Up in the air, winging toward Spain, I find myself trying to eat a meal that is packed into tiny containers with right-angled sides. To eat a salad (containter approx. 3″x3″x1.5), I must cut with my elbows comically up in the air. To move on to the next course, I play a form of containter Tetris, shifting oddly shaped vessels around my fold-down tray, which will only slide closer to my lap, not farther, which would allow me to eat with normal arm extension.
I’m also trying to figure out which language to use with the flight attendants. My Spanish is sub-par, yet I can order food and drinks just fine. The problem is that the staff is very soft-spoken, and I can’t hear either language. I’ll muddle my way through this one, I suspect.
Out the window, the stars are incredible. It’s perfectly dark and clear. Hopefully, now that Tetris-dinner is finished, they’ll cut off the cabin lights.
We find our intrepid hero sitting outside a coffee shop across the street from the Renwick in Washington, D.C. The sun breaks through the clouds, causing a momentary need for sunglasses. The relative calm of the city is slightly unnerving and yet strangely comforting. A beautiful, tall, dark-haired woman cracks a smile as she approaches…
Somehow writing things as screenplays makes them much more exciting, no?
As I write this, I am waiting for the IT department at work to install a virtual Windows machine on my Mac. After six years of a Mac-only existence, I have mixed feeligs about Windows coming back into my life. Sure, I remember the carefree days of middle school, playing games on the ‘ol PC, but with those sweet memories come a world of painful ones. Crashes and lost files as I approached deadlines for assignments were what caused me to dump Bill Gates’ infuriating little mistress. You knew she had the ability to do what you wanted, but her temperment was so unstable that you had to move on. Now, like a chance encounter with an old lover, Windows is back. Only so I can QA our website. I swear.
I’ve been obviously slacking on my writing, but I blame this wholly on the fact that I’ve recently switched jobs and no longer have the fantastic ride to Connecticut to do all my blogging. The exciting news is that I can walk, bike, or take the subway a few stops to get to work.
In addition to new career opportunities, I’ve also started playing around with brushes and ink, and I will have a new photo project to present shortly. Sorry for the teaser post, but things are going on in the background. In the meantime…
So I’m embarking on another adventure. This trip is to our nation’s capitol for the distinct pleasure of an ice cold Miller Lite from the finest bartender I’ve ever met.
As we roll southward, I’m getting incredibly homesick. The trees and bodies of water that we pass remind me that there are other places to live that aren’t entirely covered in concrete. The sense of New York being the center of the universe is captivating, but the gravity there doesn’t have a permanent hold.
At some point the wanderlust will kick back in and I’ll be ready for another real adventure, a la the 2007 trans-American trip or the 2006 pan-Europe trek. I think it will have to be an international experience to really count, although the idea of a through hike of the AT is also floating around in the ether, and after a few years in New York, it might feel good to be alone in the woods for a couple months.
As the summer marches on, I am forever amused by New Yorkers perception of what constitutes a hot day. It seems like any movement beyond 80 is sudden death for many residents. While it’s easy to blame this on geography, NYC definitely has its fair share of days that push triple digits.
Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of this is the cultural difference between NYC and Virginia or North Carolina. At home, it’s a given that you will sweat on a hot day, and nobody seems to think twice, whereas up here there seems to be an expectation that somehow one can miraculously shut of perspiration. Additionally, I’ve never heard as much whining about a little bit of weather as I have here.
I suppose that forward-thinking New Yorkers are anticipating the near future and the global warming induced flooding of the city. Once the water rises, the entire city will be beachfront property. My sneaking suspicion is that any similarity to Venice will be short lived. While imagining the entire fleet of cabbies switching to gondolas creates a fantastic mental image of a bunch of foreign born people getting lost around the city in glorified canoes, I suspect that the underlying squalor would quickly render the water a major health hazard.
Perhaps this eventuality can be credited with New York’s distaste for a little warm weather. Knowing your multiple-million dollar apartment will soon overlook a canal system full of sludge would piss me off, too.
