I can’t really explain why I was surprised to hear that my flight to New York had been delayed an hour, even though the weather in Chicago was perfect, and according to the Weather Channel, it was equally perfect in New York. I’m actually not sure that I’ve ever been on a flight that has left on time. I should just learn to accept that the scheduled departure time is much like a scheduled doctor’s appointment – that’s the earliest you’re ever going to leave, but you should expect to sit around reading magazines for at least an hour.
As soon as I heard the delay announcement, I realized that this left me an extra hour to be alone with my thoughts. Shortly after that, I recognized that my thoughts and I should not be in the same room together for any period of time, particularly since I was flying to New York for the weekend to escape them.
I decided that the best thing to do would be to document what was going on inside my head during those few hours before I landed in New York. Perhaps the act of writing down the thoughts might allow me to put them to rest. At least that was the theory.
6:04pm – I decide that I might find handlebar mustaches attractive on the right person.
6:06pm – I question whether “handlebar” is the correct term. I mean the kind of mustaches that curve down toward the chin, and would almost become a goatee if the two ends connected. Not the kind that twirl up on the ends, a là Rollie Fingers.
6:14pm – There’s a woman in front of me who is elegantly dressed and impeccably groomed – could be a Kennedy, or at least a Shriver – and she’s eating a Quarter Pounder with cheese. I like her a lot.
6:15pm – I’ve never had a Quarter Pounder with cheese. I wonder if they’re good, but do they have too much sauce on them? Probably.
6:16pm – The plane starts to board. I feel happy inside.
6:24pm – I take my seat and note gleefully that no one is sitting in the two seats next to me. But I don’t buckle my seatbelt yet because I don’t want to jinx myself.
6:25pm – Pilot tells us that we’re delayed even further due to air traffic control issues at LaGuardia. Come on, New York! Pull it together!
6:48pm – After having eaten half of my tropical trail mix, I determine that coconut, raisins, pineapple, and papaya are distinguishable only by their texture.
6:50pm – Wish I had more banana chips.
7:03pm – Do I need to pee? No. No, I don’t think I need to pee right now. Should I try to go just in case?
7:10pm – Although I am inclined to despise American Airlines for this delay, even though it’s LaGuardia’s fault, I am pleasantly surprised to discover new adjustable headrests that curl up around your head to prevent embarrassing head bob.
7:13pm – Does it bother me that this headrest cradled countless other heads, many of which were probably greasy and unkempt?
7:14pm – Not really.
7:17pm – Taking off! Fastest lift-off ever! I love this pilot!
7:18pm – Is that burning I smell? Is something burning? Something is definitely burning. What’s burning?
7:19pm – Okay, it seems to have dissipated. Maybe nothing is burning.
7:22pm – If I had a laptop like that guy, I wouldn’t be working on Excel spreadsheets, that’s for sure. I’d be playing The Sims. By the time I got to New York, I would have become a doctor, gained 11 friends, married, and accidentally killed my wife (she would drown because I forgot to build a ladder in the pool – she swam herself to death, poor thing).
7:33pm – Okay. Attractive prematurely grey-haired man across the aisle from me has finally dozed off. I can now stop reading The Economist and go back to my People – Oscars Edition.
7:38pm – For the second time in eight minutes, I accidentally touch the overhead light bulb while trying to adjust the vent. Note to self: hot water burn baby!
7:48pm – Holy crap! The pilot sounds exactly like my landlord! I wonder if he’s moonlighting. That would explain why it takes him eight weeks to respond to any of my maintenance issues.
7:55pm – These pants really ride up when I’m sitting down. Bad choice of plane attire.
7:57pm – Are these pants highwaters? Oh my god – I’m totally wearing floods! Remember to buy long pants while in New York.
8:15pm – My eyes. Heavy. Burning. Neck is so loose… wonder when we’ll…
9:43pm – My landlord announces that we’re making our descent into New York City. And tells me that he’ll fix my clogged drain next week. Wait – which part of that was a dream?
Yay! I’m now in New York City, where there’s far too much going on for me to ever have to be alone with my thoughts again! Except, of course, at night, when I’ll be confined to my solitary guest room. Not even the sirens and car horns can drown out the night thoughts. Oh, the night thoughts. They’re the worst. Hold me?

Filed under: Postcards from New York on March 9th, 2005 | 12 Comments »

Hi, it’s me. I’m at the airport. Our flight is going to leave in about 45 minutes.
Yes.
Yes. Did you take your medication?
Your medication. Did you take it?
Yes. Did you take it? The medication. Medication!
Hello?
Hello.
Hello!?
Hello.
Hello?
Hello?
Can you call me back? I can’t hear you.
Okay, that’s better. Yes. The medication.

Filed under: General on March 7th, 2005 | 4 Comments »

Whew! Thank god it’s Friday, that’s all I have to say. What a week! I cannot wait until this day is over and my weekend begins.
But wait a minute, Jenny! It’s not Friday – it’s only Thursday! Why are you all discombobulated? You never post on Thursdays – what’s going on?
Whoa! I can’t slip anything past you, now can I? All right, you are correct, sir. It is Thursday.
So why am I mixing things up and posting on a Thursday, other than my desire to combat predictability? Well, mes amis, this evening I’m jetting off to New York City for a well-earned extended weekend. After almost six months on the new job, I’ve finally earned a couple vacation days, and I have no intention of hoarding them until December like most of my colleagues seemed to do this past December.
My dad always said to me, “Jenny, if you’ve got money, spend it. If you don’t, get some.” I feel the same way about vacation, and I intend to spend every minute of it living the good life and hobnobbing with celebrities in New York. By the good life, I mean pizza and beer in the East Village. And by celebrities, I mean the girl who played Blossom’s best friend on the short-lived yet critically acclaimed tv series. I think she manages a coffee shop in SoHo now.
But like most trips to New York, I suspect I will need a vacation from this vacation. There are just too many things to do, places to eat, museums to visit. Because apparently we don’t have any of those things here in Chicago…
Now, how will I accomplish all this in just three short days?

• Buy 1 to 2 pairs of funky new shoes

• Sing 1 to 2 karaoke songs at a NYC bar
• See 1 to 2 movies that have not yet been released in Chicago
• Encounter 1 to 2 famous people in the street
• Try 1 to 2 different kinds of scotch in the smoke-free NYC bars
• Fall in love with 1 to 2 strangers
• Call Amy Sedaris 1 to 2 times and hang up
• Eat 1 to 2 marshmallow Peeps on the plane
• Write 1 to 2 blog entries, possibly about marshmallow Peeps

Wow. Seeing that all in writing is a bit intimidating, but I think I’m up to the challenge. Fortunately, I bought a pair of comfortable hipster shoes last weekend so that I could wander the streets of New York searching for comfortable hipster shoes. Don’t try to follow that logic. There is none.
So I hope you don’t find me rude to have invited you to my new home and then left my own party so abruptly. But I promise I shall return on Tuesday, hopefully bursting at the seams with new adventures to share. Until then, stay sweet ‘n cool 4ever! Seniors Rule!

Filed under: General on March 3rd, 2005 | 11 Comments »

As the years click by, even if I don’t psychologically feel older, my body takes great pleasure in reminding me of my age every now and then. Take last week, for example. Natasha had dubbed 2005 the year of “less talk, more action,” so in keeping with that mantra, she finally started the bowling league she’s been talking about for the past year and a half. She said we all need to get more involved in team sports this year.

I’ve got to admit – I never really considered bowling to be much of a physical sport. Any sport where you can wear jeans and someone else’s shoes, chain smoke, and drink pitchers of beer just never seemed like what I might call strenuous exercise.

But let me quote my body on that subject: “HA!”

After only two games of bowling, I woke up unable to clench my fist, walking with a severe limp, and nearly crippled by lower back pain. Now, a week later, I still find it painful to type these words. It’s quite possible I’ve done permanent nerve damage, and I didn’t even break 100. The problem, however, is that now that we’re in a league, I can’t quit and let my teammates down. We just placed our orders for shirts with our names embroidered on them. Team Cobra Kai needs me!

I’m not exactly sure why we decided on that name, but it might be because I kept yelling “Sweep the leg, Johnny!” whenever the people next to us would get up to bowl. I like my bowling like I like my table tennis: full contact. Some would say that’s unsportsmanlike, but I say, if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. You know, because it’s hot in a kitchen. So if you’re sensitive to heat, you’d probably be more comfortable in the living room, or maybe in the den. Would you like me to get you some iced tea?

Anyway.

Some co-workers of mine asked me if I wanted to join them in the “Hustle up the Hancock” event this past Saturday. For the non-Chicagoans, that’s a charity event where you actually pay money to walk up ninety-four flights of stairs to the top of the Hancock Building, but you get free breakfast and a t-shirt if you finish.

I told them that I would love to, had I not already planned on my own charitable event for Saturday – “Hustle up the L stop” – where I walk up one flight of stairs, get on a train, and go to Belmont Avenue to have breakfast and buy t-shirts with Natasha.

When did my body start to give out on me like this? I can’t really mark the exact point in time. I wasn’t always this way. When I was nine, I had the best arm on the softball team. At least I think that’s why they always put me out in left field. And I was on Junior Varsity basketball in middle school, too. Sure, I had to share a jersey with a girl who had scoliosis, but it was all for the greater good of the team. At least I got to wear the jersey during the first half of the game. (That might actually be funny if it weren’t true.)

So I guess somewhere between the ages of 13 and 33, I neglected my inner athlete, which led me to my current squishy state. But I’ve got to admit, getting older does have its perks. Yes, my body may be falling apart. It’s possible that the sound of my hip cracking actually made my cats jump the other night. And I may have to have an 8-lb bowling ball specially drilled out for my huge arthritic knuckles. But one of the most rewarding things about getting older is that no matter how many gutter balls I make, or how low my score may be, I now make enough money to never, ever have to share a jersey again.

Filed under: On Aging on March 2nd, 2005 | 6 Comments »