Hillary and I aren't friends anymore.

Got some excellent news yesterday: Isa said that the emotions training grant committee unanimously approved my deferral. Funding-wise, that means:

My advisor is extremely pleased that I get my cake and eat it twice. I'm likewise extremely happy. My mom and I were on welfare when I was a kid. Being financially secure starting this October means much more to me than just the money. It's like I finally have control over my life, that I can provide for myself and others if they need it.

I felt kinda tired today, like I said, but generally well. Lately I've begun to appreciate people and the present more, instead of being so in two-and-a-half-places-at-once.

It's temperate and lovely outside. Almost tempts me to take a walk, with or without my third wide-angle eye.

Instead, I'm going to give you the low-down on the rest of the 1st day, for the conference trip.

Soundtrack: Yoko Kanno and The Seatbelts � Blue (from Cowboy Bebop);
Iron & Wine � Most anything of theirs

To give you an overview of the whole schedule: I touched down May 30th (Tuesday) and the conference went from May 31st (Wednesday) to June 3rd (Saturday). I flew out early afternoon, June 4th.

In quotes is what I wrote during the worst 4 hours of the entire trip, during our free afternoon on Friday before I got half a bottle of Shiraz in me. To quote myself at the time: "I'm currently in the lounge area, of the lobby, of the over-expensive hotel. For some inexplicable reason they've just dimmed all of the overhead lights to near-off. God that feels better on my eyes. My reporting may be a bit biased based on my mood.

"When I got off the plane, it was a short jangle to baggage claim. I spent 40 minutes standing around confused, until I realized that someone had the magical idea of assuming I, from Detroit, would expect my luggage to show up at the "Minneapolis" carousel. But I fetched it, found the taxi service, and some time later found myself in the company of some elegant black women and a quiet driver."

Translation and reprise: so there I was, touched down in Miami. Severely overdressed, sporting a tie no less. I'd arranged for shared taxi service, on account of the private cars being fuck-all expensive. A good 30 minutes went by before my Miami Beach ride showed up, although I had great fun watching drivers periodically come up, yell over the din at the dispatcher, then carry people off into the distance.

I ended up riding with 3 elegant black women. The oldest, to the other side of me in back, was genteele and remarkable. She spoke about relatives, old friends, whom was getting married to whom, threading decades of insight into every sentence. Her companion�a niece, perhaps�would occasionally mumble with her in French and chuckle in the most nerdily endearing way imaginable. The woman up in front was a stranger, but the few times she was spoken to it was as if everyone knew everyone else. I was entirely ignored but not in a rude way; I knew nothing of their culture or ways, though I dutifully paid attention.

Eventually, people were dropped off at the memorial university or a walled off condo complex. I saw a deformed giant duck with a pulpy, angry facial growth charged near our car, gulping up some bread. I commented (the only time during the trip, I think) that I'd never seen that before. The black gentleman driving commented about feeding swamp creatures being a problem. He too spoke French and apparently Portuguese over the radio. I was tempted to ask him about the city, but I felt quiet like a lake and saw no need to disturb me. We cruised by the run-down sections.

"We'd driven through some tough but honest neighborhoods: an abandoned church here, a series of small houses there," winding our way around and toward Miami Beach. Everything progressively turned more opulent, larger, more expensive. I felt as if I'd been sent for by a rich, dying grandfather I'd never met. With all the silence of such a pensive mission, I was taken to the Loews Hotel.

"When we pulled up I was greeted by bellhops, treating me as if I were a businessman. I was nicely dressed but I didn't scream money. I didn't even have a suit jacket on. I suppose that's just part of the pampered white syndrome that hotel guests have demanded over the years. I was promptly checked in, was shown to my room by a rather friendly old black man named Walter, had some things about the hotel explained, then was left to silence and my own devices. I was still properly overwhelmed and delighted by the opulence of it all. I regret not having a camera, because to the eye the whole place really does look like a luxury hotel. The lobby is spacious. Beyond the central column of 6 elevators, there's at least 200 yards of booths, tables, a few bars, a piano lounge act area, and many feet of carpet. Outside, on the side area, is a central pathway toward the pool area, garrisoned by palatial palm trees and a concrete/marble encased central aqueduct. Said area pools down to the pool, monstrous and mainstream in its scope. Cabana chairs, umbrellas, a towel shack and rental hut, bathrooms just for the washing of bodies before depositing in said pool�and the biggest damn Jacuzzi I've ever seen; it's on an upraised dais by the pool; it could fit a full-sized elephant and a juvenile.

The beach is as any beach the world over. The jade and emerald-blue waters filter out for 50 yards before settling to the ocean blue of the Atlantic. Though I barely have any sense of smell, I can faintly take in the sweet-salt air. It makes me nostalgic and longing for home�and in the meantime serves as a nice proxy."

Back to Tuesday itself, I was imagining such a smell while I looked out over the view from the balcony of my room. On the right-hand side was most of south beach Miami, and opposite was the ocean flanked by the sand and the hotel's pool. Window eyes from other establishments gazed on in front. I took out my new sport's coat (which was something, considering the garment bag handles were fastened with a plastic cord I couldn't cut off).

I went back down and dutifully walked slow through the spacious extended lobby, over to the bar to ask after my roommate's whereabouts. No one knew anything. I stepped outside, passing back and forth in front of a non-American looking woman in her late 30's. I asked her if she was expecting an associate and explained myself. She burst into a smile and greeted me warmly. We had drinks and talked for a time. She was remarkably non-American in how she asked after me, how she commented on things. She even paid for what I later found out was an OUTRAGEOUSLY expensive mai-tai (14 bucks. Yes. No, I'm not. Yes). All the while it seemed curious that we'd be rooming together, but somehow it seemed like it might just oddly work out.

Later on that night we had Italian at a place she introduced me to. My dress shoes were already biting at my heels, but I decided I wanted to look immaculate around the hotel. You know. Just in case colleagues might have seen me and recognized me from later on. I had their chicken parm while we got to know one another. In all it was a breezy meal, and I was fairly tired from being on planes and in a new place. Afterward, I think I decided to do some work on my laptop, or read over the conference schedule, or did something until we turned in at 11pm. Well Jillian did, I practiced my talk out on the balcony 'til 12:30am. I ended up staying awake until 4. I just couldn't sleep. Too anxious, maybe. I went down to the concierge desk looking slightly dishelved, asking politely for sleep medicine. They had none. They suggested a Walgreen's. I thought how incredibly absurd it was that you could literally get CD's, CD players, movies, spices, smells, and a host of other crap sent to your room, but they had nothing as basic as sleeping pills. I got those, popped one, and had about 3 hours.

Thus my first day of conferences rockily began�

(don't worry. I'll spare you the details of the actual talks--except mine, of course. I'll just cover what seems the most memory-worthy later. This includes a hot date at the end. So stay tuned)

previous - next