Reading: The Virgin in the Garden

Moving: not a lick

Listening: to as little of my seatmate as possible

Learning: I hate my seatmate

9 October 2000: Homeward Bound

We woke up, showered, tossed our linens into the cellar, had waffles and Charenton sirop d'erable, received a lovely big jar full of coings jam, said goodbye about four times, and left. We've told everyone now that we're going to Europe next year, and that's when we'll see Nisou next. Plus RJH is doing study-abroad next year in London, so we might have a cheap place to crash in Merrie Olde.

We left early enough for Traffic If Need Be, and I'm glad we did. There wasn't any for us, but we passed two long utter standstills of four or five miles headed northward, and neither of us said anything like "I'm glad we haven't run into anything like that" until we had returned the car and certainly would not encounter anything like that. No good jumping to conclusions. In fact we arrived early enough for a flight leaving 80 minutes earlier, and we took seats there. It didn't actually take off until 40 minutes earlier, but I don't like to think how much longer our original flight would have been delayed if we'd waited.

I wrote my pen dry on the way home. I sat between Howdy-Doody at the window and RDC on the aisle. Doody was obsessive compulsive, drunk and drunker, and at one point tried to take my pen from my hand. I held it and looked at him askance. "I just want to ask your opinion on something," he said. It would have been slightly less freakish to ask for use of my pen first without trying to wrest it from my hand, asshole, and anything you want my opinion on you can speak aloud. I don't want to imagine what he could want to know that would have to be written. I have one idea though. A very tall man at the front of the cabin stood waiting for the bathroom, tall enough to block the television screen. You don't have to pay for headphones for inflight movies anymore, but now instead of newer movies like "Shakespeare in Love" in 1998 and "The Sixth Sense" in 1999, United offers "Field of Dreams," 1990, for both east- and westbound flights. My seatmate had been telling the tall man--under his breath, so that I could hear him but the offender, three rows forward, couldn't possibly, though Doody got more and more peeved at the offender--he couldn't see the screen, and I think that's what he wanted my opinion on.

  • "I think you're insane."
  • "I think you should shut up."
  • "I think four bottles of vodka and one of kahlua that the attendants didn't even charge you for because they too can tell you're a freak were more than enough."
  • "I think next time you fly you should either take a leak before the meal or drink less alcohol so that you can wait until our meals have been cleared and our trays can be folded away and until the meal cart has left the aisle in order that we have any room at all to stand up and let you out, you fool. Do you want us to clamber over the cart while holding our trays?"
  • "I think when you ask for coffee you should give the attendant a moment to pour a cup instead of fretting at me and the rest of the passengers, 'Miss, Miss? Miss! I asked for coffee!' such that, to minimize contact with you, she gives you a whole tray of coffee, all manner of sweeteners, and a little jug of cream, instead of doctoring the coffee from the aisle as she does for everyone else."

Really, I doubt he would have enjoyed any of my opinions. So I just said, "No thanks," and kept my pen.

Tuesday the 10th I saw a doctor because since Monday morning I had been peeing in many interesting colors none of which happened to be yellow. It didn't feel like a UTI, to which I'm prone, but it was certainly something. Being run down coupled with dehydration had led to my body breaking down its own muscle tissue, a phenomenon of which I had never heard but which she promised was common. It looked bloody not because of actual hemoglobin but because of myoglobin, some globin-ly similar substance from muscle tissue. Charming! And the cold I had Sunday night is still (Sunday the 15th) kicking my ass, a full week later. I have got to get fit, and furthermore have a complete physical with bloodwork. I have not been thoroughly well since the first week of August.

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Oh, and this was totally unexpected. Friday night sitting in the restaurant with RDC's aunt and uncle, I thought of JournalCon's Gala Dinner. After that, I didn't think of JournalCon again, even in passing, even to dream about, until we stood in line at LaGuardia Monday and I thought of people coming home. Simultaneous to that thought was "Oh my goodness I didn't think of JournalCon once." I, frankly, was startled. And proud of myself. That TJZ's wedding was more important I never doubted, but never to give the event a thought all weekend long I did not expect.

Not that I didn't immediately, fervently read every single entry and look at everyone's pictures, especially the one of Beth and Shelley that I just love, but I was glad I was so thoroughly where and when I was, instead of my pathetic more typical habit of not being happy with what I have.

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Last modified 14 October 2000

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