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Effluvia There ain't no internet in Washington, D.C. Something about protecting the children, I guess. I'll have links for you later in the week. Trust me. Journals
Siobhan: back from the country and much rejuvenated.
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10/23/2000 Crystal City Washington, D.C. - The Holiday Inn - National Airport is a step above seedy, but it's a very small step. The place has the run-down look of a hotel that hasn't undergone any major renovation in ten years or so, you know? Some paint and a little new furniture would go a long way towards making this a nice place. I mean, I've got a smoking room, and even though I don't smoke anymore I appreciate the three ashtrays the room is blessed with. And the two horrifyingly loud telephones. And a room service menu that's actually reasonably priced. The place has some good things going for it. Not the blanket on my bed, though. Y'all, somebody had a party on this blanket. I went to lay down and make a phone call this afternoon and I got a nose full of...well, sex. And perfume. Now it's a hotel, and I realize this. But I don't think it's too much to ask to get clean bedclothes in my freakin' hotel room. I wadded the blanket up and threw it in the corner - hopefully it will get changed or something tomorrow.
"Revolution...dope, guns, fuckin' in the streets..." An appropriate song for our nations capitol, true? Both presidential candidates are trying to convince an uninterested population that the above lyric is what will happen to our country if their opponent is elected. It's not true, but it makes fine copy. I had hoped that the city would be more tense, what with only two weeks to go until the election, but Arlington seems just like it did this summer. Just a lot of military personnel, going about their daily business. Arlington, for the most part, is very clean and characterless. It's kind of like a movie set.
I don't think I like travelling alone too much. Though I do kind of enjoy the fact that no one really knows where I am or what I'm doing right now. It's nice, sometimes, to be out of touch. The one semester I lived in the dorm I didn't have a phone. I liked being a little hard to reach. But I don't think I care for riding the subway on a morning commute. I mean, yes, it's cheap and quick, for the most part. I just feel so anonymous - like I'm just one more guy riding the train. Which I am. Driving to work back home I'm the guy in the Eclipse. I want to have a little identity.
Sonya got me to the airport right on time yesterday morning. I got my ticket, gave the Wife a kiss and walked onto the plane. For the forty minute ride to Houston I looked at the SkyMall catalog. That's some silly shit that costs a lot of money, buddy. I bet they make a killin'. I thought I had plenty of time in Houston to catch the next plane, but by the time I got to the gate I was speed walking and they shut the door behind me. On the plane all the overhead bins were full. The one directly over my seat, though, was inefficiently packed, with two backpacks and a small bag sprawled out inside. I started rearranging. "There are fragile items in that backpack," a woman behind me said. "I'll be careful," I assured her, smashing at her bag with my fist. If that door won't shut I'm not moving my bag," another exceptionally snotty woman said. "Cool," I snapped at her. Of course I closed the door easily, but the first woman still got up and took her backpack down, cradling it like an infant all the way to D.C. Lady, if you'd told me there was a puppy in there I would have been more careful! Oh, yeah - one of the flight attendants stank like a filthy pig. I kept getting these whiffs of B.O. and I was looking around, trying to figure out who it was. But it wasn't consistent - it would come, and then go. Then she stopped her drink cart right next to my seat. Flies started dropping out of the air. The guy sitting by the window tried to open it. I was lucky, though; she leaned over the people on the other side of the aisle. Nice makeup and perfect hair, too. Strange. |
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