Just Jul Lee

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Planes, Trains and Automobiles
DATE: July 21, 2005

I got to my hotel after midnight. Allow me to pause here and say that I feel I could have spend the $135 used to acquire said hotel room in a much more productive way but it is a little too late for that.

Anyway, I marveled at the smallness of the room (I flopped onto the minute mattress and nearly fell off the other side due to the momentum of my movement and the tiny size of the bed) and watched TV until 3 am or so.

When I woke later that morning, the day of Bad Beginnings officially kicked off. I showered and traipsed off to Penn Station to change my train ticket in order for me to arrive closer to the rental car company. I thought it would make my life easier. This, my friends, is why thinking is dangerous and just may kill you, if not just drive you completely mad. Needless to say, my life did not become even remotely easier.

Instead of leaving at 11:30 am I was now leaving at 1:15 pm. Check out time at the hotel was noon and so I intended to milk this expensive, minute room for all it was worth. I walked up and down the street for about fifteen minutes before returning to my room to chill, as it were. I didn’t stop for breakfast on the way. Don’t ask me why…I just didn’t. I then proceeded to watch MORE TV until 15 minutes before noon. I then gathered up my oh so heavy luggage and went downstairs to check out. I managed, at this point, to cut in front of the line of 15 or more guests (oops) and check out within 10 minutes.

As I lugged my cursed baggage (a carry on backpack on wheels, a large and heavy garment bag with four formal gowns inside, and a good sized duffel stuffed to the brim with clothing), Harry Potter book under my arm, across the busy street to the station, I fully intended on grabbing a hot dog or something for lunch. I didn’t. Don’t ask me why…I just didn’t.

I sat upon my duffel in Penn Station reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince while attempting to keep my eye on the garment bag and carry on backpack which were sitting on the right. I had my back against a cement pillar. I sat there until boarding, from noon to one, and though I could see and smell the food all about me, I didn’t once attempt to get anything, though my tummy rumbled constantly and I kept telling myself that I should eat.

My muse came lazily to my side and whispered inspiration in my ear. She smelled of coconut suntan oil and sandy beaches. She started her vacation long before mine and I believe she merely flaunted her wondrous ability to create just to remind me that I need her. I flipped to the middle of my devil monkey notebook (purchased for me by my mom) and jotted down a very rough draft of a dark and twisted short story.

Finally, it was time to board the train. After a 15 minute conversation with my mom on my cell phone, I was PA bound! I figured, in my hunger-starved, sleep-depraved, Harry Potter-fogged mind that there would be a food trolley on the train. There wasn’t, by the way.

The train ride took much too long in my humble and irritated opinion. I got to Harrisburg well after my rental car pick up time, take a cab to the Harrisburg International Airport, and proceed to rent my car.

Or, actually, try to rent my car.

For some odd reason (overspending, maybe?) my credit card is denied twice and I’m hungry, tired and officially stranded two hours away from the convention I looked forward to for the longest time.

I argue with the credit card company at least three different times to no avail, constantly call my mom in a panic, and finally manage, after 8pm, mind, to rent a car for one day and one day only. I have wasted a good two and a half hours or so in an airport far away from the writing friends I long to meet and I still have a two hour drive ahead of me.

I got on a two-lane highway that nearly got me killed each time the rubber met its hot pavement. There was countless construction, many highway signs that were very confusing, not to mention the hundreds, and no I’m not exaggerating, of semi-trucks that were a constant. There was always a semi-truck in front of me and always, and I mean always, one in the fast lane.

I was doing quite well with my little Avis direction card (only directing me as far as Allentown but beggars can’t be choosers, eh?) until it got too dark for me to read it. Cruising along, I decided, in all my great wisdom, to ignore my MapQuest directions. I exited into Bethlehem, relieved to have made it alive, except it was the wrong exit!

Driving about completely lost for about 15 minutes before asking for directions, I was not panicked, just tired, hungry and frustrated.

The first gas station I stopped at was not helpful in the least for the woman there had just moved to Bethlehem a week before I stumbled into town. The second gas station got me back on track but not before many fumbling attempts to understand what I was looking for exactly and I reached the hotel at long last.

I check in, gather my key and whatnot, drive my rental car around to my room and enter the safety of the hotel at last.

After settling in, calling my mom yet again to assure her that I am finally safe, I set out in search of Writing.Com members, though I’m not sure how I will appear to them as a late and disheveled arriver.

Since I was looking in completely the wrong place, I find no one.

I return to the room and see my roomies at last! “You made it.” Tevie says and I spill the story upon them all as they listen patiently.

I find out that a squirrel had chewed through the electric lines outside the hotel and thus most of the convention goers couldn’t check in until 5 or so. They had to sit in the lobby and wait. Darn those nutty squirrels!

I had stopped at the front desk and gotten a Papa John’s phone number since I still hadn’t eaten. Yes, I had a car and could have stopped somewhere but I didn’t. My brain working overtime again, you know? I’m going to order a pizza, I’m so monkey-loving hungry, but they are closed.

“Come register and you can get your bag of goodies,” Beyond the Cloud9 told me helpfully. “I’ll take you there.”

She leads me to the room where The StoryMistress and catwoman wait patiently for the late arrivers like me. How much more welcome could you possible feel after that great testament? Especially since The StoryMistress smiles at me and says happily, “MystDancer50, right?” I nod. How great that they hadn’t given up on me! I receive my tote bag full of Writing.Com Convention 2005 treats and we return to our room, after stopping at the front desk to request more pillows and blankets.

Once in the room again, I chug a bottle of water, scarf down a small bag of pretzels and hit the sack for I knew it was only the Bad Beginning attempting to damper the great, fun and wonderful Writing.Com Convention for my poor planning was not through showing me the stupidity of procrastination.