Traffic report

I've been meaning to take pictures of the traffic around here to give you an idea of why I take the bus. Today, I was sitting in the front. I have stopped caring that other people on the bus think I'm nuts. "Bollocks to them," I say!

I have a friend who lives just north of Williamsburg, in the country. He occasionally comes to Rocky Mount to work. Last time we talked, he told me the only decent radio station he gets comes from Raleigh. He marvels that the evening traffic and accident report takes 15 minutes. I'm surprised it's that short.

Again, I can only do so much with the 2 megapixel camera, but thats all white headlights on the left and all red lights on the right. Bumper to bumper in both directions. With the exception of Mexico DF, can any other city claim rush hour traffic as bad?

Oh no she dint!

Anyone remember this post? Right, so a couple days ago the former friend Margaret sent me an email that said this:

"it's obvious you are pissed that i took you up on your offer to get another ride from the airport on memorial day. if you'd like to sort it out and/or bury the hatchet, let me know. hope we can.

m"

I stewed a couple days because I wasn't sure what I wanted to say. Here's the response I sent this evening:

"It's obvious I'm still pissed that you took me up on my offer to get another ride from the airport? Funny, that almost sounds like I am the one who should apologize. It was after July 4th and the way I remember it is you committed to picking me up from the airport but backed out at the last minute because you "had a long weekend." If I offered to find another ride from a more reliable friend, it was purely because I didn't care to deal with your self-absorbed bullshit after spending 22 of the previous 24 hours in an airport with no clear idea of when I was getting home. I am lucky to have friends like Jake and Leah who would drive to the airport at midnight to help me out.

What surprises me is that I'm not mad about that. I was enjoying hanging out with you, but I couldn't figure out why I felt like I needed to keep you at arms length. Thanks for reminding me why. What does piss me off is that you finally contact me about it three months later. I can only presume this was prompted by Pruitt and Julie coming to Raleigh more than you wanting to bury the hatchet, as you say.

If I'm right and you sent this email because you want to hang out with Pru and Julie, whatever. I'm going to be spending time with my friends next week. You can join us if you want. I would hope you don't think I'd oppose you tagging along. If Pruitt is in town, I'd expect to see you at some point since you're still friends with him. So, until then...

Cheers,
Meg"

Here's how she responded:

"hahahahahah.

oh...that's rich.

best of luck with that attitude problem and your selective memory."

All I can say is...wow, what a bitch. Seriously.

Look Homeward, Angel, or Longest Post Ever.

My flight from SFO to RDU by way of Atlanta left at 7:30 Am on Sunday, July 7. I got up around 4:30 to shower and for last minute packing. It was about a 40 minute drive from Mountain View to SFO, but there's not much traffic on the 101 at that time. I went to the gate, got on my plane and up, up and away we went. I fell asleep at some point and woke up to the sound of our fearless Captain explaining that we may have noticed we're "in a holding pattern" above the Atlanta airport. (Foreshadowing, people.) After flying in circles for twenty minutes, we land at Gate B something. Any of my dear readers ever fly into Hartsfield-Jackson Airport in Atlanta? If you've flown Delta, you have. It's five separate buildings, connected underground by a really, really long walk way and a subway. I got into ATL around 3 PM and was scheduled to leave at 5:20 PM to RDU. I'm sitting patiently at Gate A5, when there's an announcement that my flight has moved to Gate A29. Okay, fine. On my way to the new gate I stop for Chinese food because it's the only reasonably priced food in the place. I wolf it down because I am so hungry by this point I'm about to pass out.

Around 4-ish, my flight is delayed a little. About an hour later, my flight is now delayed until about 8:45. Oh, and throw in another gate change while we're at it. I am guessing I've walked about two miles at this point. The flight was delayed again until about 9:20 or so. The delays were due to storms all over the East Coast. I have called my "friend" Margaret, to let her know about the delays and she is telling me there's no problem and I should keep her updated. (More foreshadowing, people.) The flight is finally scheduled to leave at 10:15-ish after yet more delays. I call Margaret, who announces to me that she's had a tough weekend and she doesn't think she can pick me up at the airport after all. I'm scheduled to get in around 11:30, by the time I get my bags and get out of the airport, it'll be close to 12:30. How many people do you know that you can call at 10:30 on a Sunday night to pick you up in the airport in two hours. Buses don't run. Taxis are sketchy and freakishly expensive. I told her to forget it and called J&L, the two friends that I know I can always count on to support me. Margaret then leaves me a voicemail, "Oh, c'mon, don't be like that. Don't be mad. Call me." Don't be like that? Um, what did I do wrong? If I told you I'd pick you up at the airport, I will pick your ass up. If your flight gets in at 4 AM, I'm driving to the airport in my jammies to get you. I may not be talkative, but I'm coming to get you.

J&L were standing by to get me. I was getting on a plane FINALLY. All was right in the world. Until I found my seat, that is...an aisle seat thankfully, next to Jeff Foxworthy and Larry The Cable Guy. Dear Lord, kill me. The flight attendant announced there were empty seats so I moved up one, next to a Japanese woman and her adorable son. They had a brief but heated debate in Japanese about how he needed to turn off his light, put down the comic book, and go to sleep. I know this because he made one last plea, in English, "but I'm not sleepy!" Within ten minutes he was totally sacked out. We begin to take off and I realize we're just driving around. In circles. Again. Doing donuts on the runway, so to speak. Us and six other planes, according to our Captain. Fifteen minutes later, the Captain does pilot double speak for "the FAA says I have to call it a night." I must admit to be confused as to how you get ready to take off and THEN realize you've logged to many hours? How? How does this happen? They bring us back to the gate and make us wait. They announce they are going to find a new flight crew and we should sit tight. Cool, I can sit tight. I've been sitting tight since 5:30 that morning. I'm getting really good at sitting tight. By this point, I'm almost a pro.

My flight is finally cancelled around 10:45. I call J&L to let them know they can go to bed and a woman in Delta outfit gives me an overnight bag. I am then told to go to customer service to get rebooked. I find a line a mile long and stand. It is brought to my attention that some folks are going to an automated queue to get hotel assignments and new flights. Off I go. This looks innocuous since the girl on my cancelled flight just got a room in the Sheraton. My room? In the Red Roof Inn. Say whaaaa? (Snob alert) I don't *stay* at the Red Roof Inn. (If only blogger had a more condescending typeface) The machine also tells me I get $7 towards breakfast and for flight info, I have to see a Delta rep. I get back in line. A very bitchy woman in a Delta uniform comes by and barks at us to go to the 24 hour customer service desk up front because we'll be in line longer here in Terminal A. I advise her as politely as possible that there is a special place in hell reserved just for Delta and their employees and walk off to find the 24 hour desk. Please keep in mind that during all of this I was on the phone with the most patient woman from Orbitz, who was unable to get me on an earlier flight, but gave it the ol' college try anyway.

The desk I am looking for is cleverly hidden in the midst of baggage claim and has space for 24 Delta employees to serve their customers. This being a unique situation and them being Delta, they had six fresh-faced employees ready and waiting. Yay Delta! I waited in line until 1:30 in the morning to finally get to speak with someone. Her name was Eve. She was a tiny, cold hearted Irish woman more concerned with company policy than the fact that I've been wearing my bathing suit top for two days because I am so sunburned I can't wear a bra, that I have been up for 21 hours by this point, and that I've walked nearly five miles in that airport that day. My only other option for a hotel room is a smoking room in the Quality Inn. Tempting as that is, a smoking room is out of the question. Eve also informs me that I have been booked on a flight on Tuesday. Tuesday? As in two days from now? No. Oh, no. No, no. I don't think so. Eve offers me stand-by and tells me to be at the airport at 5:45 AM. She assures me that my suitcase will go out on the first flight to Raleigh and be waiting for me when I arrive. I go outside to find the shuttle for the Red Roof Inn.

Shuttles come, shuttles go. And I wait. Except I'm not waiting patiently at this point. I call the Red Roof Inn. I speak to someone who assures me that the shuttle is coming. I waited 45 minutes for the shuttle to arrive. And lo and behold, the shuttle had already come by, she just didn't let anyone know she was going to the RRI. Their logo was not on the bus. Everyone else's was. Sigh. It's now 3 AM, and I'm just arriving to the Crack Den, er....Red Roof Inn. The zombie at the desk gives me my room key and I go upstairs. I find room 231, put the card key in the lock, the light turns green, I turn the door knob and...the door is locked. From the INSIDE. As in...it's already occupied. Young black dude opens the door, releasing whiff of smoke. (Let's put it this way, the last time I smelled that kind of smoke, I was in a beat-down orange Pinto with my best punk rock pals, Sean and Eric. Ahem.) He's looking at me like I'm from Mars and I'm chanting, "I'm so sorry," while backing up.

I go down to the lobby and as I am getting off the elevator, I begin shouting, "How the hell does this happen?" She gives me another room and I go upstairs. I was seriously *cranky* by this point. I finally have a place to sleep and I realize I have to be at the airport in two hours. Groan. I set both alarms, turned on the TV and laid down for an hour. I go off to the airport at 5 AM, after one hour of sleep.

I was flying standby for the first time so I had no idea what to do or expect. I thought I had to be first in line at the gate and look most pathetic. Alas, no. I was first at Gate A something, and I stood at the desk. A line began to form behind me, mostly people on my cancelled flight from last night. I look at the TV and see there's a gate change. ATL changes gate like I change my underwear. Of course, in this case, more frequently than I change my underwear, you know, since I don't have suitcase at the moment. I say out loud, like a dumbass, "oh, they changed our gate." Suddenly there's a mad dash to gate B whatever. I am not entirely sure I can take another step, let alone run, so I trail behind and curse these people to the fiery depths of hell. When we get to the new and improved gate, the Delta person, barks that we just need to have a seat. (Ha, ha. Joke's on them.) I sit for a few minutes and realize I am starving because I hadn't eaten since 3 PM the previous day. I hit the Dunkin' with my complimentary $7 and my breakfast costs me a whopping fifteen cents. OJ and an egg bagel in my tummy makes me feel so much better. Thinking clearly, I hit the customer service desk and finally get to speak to Robert. Robert was very nice. While in line, I concoct a story to lay on Robert. I tell him that I really can't wait until Tuesday to get home. I also tell him that I just don't feel good because I'm pregnant and I only got one hour of sleep the night before. Oh yeah, and I was supposed to see the doctor today but I had to reschedule for tomorrow because it's a really important appointment, etc. You can see where this is going, right? Robert being the dear man that he is found me a seat on the 9:55 flight. I love that guy. My next challenge is that I have to stay awake so as to not miss that flight.

I kept my eyes open and finally borded a plane that actually took off. I arrived in Raleigh just before noon on Monday and advised my boss I was most decidely NOT coming in. I got home around 1 PM.

I have never before been so happy to be in Raleigh.

The city called The Cats.

My trip to the San Francisco Bay area was great. I didn't do a whole lot, which was the goal. My BFF lives out there with her boyfriend. They just bought a house in Mountain View. With a pool. Seriously, they're livin' it up, California style. If I had to live in a suburban, small town, Mountain View would be it. It's so pretty, great restaurants, cute shops. It's also very flat, which is nice for bike riding. I ended up as Contractor Wrangler for them while they were having the bottom of the pool refinished. The results were awesome. And the resulting pool party was fun.

I got to see Lil Brotha also. He just started a new job out there at a fancy pants restaurant called Manresa. I was lucky enough to eat dinner there. They have two Michelin stars and three Mobil diamonds...the kid's gone big time. How good was it? Words fail me. We were a party of four and had the tasting menu, mine was vegetarian. It started with a red pepper gelee and a black olive Madelaine. The gelee was like a big gum drop, a little spicy. We then had the strawberry gazpacho, which was not sweet. Next I had a pickled turnip "sashimi" with seaweed ice and theirs was amberjack sashimi. I had a Parmesan churro, which was amazing, while they had a fois gras soup. Up next was The Egg. The Arpege Egg, a lightly poached egg yolk layered with chives, maple syrup, creme fraiche, and sherry vinegar. Seriously, y'all, they could have served me a dozen of those and called it a night. It's served in its shell, which I nearly punctured making sure I extracted all of the Arpege molecules out of it before they took it away. And now I have a recipe. Yee haw!

Now this is the point where what I had and in what order I had it become fuzzy. We had maybe eleven courses all together...all with wine. I think the next course was the "Into the garden" salad, which my brother and I affectionately dubbed "The Tweezer Plate." This was his first chance at cooking with the big kids. This plate is a bunch of vegetables you've never seen before lovingly placed just so over and under some kind of foamy stuff. It was not at all what I expected, but darn tasty. I had a warm soup of cepes mushrooms in a creamy porcini veloute. If I couldn't have had just a dozen of the eggs for dinner, I'd have liked a dozen of these. The best part of this was the presentation. The waiter brought me a bowl with a few of the cepes rolling around and he poured the broth from a tiny Japanese tea ceremony teapot. The dish was divine! I had a dish of roasted potatoes with a red pepper sauce and some creamy sauce I couldn't recognize. This would have been great under it's own circumstances, but next to the superstars like the porcini veloute and the egg, it was merely good. I has a dish with morrells, the tiniest squash blossoms and something else, in lots of butter. It was so good. I had a curried vegetable thing, also good. They had the same thing, but with lamb. I told my brother that I liked it but felt like there was something missing, to which he responded, "yeah, the meat." We has the Gold Dust Peach and basil salad, mine was sans soft shell crab.

The desserts were sublime. The first one was a Napoleon with chocolate, blackberries and cucumber. (You heard me. Cucumber.) For me, blackberries can be a little had to eat because they are usually so tart, but the cukes toned it down. There was a nectarine dessert with sliced fruit, a sorbet and lots of basil. That was good. Manresa ends your dinner the same way they start. We ended with a strawberry gelee and a chocolate Madelaine. During our mint tea, the waiter brought us a house made amaranth truffle. He later escorted us out the door with a giant bowl of house made sea salt caramels.

I know I am leaving something out, but hey, sue me. Towards the end of the meal, I had several wine glasses in front of me. I mean, c'mon, even if I'm having 12 half glasses of wine with dinner, that's enough to make me feel no pain. All in all, the experience at Manresa was better than I thought it would be. And I had high expectations going in. We sat down to dinner at 8:30 and were leaving at 12:30, well after my brother left the kitchen. This dinner was definitely a once in a lifetime experience and the highlight of my trip. If you find yourself in Los Gatos, California, hungry, and with an extra $300 in your wallet, you have to go. I can't adequately describe this meal. There were vegetables I've never seen, tastes I've never tasted, etc. I have never been to a restaurant before where all I told the waited was that I was vegetarian and that dairy was okay. I was not disappointed.

A few days before, Lil Brotha and I went to Los Gatos to walk around. It's really cute and completely loaded. How can I put this? There's enough money in Los Gatos that there is a Lamborghini dealership down the street from the Bentley dealership which is across the street from the Rolls Royce dealership. The Bently dealer was selling Lotuses and Aston Martins too. Not one of them looks like they are hurting for business. When we first parked the car and started to walk, I saw a red Lamborghini (I think) and started to walk over to it to look. My brother said, "We're not going to get very far if you stop at everyone of those." He was right. These cars are to Los Gatos like SUVs are to Raleigh. It's nuts.

I went to San Fran a couple times. On my second trip, I went to Britex. (WARNING: Only Rae may be interested in reading this part) It is a four story fabric store in Union Square. It is just walls and walls of fabric, with giant tables of fabric in between. It was almost overwhelming. I gave up when I finally found a fabric I loved. It was $50 a yard, Liberty of London. I should have known. There was an older man there with a younger man. The younger man was wearing very nice dress pants, a very crisp white button down shirt and a dapper vest presumably from a three piece suit. He had a tape measure peeking out of his pocket and an Italian accent. This guys was so incredibly sexy, it was all I could do to not stare at him. He was the older guy's tailor and they were picking out fabric for him. It's that kind of store. Overall, their fabrics were reasonably priced. I kill to have this be my local fabric store. The button section took up practically the front half of one floor. This place was unbelievable.

The trip was really good. The trip home was a disaster. I will save that for later this afternoon. The local homeless guys woke me up at 6 AM this morning. I think I'm going back to bed now.

In the immortal words of James Todd Smith III

Going back to Cali, stylin, profilin
Growlin, and smilin, while in the sun
The top is down, on the black Corvette
And it's fly

I'll be back on July 6! Later y'all!

Wait for it. Wait for it.

And go.

I finally posted some of my 632 pictures from my Vermont trip. Click here to see them. If you have a free six hours to kill. I'd recommend you look at the collections. Hopefully I'll finish posting pictures in the next couple days.

I think I was a lizard in my last life.

Three words I never want to hear again. Record. High. Heat. I just can't function in this weather. I get home from work and I just fall asleep. On the bright side, in all of this heat and humidity, my new apartment is nice and cool. I get direct sunlight in my living room so it gets a little warmer, but not much. My bedroom is still really confortable. I may not have to buy that second air conditioner after all.

Yesterday on the way home, there were so many Indian co-op kids that the only language that could be heard was Hindi. It was pretty cool. It made me feel like I was some place significantly more exciting than Raleigh.

My morning have been free of Special Ed, which makes me eternally happy. The afternoons, however, not so much. A few weeks ago, he was reading a book to learn Spanish. Two days ago, he got on the bus carrying a copy of La Conexion and a copy of Que Pasa?. Apparently he's a quick study.

There's an Asian woman on the 105 in the afternoons. From her name tag, I learned that her name is Ma, she is from Burma (Myanmar) and she works at the Radisson. I see her most days, but recently she has gotten very excited and animated when she sees me. I don't think she speaks much, if any, English, but she's super friendly. She gets this big smile and waves when she sees me. Tuesday on the way home, we were passed on I-40 by two 18 wheelers carrying squashed cars. She was fascinated by that. It was kind of funny. I want to learn how to say "hello" in Burmese so I can properly greet her.

Over the past three mornings, Babushko has confirmed that I am indeed the nicest lady of them all. (As if there was any doubt!) Unfortunately, that's still the most he's ever said to me.

On Tuesdays, there's a yoga class I like at the Y. I made a deal with my bosses that I get to leave 15 minutes early on Tuesdays so I can catch this class, which is at 6:15. If you aren't there before 6:15, the instructor won't let you in. I have never been able to make it to that class. Tuesdays conspire against me. This past Tuesday, my first bus was late, which made me miss the second bus I need. I want to go to this yoga class because I'm a little stressed out, right? What's more stressful than constantly missing the damn class? Grrrrr. Clearly I need this class.

I still have no way to post pictures as my brother still has my camera cable. (ahem.) As soon as I get it, I'll post on Flickr at least most of the 632 pictures I took in Vermont. I leave for California in 20 days. I can't wait. Twelve days of doing nothing but bumming around Mountain View, Haight-Ashbury, and playing Wii.

Meg on Le Metro

We took the Metro a few times while in Montreal. I nearly forgot to report on the haps there.

1. We ran into Jamiroquoi on the Metro. He was wearing blue Adidas high tops and dancing. I shall begrudgingly admit, he was kinda cute. In a Viktor Krum sort of way.

2. There was a large group of teenagers sitting together. One of them had a black and white gingham scarf-thing that he was wearing under his baseball hat. He spent a considerable amout of time repositioning it. No matter what he did, it still looked stupid.

3. Saturday night when we went out, a Hoochie Mama got on downtown. Ya know how I know she wasn't wearing underwear? Because her jeans were so tight and low, you could see her ass crack. But hey, as long as she felt sexy, right? That's more than I can say for myself most days.

If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck at all.

I'm back from Vermont. And Montreal. It was awesome. Cold, but awesome. If anyone in Vermont is wondering why I was such a pansy about the cold, allow me to enlighten you. Before I left, the temperature was around 80 degrees. On Monday and Tuesday, it was in the mid 80s. by this weekend, it will be 90 or better. Luckily now the humidity is only around 50%. That, however, will increase exponentially through mid-June. Today was a little cold and rainy, not at all unlike the weather this past week in Vermont. On the agenda for tonight is mostly homemade matzo ball soup and Law and Order reruns. I'm heading to the Farmer's Market this weekend and see what they have. It's time to start jamming. (HA! Get it? Jamming? Making jam? HA! I kill me.)

If anyone who knows my brother is reading this, please let him know that my list of what I forgot in Vermont is growing by the day. To everyone waiting on pictures on Flickr, yeah, um...I forgot the cable I need to hook my camera up to my computer. Grrrr. I also left my favorite dress, favorite shirt, and my copy of the Oxford Companion to English Literature that I found in Crow Books for $7. Luckily I'll see him in California next month. With any luck, he'll remember to bring all of that.

I had a great time in Vermont. I met some awesome people (Yes, you, Hotbox). If anyone is heading past Raleigh on their way to the next gig, holla if you need a place to stay. I promise to have a few beers in the fridge. Burlington is a super cool city. The restaurants are fantastic. We ate at American Flatbread...so good. I forget the name of that pub place close to American Flatbread, but their Beetlejuice brew is love in a glass. I am so, so eternally jealous of The City Market (is that the name? the co-op?) It's what Whole Foods is trying to be.

Montreal was great. I spoke with my friend M this afternoon who informed me that she was under the impression that there was a strip club on ever corner. I don't remember seeing any other than the one near the border with the stripping geishas. How exactly does a geisha strip? You know how guy strippers have the rip-away pants? Do the geishas have rip-away obis? I'm just not feelin' it.

What I learned over the last ten days:

1. We hired someone today named Willard Knuckles. Seriously.

2. When going to Canada from Vermont, have you're passport handy. Or know how to operate a bike rack properly.

3. "Je me souviens" does not actually directly translate to "Bring us your souvenirs."

4. I need to live near water. It's a requirement. Preferably within sight from my crib.

5. I make good matzo ball soup.

6. My brother is a hell of a cook. (I'd say chef, but he gets mad when I call him a chef.) His lasagna is better than mine.

7. The TSA is officially my mortal enemy.

8. If properly dressed, I could live in Burlington. Or Montreal. But my Canadian coworker told me taxes in Montreal are obscene. So, I'll just visit. A lot.

9. I have two regrets about Montreal. Number One...I did not once have the opportunity to say "Zut Alors!" and Number Two...I never did get my Croque Monsieur sandwich. I guess I just have to go to Paris.

10. I take a lot of pictures. On this trip, 632. I printed 150 today at work to send to Grami. One of the best perks about my job is the free prints in the office! Yay Kodak!

11. I'm damn tired. The sun rises way to early in Vermont.

Nitey night, y'all.

Meg On The Bus, the Vermont Edition

It has been brought to my attention that my readership now extends to the Great White North. That said, I'd like to give a shout-out to my homies at NECI. (Mod Sixx-keepin' it real! Hey!) Since I am visiting their turf, I feel I would be seriously remiss if I did not show the CCTA some love. And that's just what I did.

I went from Essex Junction to Burlington. The ride was about 30 minutes total. There was a young, country girl who had a little retail therapy at the Big Lots this morning. She had never been on the No. 2 Essex Junction before. The whole way to Burlington, she complained it was the longest bus ride ever. On the return trip, an elderly gentleman sat behind me and tried to talk to me. First he wanted to know if he was on the right bus. Then he wanted to know if I took said bus often. Then he wanted to know how I was. Lisa, a bus driver, radioed in that she was having an issue with which she needed assistance. She didn't think it was a police matter, but just kid-stuff. Rough crowd, these Burlingtonians. There were a number of cutie college boys on the bus today, but I had to remind myself they were born while I was in Algebra II. I think my best part about the CCTA is the drivers. They all looked like they got dressed in the REI store this morning, they all had giant walrusy moustaches, and they all looked like they might be more comfortable on a Harley than behind the wheel of a city bus.

Stay tuned y'all for the next installment of Meg On The Bus: The International Edition, Live From Montreal.

See you soon!

I'm off the the Green Mountains!

There's no place like home.

The trip was a success. I had a really good time. Being in the park before it opened was an awesome experience! I totally felt like I broke in. It was great to meet the staff. I was surprised at how hot it was in Agawam, Mass in April. The experience of the park was great. Their theme is DC Comics. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman. This is my kind of park. I am fairly certain that the Disney Empire will be the downfall of Western Civilization. I absolutely hate Disney and everything it stands for. I vow to raise any children I have in an entirely Disney free life. Little girls don't need to grow up to be skinny, beautiful, long haired princesses who live happily ever after in a castle with Prince Charming to be successful adults. Stepmothers don't have to be evil. (Okay, all of mine were, but that's another issue entirely.) I digress. I learned they have folks who dress up in super hero and villian costumes. Wonder Woman. Catwoman. It's someone's job to prance around the park dressed like Wonder Woman and Catwoman. For money. Crazy, huh?

Springfield, however, was a pit. I don't mean to offend to anyone from Springfield, but seriously, it wasn't very nice. In some respects, it seems like they are trying. The crosswalks had this beautiful brick pattern. There was a huge police presence, particularly in front of the Dunkin' Donuts. (I'm just sayin', is all.) But these formerly beautiful, old buildings had broken windows and graffiti. The place was a complete ghetto. I didn't feel safe at all, and that's saying something. Just because the city doesn't have the money to fix up the buildings, does that mean the residents have to destroy them? A building is such a great legacy for someone to leave behind. I know the architects would be horrified if they could see it now. For being in Massachusetts, I was surprised at how young the buildings were. Most of them were in the Beaux Arts or Art Deco styles. If you ever have the misfortune of finding yourself in Springfield and jonesing for Italian food, you MUST check out Red Rose Pizzaria. The food was amazing. The pizzas were huge. The salad was great. I loved it. It's obviously a local joint with a very regular crowd. This was definitely a shining star in Springfield.

Security at RDU was surprisingly polite on this trip. I always get searched. The underwire in my bra always sets off the metal detector. Always. It's gotten to the point that I change into yoga pants and shower shoes and remove the bra before going through security. The last time I wore corduroys and kept my bra on, I got a "special" search. I was frisked by a large chested woman. I kept going, "it was my bra. Surely you can understand that!" She didn't believe the cheap metal in the Old Navy pants was the culprit. With her hands down my pants, she tells me if I don't calm down, she's going to call the police. When they pull you aside for a feelski, they always leave your stuff at the end of the x-ray belt. Do they seriously think that's okay? Someone could walk off with my entire life!!!! Needless to say, I go commando through our airport security. I've never had a problem anywhere else. Even in LaGuardia the December after September 11th! This time, the TSA folks said good morning to me, wished me a good flight. It was bizarre. I stopped to tell a manager how happy I was that they had nice people working there for a change.

I flew Southwest for the first time. They have the most retarded boarding procedure. Your boarding pass as a letter and a number. You have to line up accordingly to get on the plane. Do they think I am five years old? Should A29 and I hold hands?I'll stick with USAir, thank you very much. They may be ass holes, but at least they are predictable ass holes.

Yesterday, I had to get up at 3:30 AM to make a 6:30 AM flight in Hartford. I finally got to RDU at 11:00 AM. Bossman said I had to come to work. Now, I don't know about you, but Megster doesn't do well with little sleep. Or getting up freakishly early. I mean, I am okay with getting up early, but to me, 3:30 AM isn't early, it's yesterday. I was so exhausted. I took the bus to come home. I'd fall asleep for two minutes and jerk awake worried that I'd missed my stop. We'd only turned a corner. Now I know why babies cry so much when they're falling asleep. I was only able to nap for a couple hours, but was able to go to bed at 10:30. (I'm a party animal, I know.) The other problem I have with waking up so early is that my body has a good memory about when to wake up. I work up at 5:30 this morning. "Hey, hey! It's still night time! Wakey, wakey!" Oy vey. I was able to fall asleep for a couple more hours. Luckily tomorrow is Sunday. I have nothing to do except vacuum. I can manage to be awake for thirty minutes to do that.

I posted my pictures of the trip. Click here to see them.

My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.

Not much has happened since last Wednesday. Here's what I got:

1. Constant, unrelenting, maniacal laughter from Amy Number One. Seriously. She's gone round the twist.

2. I got off the bus on Thursday or Friday, can't remember which, in the evening. I was about to cross the street and I heard honking. I don't normally assume that anyone honking is trying to get my attention, but this time that was the case. It was Boyfriend, driving an express to downtown. What can I say? He's smitten.

3. I still haven't seen MSG since Barry Manilow was in town. Perhaps he went on tour. Do people do that? Barry Manilow Tour? What would they be called? Copaheads?

4. I have a business trip on Wednesday (to a theme park. take a moment to hate me) and I return on Friday. I plan on taking the bus to and from the airport. On the way home today, I asked Sam if I could arrange for a shuttle in the middle of the day to take me to work. He said yes, but then proceeded to give me his cell phone number in case I had any problems. He said he'd personally drive me to work if I needed it. He's hilarious. I am coming to understand that there are many different reasons why people become bus drivers. Sam, I believe, does it because he genuinely believes he is helping people. Richard does it because he like the captive audience to entertain. There are a few for whom it is merely a paycheck.

5. I just ate a fantastic pear, spinach and gorgonzola sandwich at Helios. I highly recommend it.

6. The first bus was super late this morning. Which means I miss the regular shuttle I take at 7:45. While it pisses me off that I was 30 minutes late to work for the third time in three weeks, it also means that I got to take the 8:15. With Boyfriend. Aside from my prattle about how dreamy he is, I learned today that he is a really interesting person. I was the only person on the bus, which means we chatted for about 30 minutes or so this morning. I learned his name, what he did before he drove a bus, where he's from, where he's going on vacation at the end of the month and why. He talked quite a bit. He's smart and well traveled. He's traveled all over the US. Every state. Impressive.

7. I am reading Into The Wild by Jon Krakauer. I think that it is a really well written, well researched story. I'm about halfway through it. I had to force myself to put it down. I planned on reading it on the plane. Now I plan on reading the second half on the plane.

8. Helios is really cold.

9. Even with zippy WiFi, it's going to take a lifetime to download these movies.

10. On the way home to Raleigh, the bus driver was Cheryl, I think. She is super chatty and hilarious. She was in a very philosophical, deep conversation with the woman up front. She goes to the park and ride, and turns back on I-40. The girl next to me and I were looking at each other, like 'where the hell are we going?" I asked her where she was going. The other girl asks her if she was going down Hillsborough Street. She gets this completely confused look on her face, like she just doesn't know then starts laughing. She says she was going back to RTP. And the funniest part was she couldn't figure out how to turn around.