Reality Bites.

It's been three weeks since I last posted, but I only have a legitimate excuse for about two of those weeks. If you're connected to me on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram, you know that we were in Arizona (to visit my in-laws as well as go to a Cubs Spring Training game) and then flew from there to L.A. for a trip to Disneyland. Then this past weekend we drove to Michigan to help celebrate my grandma's 91st birthday.

All of that travel caused three things to happen before and after we left.

1) In advance of our trip, I worked like a maniac to get writing for clients, various errands (like doctor's appointments for both myself and Desmond) and other To Do items checked off of my list. We threw the Disney excursion together at the very last minute and I knew it wasn't going to happen again for a while, so I wanted absolutely nothing on my plate or hanging over my head while we were there. This is my (admittedly not totally great) excuse for not blogging in the days leading up to our departure for Arizona.

2) The time off was the best. Seriously, it couldn't have been any better. I will definitely be writing about everything we did very soon. But part of the reason I couldn't bring myself to sit down and crank out any posts over the past three weekdays I've been home is because I'd already been sitting so much during the trip. As in, twelve hours crammed in the back seat of our tiny Volt this past weekend going to and from Michigan, three hours on the flight to Arizona, five hours on the return flight from L.A., all of the time in the car getting to and from airports, and so on. The last thing I wanted to do was sit after we got home. I even chose to do hours and hours of laundry over booting up my laptop, if that tells you something.

3) Since we returned, I've been in a complete and total funk. Hence the title of this post. Now, this kind of post-vacation depression almost always happens when I get back from a great trip. So I was expecting it to some degree. But this time it seems worse. Perhaps it was because we were at The Happiest Place on Earth™, so being back in the dismal not-really-spring-yet Chicago weather was an ever bigger letdown then it would've been coming back from anywhere else.

Maybe it's because we had such an extraordinary time. Maybe it's because real life was pretty much on hold while we were away. Maybe it's because I had the first true, honest-to-god-no-work-AT-ALL vacation since 2008 and I really, really needed it. Maybe it's because when I got back, I could no longer ignore a few major professional and personal situations that have me really bummed out and in denial. Maybe it's because even though there are many things we're doing over the next few months that I'm excited about, we don't have any other vacations planned. (Remember how I always need something big to look forward to?)

So what did I do? We got back late Wednesday night, and on Thursday I had the aforementioned Day Of Laundry. I went through mail, cleaned our place, and did everything I could to avoid opening my laptop. I had every intention to get back to work on Friday.

But then Friday morning hit, and I still couldn't bring myself to accept reality. By this point I did have to do some client work, but in my head I guess I felt like if I didn't go back to my usual routine of doing a personal blog post in the morning then I wasn't really back back. Plus, I had to get things ready to leave again on Saturday morning, I wanted to go to the gym, we didn't have any food at home so I took that as an opportunity to go out to eat, et cetera, et cetera. I would totally be rarin' to go again on Monday. For sure. Because, I mean, it would be Monday and that's a perfect day to start fresh again.

So we went to Michigan and back over the weekend, and then on Sunday night in my head I was like, "OK, I'm going to watch The Walking Dead finale and then that will also represent the finale of these past few weeks of goofing off and then tomorrow I am totally going to get serious again."

Except that yesterday came and I was even more down in the dumps than before. I did a bunch of client work, but still couldn't bring myself to log in to Blogger. By the time it hit 3 p.m. I couldn't sit still anymore. It was halfway decent out, so I justified a long walk around my neighborhood.

I was about 30 minutes into that brisk walk when the tears started coming. Was it because I finally had to accept that play time was over? Was it me coming to terms with the crappy work and personal stuff that's going on? Was it the fact that "Run" by Collective Soul came on my Spotify mix? Who knows, but I decided I was just going to let myself have a pity party right there in the middle of Lincoln Park and be done with it. I turned down a residential side street and had a good cry and felt a million times better.

Right or wrong, I am the kind of person who doesn't have much patience for anyone who's acting all "poor me" when they don't have something serious to be down about. I am especially hard on myself whenever I feel blue because I know I have a great life and so many things to be thankful for. I mean, being sad that you're back from Disneyland is like THE number one #FirstWorldProblem, am I right? (There truly is more to it than that, but you get my point.)

But a wise friend told me yesterday that I was human, I am being faced with real challenges (the work and personal ones I alluded to, not the post-Disneyland-blues, obviously) and that I was allowed to feel the way I was feeling. And that helped. So did the cry during my walk. So did watching Better Call Saul last night. So is the promise of seeing something mega-silly like Furious 7 tonight. The dreary weather today is NOT helping (hence the SAD lamp is cranking as I write this), but warmer temperatures are ahead, and so is a brighter outlook on my part. "Pity, Party of One" has had its time, but now I need to smack myself upside the head and start acting like an adult again.

And what could be MORE adult than this: actually looking forward to spending the majority of the day tomorrow pulling together everything needed to complete our 2014 taxes. Yes, I am one of those dorks who enjoys tax season. It's no Disneyland, but it'll have to do.

- e

The Reef Atlantis -- Our Room and Beach

This year my husband and I were faced with a dilemma: should we attempt to stick with our tradition of going on a vacation in the fall, or skip it because of my pregnancy? (And I do realize this isn't really a true dilemma per se, but rather a really nice problem to have.)

As I alluded to in Monday's post, I haven't exactly had the easiest time with things, so I was really paranoid about being far away from my doctors in Chicago. Yet I also knew it was important to not let all of my fears about something going wrong overpower what should be a happy time, or deter us from experiencing something that a lot of "normal" pregnant couples take part in nowadays—a babymoon.

We eventually made the decision to go ahead with a trip, but I had a ton of criteria that our ultimate destination had to meet, the main points being: 1) We had to be able to get there by taking no more than two short (less than three-hour-long) flights, 2) There had to be a doctor on site, and 3) it had to count as a place we'd never been before on the Travelers' Century Club's List of Countries. (One of our ultimate goals in life is to become members of this club, and to do so you have to hit 100 places on their spreadsheet. I currently have 41 or so checked off.)

The Bahamas immediately became the obvious choice. It's the closest of the Caribbean islands from the US, it's one of the few places in that area I hadn't been to yet, and I knew that the Atlantis resort there was big enough to warrant an on-site medical team. We waited until the ultimate last minute to book the trip (they had an incredible "off-season" deal that expired at the end of August, good for travel during the fall), which did come into question briefly thanks to Hurricane Irene wreaking havoc across the region a few weeks before we were set to depart.

But we ended up going in the middle of September and had exactly the kind of vacation we were hoping for: relaxing days at the beach (with things for Dustin to do while I lounged) and nice dining options every night. We would typically never choose to stay at a monstrous resort like Atlantis, and we'd been prepared for the worst based on online reviews and some of our friends' experiences. In the end, however, we totally lucked out because not only were we there during the lowest point of the low season (there were probably even fewer people around than would've otherwise made it there had the recent hurricane not scared them off), but we'd also randomly chosen to stay at The Reef, which was by far the quietest of the towers on the property. It's the furthest away from the center of the complex and is mostly comprised of for-sale condos, so there just wasn't anyone around. And that's exactly what we were hoping for.

We had a small suite that was just the right size. I couldn't NOT share the picture of our bed with the ten bazillion extra pillows I'd requested to assist with my weird pregnant-chick sleeping positions. The cleaning staff must have thought we were freaks:



To give you an idea of just how secluded The Reef's beach was (our tower had its own private beach, far away from the main complex's beach), here's a picture of all of the empty rows of beach loungers (with our two pulled away from the pack—that's my husband on the left!):


And here's a picture looking the other way down the beach. You can see a cruise ship in the distance:


Can I also just say that the water was some of the warmest I've ever been in? I usually take—no exaggeration—about 30 full minutes to get into any body of water. But I was able to wade right in at The Reef. I swam every day!

More either tomorrow or at a later point about some of the restaurants at Atlantis, as well as its truly impressive water park. Kind of sad to wrap up this post and then look out the window at an utterly dreary Chicago afternoon, though. BOO.

- e

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

Long time, no write!

I've been running around like a madwoman, but things are finally getting back to normal (for a little while, at least... the summer is always crazy-busy -- why is that?). This past holiday weekend was spent NOT going to the Taste of Chicago with my visiting friend Nerdy P. It was just too hot out, and we weren't feelin' it. It sounds like we weren't the only ones: 2011 marked a 25-year low (2.35 million food-lovers) in Taste attendance, and now its future is a little bit up in the air. Yikes!

But rest assured that we did continue our annual tradition of enjoying the Sea Dog speedboat ride that leaves from Navy Pier and zooms up and down the coast of Lake Michigan. I think Nerdy P's son liked it. Would you agree?



OK, now on to the real subject of this post! The weekend before last (as in, the final weekend of June), my husband and I drove from Chicago to Pittsburgh for a charity event, and on the way we stopped in Cleveland to check out the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. When we moved back from Boston in 2003, my poor husband drove a huge truck halfway across the country with all our crap in it (while I flew home) and attempted to visit the HoF then... but it was closed. I still remember how annoyed and disappointed he was. And so I was a little bit nervous about this place living up to his expectations.

The good news is that we both really liked it. We spent about five hours there and could've stayed a lot longer, but needed to get back on the road. The first thing we did was watch an hour-and-fifteen-minute-long presentation that covered all of the 296 inductees since the museum opened in 1986. But somehow we missed the big wall with everyone's signatures?!? D'oh.

I had figured that the majority of the building would be filled with rock memorabilia and outfits and props and whatnot, but in addition to all of that stuff, there were a ton of interactive exhibits and films and video clips. Much more than would be present in a "normal" museum. The one I found most interesting featured The Beatles (no surprise), as well as some members of their production team, talking about each of their albums and what they liked and didn't like about it.

Speaking of The Beatles, you may have heard that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame boasts the world's largest collection of items from The Fab Four. So I was kind of expecting A LOT of Beatles stuff... but it was really just one wall of about 70 things -- from jackets, to John's glasses, to handwritten lyric sheets, to Ringo's drum head. Don't get me wrong, it was cool and I loved it, but I guess I'd envisioned some huge room or display space that would take an hour to get through. When I started thinking about it, though, I realized that I can't recall ever having seen any authentic "Beatles stuff," so maybe it's just so spread out all over the globe that it simply doesn't take as much as I would've guessed to be considered "the world's largest collection."

One thing I found kind of funny was that in the special "Women Who Rock" exhibit, there was security guard dedicated to watching over Lady Gaga's infamous "meat dress." Which, by the way, absolutely (obviously) had something done to it to preserve it... but unfortunately it was to the point that it didn't really even look like meat anymore, but rather just a weirdly textured spray-painted-red, plaster-filled dress. On top of that, it was in a fully enclosed glass case. So I thought to myself, "They have a security guard for this, yet no one dedicated to, say, Michael Jackson's sequined glove or Elvis's jumpsuit or any of the other awesome items in the building?" Weird. Maybe Gaga made having a guard a condition of loaning out the dress. Who knows.

I would've included pictures of all the neat stuff that was there, except that -- as in many museums -- you weren't allowed to take any photos. The restriction was lifted in the atrium, though, which was where I snapped the Moby/Gwen props to the right, which were used in Gwen Stefani's Southside video (you can see them here from the 43-second mark on).

One last highlight that's worth mentioning before I wrap up: A wall dedicated to Rolling Stone magazine and its co-founder Jann Wenner. This display has tons of letters that famous rock stars sent to Wenner (as well as his replies), and there are also fascinating correspondences between Wenner and photographer Annie Leibovitz, as well as journalist/author Hunter S. Thompson (who wrote for the magazine in the early '70s).

When I was preparing to write this post and wanted to make sure I was getting my facts straight, I came across this section in Wenner's Wikipedia entry about how he's supposedly kept a lot of groups from being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame... groups including my beloved Monkees! Damn that snob!

Despite that "who gets inducted" controversy, I would still highly recommend a visit to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame should you ever find yourself in Cleveland. Musicians (like my husband) will probably appreciate all the museum has to offer a little more than plain old music-lovers like myself, but I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't find most of the major exhibits worth seeing.

Rock on,
- e

You Better Belize It!

First off, stop yer smirking! I know the title of this post is goofy, but guess what? That phrase is on ALL of the souvenir t-shirts and knickknacks in Belize, so I couldn't resist. It's kind of weird because I didn't think the country was touristy or cheesy in the slightest, but some marketing genius must have thought up that slogan and it stuck. Which is really unfortunate.

Anywhoooo... if it's not already obvious, today I'm going to write a little bit about my trip to Belize this past November. It'll take many entries to cover everything my husband and I did there -- and I still actually have a few other vacations from years past (when I was neglecting this site) that I want to post about as well, but today I'm going to focus on an introduction to where we stayed in what I felt was an absolutely gorgeous Central American country.

I should begin by explaining our reasoning for going to Belize instead of any of the other places on our To Visit list. Basically it came down to the fact that we were going to be at a wedding in Atlanta and wanted somewhere that we could get to quickly from there so as to maximize our time (as in, we didn't want two full days taken up by flights). We wanted our destination to be warm, and we wanted to just relax. We got our wish on the first part... not so much on the second. But that's for another post.

It just so happened that one of my friends from the Chicago Board of Trade (Franco, who's briefly in my book for those of you (which better be all of you!) who've read it) had been planning a trip to Belize and had done a ton of research. He and his wife and some friends were going to be spending part of their vacation (which was about a month before ours) at Francis Ford Coppola's Blancaneaux Lodge, which is way, way up in the Mayan mountains. Coppola owns another property in Belize that is by the beach, and a lot of people choose to split their time between the two places. But I really wanted to just stay put for a week. And to me, chillin' in the mountains -- totally cut off from civilization -- sounded like heaven. So Blancaneaux it was. (And yes, since my career now revolves around movies... and since we've always liked Coppola's wines in addition to his films, those factors played a role in our decision, too.)

There are only twenty cabanas on the grounds. Since we went over Thanksgiving I was aware that they were fully booked, but it never felt crowded by any means. We really only saw other guests during meal times, which was fine by me. I meant it when I said I wanted to be cut off from civilization!

Here's the main room of our cabana:



And this is the lovely path leading up to the main lodge (you can see the overlook of the restaurant on the right).



This is a path down to a little outlook over the creek where we'd spend hours reading (or, in my case, writing in my journal).




Here's a view of the outlook hut thingy from across the creek.



And here's me maxin' and relaxin' in the hut -- I'm a total sucker for the sound of rushing water, so this was just a great, great, great spot. There was a mini-waterfall to the left which you can't really see in this picture.




But the best part was back up in our cabana: THE HAMMOCK. For whatever reason, Dustin and I have an obsession with hammocks that started back on our big trip to Southeast Asia in 2001 (which will hopefully be the topic of my next book). Our favorite place we stayed in Thailand had one and we just loved it. So even though it was a little awkward to write while simultaneously trying not to lose my balance and flip over, I did my best.




OK, that's enough for today! I'll eventually cover all of the crazy excursions we took in Belize, but I'll space those posts out a bit. Especially since now I'm all depressed because it's thirty degrees in Chicago and supposed to snow for the next five days. Grr.

Have a great weekend,
- e

Dare to Dream

Nearly four years ago -- in May 2007 -- my husband, my dog, and I drove three hours to the Sheboygan, Wisconsin area for a weekend getaway. (It's REALLY hard to believe I was still working for The Man at that point...)

We'd found a rental home on Lake Michigan (specifically Hika Bay Bluff) and were excited for three days of reading, watching movies, and relaxing. (Actually, I remember being stressed out about having to write something... most likely a Long Live Locke post!)

The (enormous) cabin we settled on was called "Saxon Sunrise," and it was perched near the edge of a bluff overlooking the water. It was gorgeous.




There were three bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, a wide open kitchen and living room area -- it was just awesome. If you want to see a few more pictures, here's its web site. But my favorite area was this nook in the kitchen that faced the lake. I had always suspected I'd want a future "dream home" to have an area where I could write while looking out at some big body of water, and our stay in Wisconsin confirmed it.


The only thing that would have made this place absolutely perfect is if it were in, say, Hawaii or Australia (or basically anywhere that's consistently warm).

Here's my husband and our dog chillin' on the edge of the bluff. Below is a secluded, sandy beach.


We haven't been back since 2007, though every once in a while I'd find myself thinking about that weekend and making a mental note to try and figure out a time we could return. Then, lo and behold, a letter from a real estate agent arrived in the mail a few days ago. Normally I would throw something like that in the trash before even opening it, since we're not planning to move any time soon. But for whatever reason, the universe moved me to open this particular envelope.

It was from an agent representing the owners of Saxon Sunrise. They are looking to sell! For one brief, glorious moment, I pictured myself waking up every morning, padding to the kitchen in my slippers and robe, drinking my tea, and gazing at the waves before getting started on my day. This is my dream home we're talking about -- and it's available! My heart raced.

Then I looked at the asking price -- over half a million dollars.

Sadness.

Since Saxon Sunrise costs more than our condo, I don't think we'll be ponying up the cash. And the truth is that even if we had the money, my husband and I would never want to commit ourselves to one location for a second home -- we prefer to continue seeing new parts of the country and the world rather than be tied to a certain area when it's time for a break.

That doesn't mean I'm not jealous of anyone who's able to afford such an incredible place, though. And it also doesn't mean that one day I wouldn't want a home (as in, our one and only home) on the water -- that is, in fact, my ultimate goal. After our stay at Hika Bay Bluff, I'm convinced an ocean/lake/bay view (again, somewhere warm) will be the key to a happy retirement.

I'm also pretty sure that my dog would agree.

e's Out East

I flew to NYC yesterday (and was only 35 minutes delayed -- a near miracle when both O'Hare and LaGuardia airports are in the mix...) and will be here until late Tuesday night. I'm running around like crazy trying to get some freelancing gigs lined up, sort out some things related to my book, and of course meet with friends and family. So I just didn't want you to think I'd thrown in the towel on this blog and had disappeared forever. That will not happen! But I probably won't be able to write again until I'm back in Chicago.

Last night I met up with my uncle, my cousin and his fiancee. We all watched the ridiculous LeBron James spectacle together and had some take-out pizza, so that was fun. Today I went back to The Man I used to work for from '03-'06 to talk about a potential freelancing project. It was kind of surreal to be in the building again, but thankfully I didn't have a meltdown or anything. Probably because I was meeting with the people I liked working with the most back in the day.

Then I caught up with my literary agent, and we realized the only other time I'd actually talked to him in person was in March 2007 when I originally tried to pitch him my proposal. Yes, that means I've been working on my @#)$*#%* book for OVER THREE YEARS. But the end is nigh, my friends. Oh yes, the end is nigh.

Next, I returned to my friend Miss M's place in the West Village (where I'm staying), dropped off my laptop, changed into casual clothes, went out to a diner for lunch and then got two cupcakes -- one with vanilla frosting and one with chocolate -- at the famous Magnolia Bakery. They were good... but of course now I'm regretting eating both within an hour of each other.

In about 15 minutes I'll be headed to Penn Station to start the trek out to the Hamptons for the weekend. I join my friend at her family's place out there each summer, and it's one of the things I look forward to every year. There's an EXCELLENT Whole Wheat Everything bagel place we go to in the mornings... there's the beach... there's shopping. It's usually the most relaxing Saturday and Sunday I have the entire calendar year.

Monday and Tuesday I'm booked solid with social and/or work stuff, so I'll be back with stories from my trip after I'm home on Wednesday.

Until then,
- e

Pirates: Real and Fake

While in Aruba last month, I was looking out at the Caribbean Sea from a pier-turned-bar when this cool boat pulled up to dock.



I was pretty excited by its name, of course...



However, believe it or not, I didn't end up purchasing a ticket to sail with The Jolly Pirates. It's just better for everyone if I purposefully avoid situations where I'm bound to get seasick. 'Cause that's not very pirate-like.

Fortunately for me, there's another way I can live out my pirate fantasies... on land, and here in Chicago. When my husband and I were leaving the city a few weekends ago, I was almost too stunned by what I saw draped over The Field Museum to take a picture. (Luckily, traffic was moving slowly so I recovered before it was too late.)



Yes... I kid you not, there is currently an 8,400-square-foot exhibition called "Real Pirates" just a few minutes away from me. Its web site promises that I'll "get the chance to experience pirate life by hoisting the skull-and-crossbones, tying pirate knots, learning how to fire a cannon, and more."

This is almost too good to be true. You can bet that I will be going to this exhibit at some point before it ends in October... and you can also bet that, if allowed, I will take pictures of me acting a pirate fool while there. And then of course I'll post them here so you can all laugh at me.

But it will be a jealous laughter... don't deny it.

- e

Iguana vs. Iguana

Don't ever plan to visit the Galápagos islands if you're not a fan of creepy-crawly creatures.

Lizards and iguanas are everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. In a future post I'll include some pictures that illustrate that point, but for now I thought I'd explain the two types of iguanas that we saw over the course of our trip, both of which can only be found in the Galápagos: the land iguana and the marine iguana.

You could always tell where a land iguana might be hiding out; his trail in the sand would betray him.



Yep, there he was, cooling down under a bush.



One of his brothers chose to soak up rays on the beach instead.


Aren't they fascinating? Look at that little smirk, I love it. The prehistoric vibe was in the air -- it was kind of eerie. I'm pretty sure all of the iguanas were thinking, "Yeah, keep taking your pictures, morons... Our kind will be here long after you suckers are gone."

Then there were the marine iguanas, who were extremely interesting to observe because they're the only type of iguana in the world that can both live and eat out in the sea. When they swim, they move their long tails side to side in the water -- they don't use their legs to paddle or anything, so the end result is a very unique type of motion that is hard to describe. They glide along with their heads peeking out above the surface, swaying back and forth. I got a kick out of watching them.

From island to island the marine iguanas looked slightly different (hello, evolution!), but my favorites were what our guides called the "Christmas iguanas." The origin of their nickname is obvious from the shots below.


I thought this picture was funny because it shows how big the marine iguana is compared to the little lava lizards that run all over the place (they're another species that is endemic to the islands). The iguana is like, "Watch out, fool!"


These guys spend most of their days lying in the sun, slowing crawling around the beaches, spitting at each other and fighting. I was lucky enough to catch two males in a showdown on Española island (fifty-three second video below -- none of the voices in it are mine). The head-bobbing move never ceased to crack me up. That's supposed to be threatening?

I saw a lot of iguanas with blood on their heads; fights are pretty common. What else are they going to do? They bite each other and don't let go for a long time -- they are straight-up gangsta! Perhaps that's why many of them were heading down the trail to our zodiac drop-off... they hoped to stow away on our ship and get a break from all of the violence.


Sorry, guys -- humans only.

- e

Welcome to the Galapagos

A few moments ago, I returned from taking my dog on his daily walk, and then proceeded to strip off a fleece hat/face mask, earmuffs, a knee-length down coat, a windproof hooded jacket underneath the down coat, gloves, and the hard-core snow boots I wore in Antarctica. It is a mere ten degrees outside. Needless to say, my trip to the Galápagos already feels like a distant memory.

But it was actually only about 2.5 weeks ago that we touched down in Baltra, took zodiacs out to our ship, the National Geographic Polaris, and made an afternoon landing at North Seymour island. Like typical tourists, we took ten million pictures of sea lions, lizards, iguanas and unique birds... only to see countless more of them over the next seven days. So rest assured that I will post more shots in the future -- especially of the infamous Blue-footed Boobies and other strange creatures that can only be found on the storied archipelago. For now, however, here's a twelve-second video of our first moments in the Land of Darwin.

How's that for a welcome?

The thing about the Galápagos is that it's one of the only places left on the planet where wildlife has no fear of humans. So don't worry, we weren't doing anything to that sea lion to provoke its ire, she and her kind just tend to waddle around honking every once in a while. No one is allowed to touch any of the animals, and generally you're advised to stay several feet away from them -- but if they come up to you then you're just supposed to remain still and most likely they will carry on about their business eventually. No When Sea Lions Attack! here. Also, on each island there are clearly marked paths and naturalists to guide everyone so that the effects of tourism are kept to a minimum (more on that in another post).

For now, I'll leave you with a few shots of the peculiar Magnificent Frigatebird. Here's one who isn't trying to catch a girlfriend...



And here's one who is.



The ol' red balloon trick... works every time for these guys. (A better shot is here on Wikipedia.)

More on the Frigates soon, too. For now I need to work on getting the circulation back to my extremities. And I need to keep reminding myself that while it is kind of depressing to be surrounded by ice and snow once again... it might be better than constantly walking through, um, well... you get the idea.


- e

The Joys of Traveling

When I graduated from college back in the day, I was so looking forward to living the glamorous lifestyle of a consultant. How cool was it going to be to jet off every week, earn a ton of frequent flier miles, have all of my meals paid for and live in nice hotels?

Let's just say that I was more than a little naïve. After sixteen weeks straight of being stuck for hours in the airport during the dead of winter (my top score on "Area 51" in the airport's video arcade lives on...), I finally learned that constantly being on the road wasn't all that I had dreamed it would be. Especially when you live in Chicago and your client is in Minneapolis -- two cities not exactly known for good weather. I might have felt differently had I landed a spot on the Hawaii-based team (as did one of my extremely lucky friends), but alas, that was not my fate.

Now that I haven't had to travel for work for quite some time, I had forgotten about all of the fun that comes with attempting to fly anywhere in the colder months. But I was smacked in the face with those memories when returning from my vacation to the Galápagos this past weekend.

Here's a summary of what happened:
1) On Saturday morning, we waited around for a few hours for our flight from the island of Baltra to Guayaquil, Ecuador. We were told that things ran on "Galápagos Time" and that no one ever really knew when our plane would arrive. But we were fresh off of a fabulous week of communing with sea lions, turtles, iguanas and a ton of other cool animals and birds, so no one was too upset by that. We eventually made it to Guayaquil and had a wonderful time exploring the city that evening, so our spirits were still high.

2) On Sunday afternoon we flew from Guayaquil to Miami. Shortly after going through the customs and immigration checkpoints, my husband continued on to Chicago, whereas I had a few more hours in the Miami airport until my flight to Detroit (had to retrieve my doggy from my parents!) departed. I found a chair in the food court near an electrical outlet, paid $7.95 for Internet access and braced myself for the influx of emails that had accumulated since November 28th.

3) The time whizzed by and I realized that I had to better get myself in the absolutely ridiculous line to go through security. I checked the Departure Board to see which gate I'd be leaving from... and saw the Dreaded Word in Red next to my flight number: "Canceled." There were no other flights to Detroit departing that night. Various obscenities flew from my mouth and even more followed when I realized that since my cell phone charger had been fried due to my misuse of the plug adapter I had purchased and used while on our ship, I was essentially without a cell phone (there was hardly any battery power left by the time I realized my crappy Nokia wasn't charging).

4) After talking to four American Airlines employees who all directed me to different lines, I finally found my way to a rebooking agent who told me that I had already been put on a flight out of Miami in the early morning... that went to DALLAS... and then got into Detroit at 7 PM. Since connections are usually the bane of my existence when traveling, I asked if there was any way that I could just go to Chicago instead. Unbelievably, the agent complied and I was put on a direct flight to Chicago, departing at 2:30 the next afternoon. I was given a voucher for the Wyndham Miami and a total of $25 in food vouchers to use between now (7:45 PM Sunday night) and then (when my flight left on Monday). Rest assured that I used them.

5) An extremely nice American Airlines employee who was working one of the check-in lines let me use his iPhone to call my parents and tell them that they would not need to pick me up from the Detroit airport at midnight that night. They decided that they would drive my dog to Chicago the next day, and hopefully we'd all arrive in the Windy City around the same time. I then spent $20 on toiletries at the airport drug store (no vouchers for that!) and waited for the shuttle bus to the Wyndham.

6) I spent the first half of Monday camped out in a restaurant in the Wyndham which had free Internet access and a gorgeous view of a sunny golf course and swaying palm trees. There are certainly worse places to be stranded than Miami! Though it was really bizarre to hear "Frosty the Snowman" and "Let it Snow" over the restaurant's sound system when looking at such a tropical scene.

7) Finally I headed to the airport, made it through security and to my gate, where I randomly saw the actor Josh Brolin. Yes, "Brand" from one of my favorite movies, The Goonies, and current winner of all sorts of awards for his performance in Milk. But I didn't say anything to him, and eventually a woman came out of the restroom and he walked off with her. I couldn't tell if it was his wife, actress Diane Lane, or not... she was wearing a big floppy straw hat that covered most of her face.

8) After the excitement of an unexpected celebrity sighting, there came more excitement -- of a very different kind. The gate agent announced that our plane was essentially "broken," and they needed to find another one for us. I'll spare you the details of the chaos that erupted once that information made the rounds in the waiting area, but needless to say, we were delayed 2.5 hours until a substitute aircraft was located and we trudged to the new gate that was a full twenty-minute walk from where we were originally supposed to board.

9) Any seasoned traveler reading this can already guess what happened next. Since our flight was so delayed, when it finally touched down in Chicago they couldn't find a place for us to disembark -- all gates were full. I felt horrible for the dozens of passengers who had literally minutes to make connections to not only U.S. cities but also international locales. We waited a full forty-five minutes for a gate assignment, and everyone missed their connections. To say that there were a lot of tears, red faces and looks of exhaustion would be an understatement. One little girl sitting behind me summed it up perfectly: "WE'VE BEEN ON THIS PLANE FOR HOURS!!!!!"

10) I finally stepped through my doorway at 9 PM Monday night and had a nice reunion with my dog, parents and husband.

The next morning, an email from American Airlines showed up in my inbox. It was from a Customer Relations representative, who informed me that they added 3,000 bonus miles to my AAdvantage account to "restore my confidence" in the airline.

What do you think? Was 3,000 miles enough?

All I know is that I'm happy I'm not flying anywhere over the Christmas holiday.

Uh oh... did I just jinx our rental car for our drive to Michigan?

- e

Greetings from Paradise

Aloha!

My sporadic posting last week was due to the fact that I was running around like crazy making last-minute preparations for my travels to one of the most beautiful places on Earth -- Maui.

Between my actual vacation and another short trip to Michigan to get my doggy back early next week, I do not anticipate posting here again until Wednesday, November 5th (fear not, fellow U.S. citizens - I voted early... and still stood in a half-hour-long line!).

In the meantime, I will continue writing for redblog -- if you would like to get those posts fed into your reader, you can do so here (if that doesn't work, try the text link in the upper-right corner of redblog).

Until my return, here are a few pictures from Hawaii... the first is the view from my balcony... and the second is my favorite place on the hotel grounds!




You know I'm going to scare all of the little kids away so I can have the ship all to myself!

- e