| Today I realized that I have been on 14 flights (including connections) in the past year. guhhhh. Flying used to excite me so much, but it's become such a chore. I'm irritable and emotionally on-edge half the time I fly; I hate the immobility, lack of leg room, and the disconnect. I don't know how I'm going to survive the trip to Copenhagen. (...Lots of reading, and lots of Harvest Moon?)
The past two weeks have been such a flutter that everything is in disarray in my head.
I am delayed, irritable, and stuck in Minneapolis for several hours before I finally make it to Chicago. It's late and dark when I arrive, but he's there, and the ride home is a dream.
Chicago is Lake Michigan, sand, sun, bud. I want it to be permanently summer, or at least to re-create the week we spent on Davis Street last year, but there's no time.
Getting to West Lafayette GPS-less, map-less, and with shoddy directions knocks a year or two off my life, but we manage to get there in one piece, getting lost only twice. A pipe is pulled out somewhere along the way, and I am suddenly the only un-stoned person in the vehicle. I think this is one of the few times when my body's inhuman tolerance of grass comes in handy. I will never get contact high (and will consequently deliver folks safely to Indiana). The first time we're lost though, we end up in the hood, south side of Chicago. Bulk fried chicken joints, and kids panhandling between stopped cars at intersections. (Incidentally, we will end up in the hood of every major city we venture into from this point on.) The second wrong turn brings us right outside of Gary, IN.... which is the last place anyone ever wants to be. My bad.
Company changes in Indiana. Now 5 guys and myself, we drive all night to arrive in DC early the next morning. I have nothing to say about this stretch of time, except that one dude looped B.o.B. - Airplanes for several hours straight, and another jabbered excitedly the entire night.....even when he thought we were all asleep. (I was not.) I spent half of the night trying to determine whether he was just incredibly upbeat and talkative, or completely wired on coke.
The highlight of Baltimore is nothing in the city itself, but the orange glow of the streetlight illuminating the floor where we decide that, despite several days of staying up all night, sleep is not our priority.
NYC Part I is when Steve and I plan dinner in SoHo, but end up in the hood of Brooklyn, where I lose my favorite jacket.
Connecticut is a nice jumble of cooking, games, laying on the beach, meeting Steve's family and friends, and time to ourselves. I could get used to this.
And NYC Part II consists of a personalized tour of MoMA from a connection on the staff, followed by a few hours at his place, then a Guggenheim round. Dinner in Chinatown, rice pudding in Greenwich Village, a walk around NYU (why didn't I matriculate there again??!), crashing on a couch in Brooklyn. If given the opportunity, I could have spent the entire day at MoMA alone.
I'm home, nursing insomnia again. Nights here are so unbearably lonely. I leave for Denmark in ten days.