Ok kiddies, gather ’round. Here begins the tale of my trip to Wales, as written in my travel journal and transcribed here, on the blog. As a guideline, I will do this on a journal-day-per-blog-entry basis, except where either the entry was very short — in which case I will combine a few together — or very long — in which case I will break it up. Logical, innit?
In this first case, there was a large span of time, about 12 hours, between entries, and the events of which made it feel like a week or more. So, I broke it up.
Here we go.
Journal Entry — September 14th: Departure
Sitting in the Austin airport, having fast-tracked (surprisingly) through check-in, sailed through security and procured a seat at my gate (#6). I’m way the hell early, I have upwards of 2½ hours before my flight takes off. I’m texting last minute details to Pandora, Lady and GonzO, IM-ing with Sweets and trying not to let my rampant imagination run off and think about all the horrible things that can happen to the human body when a plane crashes.
I was going to resume reading my book, but then I remembered this fantastic travel journal that Pandora just gave me. So, here I write.
The airport is shockingly quiet and empty… I think everyone is at ACL. There are constant announcements overhead that are so distorted that they may as well not even bother. All the other waiting passengers seem to be business folk — laptops and Blackberries at the ready — typing, talking and taking space. Every so often a dried-up biker chick will walk past, all tattoos, big hair, jeans and heels, looking for all the world like she was rid hard and put up wet.
I’m traveling to Wales to see Sweets. I’m swallowing my inherent distrust of man-made things with potential to kill me (i.e. airplanes) and making this trip — likely the first of many depending on what the future holds. In a year she may be living with me and going to TCA for more culinary training. We’ll be playing house full-time and that will be the true test to see if we can tolerate living in the same space together.
Sweets is young but very mature. I’m older and immature — a late bloomer in the grand scheme of things. We meet somewhere in the middle, thankfully. We have a lot in common, but a tremendous amount of differences. The cultural divide is huge, but oddly serves to fuel our fascination with each other. She bakes, likes to read (a lot!) and is a gentle spirit. She’s a geek-girl and very feminine without being too “girly” — she has just a touch of tomboy in her. She embodies many of the things I value in a girl, especially one I want to be close to.
And she’s nuts about me.
I’m as shocked as anyone! I have to say, I’m equally crazy about her.
Gonna stop writing, my forearm is sore… I’m out of practice.
First post!!!!!!!111!!1! w00t!
As a guideline, I will do this on a journal-day-per-blog-entry basis, except where either the entry was very short — in which case I will combine a few together — or very long — in which case I will break it up.
"The ratio shall be 1:1. Unless it is more. Or less." To quote Lewis Black, "Why the fuck even open your mouth?"
"Why the fuck even open your mouth?"
To provide a baseline expectation, but prepare my legions of readers (all 6 of you) for the possibility of deviance from said baseline, and to state the conditions under which the deviance would occur. So there, cumbubble.
And as the primary programmer of this site, and sole lord and master of the database, you could conceivably make yours the first post at any time, even after one meeellion other comments had been posted. Of course, I know how you feel about "a change in the Matrix", so I have felt relatively secure that while your emperor complex has been running rampant all these years, you still hold some things sacred. That, and your Celine Dion action figure collection.
And, um, kudos on the first post. That was pretty quick of you.
I’ve decided to take arbitrary subsequences of your comment and see which are funnier comments than the one you made. The first is my favorite. The rest are cheap Celine Dion cop-outs.
"As the primary lord and master of the Matrix, your emperor complex has been sacred."
"To provide my legions the sacred Celine Dion action figure collection."
"To prepare for the emperor Celine Dion."
"Celine Dion was pretty."
Third post!
*snarf*
Ok, those were pretty good. I, for one, welcome my new Celine Dion emperor overlord.
"Third post!" — FAIL!
Trust me the kid drum set would be a welcome edition to the numerous noise makers…er…instruments that she already has. This includes 2 tamboreens, 2 sticks with bells tied on, a kazoo, and a train whisle. But just remember this, if you EVER have kids payback is a bitch and trust me I am a BITCH!
One the post at hand, woohoo! I am like you when it comes to flying. I try not to think of the what if’s.
Keep it coming!
Well, since you lived to post this, you now know that you can go on the fly fly and survive.
Pandora is a genius for giving you the travel journal. I’m sure it helped to have something to occupy your hands and mind. I feel sorry for the airport cleaning staff that had to clean up the lil "dmentd" pile of debris you collected/created wherever you were sitting in your nervous fidgetiness while waiting for said plane.
Although you talked about your trip on your return, I’m looking forward to hearing more details of your journey.
Oh, and down with the overlord Celine Dion. I refuse to bow to a woman that appears horsey in her profile and beats her chest to every other word in her song, and who also speaks with "an outrageous Frunch accent". 🙂
Damn Celine Dion! Save the Empire! Mensa and Dmentd…how I’ve missed the banter.