KirstenL4W

A long time ago, when I was young and got to spend my hard-earned money on frivolous things like world travel, I went to Europe. I was having a quarter-life crisis and it was suggested to me that I spend some time travelling.

So I did.

My first trip to Europe was a big extravaganza. I visited Sweden, Paris, and London. I’ll write about Sweden and Paris another day. Today, I want to talk about London.

My first encounter with London was after a long day of travel. The Channel Tunnel was not yet complete, and rather than fly, I decided that I’d do something different. I took the train through the French countryside and then ferried across the English Channel. After that, I got on a train to London.

Trains are nice. I come from a long line of train geeks, and I must admit that I quite like them. They’re so much more relaxing than airplanes, and there’s room to stretch out.

The boat was another story. I didn’t know until then that Channel crossings are known for being rough. Let’s just say it’s a good thing I fell asleep, because the other alternative was losing my lunch.

I arrived at Victoria Station not quite knowing where to go, but I figured it out. I took the Tube to Oxford Circus, because I wanted to stay at the YHA Oxford Street hostel. Yeah, I did the whole youth hostel thing, and it was a lot of fun.

When I got to Oxford Circus, I knew I wanted to walk east on Oxford Street. Being from the East Coast of the US, I associated east with the Atlantic Ocean, and started walking towards that. I realized my mistake after only a block, so I didn’t get too lost. Being tired, hungry, and a bit seasick is not good for my navigational skills.

I got to the hostel and encountered Cat. It seemed like I had interrupted a party, but she was cool. She told me they were booked up, but when she was checking a nearby hostel for available beds, she suddenly remembered that she had a cancellation not too long before that. Luckily, I got to stay. I dumped my stuff in my room, grabbed some food at the nearby Burger King, and joined the party in the lounge, where I met other people from around the world and had a bit too much to drink. Woohoo! Welcome to London!

I spent most of my days out and about, doing the whole tourist thing, then partied at the hostel in the evenings. I had a grand old time in London, which is how it should be.

I went back a year later, full of boredom and wanderlust. I stayed at the same hostel, but Cat was gone. I still met plenty of interesting people.

Another year or so later, my college roommate and I went to London. We also visited Edinburgh, York, and Bath, but London was and always will be my favourite.

When I first arrived in London, there was something familiar about it. I don’t know if it was all the British movies and TV that I watched, or the British home decorating magazines that I spent a fortune on, or the fact that I had just spent the last 2 1/2 weeks in countries where I couldn’t speak the language, but London felt like home to me - almost like I had been there before. I don’t recall encountering any real culture shock there. I didn’t even have any trouble looking right to cross the street, to the point that I almost got hit by a motorbike on a one-way street, where I should have looked left (the American way). Everything about London felt natural.

I did all the tourist things - Tower of London, V&A, Harrod’s, Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Square, open-top bus tours, Covent Garden, Museum of London, London Transport Museum, Greenwich, Buckingham Palace and the Mall, and lots and lots of walking. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. The Museum of London was a great bargain and I got to learn a lot about the history of London (even though I had to dodge hundreds of obnoxious schoolchildren), and I had a few perfect peaceful moments in Covent Garden one Sunday afternoon, listening to some grunge rock band in one ear and a string quartet play Pachelbel’s Canon in D in the other.

I also spent time at “ordinary” places - Tesco, Boots, John Lewis, and many other shops and restaurants. I love getting a feel for a place by hanging with the locals like that.

I love the accent, and don’t have any issues understanding anyone. Of course, I didn’t come across anyone with a strong Cockney accent, so I can go on believing that I understand Londoners perfectly.

I haven’t travelled much since buying a condo, selling it, and moving to Las Vegas. I wish I could.

Mister wants to visit London someday. He gets goosebumps watching shows about London on the History Channel. If we ever get a chance to go, my only fear is that he will refuse to come back to the US with me. He’ll like it that much.

In the meantime, we’ll watch BBC America and visit the local British-style pub for some proper food as we dream about all the things we’ll do when we finally get to take that London holiday.

And because I couldn’t leave this post without just one picture…

Hey, look kids!

Because I don’t feel like a long narrative, you get a bullet list this time around.

• Forgot which date the flight was on and nearly ruined vacation entirely
• Ate Swedish meatballs, met new people and visited some old church friends at a church I’ve never been to before
• Celebrated my Dad’s 60th birthday
• Watched Mister get addicted to Dunkin’s iced coffee
• Drove around all over the place
• Went all the way to Cape Cod, stopping only for lunch, fuel, and a few goodies
• Hung out with one of my bestest friends in the whole wide world, Belching Biker Babe, and her new friend Speck
• Visited Detective Friend and his newly expanded family
• Got surprised with a birthday cake while visiting The Family
• Went to visit my Mom at her house in the middle of nowhere
• Determined that rumble strips really do work to wake up a vehicle’s occupants
• Showed Mister what a REAL dumpy yet delicious Chinese restaurant is like
• Introduced Mister to the “you-only-need-one” drinks at previously mentioned Chinese restaurant
• Enjoyed the lush greenery of the natural landscapes
• Realized how much I like the humidity
• Drove around Boston without getting frustrated
• Took Bubba to see Iron Man 2 at the cinema pub
• Ate lots of lobstah and other varieties of seafood
• Ate too much ice cream and too many Ring Dings
• Went to the beach, cuz the ocean rules
• Went to a classic car show and saw cars, friends, and my Dad
• Remembered how much I hate mosquitoes
• Drove around so much I had to add it to this list twice

When I asked for my vacation time, from May 21-June 1, I knew I took Friday, May 21 off from work for a reason. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember. I was booked on a flight leaving at 11:57pm, so there was no reason for me to take an extra day off from work. So I worked on Friday.

That Friday night, Mister and I went out to dinner with my co-worker and her husband before they drove us to the airport. When we got to the check in gate to check our bag, I presented our boarding passes. I had printed them out the day before, because I got the “check in” email from JetBlue. I thought it was a bit weird that I was checking in so far ahead of time, but figured that they sent me the email, so it had to be ok.

It wasn’t. Apparently, our flight was for Thursday at 11:57pm, arriving in Boston on Friday. Somewhere along the way I got it in my head that we were leaving Friday night, so I based all our plans around that. The ticket agent put us 1st and 2nd in line for standby, which we had to go to the gate for to see if they actually had any seats, and it turns out that there was only 1 seat left. Mister told me to take it and he’d try to get the next flight out in the morning. We also called to change the hotel and car reservations. The whole time I was wondering why in the heck Mister was staying so calm and not totally blowing up and killing me for this kind of mistake.

As the plane was taking off, I started to panic, because I could have sworn that after we went through security I saw Mister throw his keys in the carryon that was by this point stowed away in the overhead bins. Great. Now I have not only screwed up our vacation, and I’m taking off with all Mister’s clothes, toiletries, and everything else he needs, but he can’t even get into the house. I usually sleep just on airplanes, but not this time. I couldn’t wait to land to check the bag and call him.

Once I got off the plane, I stopped at the first available chair to check the luggage. I did not see his keys anywhere, so Mister must have had them. Phew! I also checked email on my phone and saw that there was an email from JetBlue that Mister could check in for his flight on Saturday night at 11:57pm. So I knew he was confirmed on that flight. I spent the flight thinking that since the next flight out of Vegas was to JFK, he’d likely get on that flight but not be able to get a flight to Boston, so I would have to drive to NYC to pick him up (I would have, too. I also would have called my uncle in New Haven and confessed my sins so he’d accompany me from New Haven to JFK and let us stay at his house the night.)

I called Mister. He was at home, asleep. He said he paid $100 for an upgrade to get a confirmed seat on the 11:57 flight, and that he already had his boarding pass. My breathing slowly returned to normal, the room stopped spinning and I started to feel like a person again. We chatted a bit more, then I let him go promising to call if I had any trouble with the car or hotel. I was able to pick the car up just fine, and checked into the hotel just fine. Good thing I carry a credit card at all times for emergencies! I was starving by the time I go to the hotel, but I fell asleep instead.

I did set my alarm because I didn’t want to sleep all day. got up around lunchtime, went to visit my Dad, and let him have a good laugh. I also called my coworker to see if she could drive Mister to the airport. She was confused until I told her I lost my head, then she laughed, promised to tell her husband and everyone at work, and said she’d pick him up, and I was set to pick him up at the airport in Boston on Sunday morning.

Mister is getting a lot of mileage out of this one. He made sure I told everyone what I did, which surprised pretty much everyone I know because I’m supposed to be the organized one. Does this mean I’m getting old? I did turn 36 while on vacation. Is losing your mind the first sign of old age? I’m not quite sure, though, because no one older than me has made such a colossal mistake (that I’m aware of).

You’ll be happy to know that I did get to the airport on the correct date and time for our return flight - which happened to be delayed about 2 hours.

I should really try to post more often, but you know how it is when you get back from vacation… so much time spent catching up that it’s like you’re still on vacation from your day to day life! Ok, almost, but not really. Work’s been busy, it took me almost a week to catch up on all the posts in my reader, and there’s all the laundry and housekeeping that I’ve been thinking about but not actually doing. Where does the time go?

So, vacation.

Mister and I went to Massachusetts and New Hampshire to visit my family. We didn’t get as much sightseeing in this time, instead focusing on spending time with friends and family. The day we got in was my dad and stepmother’s 30th wedding anniversary, so we took them out to dinner at a nice Italian restaurant of their choosing. Delicious food, and I hope they enjoyed their celebration! We also met up with my friends Belching Biker Babe and Officer Friend (now Detective Friend!). Belching Biker Babe and I got to reminisce, and yes, old pictures came out. Hello, big hair! We also got a bit silly reciting some old George Carlin routines from the album Playin’ with Your Head, which I borrowed from my mom when I was like, 14, and never gave back because BBB and I wore it out memorizing it. Detective Friend met us for dinner in Newburyport, and we got to hear all about his promotion to detective, and about Baby #2, who is due in the spring. Amazing what happens when you move away from home!

We did spend quiet a bit of time driving around, since everything was so pretty due to the fall colors. Mister got to visit Maine for the first time evah when we drove into Kittery just for the sake of going to Maine. I stopped at one of the outlet stores in Kittery and bought a new Christmas ornament and some wild blueberry jam. Maine is known for blueberries, amongst other things, so I recommend anything made with Maine blueberries. Driving around is a much different experience in New England than it is here in Vegas. Here, you drive around town, on roads that are 3 lanes in each direction, or you get lost in master planned communities. Once you leave town, it’s at least 4 hours of barren desert until you get to the next town. In New England, there’s lots to see - pretty houses, interesting shops, lovely scenery, and nice winding roads. We drove Rt 1A up the NH coast, a scenic drive which Mister absolutely loved.

I wanted to spend some time with my Dad’s family, and the best way to do this was to have the family all gather at The House on the Hill. My dad, Gram, aunt and uncle all live within a half mile of each other, so it’s easy to get everyone together. We dined on wonderful homemade food (hard to get when you’re traveling) and got to visit with everyone. One of the biggest things I miss about being back there is gathering with The Family, so it was really nice to be with everyone.

I also got to spend time with my mom’s family. Uncle N Period and Uncle Caboose came up to visit, and Uncle Caboose made Swedish Meatballs! Yes, real Swedish Meatballs, using the recipe that my great-grandmother brought with her from Sweden. Mom also made a birthday cake for Mister since she somehow found out that he would have a birthday during our vacation. Again, it was really nice to visit with people I don’t get to see often enough.

Since it was Mister’s birthday, I stopped at Newbury Comics to browse and to find a birthday gift for Mister. I got him a retro New Wave Halloween CD, Just Can’t Get Enough: New Wave Halloween, The Misfits Box Set, and the book Weird New England, since I knew he’d like a book like that. He stayed up way too late reading it, so I guess he did like it.

Overall, it was a relaxing, refreshing vacation that wasn’t long enough. It was really great to visit with everyone, and we’re already planning our next trip back there. Maybe on the next trip we can do some more touristy stuff so I’ll really have something to write about.

Not that kind of high. You people should know I don’t do that. No, I’m talking about flying in an airplane.

Mister and I just got back from a vacation to New England to visit my family. Being so far away, the only practical way to get there was to fly. I looked over the fares available and found a really decent fare on Virgin America. I flew Virgin Atlantic when I went to Europe way too long ago now, and I was eager to fly them when I went back east for Grandma’s funeral last year. Their low fares didn’t hurt either.

Virgin America doesn’t have the stuffy attitude that the other carriers have. None of that “you’re gonna sit in a cramped metal tube, get charged way too much for everything, and like it, dammit!” attitude that the legacy carriers seem to have. They’re hip, with it, and have a pretty good sense of humor. They also have rocking customer service. All their planes have regular electrical plugs in every row, and their headphone jack is standard, so you can use your regular headphones instead of typical sucky airline headphones. There’s also an in-flight entertainment system on the back of every seat that offers satellite tv, movies on demand, music, video games, seat to seat texting, and you can order meals and drinks through it as well. They deliver meals really fast too, and if they’re out of something, they take it off the menu so you don’t try to order something that’s in someone else’s stomach. Overall, I give Virgin America a huge thumbs up.

But I have a BUT. Virgin America is based out of San Francisco International Airport (SFO), so they have quite a few more gates there than at other airports. My biggest issue is that when we landed at SFO, no one could tell us what the gate assignment was for our connecting flight. For example, on the way home, we landed at SFO nearly an hour late, leaving us only an hour until our next flight was scheduled to board. You’d think that at this point in time, someone would know which gate we can hang out at. But no, that was not the case. We were directed to a customer service desk on the other end of the terminal that was unmanned. We sat there for awhile, got a snack, and no one even came near the desk. Finally, I went to a nearby gate and finally found out that our flight would be leaving from… the gate we came in at. Now mind you, all this running back and forth was a huge ordeal because [insert confidential reason here]. I just thought that it was really unorganized of them to not know gate assignments. It happened as we connected through SFO on our way to Boston as well, but we sat tight and ended up not having to move then. That part of it was probably the worst part of the whole experience.

When we did finally get back to the now-known correct gate, we were entertained with an open Q&A session by the pilot of the flight leaving the gate before ours. Even though it wasn’t our pilot, it was really nice to see that the pilot cared about his passenger’s flight experience. I wanted to ask him why he was answering questions instead of doing preflight checks, but Mister wouldn’t let me. I did, however, get a few opportunities to enjoy Virgin’s adorable safety video.

All in all, I highly recommend Virgin America. Their fares are extremely reasonable, and their customer service kicks ass. Now if they could just get their act together on the gate assignment issue at SFO.

Note: I was not paid to do this review. I paid good money to fly on Virgin, and like I do with other stuff I really like, I wanted to tell the world. Consider yourself told!

I’m back! Did you miss me? Mister and I just got back from a vacation back to Massachusetts and New Hampshire to visit my family. I’ll write more later, but since I really didn’t get online during vacation, I have a lot to catch up on. Just wanted to let you know that I’m still here!

As you well know by now, Mister and I recently returned from our trip to New England, specifically the area north of Boston near the New Hampshire border, and into New Hampshire a bit.  The primary purpose of the trip was our honeymoon and to introduce Mister to my family members who did not come out to Vegas for our wedding (and I know better than to make them come when it’s well over 105°F outside).

After a lovely flight in which we got little, if any, sleep due to a whining child in the row behind us, we obtained our rental car at a much higher price than our online reservation said.  At 6:30am and as tired as we were, we didn’t push the issue, but after thinking it over, Mister was able to secure a car with another company at a much, much lower price, so it was worth it to us to get up at 4am the next day to go into Boston, return the first rental, pick up the second car, and be on our way.

So back to day 1.  It was too early to check into our hotel, so Mister tried his hand at driving in the Bay State.  It might have been a bit easier if he had an informative and educational book such as this one, but eventually he got the hang of rotaries and the overabundance of yield signs.  We drove to Gloucester, took some pictures of statues, then drove around Rockport and headed back towards Danvers for a roast beef sandwich.  Mister didn’t understand why I was craving one of these so badly, and he insisted that I was describing Arby’s.  Not so.  For those familiar with a Massachusetts-style roast beef sandwich, you know of what goodness I speak.  For those not familiar, let me enlighten you.  First, you take a bulkie roll (I prefer onion rolls), split it, butter the inside, and put it on the grill (flat grill, not a bbq type grill).  This gives the inside of your sandwich a nice, flavorful cruch.  Then you take warm, rare roast beef and slice it just a bit thinner than your deli slicer will handle.  Pile it high on the roll!  Add mayo or bbq sauce, and cheese if you desire.  That’s it.  Mister was impressed that the sandwich contained real roast beef and not that loaf stuff that’s used at a previously mentioned fast food chain, and by the end of the trip he was a convert.

After lunch, we decided to check in at the hotel because we needed some shuteye.  We only planned on sleeping for about an hour to make ourselves ready for the rest of the day without dooming ourselves to a night owl schedule in a part of the country that doesn’t have much nightlife to speak of, but that plan went horribly wrong.  I slept for around 4 hours.  Officer Friend called sometime during that nap, but I wasn’t coherent enough to talk to him and went back to sleep.  Mister finally woke me up in time to find some dinner, and we ended up going to downtown Newburyport to a landmark restaurant called The Grog, and took in the first of our fresh, New England seafood dinners.  Yummy!  I grew up on fresh seafood, and miss it so much.  A word to the wise: don’t even try to eat seafood in a landlocked state.  Just don’t.

After dinner we walked around Newburyport for a couple minutes, window shopping our way back to the car, and then headed back to the hotel.  We stayed up and watched tv for way too late since we were no longer tired, even though we had a 4am wake up call to go swap cars.  But we managed.  The next day, we swapped cars and since it was still way too early, I amazed Mister with my amazing Dunkin Donuts radar and then we went to Salisbury Beach to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic - a first for Mister.  A drive around the seacoast showed Mister the neighborhood I lived in right before moving to Vegas.  Then we drove to Salem, MA.  Mister was really eager to see Salem, so we made it our sightseeing priority.

Salem, MA in October is not a quiet place, as you can imagine.  Can you really expect it in a town where the police have a witch on a broomstick silhouetted on their cars?  No, it was a bit crowded, but being there on a weekday as opposed to the weekend helped give us a bit of breathing room.  We started with the Corwin Witch House, which is a wicked old house that belonged to a judge involved in the witch trials.  Then we walked down Essex Street to go towards the Witch Museum, stopping in some shops along the way.  When we got to the Witch Museum, we started walking towards the entrance when two busloads filled with elderly tourists stopped, emptied out and rushed the entrance.  Suddenly there was a line down the street, and since it was now after lunch and we were tired, we decided to plan our next trip to New England in the off season, and put the rest of the Salem attractions on that trip’s list.  We headed back to the car, taking a detour to a wicked old cemetary, and decided to drive to one more old thing: House of the Seven Gables.  Mister’s interested in history, and old houses feed into that interst, so it was a fun tour.

By that time it was getting late, and we had plans to have dinner with my dad and stepmom, so we headed up there.  I did a quick driving tour through my hometown, which Mister enjoyed because Methuen has a lot of cool history. We stopped at the local cemetary to visit my grandfather, then went to my dad’s house.  I think Mister enjoyed seeing the house I grew up in.  We chatted with my dad and stepmom until it was time to go pick up my nephew, Bubba, from his football game.  We all piled into the truck to head to the high school I attened in 9th and 10th grade and encountered a crowd of parents picking up all their kids from various sporting events.  With no cell signal, there was no way to get in touch with Bubba to tell him where exactly we were, so since I knew the school grounds I walked up the bus loop and quickly found Bubba waiting on the sidewalk.  I stood next to him for a few minutes before asking him if he was waiting for a ride.  He said yes.  I told him I knew where Papa was, then he finally realized his most favoritest Aunty in all the world was standing beside him.  “Oh, hi Aunty.”

At Bubba’s suggestion, Dad took us to a seafood joint near his house.  It’s mostly fried seafood, and trust me, we Bay Staters can fry seafood really good, but I had something else.  The Holy Grail of seafood.  Maine Lobster.  Yep, it was on the menu and I was having it.  But not just any Maine Lobster.  Twin Maine Lobster - that’s two whole lobsters.  For $19.99.  Oh yes, I was bibbed, my sleeves got rolled up, and I was in the zone.  So messy to eat and so worth every last morsel.

Saturday was the day of our par-tay, the one we planned so that we could get everyone together in one place and meet and greet and celebrate.  We started out in mid-morning by heading to my dad’s place of business.  Mister’s parents have a truck yard, my dad has The Garage.  Mister has heard so many stories that occur there, so I wanted to show him.  He liked it - he said it was a really nice little office, and a great yard.  There’s a brook out back and trees, so even though it’s on the main road through town, it feels rural and relaxing.  After visiting dad, we headed to a different Salem, this one in New Hampshire, to get lunch and do a tour since I spent way more time in Salem, NH than Salem, MA growing up.  We stopped at Newbury Comics for a wicked good time, then wound our way through town.  I showed Mister the house I lived in until I was 6, which is when Dad bought the house in Methuen.  We went to the church to see the memorial garden and visit my mom’s parents.  Grandma’s name was just carved on the headstone that week, so I’m glad I got to see that.  We continued to wind our way through Derry and Londonderry before arriving at the restaurant for our party.

The party was pretty good.  Kids got kinda loud, as kids do, but it was really nice to see everyone.  Dinner was great, and everyone got along, so it was a very nice night.  Except the part about my brother, which my mom wrote about.  But it was fine in the end.  Mister enjoyed meeting the rest of the family and some of my friends, and was finally able to put faces with the names.

The next day, Sunday, we planned on doing Boston.  But my not so great plans, which didn’t consider situations like Mister’s bad back preventing him from walking, meant we got into Boston, parked, got up to the Common, and walked back to the car.  We tried to drive to the USS Constitution, but Boston’s well-laid out roads had other plans and tried to shove us to the airport.  So we decided instead to go back to Newburyport, which is much more compact and more easily walked.  The Autumn Harvest Festival caused us to abort those plans, since heavy traffic meant that we would most surely not get a parking space anywhere near the downtown area.  We were starving by this point, so headed to Friendly’s for lunch and called my mom to announce that we were coming over.  Mommy was thrilled at the unexpected visit, and Mister got to see a bit more of New Hampshire since we had to drive nearly forever on a road to the middle of nowhere to get to my mom’s house.

For Monday, our last full day there, Mister suggested we call my Gram to visit with her.  I really liked this idea because I really like spending time with my Gram.  First we picked up Bubba and went bowling so that I could show Mister a form of bowling that is more challening because the ball is not as wide as the lane.  We had lunch at the bowling alley then headed to Gram’s.  Mister enjoyed talking to Gram and learning of how she earned her engineering degree in the 1940s and worked as an electrical engineer for a time.  Then we popped downstairs to visit my aunt and uncle for a bit, and I got to show Mister the house I spent every single Christmas in until I moved to Nevada.  Then we dropped Bubba off and headed back to the hotel.

On our last day, we had an evening flight, so we checked out of our hotel and did a driving tour.  Mister wanted to see more of New Hampshire and fall colors, so we did that before heading to the airport.  Overall, Mister really liked his first visit to Massachusetts and New Hampshire.  He loves the fact that there are 4 distinct seasons and would love to experience Christmas with snow.  He loves the old houses and the fact that newer homes are built in pretty much the same styles that were used since the Pilgrims first landed.  He loves the accent, even though he thought I was speaking a totally different language most of the time.  Most of all, I think he loves that I grew up there and was able to show him a part of the country he’d never been to before - a part of the country that is a huge part of who I am.

Last night I got the the airport fully expecting a major hassle in trying to get a boarding pass for the correct flight. I was 2nd in line when I went in, and when it was my turn it took all of 1 minute. I didn’t even get to tell my story! I just got the boarding pass for the correct flight, and was wished a happy thanksgiving by the ticket agent. Then I proceeded to the security checkpoint. There was no line, and except for the minor inconvenience of having to remove my sterling silver necklace, security was a breeze. My flight was on time, and despite boarding in zone 9, I was able to find ample overhead space for my bag, and it was even near my seat! There were at least a half dozen children on the flight, but you would never have known it, because it was so quiet except for the sound of the engines. People were polite, introducing themselves to each other. I had a middle seat but my seatmates were not oversized, and they were both well aware of what constitutes good hygiene. Except for a bit of turbulence, it was a very pleasant flight.

I got into Atlanta on time, waited for the shops to open so I could get a bottle of water and something to eat, waited for my flight, which left on time and landed in Ft. Myers on time. Except for my sister reading the boards wrong and going to the wrong concourse, all went extremely well.

I do have one thought, specifically on airplane boarding procedures. For years, airlines would board from the back to the front, which resulted in a huge bottleneck. Now they do this zone based boarding, which is allegedly totally random (I think it’s alphabetical, because I never get anything earlier than zone 7). I think they should board window seats first, then middle, then aisle. That way no one has to get up once they’ve settled into their seats.

Mia is a little doll. Sis sent some pictures awhile back, but I have no idea who that kid was because the pics do not look like Mia at all. She’s adorable! We went to Perkins for breakfast, and Mia had everyone charmed. All the waitstaff had to come over and coo at her, the manager kept coming over, even the customers around us were waving hi to her. She’s such an attention whore.

Sis is starting to cook for tomorrow, and I have a cake to cook. People are supposed to start arriving around 6:30 to help with prep for tomorrow and just hang out, bit it’s now 7:20. Is this aloha time? Wait a sec, I’m in Florida. Oh well. It’s still 4:20 by my clock. Off to cook…

The Beeb

Boyfriend has been spending a lot of time with his new girlfriend, Beeb. How strange it is to find a native Californian, with no concept of a holiday like we have in New England, eating weird foods like sushi and avocado, and yet he has such a fine appreciation for Jolly Olde England. His only caveat about watching it so much is that he is tempted more and more to just sell everything and move there. Now, I’ve been to the UK - 3 times, in fact. I love it there - LOVE it. And I don’t think I would hesitate too much if that ever became a reality. I’d just end up overthinking it - the logistics of moving overseas, the logistics of being American in a foreign country, etc. And that sort of overthinking would stress me out to no end. But it would be a good kind of stress. So, (insert British accent here) dear Boyfriend, keep spending time with Beeb, sweetie darling.

The Post Office

Boyfriend and I left the house as soon as I got home from work Friday. We had already packed, and since we are getting really good at this last minute road trip stuff, we didn’t have any running around to do (well, except for food - Boyfriend didn’t really eat lunch). By the time we make it out of Las Vegas Friday afternoon rush hour traffic, it’s a bit after 5pm. Not bad at all.

We started heading up US-95 towards Reno. Now, once you get past the turnoff for Pahrump, it’s a 2-lane highway all the way to Reno. All 300 or so miles. And there’s little else. A few towns here and there, not exactly large towns either. Since I started driving, and I hate driving that kind of road in the dark, Boyfriend and I switched seats at Goldfield. But before we did that, we managed to get a great view of the road at sunset:

Last time we drove US 95, it was on the way back from San Francisco, taking the scenic route through the Sierras and Reno. It was a dark night with no moon, and the narrow, unlit, 2-lane highway was scary, for me at least. The big black void was too much for me, since I couldn’t see a damn thing beyond my headlights. And beautiful Walker Lake? At least on this most recent trip we had a nearly full moon, and I could see the water just fine.

The Reno area was a lot colder than the weather we left in Las Vegas. It was in the 30s and threatening to snow. So much so that Boyfriend was worried about our trip over the Sierras the next day. I-80 in California has this silly little thing that if there’s snow on the ground, regardless of road conditions, all vehicles must chain up. Lucky for us, the snow moved out and it all disappeared, so no chains required.

In Reno, Boyfriend made reservations at the Peppermill Reno. I don’t know what, if any, preconceived notions any of you might have about Vegas, at least those who haven’t been here. The Peppermill is Tacky Vegas personified. Mirrored ceilings in the casino, colorful neon everywhere, and a tackfully decorated room with not one but two rows of strip lights circling the room. The wallpaper was something out of a vintage 70s floral collection, and the wall behind the bed was encased in a mirror with a smoky tint to it:

Saturday saw us out on the road a bit early to drive 1 hour back towards Vegas to Fallon, so Boyfriend could do a work thingy, then back to Reno for another work thingy. The Reno one pissed him off because the person was late and kept giving Boyfriend the run around. But work stuff got done, then we were on our way to San Francisco. We stayed in the same hotel as last time, due to its proximity to both the city and the ease at which we could get out of the city. But I can’t leave the Peppermill without telling you all about one more super tacky thing we saw - a car at the valet. A Porsche at the valet. A Smurf-blue Porsche at the valet. Not really the right color for a car of that caliber. But it seemed to fit in there just fine.

We went to meet some of Boyfriend’s Silly Little Game friends for dinner. I’d met one of them before, so it was a comfortable evening - none of that awkward “OMG what if his friends don’t like me” stuff. Been there, done that. Instead, it was some awkward “what if I don’t like it” out to eat stuff. We went to the famed Benihana restaurant. We’ve all seen it in the movies - it’s the place where you sit at a table with a bunch of people you don’t know and the chef shows off while cooking your food right there at the table.

Now, those who know me know that I am one of the pickiest people alive when it comes to what I’ll eat. In foreign cuisines, I’ll usually pick out one or maybe two things that I can tolerate and stick with those. I don’t do fungus, and I most definitely don’t do cold fish, especially if it’s raw. So no sushi. Just - no. Gross. I can’t even stomach the thought of uncooked seafood passing my lips. Just not gonna happen. So, I know Boyfriend, who thinks I need to open my mind when it come to cuisine, really wants me to try sushi. Too bad everyone else scarfed it down before I had a chance to muster up the courage. Ha ha you! The rest of the meal, on the other hand, was excellent. The chef was supposed to put on a fancy show out of cooking our food, but with our reservations being at 9pm, he was all out of personality by then, so we got excellent food with a lackluster show. There is so much food! Japanese onion soup, which was yummy (I waded my way around the mushrooms in it), fried rice, shrimp appetizers which were excellent even though I rarely like shrimp, then the meal. I got the Filet Mignon and lobster. OMG. Just OMG. It was that good. Top it all off with some Japanese style grilled onions and zucchini, and wow. And zucchini is another one of those things that I rarely like.

Sunday we wanted to be out at a reasonable hour, since we planned on driving down the coast before heading back. California Highway 1 has got to be one of the most scenic roads I have ever been on. A bit harrowing to drive in sections, but if you can have someone else drive while you look, it’s awesome. Thanks to my wonderful, awesome, most wicked bestest Boyfriend in all the land, I got my fill of Pacific coast scenery. We passed over the famous Bixby Bridge, took some photos, and started to head home after we got down past San Simeon somewhere. This is where the adventure truly began. But first, some scenery:

That’s the Bixby Creek Bridge taken from afar. The best pics are taken from out on the water, but we couldn’t drive there, obviously. Anyway, the adventure part. After we got out of the winding road area in Big Sur, I drove for awhile. Not very long though. Our GPS unit was going to help us get home on the quickest route possible. It routed me through a town, I missed a stop sign but didn’t get caught, and started following the directions. Until I saw a sign indicating that the next services were 84 miles away and I had a quarter tank of gas left. I didn’t recall seeing gas stations in the tiny town we just passed, so Boyfriend asked GPS where the nearest one was. That thing is pretty nifty. Except when it gets you lost. That thing led us down California Highway 229.

Now, let me tell you a few things about CA 229. It is not a highway. It is not a way at all, really. It is a one lane - ONE! - road that twists and turns its way past some ranches, until it finally opens up into a two lane road and brings you to another rural road somewhere. California wanted it to feel special so it gave the road some state money and a special number. Back where I come from these are called back roads, and they know to stay the fuck off of your road map. They know better. California highways, on the other hand, are all self-important, trying to bolster up the little guy and give it way more self-esteem than it should have. And they end up getting you lost.

The GPS had us turn off CA 229, onto some other road, then had us make a left onto some dirt road, where there was supposed to be a Texaco station on the corner. Maybe 75 years ago, but not today. Boyfriend laughed, but I was close to tears. It was so funny in a way that’s really not. Luckily, once we tore the GPS a new anoos and asked for a different gas station, it got us out of the middle of nowhere and to a gas station. Once we fueled up, the rest of the trip was long, dark, and uneventful. We arrived home at 12:30am, where I proceeded to collapse into bed, only to wake up 4 hours later for work.