with do the same. The most important thing in your family’s life is YOU.

Protect it. Save yourself the agony and that of all the ones who love you.

Texting from 20 Feet Away

Kathy — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 01:21:58 +0000

Last night I joined my sisters and niece for a nice drive around town to look at Christmas lights on houses that were all decked out. A columnist for our local paper takes submissions for decorated houses and then publishes a “best of” list with directions so people can take a tour.

When we hit the house that was deemed a “Disney wonderland” all of us jumped out of the car in excited anticipation. Except for sister Ann. Turns out Ann was nice and cozy in the car and wasn’t sure the sights would be worth freezing her butt off for.

So what did she do? She told her daughter that “if the back of the house is really nice, text me and I’ll get out.”

Text you and you’ll get out?

Why don’t you ask her to take a picture on her cell phone and then bring that back to show you?

My dear sister, Ann, you lazy, lazy bum.

So let’s hear it. Where and for what have you requested a text or texted someone because it’s too hard to walk a few feet? If anyone says “The shower, I needed a towel” your phone privileges are hereby revoked.

I Conquered Another Fear!

Kathy — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 00:15:23 +0000

Some of you might know that one of my biggest fears was to fly on a plane all by myself. I managed to show that fear who’s boss last summer when I attended a blogging conference in Chicago. Let me tell you, I felt like a superstar getting that behind me. Kathy, 1. Fear, 0.

Unfortunately, I’ve got other fears, one of them heights, which was triggered when I walked over a bridge with my husband Dave in the Bahamas circa 1995.

We walked along just fine, until Dave exclaimed “Look! The water is beautiful!” I turned my head to take in the view and promptly lost my mind. I had to run over to the other side of the bridge and take a cab ride back.

There were to be no more walks over bridges for me.

Until today.

For years I avoided joining some of my coworkers who would take walks over the bridge for exercise or to enjoy their lunch hours at a summer music festival held every year on the other side of it. I simply could not fathom walking across that bridge. No how, no way.

But it bugged me that I couldn’t — wouldn’t — do something so simple as to walk across that thing. I mean, it’s just a sidewalk, albeit a sidewalk high in the air.

So I made a decision today to join my coworker Heather for a walk around town and a stroll across The Bridge. I’m pleased to report that I made it without crying in hysterics or having a panic attack.

Were there challenges? Yes. Did I sweat like a pig, even though it was only 20 degrees out? Yes. Oink.

If I looked to the left, there was fear of being so high up. Sure, there’s a railing there, but still. It’s the only thing between me and DYING.

If I looked to the right, I felt the closeness and rush of cars whizzing by and worried that I’d somehow fall over the guardrail, get hit by a car and DIE.

I had two choices: either look straight down at the sidewalk or look way, way off to the distance so that I didn’t have either death threat in my peripheral vision. I alternated between both methods until I reached the other side.

And thanks to my trusty co-pilot Heather, who gave me words of encouragement the whole time and notified me when we were and weren’t over water, it was almost a piece of cake.

If any of you have fears that keep you from enjoying life to its fullest, there’s pretty much only one way around it. You have to stare down that fear and kick its ass to the curb.

I know it sounds easier said than done, but I’m here to tell you that I thought I might die today and I didn’t!

Not dying is awesome, but living with one less fear feels even awesomer.

Another Airplane Crashing Dream, Now With Hot Dogs

Kathy — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 23:27:13 +0000

Living directly under an airport flight path, I periodically have dreams involving airplane crashes. Nightmares, actually.

The last one I had involved a fiery crash and The Three Stooges.

This week I had another one. I was long overdue.

In this episode my husband Dave was piloting a plane with me as the only passenger. Like the last dream, I didn’t sense I was in a plane. It seemed more like I was in a car.

I was lying down resting on a leather bench seat, with a blanket over me. All of a sudden we see two jets nearing us. They flew so close to each other that one clipped the wing of the other, sending them both screaming to the ground.

Dave confidently told me not to worry about our plane and that he would get us home safely.

We tooled around the sky for a while until I noticed we were nowhere near home. We were flying over a big city. A strange city at that.

None of the buildings were made of concrete. Instead, they had rounded edges and were softly colored and flexible. When we flew too close to the buildings, they simply bent out of the way.

The entire cityscape had a GUI-interface quality about it. I realized then that we were in a video game. Awesome.

After we got out of the city, Pilot Dave announced he was leaving the game to return to our house. I told him I’d hoped we’d left the garage door open because we forgot to put the remote opener in the plane when we left.

For the record, a plane does not actually fit in our garage.

I told him I was tired and would be sacking out for the ride home. I also asked if he could swing by Jimmy’s for some hot dogs.

And then I curled up under the blanket, happy in the knowledge that hot dogs were in my future, yet a little confused as to when exactly my husband got his pilot’s license.

I awoke from my dream hungry for dogs and thrilled I survived another plane crash nightmare wherein I didn’t die. Self-preservation is a beautiful thing.

10 Things I Learned on My Chicago BlogHer Trip

Kathy — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 15:52:34 +0000

1. Flying alone is a piece of cake, even when you’re directionally-challenged. O’Hare airport is blessedly idiot-proof. I wasn’t stressed at all on the actual flights, except for the part when the pilot not-so-briefly forgot what city he was flying to when he announced take-off on the trip home. A full planeload of people screamed him the answer.

2. Wearing heels for 14 hours straight is a bad idea. I know it. You know it. Everybody knows it. Still did it. I almost blew my knee out the morning of the first day and then limped along for the next 10 hours. My dumbness knows no bounds.

3. If you’re not a psycho fan of Tim Gunn, you will be when he’s standing right in front of you. And you’ll squeal with glee when he reads your conference badge and tells you he loves the name of your blog. It’s official! Tim Gunn hearts The Junk Drawer!

4. Swag is highly overrated. Liquid swag is the devil. That cracking you hear is BlogHer women everywhere getting realigned at their chiropractors.

5. Friends shouldn’t let friends have access to a bathroom scale, especially when the stupid friend already knows she’s carrying six pounds of vacation instabloat, and yet still wants proof of it.

6. Helpful women will dig through their purses for dental floss when you tell them you have a poppy seed stuck in your teeth that you can’t remove with a fingernail. When someone says they have a floss pick, but it’s been used, you will consider borrowing it anyway. I wound up having to dig for it again. BlogHer women who were at the bathroom mirror with me during that exercise, I’m sorry. I’m generally not so disgusting at home.

7. Chicago has the very coolest art! And it’s SCARY BIG!

8. Stressing over what clothes to wear to BlogHer is a colossal waste of time. Spending gobs of money on it adds insult to injury, especially when a button falls off a brand new $49 shirt mere minutes into wearing it. Which cute top did I wear not once, but twice? The one that cost me $1 at a consignment shop. Yes, one dollar.

9. You should not buy delicious treats for people back home that you soon discover you want for yourself. Sorry, Heather. You can’t have ‘em now. But I did buy you a cheap keychain with your name on it. And you can have a T-Mobile clicky pen. And a $2-off coupon for laundry detergent. I’m such a giver.

10. SEO experts at the conference tell you that Top 10 Lists are blog gold. So there you have it!

Bonus #11. Head over to JD’s place and admire her awesomeness. She was among a group of bloggers invited to read one of their posts to an audience of over a thousand conference attendees. I’m still amazed that my good friend could get up there and give the performance of a lifetime, all without vomiting on stage as she feared.

Thank you JD for EVERYTHING! Thank you JD’s family for getting me to and from the airport and for being such entertaining company on my trip! Thank you BlogHer for putting on such a good show. See you in NYC for BlogHer ’10!

Being a Dumbass is Expensive

Kathy — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 21:59:57 +0000

So, OK. I’m going to the BlogHer conference in Chicago where I’ll get some good tips on blogging and blog marketing, meet up with bloggers I only know online and see the sights in a city I’ve never been to before.

I’m also going to see my girl JD of I Do Things puke up her lunch because she got accepted to read one of her very best posts in front of a million strangers. Please pray for her.

I knew the conference was Friday and Saturday, July 24th and 25th. I knew I bought a two-day pass that covers admission for both days. I knew I wanted to book a flight the day before the conference so I can get settled, meet up with JD and be well-rested before the start of the conference.

The day before the conference would be Thursday for those keeping count.

When did I book my flight? For Friday morning, of course. Well after the conference is underway.

How much did this mistake cost me? One hundred smackeroos. Frack it all! I booked my flight and hotel through Expedia and they do allow changes at no cost, but the airline charges its own fee for dumbasses like me.

The good news is that the Expedia rep first quoted me a fee of $100, but came back a few minutes later to say it was really $150. Since she misquoted the fee initially, she offered to give me a $50 credit on the extra hotel night I booked.

I believe that’s what you’d call pity for the dumbass.

Oh, and incidentally, JD won’t be the only one puking. This flight will be my first flight going it alone. I’m petrified. I plan on bringing my blankie and teddy bear and I don’t care what that’ll look like.

To recap, you are praying for JD to get through her reading on Friday, July 24th and you are praying for me to get on the plane on the 23rd. You should also get out the rosary beads on the 27th when I fly home. I leave out of O’Hare Airport, where I will get lost as soon as I step foot in the door.

If you don’t see a post from me soon after, it means I’m probably still at the airport, riding a luggage carousel, sucking my thumb and crying like a baby. I want my Mommy!

One Split Second

Kathy — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 01:22:19 +0000

This isn’t a humor piece, but I’ve been bothered by an event that happened this morning and felt better writing about it.

I wanted to share it with you because it reminds me of the fragility of life as I know it and how one fraction of a second made the difference between me having a normal day and my husband getting a dreaded phone call.

Friday began like every other work day.

Cup of coffee, feed the cats, some blog stuff, shower and jump in my car. The most remarkable thing about my ride to work was that I got an early start. I would soon wish I hadn’t.

Somebody else was heading to work, too. Someone who should have had his eyes on the road instead of his head in the clouds.

I know people get distracted while driving and cause accidents.

I know that 40,000 people die on U.S. roads each year in car crashes.

I know lots of unlucky people before me have found themselves in the path of an errant driver and never lived to tell about it.

But it’s always other people.

Today I was almost one of them.

On a green light, I approached an intersection near work. As I pulled through and made a left turn, I saw a pickup truck to my left. Coming on fast. I’m not a sitting duck. I’m moving, thank God. I know I’m moving, but am I moving fast enough?

I hear his tires screeching. Might not be enough time. I see the grill of his truck. It’s close. Very close. Are we gonna hit? I start to think this is my unlucky day. God? You there? Help me out here.

In a moment that lasted an eternity, I could see the face of this distracted man, who is now no longer distracted.

He looks at me, and I at him. Our eyes are wide. Our mouths agape. I clear his front bumper by mere inches. I scream and lay on the horn. I glance back. I see he landed askew in the middle of the intersection. I quickly check to see if he still had a red light. Was it me who screwed up?

No. His light was redder than red. And he didn’t even see it.

I consider if I had entered the intersection one moment later. A single second later and someone would be calling my "in case of emergency" number.

I wanted to pull over, get out and scream at him. I wanted to let him know that someone almost had to peel me off his truck. I wanted to tell him to pay attention next time. Every time, dammit, because all it takes is one moment of inattentiveness to change someone’s life.

But I didn’t. I drove on. Slow and shaky. Nothing happened. No harm, no foul.

Except it could have so easily been different.

If not for ONE. SPLIT. SECOND.

Wherein I Find Out I’m Awesome

Kathy — Mon, 18 May 2009 14:23:57 +0000

Do you hear me?! I AM AWESOME! I recently posted that I was meeting up with some fellow bloggers 200 miles from home, and it would be the first time I ever drove such a distance by myself.

Sure, I was pee-in-my-pants scared getting there, but the way home was an absolute breeze. After a short time, I was whizzing by slow poke drivers, eating a box of chocolates off my lap, steering with my thumb, and cursing at all the amateur drivers who annoyed me because they seemed lost and inept. You know, like I was two days before. My, how I’ve changed.

The weekend with Kim, Bryan and Jenn was a laughfest and what a joy to finally meet them after a year of knowing them only through their blogs and emails. Kim and Bryan were the consummate hosts and Jenn was fun company at the B&B where we both stayed.

As a bonus, Bryan’s hilarious sister Lisa traveled over an hour to visit with us, along with her cutie pie son, who upon meeting me tried to ride my leg while I was sitting on the couch. I considered it a high honor.

Let’s review some random trip details, shall we?

1. A deer saw me naked. Freshly showered, I stepped out of the bathroom, turned to a window that faces the woods and saw this. I decided it was OK because he didn’t snicker or call over any of his deer buddies to get a look. In fact, he stared a long time. I think he wanted me.

2. Even though I took my cell phone, I lost reception during the return trip and later learned that a "reboot" would fix it. Until that discovery, I had to find a pay phone to call home. I found one on a desolate road, but some guy was using it and wouldn’t hang up! Why? Why would you talk on a pay phone in the middle of nowhere for ten minutes? I figured he was saying "There’s a lady here who looks desperate to use this phone, so I’m gonna keep talking about nothing, OK?" Jerk.

3. It took me three weeks to lose four pounds before my trip. I gained the four back in three days. I won’t be eating again until Thursday. That oughtta do it.

4. I don’t get out enough. Kim planted some lovely Lamb’s Ears in her front lawn. I’ve never seen them before, and after Jenn told me "Feel ‘em, they’re velvety soft," I stooped down to touch every Lamb’s Ear I encountered from then on. I’m not sure if everyone thought that was endearing or just sad. I’m guessing sad.

5. Kim needs her own cooking show. In the span of a day, she made homemade soup, homemade bread and homemade manicotti and meatballs. My version of homemade means "I made water boil and dumped a box of pasta in it, in my home."

6. I overpack. It’s a disease. On checkout day, my fingers slipped and I dropped my suitcase flat and it almost blew a hole in the floor and killed Jenn in the room underneath. When will I learn I only ever need half of what I think I need?

7. Bryan agreed, at my request, not to take any photos of me. Yes, yes, I need therapy. He decided instead to take pictures of only my feet at various places we visited. Check out his foot photologue for proof I was actually there.

8. I hope someone located this lost baby. I found a "Missing" flyer taped to an ice cream shop window, but I can’t figure out why the baby would be wearing a collar and a harness. And only a $50 reward? That’s shameful.

9. All of my pictures of the beautiful Pennsylvania Grand Canyon look like this. Each one features a view-obstructing railing because I refused to step any closer. Railings good. Falling hundreds of feet to my death bad. I thought it best to enjoy the pictures that others took; people who aren’t afraid to live close to the edge. Literally.

So there you have it. The trip I made all by my lonesome awesome self!

Next up? I fly alone for the first time this summer, wherein I’ll cry for two hours, clutching my blankie and teddy bear. Or maybe not. Awesome people don’t need no stinking teddy bears!

Kathy Gets Lost Again, Sorta

Kathy — Fri, 06 Feb 2009 17:27:28 +0000

Yesterday a colleague asked if I wanted to attend a panel talk he was giving on the campus where we work.

Sure. Where is it?”

It’s in Whitaker Lab.

Is it in the auditorium next to the front door?

No. It’s near the back door on the parking lot side of the building.

OK, I’ll be there.

You may or may not know how directionally-challenged I am. How bad is it? Real bad. I got lost in my own neighborhood once, two tenths of a mile from my house.

Whenever I go anywhere I haven’t been a million times before, I always have reason to worry. Let the games begin.

I drive to the Whitaker building and go through the back door on the parking lot side, as instructed. No auditorium. Just a long corridor. Then classrooms. And no people. Of course, no people.

I can’t find anything that looks like a place a talk would be held. I dart into a computer lab to login and check the university event calendar hoping to get the room number. Nothing. Of course, nothing.

I look at the time. I’m going to be late.

I run up steps and down halls and make my way to the only auditorium I know in that building. It’s dark and deserted and clearly not the place.

DAM. MIT.

Sweating now, I ride elevators, travel more steps and more halls until I’m about to give up. I see doors that lead to a courtyard. If I cross it, I can go into another section of the building. Maybe it’s over there.

As soon as I exit, C-L-I-C-K. I am locked out. Of course I am.

I cross the courtyard and when I get to the opposite set of doors, I can make out a sign that reads “These doors kept locked at all times.”

Of course they are.

FRACK!

So there I am, standing in the freezing cold, sweating icicles straight from my body, having just locked myself out of the building. Stupid building!

The only way to re-enter is to walk through snow and ice around a neighboring building and come back in through the front door, which is two floors up and really far from where I entered.

At this point I’m muttering to myself that I can do this. You’re not an idiot. It’s not that hard! Where did he say to go again? Did I get it right? Where am I???

But then the muttering turns into belittling: You? You of all people want to fly alone this summer? How you gonna do that if you can’t even find a room in a building? You suck!

Ten minutes late, I’m completely broken, resigned to the fact that I’ll always be a lost person. I started to hear sad violin music in the background. I half expected a dog to walk up and pee on my leg. I work my way back to the parking lot. I’m going home a loser.

But then I have a flash of recognition. I once attended a lecture in a building adjacent to Whitaker. Yeah. The Sinclair building has an auditorium. And it’s right by the door.

BINGO!

The coffee and cookies I see outside the room are my first indication that I’m at the right place. I poke my head inside and see my colleague standing down front about to begin the talk.

What I wanted to do was yell down there “Dude! You gave me the wrong building! I hate you!”

But I didn’t. Instead, I mentally patted myself on the back, took a seat and thought I am not a doofus. I was just given bad information. And that, my friends, makes me a little less of a forever lost person.

And that makes me very happy.

Weirdest Trip Memento I’ve Ever Saved

Kathy — Sat, 20 Dec 2008 13:11:51 +0000

My husband Dave and I had the fortune of traveling to Paris in the summer of 2004, a trip I won on a $5 raffle ticket. Rifling through some boxes today, I came across an envelope stuffed with receipts, ticket stubs and other miscellanea we collected.

In this picture you’ll find the strangest thing I’ve ever saved from a vacation trip. Can you find it?

When you travel, do you save all the little papers and stubs you collect along the way? I think the fact we saved such seemingly insignificant items shows how memorable the trip was to us.

Going to Paris absolutely ruined us for every other trip we’ve taken since. Nothing else compares. If you have the chance to go, GO! It will change your life.