Goodness, he continues to amaze.
Archive for the 'travel' Category
Our first night.
We all seem to have survived the trip AO & I took to NYC and back again. We returned to find Bear alive and well, smiley and normal-seeming. Equally important, my mom & Severa seem to have lived through the ordeal without aging a bit. I’m sure it was stressful, but they didn’t let me know and it certainly didn’t show. Gracie, too, seems arguably younger after the weekend. AO & I had an excellent time. I admit that landing at LGA at 5ish on Saturday night and needing to hit the hotel south of midtown and book it out to Brooklyn for a 7pm reservation had me in both a stressed and exhausted mood all the way from the Detroit airport to Queens, but once we hit the iPad-laden land of Terminal D at LaGuardia, I had a bit of a second wind. We managed to check into our hotel in the Fashion District just shy of 6 pm, freshen up, and meet our friends in the lobby just on the other side of 6:30. Ish. The seven of us piled in to two cabs to Brooklyn. Our res, which I had made, was at Flatbush Farms, not too far off of Flatbush Avenue. Now, we all know I’m no New Yorker (and the owner of the cafe on 27th Street certainly had no qualms about telling me as much), and I certainly don’t think I could do the job of a New York cabbie, but I do know where Flatbush Avenue is. While I don’t think NYC cabbie should be omniscient, I think they should probably be aware of most of the major streets in NYC of which I am aware. And one of those is Flatbush Ave. Pretty. Major. Street. This cabbie, though? Not so much. I had to guide her from the west side of Manhattan to the depths (not really) of Brooklyn using my iPhone’s map. And then I messed up because we were looking for an Avenue and not a Place, but that really doesn’t matter because we were only a couple of blocks off. And what’s a couple of blocks when you’re in the greatest city on earth? Sure, I was wearing heels, but traipsing through the side streets of Brooklyn on a dark February night when peeps are leaving their ground-level brownstones’ lights on so I can peek in at the mouldings? Yes, please! Anyway, we made it to dinner and it was delish. We headed to a bar nearby to find the bride, which was super fun until AO and I hit the wall and decided to head back to the hotel. It was a little after 11. We headed down to the nearest subway stop, knowing the line went into the City, and bought our tickets and headed to wait on the tracks. Hmm, I thought. This train says it’s headed to Coney Island. As I said, I’m no New Yorker, but that didn’t seem right. Oops. Back up to the street, cross the street, find other entrance. Coney Island again! Oops. Cross the OTHER street and bam! Because it was a Saturday night, or maybe just because, the subway stop to take us back into the City was closed. Damn. It. So, we start to walk to find the next stop. And we walk. And we walk. And we’re closing in on the stop according to AO’s phone (mine is dead). And we are right on top of the stop! Except we can’t find it…Where IS it? For God’s sake, who knows? I do know, though, that we can see the Brooklyn Bridge so I’m pretty sure we’re out of stops and need to adjust to our new reality: the third cab of the night. Fine. We get home just before midnight, I pretend I’m going to read and pretty much the next thing I know, it’s 9:15 on Sunday morning. Peaceful sigh.
Sunday was pretty much the best day ever. We left the hotel, bought some flowers and headed to Andrea & Scott’s apartment right around the corner. Of course I was really excited to see them and their apartment (love seeing apartments!), but the real draw was their 2.5 year old gem of a boy, Tennessee. Holy cow is that kid awesome. Bravo, guys. We were also blessed because Keyes and her fella, Joe, made the trip down from the upper west side to meet us for brunch. I can’t tell you how giddy all this made me. Old friends gathered round and chatting and brunching and laughing. Does it get any better? After overstaying (I couldn’t help it! The kid is so awesome and the company so fun and the apartment so welcoming), AO and I headed back to the hotel for a power nap. After this brief refresher, we decided on a walk down to Washington Square Park. We walked around the NYU buildings for a bit and quickly found a bar showing the Badger game. Hooray! We warmed up with some beers and a stunning Badger win. We trekked back to the hotel, grabbing a slice of $1 pizza on the way, and took another quick snooze (do you see the theme?) before dressing ourselves for the wedding. After pushing myself into my girdle-like contraption and getting AO to help me with my zipper, I put on more makeup than I had in months and we headed out for the brisk (in all senses of the word) walk to the wedding locale, del Posto.
What can I say? The bride outdid herself: she looked gorgeous and happy. The groom was glowing. The guests were giddy. The food was taste-a-licious (seriously good). The wine did not stop flowing, which, in my case, wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Anyway, it was really a spectacular wedding, made even better by being surrounded by good friends.
Because our flight didn’t leave until after 2 pm on Monday, we were able to have a Kristin morning! Feebrain sweetly met us at our hotel (trekking all the way from that other island, Brooklyn) and even picked out a nice cafe for us to have coffee and breakfast. Of course, that cafe didn’t really exist, but another one stood proudly in its place and, I dare say, was even better than its former occupant. I had a delicious mozzarella, tomato & pesto sandwich – yes, for breakfast – and AO and Fee had some contraption with prosciutto. Cappuccini all around! This was another one of the highlights of our trip for me: sitting around a coffee shop, chatting with some of my favorite people. Dreamy sigh.
And then we were off! Back to the hotel, into the cab, off to LGA for our direct (yay!) flight to MSN. Off the plane in MSN, AO stepped it to the economy lot, I grabbed our bag from the baggage claim, and we sped off home. We unpacked (I never unpack this quickly), tidied up and I did my best to impersonate a patient person as we waited for my mom & Severa to pull up with baby bear. FINALLY, they arrived! I yelled, “They’re here!” and ran out to meet them. I grabbed Mollybear and whisked her inside. It was about 5:15. She was sound asleep in my arms, on my chest, by 5:37. She slept until 7:30 the next morning. I guess she had a long weekend, too.
Thanks, everyone, for making our first post-Bear vacation an unqualified success!
A few weekends ago, I was fortunate to attend an old friend’s wedding in a spot new to me: Sonoma County. AO & I decided it would have been too troublesome to try to travel so far over such a short period of time with Baby Bear, so I was sent as our household’s rep. The good doctor and her family made a similar assessment (though Lucifer is a traveling pro), which is how Heather & I found ourselves spending a romantic weekend together at the Hilton Sonoma.
It was truly a lovely weekend. The wedding was simply one of the most beautiful I have ever attended. The wedding party seemed so relaxed and full of joy. The bride and groom glowed. It was perfect: everyone was genuinely happy and loving. Heather and I sat at a table full of strangers that soon felt like friends.
I just want to say a word about our old friend, Brady, the groom. He has made a life for himself in San Francisco that is enviable. He has surrounded himself with good people, people who clearly love him and are happy for his happiness. It is exactly what you want for your friends. And it was wonderful to see firsthand. Thanks for inviting me, Brady. I couldn’t be happier for you. Mazel tov!
I was in Las Vegas once before. The year was 1995 and I was 20 years old. My friends Angie and GW and I drove out to the desert following our sophomore year finals for a Dead show. It didn’t seem a very Vegas-y thing to do, but hell, why not? I don’t remember being particularly nervous about the situation, but then again, I was 20. We stayed at some awful, awful motel. We made the mistake of shutting off the air conditioning when we went out to explore for the night. When we returned, we realized why the air had been on full blast — in the absence of a freezing condition, dozens of bugs had come out to cover the walls. We quickly turned the air back on and slept with our heads under the sheets in total fear of living things dropping on us throughout the night. I don’t remember how many nights we were there, but it must have been at least two because one night we could afford to stay in a run-down casino instead of the motel. It must have been a Sunday night when rates are cheaper. All I really remember about the casino was people staring and sneering at us, knowing we were there for the Dead show and not for Vegas itself. The most memorable part of the trip, though, was not the show, but getting caught playing the penny slots with GW’s fake ID. Go big or go home was not our motto. While go big is still not my motto, last weekend’s trip was a tad different.
My friends and I headed out to Vegas to celebrate Mollie and her waning bachelorette status. Stephanie and I were to arrive first, at 10:30 pm on Thursday night. Instead, we arrived last, at 7:30 am Friday morning. What a drag. Our Frontier flight was delayed out of Madison almost three hours due to mechanical problems on the flight coming from Denver. “Mechanical problems” is not something I ever want to hear in an airport. By the time we landed in Denver it was 11 pm and there were no more flights to Vegas until the morning. Frontier had reserved us a room at the Ambassador hotel, put us on the 6:40 am Friday flight to Vegas and given us a $200 voucher should we choose to fly Frontier again. Annoying, I thought, but fine; these things happen. We arrive in the hotel shuttle area of the airport around 11:30. I call the hotel and ask if the shuttle comes regularly or if we have to ask for it to be sent. I am told, “Oh no, you definitely have to call for it if you want it to come.” I am a bit surprised, as there are dozens of shuttles making the rounds right in front of me, and there are certainly dozens of us that just arrived on Frontier waiting for the Ambassador’s shuttle, but I politely respond that I am at the airport and would very much like a ride to the hotel. We wait. And we wait. And we wait. Stephanie asks a cab driver how much it would be for a ride to the hotel. Disturbingly, he does not know where our hotel is, but estimates it would cost us $35. Zoinks. So we wait. Shortly after midnight, a young man who was in line behind me in Madison says to the crowd (which has waned down to the sad lot of us that are waiting for the Ambassador — we had looked longingly at the people who had gotten on the shuttles for the Marriott, the Comfort Inn, the Holiday Inn, even — gasp! — the Hyatt), “Are you guys waiting for the Ambassador? I just got off the phone with the hotel and she told me it would be a half an hour until the shuttle gets here.” ARGH!!! Is this a joke? Unfortunately not. A cab driver who had helped us earlier when we did not know where to wait overhears this and says, “I can take 6 of you there for $8 a piece.” Well, Stephanie and I are sold! Done and done! It’s after midnight, we don’t actually know when this shuttle is coming, we certainly don’t know whether we’ll all be able to get on it, and our flight leaves in 6 hours. Apparently, though, not everyone in the crowd sees it that way. One annoying, mathematically gifted woman says, without making eye contact with the cab driver, “Six times eight is a lot of money.” With gas at $4 a gallon, the driver’s megacar and the hotel 12 miles away, I want to tell her it’s really not so much money, but all I think is, “Who cares? It’s not $48 for you and I’m exhausted!” Instead, I say nothing but watch with increasing regret as the bartering cab driver walks away. We wait. Finally, Stephanie — ever the savvy traveler and savvy all-things woman — says, “I’m going to ask him if he’ll take us for $20.” I quickly say, “Make it $25!” She does, he does and we’re all smiles! As I walk toward the cab, a desperate man nearly grabs me and says, “Are you going to the Red Lion???” I sadly inform him, “No. The Ambassador.” I felt bad — he clearly would have paid $8 to get him safely to his bed. We drove off as the wannabe Ambassador crowd watched on.
Twenty minutes later we were at the hotel (it is not close to the airport at all). We started to check in when the hotel’s phone rang. The woman said, “Yes, he’ll be there any minute” and hung up. We already knew we’d made the right choice, but that was the icing. Twenty minutes later and the group was still waiting for the shuttle. When we arrived at the airport at 6 the next morning, I half expected them to still be waiting. I suppose by that time, though, they were in line for security.
life and puppies 