So, you're wondering what I have to bitch about in regards to my trip...well here's a surprise: I'll leave it 'till later (it was eventful).

So I'm here in the apartment of cpttylor (aka Daniel), chilling out lax and relaxing all cool, the phules that rule, subjugatin' propagation of elation restoration to this station...representin' the nation..Cali, west side, scholar life, peace. Aw-yeah.

So, we've been total geeks watching Anime. My back has been bothering me something awful fierce, but I've been adjusting it regularly and everything seems in place mostly. The couch is like many couches I have encountered: oddly angled...along with the pillow, but this shall be a most excellent pad to hang at for awhile.

I can't describe what it's like to be back among friends, hell to be social, especially around someone who appreciates my witful (and yes, somewhat sardonic) commentary about damn near everything. Y'all, he rocks.

So about my trip...ok...first thing is first: the beginning. I woke up at an odd hour, I know not when. It was before I was supposed to and I was ass-tired, so I pack up the rest of my stuff, get out the door, say goodbye to the apartment...and proceed to walk in the opposite direction of where the subway station is. Me without food in the morning is scary like mongoloid hair styles.

So I finally get to the station. My plan: to take three separate lines and get to the airport all for the price of one subway token. This part went off beautiful (and there was mutual checking out to be had with complete strangers, which was most tasty).

Now I usually leave about 2-3 hours before my flight, mainly because airports don't bother me (I once spent over 24 hours in one, in which the meditation room became my sleeping quarters. Lovely places, incidentally. Pretty quiet, too).

This was not the case. I ran through the airport, vaguely imagining a clock ticking off in the northwestern corner of my vision like some reminiscent wet dream left over from FF7. So I get there, go through the Baltimore gate, and I suddenly find myself on the runway. Holy shit, I thought, am I going to get to ride in one of those really small jets that I've always seen coursing down the strip? You bet your sweet ass I did; it was nummy. I hate large planes because they inevitably contain three distinctly oppressive lifeforms: other people's children who feel the need to express themselves in octaves I'm not even capable of (and my range is impressive), annoying teenagers who have no respect for my personal space..and people who snore.

I arrived at Oberlin none too soon. I found out from my friend Courtney that my presentation had been scheduled that day and that I may have to enact damage control. Well hell, I'll just lie and said I was delayed 7 hours, I thought. This lie worked beautifully, and many people smiled sympathetically. I have improved my technique for white lies over the years. Go me.

I was a fool, incidentally. Because of circumstances that are boring, I missed the 1pm shuttle to the airport. The hotel clerk that I spoke with was large and very unhelpful. She was Weezy Jefferson in all the wrong ways.

Frantic, I called the service. Busy signal, then recorded promptings into black hole time loss. No, this is useless. I called a cab, bit the bullet, and paid 45 bucks.

At the airport in Cleveland, I had what I thought was 20 minutes to board the plane. Nope, I had 5. As I ran down the concourse to one of the last gates, there were 4 flights of stairs. I was a human gazel; I bounded; I wanted my leafy grass. I made it. More small jet action. Tired, tired small jet action.

So after getting into Baltimore, I lounge about and wait for my plane, woefully eating a chili dog and getting the eye from the "waitress" because she expects a tip. No seating, no food bringing, and she got me a glass of water I didn't ask for. Nah, no tip.

Then there was the announcement. As I sat and read through the fourth book in Asprin's latest series, they announce that Cleveland isn't letting any planes in. The flight will be delayed an hour, possibly more. This was fine: I had my book, they had an in-flight dinner.

Three hours later, I feel the terrible vibrations in my gastro-intestinal region. Thoughts flying in various directions, splattering into reality like bugs on windshields. Stomach not coping, brain rebelling. I was pissed: was I to eat more airport food? I was tolerant, but I could feel the fear of my situation.

Finally, another hour...we board...then, we sit...and wait. We sat for seemingly no reason, woe-betiden in our laconic musings. In other words, we had waited long enough: where the hell was our 4 dollar Jack Daniel's? The fat man across from me knew what was up.

As we arrived in LA I expected to be greeted warmly by my family, possibly other friends in some surprise, joint venture to give me a large, clandestine home-coming. Such was not my luck. I saw nothing. I saw many things, including a rather tasty example of the female sex in what I can only describe as casually allurative attire, but I was not interested in these things. I saw nothing that was immediately assuring: no ride, no ground transport. Shit, I thought, I'll have to call.

I called my grandmother...many times...every ten minutes. Terrible emotions ran through my head. I was pissed: goddamnit, why didn't they come? What is this? Am I the only responsible human being in this family?

And then, a thought hit me: hold on, I told them I was going to be at Continental. This is American West.......SHIT!!!!

I was at "1" at LAX...Continental was at "6"...and if you've ever been to an airport, you can imagine how long it takes to get to each number by car. I footed it, I hurt...but I made it and, sure enough, there was a flight in from Cleveland. Being clever, I stood by the gate. 3 hours and many calls later, I was not feeling in the least clever.

I reached my mom finally. We bitched about gram not going to the gate she thought I was at. This was fine: I was going home.

At around midnight, she comes, we embrace, we leave...then we get stuck in parking lot/LAX traffic. We chatted, we mused...I found out that I can pay her back when she wants. Lovely. Europe is a possibility now.

That post was long. I thank you for perusing it.

Incidentally, folks, one of my friends is in Blue town, feeling rather lonesome by some mark that I can't describe in any other way but "suck." Let's call her Jereden. Give some loving, y'all: she needs it.

Right, off to more anime and movie-watching.

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