The rest of the story...

Following my last post, I thought I should give you the rest of the story (Oh, ernie Harwell...)

While sitting at LAX waiting for my newest flight to Chicago, I met another travel blogger (so random). He had read over my shoulder and inquired about the scoop. It could have been intrusive I guess, but I do the same thing. Sorry to the folks who always sit next to me on the plane, I do actually read what your working on. Thus far I am sorry to say, no one has been working on anything even remotely interesting or top secret. Sad.
Anyway, the fellow blogger shared his travel blog (which makes this one a tiny bit lame-o), and it was super funny and totally true.
After my total space out moment for the previous flight there was no one I was going very far from the gate, so I happy to have the entertainment and a little company.
The flight to Chicago was uneventful and we arrived a few minutes early. I followed the signs to the O'Hare Hilton (singin Follow the Yellow brick rd the whole way, btw) and checked in.
I was tired and ready for a bed and a shower.
I got to the room and prompty removed my yucko travl gear. Sometimes you just feel icky after a plane ride. And sadly this was one of those trips. Even sadder was the fact that all my stuff was already in GR. Hmmm....
So I took a shower and decided to wash my underwear along with me.
I decided to sleep sans clothing.
Not a big deal for many, but a little weird in a hotel room when you're all alone.
But I had decided naked at night is better than 48 hour clothing!
After getting over the fact that I was not wearing pj's, I got some rest and put yesterday's clothes back on.
Now, I am a repeat wearer of clothes on a regular basis, but I always put fresh underwear on and swipe on a little deoderant. Neither of which I could do.
More lessons I learned about myself: I can be gross, but need clean underwear and deoderant to feel okay about wearing grotty clothes.

I made my way through the frigid Chicago air and got to the terminal that morning, hoping that I wouldn't sweat and that no one else would know I was gross.

I don't think anyone did.

I made it to GR and Uncle T picked me up. To his credit he did not tease me too much (though it was very much deserved!). We met Papa and then I was headed north to celebrate Christmas in january.

Love is a Subaru

My job requires lots of travel and with it, lots of car rentals. Over the years, I have had many, many random car rental experiences--many of which I would care to avoid. Some humorous (remember the Jetta), and some just annoying- like the scorching roof of the Wrangler, and some just plain unsafe- like the recent car breakdown during rush hour.

The sizes of the cars vary as much as the stories.

I have enjoyed some of the cars and have wanted to ditch some of them as fast as I get in them.

Today, I picked up a Subaru. Love.

You need to know I have wanted to own a Subaru Outback for many years. In fact, I purchased my Vibe because it was close to being a Subaru and it came with a good story and super fun delivery guy! I heart my car. It's compact, but four doors so adults can ride in comfort. The silver color was perfect for the hot desert sun.

Then I moved to the Pacific Northwest. There are mountains here. And last year, I got stuck due to a lack of a 4X4 car. Sad. My desire for a Subaru began again.

My car is still perfectly good. I have no desire to have a car payment for additional years, so I have no intentions of buying a new car.

But for this week, I will enjoy the ride.

Love is a Subaru (right?).

European Traveler

So, perhaps the most funny and random travel experience happened to me during my flight from Seattle to Michigan on Saturday...

First, I was on a flight filled with priests and nuns (and some friends) headed to Rome for a week. Literally, it was the entire back of the plane filled with these folks and me. Now, some of you know I have a small obsession with nuns, priests, monks and the like who are out in public wearing their specific garb. I LOVE it! And more often than not there is at least one of the above on any one of my flights. I find it a little weird, but comforting. So, that's where we begin---surrounded by many foreign travelers and foreign-bound travelers and me.

As we getting ready to exit the plane (after a rather smooth and work productive flight), this woman was staring at me and saying, "Heidi? heidi?. Of course, I did not even acknowlegde her for a bit because my name is not Heidi nor does it even remotley sound like Heidi. After the third time she said it, I finally realized that she was in fact talking to me. I looked at her and she said something to me in german (I know no German...my ancestors are rolling in their graves). She realized I was not Heidi and while odd, the incident of mistaken idenity was complete (or so I thought).

I went to grab my bag from the Luggage claim area and all of sudden, this group of people with balloons and signs came rushing toward me exclaiming-- "Heidi! Heidi! Heidi!". At this, everyone in the area turned to look, I turned a nice shade of tomato and explained that no, I was sorry but I was not Heidi. While sad, they too were slgithly embarrassed for making the error. They had mistaken me for Heidi their foreign-exchange student*. No joke.

After that excitement, I was a little sad to arrive at my rental car and not have a crowd waiting with signs and balloons. And even more sad when my family hadn't thought the same thing... (just kidding, mom)

**I did meet heidi and she did resemble me quite a bit. But, seriously, who else does this kind of thing happen to??

To pack or not to pack...

Ugh. Today I am packing and unpacking a bag in the same day. And that means laundry and organizing and re-evaluating the need for a traveling girl to have so many clothing items. I mean, my bag is still full of dirty garments from Phoenix and my closet is still full of clean and lovely things. I just got back Tuesday and have had a full work and social calendar so have not had lots of extra time to unpack and launder things. Plus, I was not home during the day to do laundry while working due to massive boulder crushing next door (wish I was kidding). So, today was the day. I unpacked and started to do laundry because I need to pack everything back up for my next adventure that starts at 7am tomorrow. (Note that it is 5:30pm...)

Anyway, as I started to say above before my lovely tangent, I realized just how many clothes I have. I could pack a different suitcase full of clean things and not even unpack the PHX bag. I mean none of my favorites would be packed, but I wouldn't be naked (or in ugly clothes). But, I will do laundry and re-pack the good stuff, the favorites and be a happy (well-dressed) traveler.

While starting this thought process, I also realize I have a love- hate relationship with my suitcase. I love it when I am taking a new adventure and am putting fun, exciting items inside to visit a new land or come home after a wonderful adventure. I hate it when there doesn't seem to be enough space for all the items I just might need during a 3 week trip, or when it's full of dirty items from weeks on the road. I do love that I have leanred to live with just a few items and can literally live out of bags for weeks (my office included). It really makes me think about the number of things I own (and really need for that matter). Is it that I just make do on the road or that I am over-indulged in my home life? Really, I think it's a combo of both. When I travel, I do live without certain comforts of everyday life. It's just part of the deal. And at home, I have all my basic needs met and maybe indulge in some extras. I feel lucky that I can!

King-sized

Have you ever laid in a Kind-sized bed and just felt small?

This week I stayed in a hotel and they actually gave me the kind-sized bed (normally it's two full size-- one for me, one for my stuff!). During my 10 nights in the world of king-sized sleeping, I took on some new sleeping habits--horizontal sleeping, diagnal sleeping (fav!) and any which way I felt.

Last night when I laid down in my own lovely bed, my feelings were not of instant relaxtion and happiness but rather wondering when I got to be so huge. I am not a huge person- 5'2" will never be considered tall, but as people I have shared a bed with can contest I sometimes take up more space than a 5'2" person should take. After a week spent king-sized I feel exceptionally huge sleeping in my lowly full-sized bed. I have been king-sized.

My lowly full-sized bed feels very, very small for me now. I know I will become accustomed to it again, but momentarily I kind of crave that gigantic space again. (Not that I could even fit a king-sized bed into my current bedroom anyway.)

Suitcase adventures

Yesterday I flew back from Phoenix after a long week in town. It was a productive week of work on my project and then a fun and busy weekend of helping a friend with hers. I am not sure how much help I offered, but I was there (and it was fun to work on a smaller event).

That said, I had event hangover. I was tired, I was hungry and food and sleep came first as a priority for the day. we slept a little later and took a little longer than I should have for a 1:35pm flight. I was rushing (and way more than normal) with a slow-moving body. But as an elite status member on the airline, I figured I would be okay if I arrived 35 minutes before the flight. Well, I went to check-in and had to check-in with everyone else! (I was flying US Airways on a Monday, so I couldn't get an upgrade. (sad). As someone said (not me), I was seated with the peons.) The screen flashed-- your flight leaves in 40 minutes, see a gate agent. (AHH!). From there, I went to the line, where I had to wait for 7 minutes. (in the meantime, I had a lovely conversation with the man in front of me.) I got to the gate agent and she wasn't even sure if I could check-in for the flight because it was 33 minutes before take-off. She checked me in and told me it was likely my luggage would come in on a later flight. I didn't care. So, I left running toward the gate (because of course it was the furthest gate from the check-in area that it could be). I arrived at the gate, sweating (awesome) and boarded the plane as she was about to call my name (again, awesome). Upon arrival, I had to check in with the baggage folks about my bag. The bag agent (whom I have dealt with before), told me my bag would arrive on my flight and to wait for the last bags to arrive. So, I waited and guess what? It was not on the flight (as I was told in Phoenix). I went back to the bag agent who again, told me it should be on that flight. When I told her it was not, in fact on the carosel, she looked for me (becuase clearly I would make that up). When she confirmed that it was not there, she finally looked up the bag. Turns out, the bag went to Philadelphia. I confirmed it would someday make it back to me in Seattle and went home.

This morning (at 7am), I got a call that the bag would arrive on the 11:35 flight from Phoenix. The bag travled to Philly, then to Austin, TX back to Phoenix and then onto Seattle, where it would be awaiting pick-up. I am glad it will be returned, but kind of wish it had had a better adventure than it did. No vacation inspiration from Philly and Austin (although both are places I have not been and would like to go).