Walking in the clouds.....literally!

Similar in nature to my first “Ode to Thanks” post, this one also relates to fears.  However this time, rather than conquering a fear, I merely looked it in the eye and went to battle with it.

One of my favorite parts of the traveling required for my job is the opportunity it brings to experience so many destinations, some of which I have never seen before.  This, combined with the fact that I rarely have a chance to use my vacation time thus resulting in a plethora of piled up days, yields great opportunity for exploration.  When work takes me to an exciting place and my schedule permits, I always tack on a few vacation days to do some exploring of my own.  For this part of my job, I am extremely THANKFUL!

When I found out relatively last minute that I had to attend an event in Whistler this July, I was initially pretty peeved.  It coincided with our annual family vacation; the one week each year that I actually take holiday. (Spare me the “You’re American, why do you keep saying things like ‘holiday’ and ‘cheers’” comments)  Knowing there wasn’t much I could do about the situation, I dealt with it and started to get excited about the chance to see British Columbia and spend some time in the mountains….in the summertime!  I’ve always heard incredible things about Whistler but really only ever associated it with winter and skiing.  I’m not a snow skier but I LOVE the mountains and outdoors so I quickly began researching things to do in Whistler in the summertime and was overwhelmed with all of the options.  A lover of the outdoors and physical activities, it is a piece of me that I have sadly lost over the years.

Killer overalls and homemade hiking stick!

Growing up in a family of girls (the youngest of four) one might suspect that I (and my sisters) would turn out the dainty debutant type but it was quite the contrary.  I am a self proclaimed pearl wearing, fashion loving tomboy.  From a very young age, my parents had us involved in sports and took us on camping trips at least once a year.  I could bathe in a bucket with a bar of orange Dial soap, survive days on GORP (a mixture of M&M’s, raisins & peanuts) and carve a stellar hiking stick with a pocket knife like nobody’s business. Still to this day I have immaculately vivid images of portions of the Appalachian Trail in Virginia & North Carolina that we hiked annually and can still smell my old faded blue sleeping bag.  (Really REALLY hope my parents still have that somewhere!)  I am so thankful to my parents for giving us these experiences and in turn sprouting my love for all things outdoors and active.

As I mentioned previously (prior to my extra long segue) I sadly let my outdoorsy side slip away.  There are a million reasons why; time, work, location, friends that don’t share the same interest, money, etc. but they are really all sad excuses for silencing something that is such a love of mine.  So, Whistler brought about the perfect opportunity to get back in touch with my outdoorsy adventure self.  I decided I would stay two extra days, because financially that was all I could afford to do, and then began the decision of what big activity I would sign up for.  There were so many things to choose from and so many reviews I read, but I kept going back to this thing called Via Ferrata.   The definition of Via Ferrata is – “Italian for ‘road of iron’ it is a mountain route which is equipped with fixed cables, stemples, ladders and bridges.”  A popular activity throughout Europe, it isn’t as well known in North America and Whistler is one of the few places where it’s offered.  I watched a YouTube video about the Whistler experience and as amazing as it looked, knew I couldn’t do it because of my fear of heights.  I wanted to challenge myself with whatever pursuit I chose, but hiking across a glacier and then scaling a mountain was something my fear of heights definitely wasn’t going to let me do.  Unsatisfied with the lack of thrill that the other options possessed combined with the drive in my gut to sign up for Via Ferrata that wouldn’t go away, I decided to do it.  My biggest fear at the time was that I was going to pay for it (wasn’t cheap), show up and then not be able to do it due to my fear of heights taking control.  I know myself well enough, however, to know that I never back down to a physical challenge and refuse to commit to something without following through.  So really the only step I had to take was calling to book my reservation and provide my credit card number.  From then onward, I knew I’d never let myself turn back.

With the excursion booked and the trip quickly approaching I found myself with that nagging nervous tension in my gut in anticipation of the journey.  I was scared but so excited for the challenge.  Ironically enough, I didn’t realize that my fear of heights (and flying) would get the ultimate test on my way out to Whistler when my flights engine exploded mid-flight.  That added just a wee bit of extra fear :)  So the morning arrives and I hop on the 30 minute gondola ride from Whistler Village, 6,000 ft. up to the top of the mountain hoping that whoever else was doing Via Ferrata that day was in far worse shape than me so that I wouldn’t be “that girl” in the group.  Luckily only three other people had signed up for the excursion that day; a girl from Holland who was spending two years traveling the world and a cute couple from England, all of whom were of equal skill level.

We met our guide, picked out smelly boots, strapped on our harnesses & helmets, grabbed an ice axe and set off on the 5 hour journey.  The typical hike portion to the rock face in the summer is just that, a hike.  However summer failed to visit Whistler this year and virtually none of the snow and ice had melted due to a record cold and wet summer.

Starting point looking out at what I'm about to hike/climb.
 We scale the 2 largest portions of bare rock see n here.

That's me down at the bottom
with the blue backpack.

The least of my concerns leading up to this excursion was whether or not I was physically fit enough to do it.  As arrogant as it may sound, I work out regularly, and while I knew it might be challenging, I wasn’t worried about conquering the physical aspect as much as I worried about the challenge of conquering my fear of heights to get to the top.  What I didn’t expect was how incredibly difficult the hike portion was.  Trekking through deep snow, across a steep slope, knowing that if you slipped you were going to quickly slide down the mountain and have to use the ice axe technique (which I never quite mastered) to stop you was terrifying and grueling.  I was out of breath in no time and questioning why on earth I had signed up for this.  The sheer vastness of the area is hard to grasp and what looked like a hike that could take 20 minutes was in fact a much larger distance that took nearly two hours to cross.   To say I was 10 x more nervous now for what lay ahead is an understatement.

Finally at the bottom of the rock face and preparing to start the climb, the anxiety levels shot through the roof and I wanted nothing more than to be in an Irish pub 5 pints of Guinness deep.  There was no turning back now so I started the climb one step and belay change after the other.  The feeling I had of being at the top of an 8,000 ft. mountain hanging off the side of it was nothing short of sheer terror.  The entire climb was unfortunately a bit of a haze.  My heart felt like it had bricks piled on top of it making breathing difficult, I wanted to vomit and my hands and arms trembled.  A friend of mine who is an experienced climber gave me some advice before my trip saying to only focus on the next step and move.  So, that’s what I did.  I couldn’t for the life of me look down or even around me, and anytime that I had to pause and wait for the person above me I nearly lost it because it meant I was suddenly aware of what I was doing.

Nearing the summit

I think the only disappointing part of the entire adventure was that I wasn’t fearless enough to stop and enjoy the situation I was in.  I had a task to get from point A to point B and I was going to get there as quickly as possible so that I could once again enjoy what it felt like to breathe and function without electricity ravishing my veins.  Another two hours later, I made it to the top and was more relieved than ever to have the task behind me.  I hadn’t died, lost my breakfast or even fallen; even had a few battle wounds to show and was standing 8,000 ft. on top of the world out of my own doing.  I soaked it in as much as I could before we started the decent, during which I busted my rear end numerous times and ripped a hole in my spandex; a seriously inappropriate choice of clothing for the day!

Falling on the decent and trying to use
the ice axe to stop

  We got back to the cabin (our starting point) took off our gear and all went our separate ways.  Even moments after I completed the climb, I felt like it hadn’t actually happened and was merely a dream.  I love that I let my fear drive me to do things out of my comfort zone that I’d never otherwise do, yet hate that my fear keeps me from being able to completely let go.

It was an unbelievable experience and I am SO glad that I chose to do the Via Ferrata.  I knew going into it that completing this task wasn’t going to conquer my fear of heights but it was going to put me face to face with it and show me that I am capable of great challenges.  To be honest, I would rather grab my fears and go to battle with them over conquering them and kissing them goodbye.  It is far more exciting and leaves you with the open ended question and task of ‘what bigger is next’!?

On top of the world, in the clouds!

I am beyond THANKFUL that my job provides me with these types of opportunities and am THANKFUL that God gives me the courage to continually challenge myself and face my fears……and that I haven’t died while doing so!

An Ode to Thanks - Part 1 - Biggest Fear Conquered!

In honor of Thanksgiving this month, I have decided to take some time to reflect on the past years accomplishments, lessons and experiences.  Many of my friends are posting daily notes this month stating things they are thankful for, which got me thinking and reflecting about the past year and what I have conquered.  It has undoubtedly been one of the toughest years of my adult life, but I find myself sitting here in November (seriously November?  I’m certain that the first day of Spring – conveniently my birthday as well – was just last week) looking back at all of the challenges this year has brought and finding myself in a state of happiness and contentment I haven’t felt in a long time.  A testament to the fact that sometimes you have to endure serious hardships in order to gain true happiness and appreciation for what you have. ~ “Smooth seas do not make skillful sailors."

I have clearly failed miserably, yet again, at successfully blogging about my life and travels in 2011 but will aim to write a series of reflections and thankful tributes over the next month in honor of Thanksgiving; one of my favorite holidays.  Onto the first entry:

Biggest Fear Conquered!

Well, it was until July 14^th.  Anyone who knows me, knows that I have a serious phobia of flying.  I have tried to pinpoint when and why this fear developed since it didn’t plague me when I was young.  The only thing I can trace it to is a neighbor who died in the USAir Flight 427 crash in Pittsburgh back in 1994 when I was in 7^th grade.  I remember listening to the radio in my bedroom when the details were broadcast and later finding out that our neighbor down the street was on the plane.  We weren’t particularly close with these neighbors, however I used to play at their house every now and then.  I’ll never forget our immediate next door neighbor saying it took him hours to look out the window and see if my dads car was in the driveway.  (My dad traveled for work constantly)  So whether it was the realization that my dads frequent flying meant he could die or just the fact that it was a crash in our hometown that claimed a neighbors life, I think this was the start of my fear of flying.

Fast forward a few years to my senior year in high school when my mom and I had planned a trip to Atlanta for my great Aunt’s 80^th birthday.  I begged my mom to let us drive so as to avoid flying but a 13 hour drive from Pittsburgh to Atlanta for a two day trip wasn’t her idea of a good time, so it was off to the airport we went.  I begged to get drugs from the Dr. before we left but sucked it up and was actually a good sport that morning.  About an hour into the flight we are informed that we had lost one of our engines and were turned around heading back to Pittsburgh.  Cue me hyproventilating and demanding we land somewhere in Virginia, where we likely were, rather than going an hour back to Pittsburgh.  Obviously we made it back fine….and my mom took her lunatic daughter to TCBY rather than on the next flight to Atlanta.  Result = phobia of flying greatly increased.

Fast forward to present day when I get myself into a job that requires constant travel.  Until this year, I was still plagued by my phobia.  Every trip I dealt with horrendous anxiety and fear.  I completely understand that it is an irrational fear and for the love of everything holy, I know that flying is xxx times safer than driving.  But as sad as it is, one statistic (that everyone has a different definition of) doesn’t really make me feel better.  Sorry!  My boss was always baffled at how I went on with my job/traveling and I too questioned how much longer I could do my job and deal with the fear.  Again, I know it is irrational and sounds ridiculous but every single time I got on a flight, I truly thought I was going to die.  To put it in perspective, I was on 59 flights last year and am at 53 to date this year….that’s a lot of time spent thinking about dying!  I also dealt with dreams on at least a monthly basis where I was in or witnessed a plane crash.  It got to the point where I was finally going to go to a Dr. and see about getting some anti-anxiety medication (which would have made for really interesting sales calls post flights/medicine consumption!) but really didn’t want to go that route.  I am extremely stubborn when it comes to Dr.’s and medicine.  I’m not anti-medicine but do think the world is way over-medicated these days and basically chalk it up to being ridiculously stubborn and thick headed. 

For one reason or another, I kept putting off going to the Dr. and early this year I gradually started to realize that my fears and anxiety were dissipating.  I no longer had the cold sweats prior to take off, the death grips around the arm rests (there are a lot of Delta seats out there with gorgeous imprints of my hands) or the disturbing thoughts of falling out of the sky and how I would escape a firey tube of metal.  All of a sudden, my fear was virtually gone.  The only thing I can attribute it to is the constant traveling and the routine of going in and out of airports, getting through a security line as fast as possible (one of my key talents) and the continual boarding and unboarding of planes.  Routine is the key word here.  It is now such a frequent part of my life that it is only a routine to me and any thought processes about it are virtually non-existent.  Like driving to work every day; I get in my car each morning and 50 minutes later I’m at my office.  I don’t remember paying attention to the turns or what traffic lights I got stopped at…I just do it out of memory and because it’s something I have to do every day.  Needless to say, when I came to the realization early this year that I had kicked my phobia in the hiney, it made life and travel so much more pleasant.  I was so proud of myself!  Then July 14^th rolled around….

I was enjoying our family beach vacation outside of Jacksonville, FL when Thursday rolled around and I, for the first time in 30 years, had to leave family beach week early for a work trip in Vancouver and Whistler.  Boarded my flight from JAX to ATL and settled in for a long night of travel with no confirmed business class upgrades (self admitted travel snob extraordinaire!).  I remember being oddly jittery for this flight.  Maybe it was the disappointment of leaving family vaca early or the depression of flying coach all night, but I had an uneasy feeling nonetheless.  Less than 10 minutes after take-off I heard and felt what sounded like a cannon explode.  Immediately I knew we had just lost an engine and my old fears and worst case scenarios came flooding back.  I know planes can land on one engine (I had already survived one!) and I knew we hadn’t traveled far and could be back to JAX quickly, but nothing can erase that initial feeling of “this is it.”  I’m sure there are many people out there who have been in the same situation, or worse, and don’t have those feelings but I am not able to control those thoughts.  I really can’t describe it.  I sat there looking out the window, heart pounding out of my chest thinking that this was it for me and how lucky I was that I had gotten to spend my last week with my entire family.  The constant prayers of ‘please let us land’ and ‘please let it be pain free’ begin.  We ended up flying in circles around the airport at a ridiculously low altitude for at least 25 minutes while the fire trucks and emergency vehicles assembled on the runway.  (Major FAIL for the JAX emergency response team.)  There was a girls soccer team on the flight and they all started singing Happy Birthday to one of their teammates in case this was the last birthday.  That’s when the tears came.  Eventually we landed, the entire plane erupts in applause and then I really start crying.  Literally trembling, I call my cousin to send someone to come pick me up.  There was no way I could get on another flight that night. 

Faced with three connections the next day (all guaranteed first class though) and worried that my phobia was back with a vengeance, I was unsure if I could do it.  But, I knew the only way to move forward was to get back on the saddle asap and get on my flights to the west coast.  Certainly the nerves were a little unraveled the next day but I was surprised to find myself relatively calm.  I quickly realized I held the key this time as to whether I would allow my phobia to resurface or keep it at bay.  Surprised by the control over the situation I felt, I told myself that the odds of engine explosions happening to a person two days in a row had to be 10 billion to 1, thus I was essentially guaranteed a safe journey to Vancouver.  A week later as I started the journey back home, I again told myself that the odds of engine explosions happening to a person twice within a week had to be 9 billion to 1, thus I would get home safely.  And so my mindset has continued throughout the rest of the year in order to keep my phobia at bay.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get the occasional heart palpitation in conjunction with turbulence but I am happy to say that despite a bump in the air (hahaha) I am THANKFUL that I’ve been able to keep my fear of flying at bay and will leave 2011 proud to have overcome this fear.  

To the Passenger in 6B

Greetings from roughly 36,000 feet; more than likely somewhere over the state of Ohio.  It’s common practice, as you know, to begin my blogs apologizing for the lack of consistency.  Well, in 2011, it is a goal of mine to be better in regularly blogging about my travels and so we start with the first of the year:

The world is made up of many, many, MANY interesting people and fortunately (most of the time) I get to encounter quite a few of these breeds amidst my journeys.  To kick off 2011, I have decided to share a recent encounter with a flight passenger I was oh so lucky to be seated next to earlier this week.

Mr. 6B as we will call him, had me peg him as awkward from relatively early on in the two plus change hour flight from Atlanta to Kansas City.  He looked exactly like Al Bundy from Married with Children (cannot recall his real name and don’t want to pay $12 for the GoGo Inflight Internet Access to Google it) and just had a slightly awkward demeanor.  He would look over and stare at me like he was about to strike up conversation but would never say anything.  And he did this multiple times.  He was also way too interested in what I was doing on my iPad.  Personal space buddy!  Finally (and thankfully no earlier) about twenty minutes before landing he decides to strike up conversation with the usual; asking about why I’m headed to our current destination.  This evolves into me explaining my job and my heavy travel schedule, which he understands as he’s a commercial aluminum salesman.  (Score one for me.  I win in the better sales job category!)  He goes on to ask, as they all do, if I’m married and have a family.  I think all sales people love asking that question hoping they can find common ground and vent about the difficulties of juggling life on the road and a family.  Which, of course, I totally get and have sympathy for.  It’s hard enough doing it solo…I don’t see how I could ever do this job with a family.  I digress.  When I say I am single (need to start lying about that more often and start wearing my fake diamond ring again) he probes with more questions implying that I couldn’t possibly be happy as a single independent working/traveling businesswoman.  I happily tell him I love my job, love being single and have never been more content in my life than I am right now.  His response was “Well you should really probably start trying to find a husband and settle down don’t you think?”  I BEG your pardon!?!  I have never wanted to punch my seat companion so badly.  The nerve!  Maybe he really was Al Bundy.

As if that weren’t enough, the conversation somehow turns into sports and knowing me, the Steelers quickly become the topic.  He claims to love sports but when I ask him about his teams, it gets fishy.  He’s lived in Atlanta for 18 years, and likes the Falcons when they are good.  He is from Buffalo and likes the Bills when they are good.  Um, loser, that is not loving sports.  He then goes into preaching mode about how sports is purely entertainment and that he enjoys it for the entertainment aspect of watching who is hot at the moment.  Blasphemy!  You cannot call yourself a sports fan if you have no loyalty.  He can clearly tell I am extremely passionate about my teams and lectures me that it is “very dangerous” to get emotionally involved in sports.  Really?  Ok, so I might take Steelers football a little too seriously but that is what it’s all about.  If you can’t have passion for something, what is the point of living!  I’ll tell you what’s dangerous….sitting next to a strong willed, stubborn independent woman, saying all of that stuff, and expecting to walk off the plane with your manhood.

We land.  Apparently he thinks we are friends and tries to walk down the tarmac with me.  Cue “dropping” something and having to stop and reorganize myself.  Sayonara sucker!   

Gym Pet Peeves

Any fitness guru or even a casual worker-outer has them.  Those tiny insignificant things or insanely awkward tendencies you witness while at the gym that drive you mental.  Thus I present my top 10 gym  pet peeves (which will probably expound into a sequel in no time).  Feel free to leave your gym pet peeves as well!

10.  People who sport matchy-matchy gym outfits.  I get that fashion is everywhere these days, there are some really cute gym clothes out there and that American society is unfortunately horrendously judgemental but is it really necessary to put that much time & effort into your gym attire?  All you are going to do is sweat through it and not be taken seriously by half the other patrons at the gym.

9.  Those women who insist on changing RIGHT next to the door of the locker room.  So much so that when I round the corner to enter the locker room, BAM, I am faced with a half naked woman, which is not how I care to begin my exercise regime.  I will stop there.

8.  People who spend 3 minutes filling up their water bottles at the water fountain without paying any mind to the line of thirsty folks behind them.  Fill your water bottle up all you want, but at least let people grab a sip before you consume 3 minutes in front of the fountain!

7. People who work out and don't sweat.  This is purely an element of jealousy because I sweat like a pregnant pig.  (I'm not sure if pregnant pigs sweat in abnormal amounts, but let's just pretend)

6.  People who sing or shout at themselves out loud mid-work out.  While this can be extremely comical and borderline entertaining at times, I just have to wonder what on earth they are thinking.  Occasionally I will end up next to a man on the eliptical who will truly shout at himself during his workout and will then spontaneously bust into a few verses of a song out loud.  I totally missed the memo about karaoke hour at the gym!

5.  Girls who carry their designer bags with them around the gym.  First, do you really need to bring your hand bag into the gym?  Secondly, there are lockers for them.  Lastly, again you will not be taken seriously as someone who is at the gym to actually exercise, but rather someone who is looking to draw attention to themselves.  Ex. there is a girl at my gym who carries her large Longchamp bag with her around to every machine and slings it over her shoulders as she's walking to the next one.  Just flat out don't get it and I'm sorry, but it bothers me!

4.  People who don't wipe down their equipment (with the conveniently PROVIDED towels and sanitizer!) after they get off a machine . Nuff said.

3.  People who leave their stuff (towel, keys, water bottle) on a machine to "claim" it, when they have no intention of using said machine for 15-20 minutes.  Unless you own the gym, are getting sick in the bathroom, or have passed out from exhaustion, I'm pretty sure that's not kosher.

2.  Men AND women that feel it is appropriate to produce unlimited flatulence during work-outs because they are in a public place and no one will be able to identify them as the guilty one.  Guess what, it's pretty easy to figure out and anyone next to you knows you're the culprit!  Plus our already exhausted lungs really don't appreciate that shock when inhaled.

1.  People who talk on their phones and/or text while working out.  Can you honestly not part with your phone for that long?  Again I use Longchamp girl as an example because while she is "working out" at every machine, she is texting and emailing on her iPhone.  I assure you she's not just using it for music because she wears no earphones.  How can you possibly have an effective and productive workout while you are talking and texting?  I suppose I have a different idea of workouts than some but gollee does that one bother me!

Travel Ailments

Throughout the course of my travels I have come to find that I incur certain ailments as a result of a variety of activities.  Now, I will admit that I can have borderline hypochondriac moments, but hey, I think everyone does.  Especially now adays with WebMD and every other medical explanation Google & the internet can diagnose you with.  Muscle spasm in my knee?  Quick, let me type it into a google search and low and behold I have tendonitis and will need immediate physical therapy.  It's almost more of a hobby than an actual health concern, but these travel ailments are serious business folks!

At any rate, because of the quirky ailments I come down with, I have decided to start making note of them and give them official names related to a frequent traveler:

1.  Flight Feet - No, I am not 85 years old but yes, my feet swell like nobodies business when I fly!  A flight up to two hours typically doesn't produce much puffyness but anything more and they blow up like balloons.  Not only is it uncomfortable, but half the time I can't get my shoes back on when we land!  (yes I am that person that takes their shoes off on long flights, puts big fluffy socks on and curls up in my seat with my feet under me)  Next thing you know I'll be walking around airports with those stockings for elderly people that apparently keep swelling to a minimum.  I wonder if they make those in pink?

2.  Suitcase Elbow - Ok so tennis players get to complain of "tennis elbow" so I am coining Suitcase Elbow.  I have recently realized that as soon as I go to pull my suitcase I have extreme pain in my elbow.  Seriously?  I am still in my 20's here and I feel like I'm 90.  My suitcase isn't exactly lite as I still have yet to perfect packing in a small cary-on size suitcase.  But elbow problems from lugging a suitcase around so much...really?!?

3. Altitude Ear - Also known as extreme ear popping.  Again, swimmers get to complain of "swimmers ear" (which I will not mock any further because not only did I always have it during my competitive swimming days but I got it this summer and it sucks. Yes you can still get it as an adult!)  Now I'm no one special here.....I'd say 80-90% of passengers aboard flights experience their ears popping.  That's grand, but mine take it to an entirely different level.  From the moment I step into the cabin until about 48 hours after I get off, I have constant ear popping.  In-flight it gets so bad I induce yawning to the point where I actually gag and dry heave.  Sexy, I know.  It doesn't just happen at take-off and landing, it is constant throughout the flight and for a day or two after.  I wonder how many bugs I've swallowed due to all those yawns....

Clearly I am the dream person to have sitting next to you on a flight.  Shoeless, with fat feet, sporting geriatric stockings, who is a perpetual yawner and gagger.  I may have just answered my own question of "why don't I ever hit it off with men when I fly?"

Name-sake

As I sit in my parked car, eating a chicken quesadilla and debating whether or not I should drive or walk home (mind you, I am .5 miles from my house), I ponder: “what could I blog about tonight?”



Then I realize that the evening has been blog worthy since the get-go and the fact that I sit in my 2001 Pathfinder with dried quacamole on my cheeks, means there is definitely a story to tell. Thus, I think I will entitle this blog “name-sake.”


As long as I can remember, I recall that knowing and remembering someone’s name is one of the best traits a person can carry. I went to a college, which I prefer to refer to as a “Country Club.” It was common practice to meet someone, introduce yourself, re-introduce yourself the next weekend because that persona had “never met you before”, and repeat for 4 years. Thus, I am a bit jaded when it comes to men, as I assume they are all worthless creatures that don’t care a lick about meeting or knowing you.


So you can imagine my surprise when last week I walk into my neighborhood gastropub, which I hadn’t been to since my birthday (March 20th to be exact…just in case you want to buy me a present) , and I am dumbfounded by the bartenders memory. I order a Bell’s Oberon (my all-time favorite summer brew) and he kindly says “oh, I thought you liked Guinness?” Well, as a matter of fact I do LOVE Guinness, but refuse to drink it in America because no one can pour it properly. I remind him of this fact, as if he should have known it all along, and inform him that Oberon is my all time favorite beer, which is impossible to find on draft anywhere in Charleston, and why I am requesting a fresh one at this very moment. He obliges, pours my brew, hands it to me and says “it’s Rebekah, right?”. I look at him like what I imagine a two year old looks like when they realize the Easter Bunny is really their overweight father who spent $200 at Walmart buying Jellybelly’s and Reeses eggs.


I take note of this particular bartenders memory and am extremely impressed with the fact that he remembers not only me, but my name, after 4 months of absence from the bar. Then I start to think, maybe I should embrace this character trait….


So I go to the bar this evening. He Is working, addresses me by my name (in a non-freaky manor…even though he calls me Rebekah, which no one except my family does) and proceeds to keep my glass full of a delicious Albarenio white, without my asking. I am with 3 friends, all who quickly catch on to the fact that he is extremely into me (which I, of course, am oblivious to) and urge me to aknowledge this fact. I decide to be proactive and find out what his name is. I mean, for Pete’s sake, that’s the least I should know at this point….and after learning his name is Brad, and I have never dated a Brad, I decide that is reason enough to be more bold. After lots of twisting, turning, Olan Mills posing and arguing, I somehow end up leaving my phone number on my tab and run out the door like a 12 year old. I would just like to make it known that I do NOT chase men, pursue men, give them means to contact me or even know me…..yet I have left some random bartender, who calls me by my Biblical birth name, my digits and I sit in my beat up car with dried quacamole on my face, secretly hoping he may call.


So it ends, that I order a chicken quesadailla to-go, ask for a “top off” on my glass of wine and revert to bolting out the door before I could possibly become anymore embarrassed. I’m not waiting on a phone call. Not going to avoid the bar because of this encounter BUT am going to chalk it up to a fantastic blog entry that hopefully at least one person will find entertaining. Afterall…this is my life and I truly feel blessed to have such ridiculous encounters 


….tomorrow could hold all the answers. (or a hangover. But I’m willing to bargain)…..

Kristen in LA

My 2nd blog is dedicated to my best friend since 1st grade.  (even though she made serious fun of my redneck accent when I moved in next door....I'm clearly not still holding that against her 22 years later)  This post is a simple copy/paste of an email I received from Kristen this morning that had me rolling on the floor laughing.  Minor background details to know prior to reading:  Kristen lives in LA, loves Trumpets, and wouldn't consider a coked out homeless man in Compton a stranger.  ....enjoy :)

In the words of KP:

So-a very long email detailing my epic journey to Pittsburgh PA. Please read with hand gestures and voices. :)


I guess you could say that it started last night when Anna, Maggie and I discovered that our local wine bar had a Malbec named Trumpeter. Although Anna insisted I had enjoyed this wine at a previous time, I do not recall this alleged event. Between the 3 of us we consumed 2 bottles of Trumpeter Wine and a Tempora. I also do not recall the last wine, but I do recall the hiccups...which still plague me this morning. I also believe that I had tuna tartar, caprese salad, a chocolate cake and almonds-no I'm not preggers (3 bottles of wine people) I just like all that crap. It is astonishing to note that I woke up a bit hungover this morning.

Before we even went out Last night, I refused to pack because I wanted to watch a DVR'd show entitled 'Til Debt Do Us Part' a fabulous show that I pretend to relate to (except that I'm not married or sharing credit cards with anyone else or 80K in debt). For instance-the people last night bought a house with $0 down. Yeah-not even a dollar down and then thought OMG-they needed a car for the garage-so they bought that and then the wife wanted a car too so they bought that as well. These people were over spending their budget by $7000/mo. A nightmare! Beautiful. This overweight English brunette(supernanny for finances) comes in and saves not only their money problems but their relationship as well. Clearly you can empathize with my need to watch this show and not pack a damn thing.

Which brings me to this morning...the alarm was set for 6am but alas-I forgot to turn it on. No problem-those who drink the night before are destined to toss and turn when the sun comes out (why I invested in curtains and a sleeping mask). I wake around 6:10 and instead of stressing I decide I will make a list. It is a very wise decision if I were making a packing list-but no-I decide that on this morning-on the eve of my vacation for 15 days that I will make a list of all the songs I should download off itunes. Then, I proceed to download them (why I needed a list is like the same question as how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsiepop). I also had a giftcard from Christmas that I had to figure out how to use this morning. Keeping in mind that I purchase about $15 of songs each month, I clearly had no time to use this certificate at ANY other point.

I'm still not packed. My roomate comes out of her room and says 'Are you done?' Because I am on my bed with my computer and leaving soon and still have to shower. I tell her-of course not and she rolls her eyes and then goes to work. I have now remembered that I can download podcasts too! This will be perfect for my trip.

Anna is scheduled to come to pick me up about 8:15 so after shoving some dresses and stuff in my suitcase I shower throw on makeup and decide that at 7:55 I NEED to get gas for my car. Anna will be by in her car to pick me up in 20 min so I have ample time to put gas in my car and then park it in my garage where it will sit for 16 days, untouched by human hands (I saw a rat in our garage once so I emphasize the human aspect of that statement-not that rats have hands). Before I get gas I realize that I have 2 checks to deposit (one check being from a bra rebate that I think my Mom sent me because I didn't buy bras-but when a check comes in the mail-you have to cash it and one from other nights at the bar from Anna). The ATM is of course out of service but Anna is there too! She takes our checks and my ATM card and searches out a new location for us to deposit our checks while I go get gas. This is why Anna gets the BF status out here. She doesn't question the need for gas-but rather understands that I may wake up in the middle of the night while in Pittsburgh and realize that my car has no gas and ruin my whole trip!!!

As we leave for the airport I realize that she is currently on a conference call. How that girl can conference, drive to the airport and talk to me all while slightly hungover is beyond me. I strive to be more like her!

I get to the airport and a man in front of me comments on my trumpet necklace. I'm all set to make an airport friend when he turns and faces me and his chest hair is sprawled across the full area between his head and button on his shirt. I can't be his friend...

The people in front of hairy man have 2 kids who are traveling to the same destination as me. The flight crew tells them it will be $100 for an unattended traveler. You can guess what my next thought was- I can claim these kids and save these strangers money! It took all of my willpower not to take these kids under my experienced traveling wings-I entered the checkpoint line and quickly discovered a new thought. Always choose the line with grade school kids in it. At first look-you may think KIDS-AHHH! But in actuality-this age group is the perfect traveling age. They spend the whole line calculating what they will do when they get to the front of the line-which bin they will get and where all their gadgets will go. Plus they ask ?'s like 'do my suckers set off the detectors?' Which is hilarious!

So I'm early for my flight-I cannot remember if I packed essential things and I am still hungover. I head over to the Bakery and decide that I WILL get a chocolate chip cookie because I have already made 2 good decisions in my best interest. I did NOT decide to accompany 2 random kids and I did NOT decide to drink my breakfast at the bar which is conveniently located next to the bakery. Although these were good choices-I find that I often hurt myself the most with the reward for good behavior. Take these decisions-sure I do not have to occupy the time of kids but I will probably end up doing that anyway-I like kids, I am also not drinking which is technically a good decision but then I got a cookie which probably has the most calories and will cost me more trouble with weight gain then just taking care of the kids or nursing a beer.

Anyway-I'm in line at the bakery and meet a dreamy guy in line who as it turns out, is having a chocolate chip cookie too! He also turns out to have a lisp and be traveling to San Fransisco. Hmmm.... So I opt to go to a big table and leave empty chairs for unassuming people. I am secretly hoping that the hotties who have a cart full of luggage who joked with me that they swore they had an eye on their bags the whole time and begged me not to report them despite the airport warnings, would come and sit with me but alas-they had to catch their flight. So I'm currently sitting with an old married couple and their spinster old maid friend who is well traveled but single and guess what? She is a TEACHER! Don't let my hair get frizzy friends. And make me wear makeup if I'm unfortunate looking. Don't let me become a well traveled old lady! They are talking about keeping journals and their next trip before they even do this trip!

I look like I am their bratty other daughter who refuses to speak and only talks on her phone. Oh well-at least they will have something to talk to all their travel buddies about. 'Remember that girl who texted the whole time at breakfast? Really-what is wrong with that generation?'

Alright-it is off to my flight where I will enjoy my new music and podcasts...I should have brought a sweater but it is too late now. I will see you all soon and I hope that you have enjoyed my epic morning! And with a little luck- I will get bumped and a vouchure- you just never know when I go to the airport!

KP