verity83 | (no subject)

Well, we got up at six this morning, got the rest of our stuff together, and watched the rest of "Imitation of Life" that we started yesterday. Then we walked to the bus stop, which involved yours truly pushing along her massive suitcase merrily down King Road. Thank God it has wheels. We caught the bus. It was full and fuller of fascinating personalities, including three young, pretty girls from around ten to fifteen or so. They appeared to be sisters and were quiet and well-mannered and I decided from watching their lips that they must be Russian, which turned out to be true when the middle sister sat beside me to read a Russian book.

We got off the bus and onto the Max to get the rest of the way to the airport. Dan had checked us in online so we just had our luggage to check in. Which happened quickly. Then we went to sit and wait because we were early. I proceeded to not be able to find my ID anywhere. Or my wallet. After emptying both our carry-on bags, Dan went to see if they could retrieve my suitcase.

I felt incredibly stupid when about ten minutes later I found the ID. It was in my backpack, in my wallet, in the pocket I never use except to stick used underwear in. Go figure.

So I had to hunt down my husband, which involved the shouldering of his heavier backpack as well as my own and my camera and his bag of shoes. Ouch. I felt so bad that the lady went through so much trouble to find my suitcase. At least they made the effort. Kudos, Portland Airport Personnel.

I bought myself fast food French fries at Wendy's because they smelled so good and I had heap big cravings for them. I bought the biggest size they had. Issues. Dan had some too. Finally it was time to board the plane. We so did.

The moment we took off, however, an incredible heaviness overcame my head and I gradually fell into a pretty gross stupor, complete with massive headache. We watched two Star Trek episodes on iBook while some creepy-looking in-flight movie was playing. Then some really lousy movie called "Fool's Gold" was on and we watched that, although on occasion nausea overcame me and I took out my earphones for a few minutes. It involved a bunch of really lame characters on a quest for treasure that was trying really hard to sound like a noble, worthy cause. This was intermixed with a once-married-now-divorced couple getting back together and fighting the whole time and a really stupid teenager with an elderly father. Retarded.

Anyway, so we got off the plane, collected Suitcase, and went to Avis to rent a vehicle. I pulled out the iPod while Dan stood in the [long] line and was amused that someone in the vicinity had a network named "marx-brothers-w-c-fields" or some such. It was locked. But go Marx Brothers.

We got a brand-new SUV, a Buick Enclave, as our vehicle. A little larger thing than we were really wanting or imagining to rent. However, it was nice and shiny and roomy, with comfortable seats. We got out at around - oh, ten or eleven by that time, I think. We got out on the highway. No highway, even in Newark, should have the right to be as IN-SANE as it was at that late hour. Cars appearing out of nowhere while Dan is still trying to learn to manipulate Mr Enclave. Pretty scary. Of course, we had no idea where we were going or how to find a hotel of some kind that wasn't priced out of our range, and ended up going to Jersey City before realising we should turn around. We headed in a general northwesterly direction as we had déjà-vu of our wedding night. Note for future reference: Dan and Jael need to stop trying to find places to sleep at midnight in strange places in the dark. Yeah.

Finally, in a small town called Parsippany, that had miles and miles of non-ability to turn left or make a U-turn to get to the motels on the other side of the road, we found a Red Carpet Inn. We finally found out what the natives probably find very obvious: U-Turns are provided via an exit-like turnoff that loops one around and opens the ability to make a left turn and go the other direction. We got back to said Red Carpet Inn this way, and an Eastern fellow in the lobby - couldn't tell if he was Indian or Middle Eastern - gave us a king bed room. Dan asked what the sales tax was in this area, and the man answered,"Why do you want to know?" followed by a very terse, "I don't know anything about that." The room did not, as the Inn's name suggested, actually have red carpet, and the figurative significance of the name was lost when one considered the slightly ghetto nature of the place. Still, however, I've seen dirtier places, and at least it was roomy. The headboard was not attached to the bed, but nailed to the wall over what we suspect was really a queen mattress turned sideways. Experiment to be fulfilled on our own queen at home to find out. The pillows were lumpy, and the mattress slightly caved in, which caused Dan to roll into me. Which I didn't particularly mind, mind you. I mean, it was pitch black in that room after the lights were out, and dark is scary. Besides, my headache was a nightmare, but sleep was all I needed.