Yesterday I went to dinner after work with (in alphabetical order) Aaron and Dave III and Rohini. I ate half of a patty melt, the other half of which is currently residing in the lunch room fridge, awaiting 1:00. I did not fall asleep, but I did get poked with a fork. Silliness ran rampant and I wrote the first two lines of a song: "Graveyards for sale or rent. Tombs to let, fifty cents . . ." Yeah. If you want visual aid for this diner adventure, there are some pictures over here. Cool.
And now, though I do not yet have my photos developed, I present you with:
Tucson! Day One!
Saturday July 5, 2003
(This is really really long. It will be the longest day, for sure.)
I woke up at 3:15am. Ouch. My dad drove me to the airport at 4:00am. Ouch again. For both of us. He dropped me off at the door, and went home to get back in bed. I went into the airport to wait. And wait. There's nothing quite like sitting in a BWI terminal to serve as a really dull start to a vacation. But hey, it means that the line at security was nonexistant, about which I certainly won't complain. It also means that I was able to stake out a waiting room seat right by the window overlooking the plane, and so I was able to watch the sky gradually lighten while the crew prepared the plane for departure. Reminded me of my own days in the air. (On the way into the airport in the car, I noticed the field of blue lights lining the taxiway, which is always really pretty at night. It reminded me of my first working flight ever, stuck overnight in the airport at Punta Cana, and wondering what the lights are for. One of the more experienced flight attendants, Matt, told me that they were fairies. I laughed at him, but I had to figure out what they were really for on my own, because he wouldn't tell me. Sigh.)
Eventually I managed to get on the plane, a full flight to Dallas/Ft. Worth (DFW), otherwise unexceptional. I spent two hours on the ground in Dallas, during which time I walked the very long way between two terminals simply because I had the time. There was a train that I could have taken, but then what was I supposed to do after? As it was, I still had quite a while in which to buy a croissant for sustinance and an Entertainment Weekly for mindless reading and pretty men.
The flight to Tucson was less full than the previous flight, which meant that I had an empty seat next to me. Ah, the joys of elbow room. I had a window seat, so I was able to observe that flying over Arizona is different from anywhere else that I have seen from above. Where the east is green and hilly and Texas is green and divided into squares, Arizona is various contours of brown. The ground is flat . . . flat . . . flat . . . mountain! . . . flat . . . flat. Crazy desert.
We arrived in Tucson a bit early, and I met up with Laura quickly and easily. It was slightly less easy to locate the car in the parking lot. Once we got under way, I wrote a letter to Arizona: "Dear Arizona, You are very brown. Love, Joanna." I followed this up moments later with: "Dear Arizona, But you have lots of cool cactus. Love, Joanna." They probably won't go down in the annals of history as the greatest letters ever written, but they are completely true.
We arrived at the house where Laura is staying, which is a cute little place that I really like. I settled in a bit, and I heard plans for the week and boy gossip. Whoop. We went to Grill for lunch, which is a cool diner-y place within walking distance of the house. They have an inexplicable prejudice against putting cheese on potatoes- it says so on the menu. I ate an omelette. So did Laura. We were happy.
After lunch, we returned to the house stuffed full of food and ready for a nap. So we napped. Upon waking, I met the outside kitties: Scaredy and Michael (who pees). I also met a tired tired Mariah, who walked with us to the ATM, but did not accompany us to run errands afterwards, because she was returning home to caffeinate herself. Laura and I bought paper towels and shoe insoles and iced coffee. We then returned to the house to prepare to GAWTH. We had to assemble an outfit around my orange Converse shoes, because I didn't have any others. I think it worked out okay. At least they were easy to put on, unlike Laura's go-go boots. Eventually we were all dressed and looked smashing- three girls wearing horns.
Then we danced the night away. I quickly figured out that in order to dance at Asylum, the key is to avoid taking yourself seriously. Also, in the words of Mariah, "Don't look like you're enjoying yourself too much." I followed these instructions, and so managed to have a good time. I was introduced to some people with real names, and had others pointed out to me by nicknames. Mariah and I were called deer because of our horns.
Toward the end of the night, a boy with a masculine version of my glasses swooped in, said something along the lines of "I know you probably have a boyfriend, but I wanted to tell you that you are gorgeous and that you have the coolest f-ing shoes ever." I managed to say Thank You (all "flustered and flattered", in the words of my horoscope) before he totally disappeared. He reappeared briefly after the lights came on to apologize for sounding like a moron, and ran away again as I tried to tell him that he did not, in fact, sound like a moron. I suppose that he didn't actually want to talk to me.
We eventually got out of the door, which was more difficult than one would expect. Laura is just so sought after. We moved on to another place, where I would have danced, but my feet hurt. So I simply drank whatever cold and caffeinated thing the guy at the counter gave me when I ordered "something cold and caffeinated." I saw some hookahs and we screamed like little girls because of a big creepy beetle. After that, we returned to the house, where we sat on the porch, drank cheapo wine, and ate berries until the sun started coming up. We all retired about 5am.
So that was an extremely long entry, but it was a freaking long day. I'm guessing that future entries will be far more readable.
Now I really ought to do some work.