Night Flying

The day after Christmas I worked, then we all visited an old friend of my father's and his wife ... and their GREAT DANE DOG. Then we regrouped at NCC's before all piling into a car to deliver me to the airport. There was a little delay between when I was supposed to depart and when we actually did, but it wasn't too bad. I like night flying. It's all dark and cozy. It's much easier to forget that you're surrounded by strangers thousands of feet in the air when all the lights are off. Unless, of course, you look out the window and take photographs.

I have no idea what state this is, or why so many lights were still on so late in the evening. Humanity really is weird from above.

We Can't be Beautiful All the Time

I had thought that missing my plane was going to be the big bummer of my return flight to Philly, and it was in the sense that everything that came after it was a result of that missed flight...but when I got to Charlotte I expected to be on another plane within the hour - around 10:30 or so. I made my way to the gate to find that the flight's departure time had been delayed significantly. The new scheduled time? 12:53 in the morning. What followed were four hours of severe tiredness and an overpriced martini. Also a good conversation with M. Eventually, around 12:20 (I guess I could be thankful that it wasn't even more delayed but screw that), we were allowed to board. The woman in charge of the gate started calling out zones, but then was just like 'all zones, y'all get on that plane.' And that's just what we all did.
I was tired, what can I say.
I got to the airport around 2:30 or so and didn't even bother to see if the R1 train was still running. Grabbed a cab and hightailed it to sleepy town, which was very easy...and the infernal birds in my neighborhood, which routinely start chirping from about 3:30 to 7, couldn't even make me stir the next morning.

Giant Beer and Chicken Fingers c/o Tennessee Tavern

After lunch Dad and I squeezed one more episode into our viewing lives before driving to Monteagle. The plan was that I would be picked up by Groome shuttles and that I would get to the airport in time for my flight. They were about 15 minutes late, and I missed my flight by about 15 minutes. It was great. I was booked onto a different flight that would be leaving in about two hours' time so I went to the Tennesee Tavern, ordered a giant beer and chicken fingers.
The beer was a Sam Adams Summer Ale I believe. The chicken didn't stand out and I didn't really need it...and yet, I ate it.

Opposite of Good

Last Wednesday I was robbed at perhaps gunpoint. I will write about that at some point. I'm fine. On Thursday evening I took the R1 to the Philadelphia airport for a long weekend in Tennessee. I was hungry and had time to kill, so I went to the Wendy's in the food court. You know how sometimes you find yourself at a fast food place, and you actually want to ruminate on the menu for a minute before you decide just how unhealthy you're going to be? I didn't have that time. So I ended up with the worst. In terms of being good for me or even my really wanting it. Double cheeseburger with medium fries and drink, which I scarfed down in rather record time at my gate.
It's fine. My metabolism is amazing. <------ Not an accurate statement.

First Ever Banh Mi

On some day at some time I tried my first ever banh mi sandwich. I know. It's shocking. My love of pho would naturally lead you to think that a Vietnamese sandwich of such fame would be in my food wheelhouse. The problem was simply one of being more committed to my love affair with pho than an interest in trying something new. But I knew the day was coming, and that day did come. I went to Ba Le, the address and hours of which you can see above. I forget exactly what I got. Grilled chicken maybe? It was good. Filling. Cheap. I also had perhaps the most sweet Vietnamese coffee of my life. It was almost unbearable.

Meanwhile. I am in the Charlotte airport. I was supposed to have a five o'clock flight direct to Philly from Nashville but due to a late pick up by the shuttle, I ended up missing my flight by about 15 minutes. So then I had two hours in Nashville to kill before a 7 o'clock flight with an hour's layover in Charlotte. Except that when I got to Charlotte I learned that my flight was delayed. And it's been delayed again. So I got here at 9:30 but my flight isn't scheduled to leave until 1 AM. Blurgh. So here I am, plugged into a wall by a women's bathroom. Blogging. I could potentially watch a movie on my computer, but I don't want to put my earphones in for fear of missing an announcement that magically makes my flight way sooner than it is. Or canceled. At this point I would prefer canceled. Then I could go to bed. This whole series of days has not been without their trials and tribulations. I've been using my time in Sewanee to accomplish things and to go to bed ridiculously early. I'm talking 9, 9:30. And so not only is it legitimately kind of late ... it's super late for me and my recent bed time choices. I'll give this to Charlotte: at least they have the decency to have free wireless.

Beer and Barbequed Pork Sandwich in Nashville Airport

I had a fair amount of time to kill before boarding my plane, so I stopped at a barbeque-ish restaurant close to my gate. I ordered a big budweiser and the pulled pork sandwich.

Not amazing, not awful. Just so-so.
The coleslaw, however, looked like it would kill you dead with three kinds of salmonella. I didn't try it.

Fake Egg and Sausage Sandwich c/o Au Bon Pain

Like many Americans, I consider road trips and being in an airport good reasons to eat crappy food. Not that I eat so much better in other instances, but I tend to relish the free pass of this sort of travel. What? Point is that last Wednesday I went to the Philadelphia airport in order to fly down to Tennessee, which gave me the perfect opportunity to eat something bad for me. Unfortunately my preferred forms of badness (McDonalds or Burger King) weren't available, so I went to Au Bon Pain and picked up a sausage, egg and cheese on cibatta sandwich thing. The egg was entirely fake. The sausage was pretty good. The cheddar cheese properly ooey gooey.

McDonalds Angus Third Pound Burger...Maybe?

So, my mom has been in the hospital for, geez, the last three weeks. So I flew down to Nashville to be with her and my father. On the flight down I was hungry and had McDonalds. I tried some sort of new burger, which I think was probably the Angus Third Pounder. It was definitely a cut above their regular cheese burgers, and I have to admit the tomato was actually looking pretty good. I accidentally spilled my soda all over the airport waiting area's carpet, and didn't know quite what to do. If I were in a restaurant I'd attempt to clean it up while attracting the attention of a member of the waitstaff who would, more likely than not, send a busboy over to clean it up. While airports certainly have cleaning staff, I'm not sure who you contact to get to them. I feel like the airline people are too busy being rude directly to me, then bitching about other passengers to their colleagues right in front of me, to bother with maintenance.

Seattle Part I: Salt Lake City, Oyster-Heavy Lovely Lunch c/o Etta's and Bookstores

Last Tuesday I boarded an airplane headed to Salt Lake City. My final destination was Seattle and I didn't have a very long layover, so I didn't really get any feel for the actual city, but the view, even with airport as the forefront, was spectacular. I can't imagine living with that sort of landscape staring at your face. The Hudson Valley Region had a bit of that quality for me, a little: a sense of artistic urgency as a result of the beauty around me? That may be false, but the landscape, the country-ness, it did influence me. Still, the Salt Lake City airport and its views were, for the most part, quite spectacular. It was strange to see a smoking section in an airport. It has gone quite out of style, with good reason. Though it still can be the best place to have a conversation with a complete stranger.
M. picked me up from the airport and we drove to Pike Street, or its environs or something like that name but not?, and had lunch at Etta's. This was my first coffee of Seattle, and one of the few photographed, but there were many undocumented intakes of lattes.
We shared a dozen oysters, half of which were (if I recall correctly) of the Deep Cove Bay variety. But I may be making the name up.
One variety of oyster, whatever its name, had a real salty quality that grabbed me in and slightly caused my eyes to open for a moment; nothing major happened, but I perked up more after one oyster slurp than from the two cups of coffee.
They were having a $15 prix fixe menu for lunch, and one of the three choices for a first course was fried oysters with a green tomato remoulade. I went for the oyster 'two ways' and didn't regret it. Nicely breaded, but not overly so, each oyster maintained an excellent crispy to succulent ratio, still with its own distinct flavor bite (or three).
For my main course I ordered the shrimp-in-the-style-of-a-lobster roll-roll. I didn't love it. I found the shrimp to be better than many a restaurant's, but the flavoring wasn't quite right. It just wasn't for me. I have had a lobster roll or two in my life, and I always feel a little disappointed. I think I like the work and the ritual of sitting down and working your way through a whole lobster - or, to a lesser extent, a shrimp - and simply having the best parts in a roll, coated in even the best of mayonnaise and wrapped in a buttered roll from the best bakery, isn't as satisfying. I am also not a huge fan of dill, though I'm coming around to it a little. So a shrimp roll is equally a let down. I love me my mayonnaise, don't get me wrong...but this wasn't quite it.
My third course was an oatmeal ice cream sandwich. I liked the cookie part of the dish and was surprised to learn that M. preferred the ice cream. After lunch M. took me to see a few of her favorite bookstores. They were quite lovely. One was very into activism, another had a great selection of art books and a fair variety of fiction for such a small space.
We also saw fish, none of which were thrown.

Airplane

I have long been amazed by airplanes and their ability to get up and into the air. What I sometimes forget is how equally awesome the planet is. That sounds cheesy. I don't know what I mean, just that on my flight back from Tennessee I couldn't quite get over the changes in topography and landscape that were unfolding thousands of feet below me. Flat land, devoid of snow, to waves of hilly mountains nicely dusted with the white stuff, back to the winter palette of brown and purple. Now, I did, on occasion, imagine the plane plummeting into said topography and the unimaginable fear that such an event would cause in me. But, of course, you cannot predict how you will act in times of stress. I generally shut down but, perhaps in a flight context I'd take the lead, make sure babies were firmly strapped down into swaddling cloth made from passengers' Christmas scarves and sweaters and generally maintain order as our plane lost altitude and the oh-so-glorious hills came closer and closer. Maybe.
I always hope to meet someone fascinating on an airplane. I have thoughts. Maybe I will get it together and write interesting things about these thoughts. Maybe.
I wish that all houses like this would disappear. Let's all go back to living on large plots of land in one of a kind houses, shall we? No? Maybe? I realize that the world never all lived in such a way...metropolises!
Pretty!


On our final descent into Philly, I could see the Eagles football field. Seemed like they were doing well, or that the use of fireworks was being employed regardless. Didn't quite get a photograph though.

Jacksonville Airport: Not Open Late

After my chicken lunch, I went to my gate and waited around forever...then a little longer because our plane was late, then a little longer because the plane had to be cleaned, then we got on the plane. Once on the plane we had the opportunity to wait a little more, because we were very far back in the line of planes needing to take off. Our original arrival time to Jacksonville was 8:00. I think we actually arrived closer to 9:30. Could have been worse, but it was already pretty bad. That said, the airport had some nice art installations in its baggage claim area. This thingadoo was made entirely of stamps! Stamps, I tell you, stamps!
It seemed like the entire airport was waiting for our flight. No restaurants were open, kiosks all seemed to be abandoned. It was a little strange. But warm.

Philly Airport Food

The day after my sandwich lunch and Japanese dinner, I took a day off from work, went to the doctor, sat in the sun (it was 63 degrees), walked to 30th Street Train Station and took a train to the airport. Once at the airport I did as many have done before me, I checked in (refusing to check luggage due to the ridiculous $15 fee I would have to pay) went through security and found myself trying to decide between a myriad of crappy food options. Of course, I could have been smarter and brought a little snack for myself...but those of us who do not think eating fast food all the time is a good idea are not without our cravings. The whole 'I only eat [fill in the name] on long car trips or in airports' philosophy is one I have subscribed to, on occasion. One occasion, of course, being that day. I ordered the Chick-Fil-A nuggets meal, with sweet tea and disappointing waffle fries. Well, it was all disappointing. But that was sort of the point?

Chicken Fries?

On Friday L. very kindly drove me to the airport. I had a bit of a wait before my plane was scheduled to depart (but that was because I got there early...the flight itself went off without a hitch...thanks Northwest Airlines! If you would like me to be a blogsperson for you I would do it happily...if you gave me free plane tickets) and I hadn't eaten breakfast so, for a quick snack/lunch I ordered Burger King's chicken fries. They were nothing special but I do like those ridiculously chemical sauces. Mmm.

At Least Four

The next day my mother and I took the 14 bus out to the mall. I needed shoes for my interview the next day and we couldn't find a place in the more downtown area. It was interesting taking the bus in a new city. I think my mother and I were almost the only white people on our way out and way back in. That's just different from my experiences in Chicago where there's usually a mix of at least three if not many more races on the buses and trains...or at least on the routes I go on. Savannah, I think without really knowing, seems to be a more straightforwardly racially divided city than Chicago (not to say that Chicago is without its racial issues...listen to all my qualifications and explanations, my goodness). I could be wrong, I was only there for three days.

Finding shoes was quite the challenge and it took us longer than either of us really wanted but we were relatively triumphant in the end. Then as we made our way to the bus stop we saw the bus we wanted pull in and pull out before we could even think about running for it...not that either of us really run. It was, as I may have mentioned, hot as Satan's bum and the stop had very little shade...just a tiny patch in the midst of a rather squalid palm tree. As we waited the fifteen minutes or so for a new bus we got to see at least four (if not six) of these airforce airplanes come in for landing...well we didn't see them land. I liked to think that they were bringing soldiers home from Iraq...but then I couldn't help but add a thought like this: just so they can go back again for another 15 months. For all I know they were full of oatmeal rations and bug spray.

Thanksgiving Airport Boredom

So I find myself in the Columbus airport with a little time on my hands. My flight should have left about an hour ago and has pretty much no chance of leaving for at least another hour. I just finished reading Running With Scissors and should be taking advantage of all this empty time to grade student papers and the like. Thing is that I don't want to. I mean, I will, soon ... but not at this very second in time ... is all. Thanksgiving was successful. I feel like a fraud about not doing anything super fancy in terms of dinner items. A 15.97 pound organic turkey (with a little bacon between its skin and meat), stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry orange relish, gravy, brussels sprouts (that tasted like horseradish) and two types of pumpkin pies: the boyfriend kind and the me kind.
We have loads of leftovers.
Or we did before I left to go to Ohio with the 'rents. Two fun filled days of baby and older than toddler toddler type ... as well as many other nice faced relatives. Oh and we went to the track today and I lost.
I like pecan pie. My dad gave me a pretty nice fountain pen for my birthday (I'm older now). I wish that I could have a cigarette but that would involve going all the way back to arrivals and then going back through security. I think that I could make it time wise but it would be bad if I didn't. Google mail is not so much working right now so I can't even think about sidetracking myself for ten minutes with a heck of a lot of chicagoist emails. I may be back.

I like Devendra Banhart's Dogs Make Up The Dark.

Mama, What's An Onion?

At the changeover of planes in Atlanta I thought it was finally time to try a Krystal burger...eighty cents for one with cheese and I must say, it wasn't very good.
Here is a story I like that really happened to me:

A few years ago I decided I was going to highlight my hair and that it wouldn't be too hard to just do it myself. I was wrong, it was very hard, I ended up with strange blonde/yellow patches with no regularity throughout my hair...it didn't look good. My mother suggested I go to the hair salon she had been to a few times to get it fixed, I agreed. The day I arrived I was the only customer, my hair dresser was a woman in her early thirties. She was a bit overweight and her hair was a tiny bit on the big hair side, but she was nice and down to earth so I didn't worry about what she could do to my hair. With her was her 8-10 year old son, a dirty blonde boy who was clearly overweight. He was a sweet kid though, asking his mother questions about her job and making her laugh occasionally. At one point he was sitting in another salon chair, spinning around eating sour cream and onion potato chips when he looked up at his mother and said:
-Mama?
To which his mother replied:
-Yeah honey?
-What's an onion?
Some slight discussion followed as to why he wanted to know and one attempt to explain what an onion was before the mother said this:
-Hmmm. You know on your Krystal burger?
-Yeah.
-Onions are those little white things.

That is my story. In case you missed why it is both funny and sad, I will paraphrase--this 8-10 year old boy could only know what an onion was by associating it with extremely bad fast food. Get it?