Travel musings

To step back in time about a week:

I'm glad to report that my suitcase survived the not at all arduous journey to the City and back. All the paint remained on the suitcase. No one walked off it, but then again, in the dozens of trips that I've taken before this last time, no had walked off with my suitcase, either.

My attempts to make my suitcase stand out actually heightened my fear that someone would mistakenly walk away with it. Would someone else, also with a painted suitcase, just quickly glance, "Oh, I see paint" and walk away with mine? Would they take the time to actually look at the pattern on the paint to make sure it was the right bag? When picking out my bag from the cart, I was terrified that I would pick out the wrong bag. I would keep looking down at the suitcase, checking and rechecking, as I walked through the terminal.

It wasn't until I was about to leave the the City and I caught a commercial on TV--a Southwest commercial showing workers putting luggage on a plane--and saw that none of the suitcases were painted with a design, that it hit me that painted suitcases were rare. I was not until I was in Dulles, sitting in one of their "Travelling lounges" next to a flight attendant that had a multicolored tassel on her suitcase, that I was fully at ease. It was that moment that I remembered that a colored ribbon or tie was what almost everyone used to identify their suitcases, just this little piece of fabric. And I had painted 5 sides of my suitcase--including painting my initials, in full spray paint glory, on the back. No, I think my suitcase was distinctive and hard to mistake.

The morning before I left the City, I went to the restaurant The Egg and I. I've been trying to find good breakfast places around the City. I'm convinced that one has not really experienced a town until one has searched out the best places to have breakfast there. One normally hears discussions about where to go for lunch or dinner, but people rarely have arguments over where to go for breakfast. The choices seem so limited: either the all-American egg/batter-based carb/salted meat or coffee/pastries. Where would you go for an Asian-fusion breakfast? Greek breakfast? Indian breakfast? Maybe those things don't exist in your town, but part of the adventure is finding that out.

The Egg and I is a suburban place, not a greasy spoon--its pancakes are whole wheat, the cheese on its omelets smelled chevre-ish--and the lunch-level prices reflected that as well. The particular restaurant I visited (it's a chain restaurant) was quite new, and the decor reflected a French countryside palette. There was a banquet area, and a group of about 1st grade girls were having a party. This was about 10am on a Saturday. Service was friendly and prompt. It was a good restaurant, but not outstanding, either. There was plenty of food, and breakfast held me until dinner. This would have been a good thing, except that I met with friends for a goodbye lunch right before I went to the airport, and I could only take about 3 bites of my lunch.

I arrived back in Dulles about 8:30pm. I rode in one of their travelling lounges, which was actually quite neat--it's much like a rail car in its size, about 1.5 - 2 times the width of a normal bus, with seats lining the side and lots of open room in the middle. It was very comfortable, and, yes, felt lounge-like. When I arrived in my terminal, it was a little before 9pm and the shops were all closing, pulling down grills across their entrances. I wanted to get Auntie Anne's pretzels, located at gate B76. I was at B3 or so. I started walking down the concourse, but only got to about the B40's before I accepted the fact that I was not going to make it in time. Did I mention that the concourse is one straight long line? It was neat, though, walking though this gigantic concourse, soaring ceilings, all glass, and having it be basically closed, all the waiting areas empty and dimmed. It was peaceful and grand. I imagine that this is what the architects wanted me to feel.

Once we landed in University Town, someone in the front of the plane announced the football game score, with our team was fairly far behind, and that there was only 11 minutes left in the game. There were groans of disappointment, but then, also a slight bit of tension. You see, there is only one main road out of the airport. This road leads directly to the stadium. From the stadium, one can then turn to get into town. In other words, we had to get off the plane and onto the road in 11 minutes, or else we would be stuck with the 100,000 people leaving the stadium. (And yes, the stadium holds 100,000 people. I think 107,280 to be more exact. This is a football town.)

I was lucky. I just beat the crowd. It was good to be home.

Fall Arrives and My Fear of Breakfast

Fall
Fall is officially here: over the weekend, I had several large insects find their way into my apartment. You know that the seasons are changing when outdoor things start moving in.

Last night, the temps dropped into the 40's for the first time since summer. I wore long sleeves this afternoon, and when I had both windows open, I was a little chilly.

Curry is truly a difficult smell to eliminate. I had both windows open again, since after a few days, the curry smell came back. I wiped the kitchen counters again, this time with a more concentrated solution of Pine-Sol. That seems to have done the trick. I also discovered that the space between my refrigerator and my bedroom door collects odors. After I cleaned, the area that smelled like Pine-Sol--and the area where I was smelling the lingering curry--was the space near the bedroom door, NOT the countertops. It would be neat to release colored smoke and plot the airflow in my kitchen.

The nice thing about the weather becoming cooler is that I can use the oven again: I have a single window air conditioning unit for my entire apartment, and even with fans blowing, my place is hot in the summer. Additionally, I have a gas stove, so the windows need to be open when I'm cooking for extended periods--and nothing feels as good as crisp fall air coming in as you're cooking!

Fear
I've though about different topics to write about for this blog, and one topic that came to mind was things that I fear. I used to be an extremely fearful person, and I say that with a touch of pride. I remember going to school every day with my stomach painfully cramped, I was so afraid of school. In class, I would always sit on the edge of my seat, always fiddle. My teachers always commented on my good posture, but it was just me sitting, ready to bolt. I didn't really get over this until I went to college. I attribute this partly to the several minute walk to get to class, but the greatest part to the realization that school was not the end-all be-all of life. Basic stress is easier to deal with when you're not also terrified at the same time.

I've still got a lot of fear in me, of course. But it's been overshadowed in the last couple years by bitterness and anger and depression. Last week, though, as I was writing about my fears of speaking, I realized how long it had been that I defined my life by fear, and I want to get that back. Bitterness, anger, and depression are new to me. I don't operate well in that emotional framework. But fear? That's the devil I know! I would love to be afraid again, to always be on the edge of a breakdown and an ulcer. That's familiar. I'm tired of new. I want to go back to the old.

So, I've thought I would write about things that I was afraid of, to once again frame my life on raw fear. Today, do you know what I'm afraid of? Breakfast.

I normally skip breakfast, and not because I don't have time, or am dieting. This summer break, for example, I stayed mostly at home, I found myself skipping it on purpose, because it was too anxiety producing to think about eating it. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," I hear people say, and since I am such a failure, I cannot bear to make that decision. And those decisions always turn out so badly, anyway. First, there is the thought that if I have breakfast, I'm doing so because it will help me deal with the stresses of the upcoming day. But that sentence assumes that I'll have a stressful day, and I refuse, first thing in the morning, to think that the rest of the day will be stressful.

Second, I find that when I eat breakfast, I'm always starving before lunchtime. It's worse when I eat cereal or instant oatmeal--then I'm not only ravenous, but I get the shakes and generally feel terrible and am unable to concentrate. However, if I DON'T eat breakfast, I'm usually fine until 2 pm or so.

So, if I am going to eat breakfast, it's got to be a big breakfast, a breakfast with protein. But sausage and bacon are full of fat and preservatives, and eggs have cholesterol. So what exactly am I to eat?

Finally, there's the cooking (because I can't eat cereal). If I cook in the morning, then I'll have to clean up in the morning. So, extra time to cook, extra time to eat, and extra time to clean. And what if something goes wrong when I'm making breakfast? What if something burns? I'd have to spend time airing out the apartment, not to mention, if something actually catches on fire, I'd have an emergency on my hands. Breakfast would be ruined. I would have put in the effort, and not have time to eat. I'd have wasted food. And then I'd be in a funk because I burnt breakfast, and wasted food, and was late to work. See? Having breakfast could potentially ruin my entire day. So, instead of potentially ruining my day before it's even started, I just skip breakfast.

In other words: I'm not man enough to handle breakfast. Running away is easier.