Okay, this is a travel entry. Normally, when I write travel entries they are all about doing everything at the last minute and rushing frantically and almost missing the plane, and this time there is a sprained ankle to deal with and a morning flight, and will I make it in time?

Sara Astruc always says that she reads my travel entries with her heart in her mouth, and so in consideration of her continuing health, I will start out by saying that everything went smoothly, with no rushing or drama. For once.

I got home from my rehearsal and production meeting something like around 2a, which was cool, since I knew that I was staying up all night.

I don't know why I can't be like a normal person and go to sleep before traveling, but I am so afraid of missing my plane and I always leave everything until the last minute that I usually need to do the staying up thing. I certainly did this time, since I had to do some TiVo clearing, otherwise I wouldn't be able to put new things on my TiVo while I was gone.

I really need to get that thing cracked and add a second hard drive, I really do. Unfortunately, my cracker is Colleen, the busiest woman in the universe, so I don't want to impose on her. If anyone in the NY area can do this for me, I'd really appreciate it!

One of the things that I watched was Violent Femmes on Last Call, and can someone tell me if Carson Daly is the tallest man alive? Because he did a standing up interview with Gordon Gano, and either he's about 6'8" or Gordon is an actual midget. I always knew that Gordon was short, but standing next to Daly it looked as though he was buried up to the waist. Seriously, in order to talk to Carson he had to tilt his head completely back like a hick looking at skyscrapers.

Anyway, there was the vital watching of TV and washing of dishes and taking out my garbage collection, and, around 4a, finally dying my hair.

I have been unable to find my Special Effects Atomic Pink for months and months, but I knew that I would rather go to JournalCon naked and bleeding from the eyes than with those roots and that faded hair. I knew about the two whore stores, the one by me and the one downtown, but I never knew about all of the other branches throughout the city until this week.

So Thursday I went across town, taking a ninety minute lunch break on what was already the fullest day in the world, and got my dye. Was it worth it? Of course it was! Do you have any idea how upsetting it would have been to the other JournalCon attendees had I shown up naked and bleeding from the eyes? Instead I showed up with pink fingernails. Much more seemly.

I only did my packing very late, right before leaving the house, even remembering to bring those pens for Amanda that have been in my house for months. I only forgot one thing, the battery charger for my camera. I did not, however, think that this would be a problem, since that battery tends to last me a week. I was, of course, entirely wrong, but I didn't know that back then.

Anyway, the trip to the airport was amazing, charmed. I left the house only ten minutes later than I meant to, arrived at the corner as a van was pulling up, hit no traffic going into the city, got to the Port Authority ten minutes before the next airport bus, drove to the airport, and checked in in plenty of time for my flight!

It really was a very peculiar experience.

I had breakfast at the airport, which was ridiculously expensive of course, then got on the ridiculously crowded flight to Cincinnati, which is really Kentucky. No really, the Cincinnati airport is in Kentucky! I overheard a guy grilling the stewardess on whether or not the airport was, in fact, near Cincinnati. Now I don't know where any of the states are, but even I can figure out that if the Cincinnati airport is in Kentucky, that probably means that Kentucky and Ohio are next to each other.

I slept a bit on the flight, then changed planes at Cinci-tucky. And let me tell you, I have never gotten so many startled looks in my life before setting foot in Kentucky. I may have been 100% of the pink-haired population at that moment, and remember, it was fresher than fresh dyed, and could blind you if looked at directly without protective eye-gear.

The flight to San Francisco was actually worse than the flight to Cincinnati, if that was actually possible. I didn't have an aisle seat, but was stuck in a window seat with a plus-sized old lady next to me, which meant that I had my pretty much equally plus-sized ass jammed between her and the wall.

Delta officially has the smallest seats that I have ever sat in. I think that they are trying to discontinue the need for seat belts by instead making the seats small enough that, once you wedge yourself in, you would not budge even if the pilot decided to do a few barrel-rolls just for the fun of it.

They also were careful to serve meals that were possible to eat without having to move your arms or shoulders. I managed also not to spill it down my front, which was impressive with my lack of sleep.

The in flight movie was Mr. Deeds, which I did not think was worth the five bucks they were trying to pry out of me, especially since I didn't think I could stay awake for it. I did, in fact, nap on and off throughout most of it, waking for the last twenty minutes or so, and getting a pretty good sense of what was going on even without the sound.

The only thing that I was unsure of was what was going on in that big shareholders meeting at the end, though I think that the company ended up being given to the servants. So everyone was happy but Peter Callaghan. Wait, I mean Peter Gallagher. I have clearly watched While You Were Sleeping a few too many times.

I got to the airport, grabbed my bag, then went to catch the shuttle that I realized I didn't know anything about directly before leaving the office on Thursday night. It would be just like me to swan off to San Francisco without knowing the name of the hotel or how to get to it. But I did not! For once.

I was carrying four bags, my big suitcase, my bag with my laptop and magazines, my plastic bag with snacks, and my purse. The big suitcase went in the back, my laptop between my ankles, and the other two backs on my lap. When I got to the hotel, I got out, grabbed the big bag, then walked into the hotel and suddenly realized that I did not have my laptop.

I flung my other luggage to the ground and raced out of the hotel, shrieking "Stop! Stop!!" He stopped, and he looked on the floor beneath my seat, but the bag was not there. It was not under the seat or on top of the seat or next to the seat, it was not in the back, it was nowhere. My laptop was gone!

Except when I got back to the hotel lobby, it was right on the floor where I had flung it with the rest of my bags. Clearly, I was completely over-tired. But no sleep for the wicked yet!

Mo and Pineapple Girl were in the lobby, Mo in her capacity as greeter and Pineapple Girl in her capacity as greeted. I didn't know what she looked like, but as soon as she said she was waiting for Pamie and Anna Beth I knew that she must either be herself or Sars, and I have seen pictures of Sars. She introduced herself with her real name, but she couldn't fool me.

I got in the elevator to go to the 7th floor, but it stopped at 2. I, being the tiredest person in the known universe, thought that it was 7. Weetabix got on and introduced herself as "Wendy Weetabix" and I showed off by already knowing her real name. "It was on that autographed picture you posted a couple of years ago!" I told her, proudly, if a little stalkerly.

Then I saw Krystyn. Now, here's the thing with Krystyn. I was supposed to room with Kim Rollins, who ended up having to cancel her plan a week or so ago, so Jen Wade suggested that Krystyn needed a roommate. "That's fine," I said, "I don't know her but I hear she is very nice."

Then I got off the elevator and saw her. "I know you!" I said. "Duh!" she answered, or something similar to that. I met her last JournalCon, where she was one of the arrangers. I can remember an autographed picture of James Marsden glanced in passing, but spending three days in Chicago with a woman whom I spoke to several times leaks out of my ears like...something leaky.

However, this is now a Journalcon tradition, and I must remember to re-meet Krystyn every year.

I went up to the proper 7th floor, dumped my stuff, then went back down to the meeting room to say hi to Lucy and her pretty new hair (I told her she looks like Jane Fonda in Klute) and Jen and met Sars, who was really cool and funny. Shocking, right? It's not as though I could tell that from her writing or anything. I told her that I use her screensaver at the office, and that last Lent when I couldn't read journals, my sanity was saved by The Vine.

Molly Zero was there, along with a blonde girl with pigtails who turned out to be Javina. I about fainted! She asked if I had pictured her differently, but I think it was just that I have known and known of her online for so many years without having the faintest idea of what she looked like that no matter how she ended up looking, I would have been surprised. On the other hand, meeting Lisa I actually forgot that I had never met her before, she seemed so familiar.

I also met Lunesse and her amazing blue vinyl pants that were probably the greatest item of clothing that anyone on earth has ever worn. Pamie and Anna Beth showed up in matching grey sweaters because they are twinsies, and I followed them down to the lobby for the free wine and Buffalo chicken that about burned the roof of my mouth off, but I was starving to death by then and did not care.

I met John Scalzi (or "John Scalzi Asshole" as he referred to how he googles himself) who is one of those people that you can tease the second that you meet them, and Steve Amaya, whom I drooled all over about that picture of a dog on his front page (not anymore). I think I saw Michael and Eleanor and Trish then, and maybe some other people, but between the lack of sleep and lack of food, my memories are growing fuzzy. I may be forgetting Krystyn again.

After a bit, we went up to the meeting room for the opening remarks, which mostly consisted of Jen Wade telling everyone that the owner of the restaurant that we were going to had called her at home the day before to make certain that we would know that the first course that we would be served, the meat in sort of a lettuce dish, should be eaten like a taco. Eat like a taco, check. You got it.

Around that point, the battery on my camera ran out. Which made perfect sense, since the one thing I forgot was the charger. Could I go without a digital camera for the remainder of JournalCon? No more than I could go without hair dye, so I decided to find a camera store and buy a new one the next morning.

Then we went to dinner, with people scattering to their rooms to get things first, me fetching my purse. I did not tear downstairs quick like a little bunny, but I think I may have gone a little slower than I had thought, because when I got downstairs, everyone was gone. They had ditched me!

I had no idea what the name of the restaurant was or where it was located. So basically, I picked a direction and walked in it. Jen had said that it was a ten minute walk, but did that mean ten minutes by me on my gimpy ankle or ten minutes for her scissoring little marathon running legs?

I walked and walked, looking for a restaurant with the word Golden in the name, deciding that if I didn't come across it, I'd grab some dinner at Burger King and go back to the hotel and collapse, but then, surprisingly, I found it! I was quite startled. Nobody seemed disappointed that I was there, so I decided that my ditching was involuntary. I found an empty place at a table next to the kitchen with Renee, Amanda, Shelly Guest of Lucy, Karen and Mr. Karen. Apparently, Mr. Karen has a real name, but his badge said Mr. Karen and we all insisted on calling him that for the whole weekend.

I was starving and exhausted, and kept insisting whenever anyone else had the temerity to mention that they were either tired or hungry or tired 'n' hungry, that I was far more tired and hungry and tired 'n' hungry than they ever thought about being. Especially Renee. I managed to say hello to Spinny as she passed, but mostly I just held my head in my hands.

And boy howdy did we have to wait a long-ass time for that lettuce taco! Hours went by, my vision was fading, finally they arrived and I did not eat it like a taco, but with a fork because I cannot stand lettuce. I'm a Wild Woman! You can't stop me!

So then you'd think that the dam broke as far as food was concerned. You'd think, but you would be completely wrong, as we had to wait for the next ice age for the second course, a really revolting-looking soup that was declared good by people who like that kind of thing.

Then there was another really really long wait until the next course, which was shrimp and cashews, which we all fell on like ravening wolves. At that point we were so conditioned to the idea that there would be ages between meals that we cleaned that plate faster than you could blink, but then another dish arrived, and another and another, until we were clutching our stomachs and groaning, begging for them to stop. It was famine to feast.

All of us but Shelly Guest of Lucy, that is, who, despite her name, was allergic to shellfish and there was shrimp practically in everything, including the rice. It was like a cruel joke.

For dessert there were things that looked like pearl onions on toothpicks, lychees or something. I sniffed suspiciously at one, took a little bite, and promptly spat it out onto the plate like I'm Tom Hanks in Big. Mr. Karen laughed like a drain.

At around 9p I declared that enough was enough and that unless I planned to sleep under the table in the restaurant, I was going home. Others seemed to have the same idea, and we all trooped out front. Fortunately, since I had not come with the pack, I knew the short way home (Lucy had lead them the scenic route, through the Chinatown gate).

There was a woman with a baby who turned out to be Beth (and had she said Little Owl to me I would not have had to pretend that I remembered her but would had really remembered her) and the baby was Victor. And man, did I ever fall in love. He was so cute, and so quiet, just sitting in his sling, looking around calmly that I just followed him, babbling and drooling and petting his head. Clearly, he will make a fine cult leader.

At the hotel, I collapsed in my room, but instead of going to bed I watched half of John Doe and all of Robbery Homicide and wrote yesterday's journal entry, then went to sleep.

I kept waking up all night, more often than usual, and the worst was when I woke at 3.30a after a peculiar dream about having to figure something out. When I woke and saw that Krystyn had come in and was asleep, I realized that I did not have to figure out whatever I had to figure out, but every time I tried to go back to sleep, my brain would start whirring, until I finally gave up and did all of the figuring.

No idea what that was all about, but there was math involved and it was dreadfully annoying that I was unable to stop. This is what happens after four hours of sleep on Wednesday night and then nothing besides half-assed plane naps for 40 hours.

Today's horoscope:
Tender loving care is appreciated today. Take turns nurturing your beloved and being nurtured so you both feel warmth and trust.

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Last Updated Fri 11 October 10:32:09 2002