Category: travel

There’s No Place Like Home, There’s No Place Like Home

Man oh man, yesterday at gate B20 at McCarran airport, I was clanking my ruby slippers together so hard the sparkles fell off.

No worries, nothing a little love from a glue gun can’t fix.

I love to travel, I always have. Ok, I’m not some big international world traveler, I’ll admit. I’m mainly a domestic flight gal, but still, I manage to travel maybe three to four times a year, usually for fun to see friends and family.

The adventure is always worth the price of admission. Even going to somewhere I know well, it gives me a chance to break out of my routine, get out of my head, and be different.

The best road trips are when I feel like I’m a different person by the time I come back home…meaning, I’ve grown or learned more about myself along the way.

My recent travel was one of those sorts of trips. I won’t share all the ins and outs and what-have-yous about the epiphany I had in front of a quarter slot machine at the Four Queens casino, but suffice to say, there was one…and it was good.

Sometimes getting out of my non-thinking monotonous routine and into “hey, where am I staying and where are my bags and where am I going to have something to eat?” is entirely exhausting.

And my god air travel wears me slick. Could people *be* any ruder when flying?

By the time we made our way to our happy little casa last night, I was beat. I mean, so tired, I was damn near catatonic.

But as Annie says in Bull Durham, “Total exhaustion can be spiritually fabulous.”

So as tired as I was, as happy as I was to sink into my bed and let the sandman have his way with me, at 4:30 this morning, my eyes were open and the brain was rolling.

Ideas. Lots of them. Flowing like, well, coins from a slot machine after hitting double-double-double on the payline.

At first I fought it. Rolled over and begged for sleep to come back.

Then I thought…why? How often am I blessed with a fire hose blast from The Muse? Why pinch off the ideas? Hell no, let ’em flow.

So since 4:30 this morning, I’ve been cranking away at the iMac. I mean CRANKING the whole time. And damn if I didn’t get a LOT accomplished (not the least of which was cropping and uploading my new profile photo…take a gander to the left and you’ll find it.)

So now, some four hours later, my eyes are burning, I’m a little shaky, and I may need a nap today. But mostly, I’m happy.

While travel is fun, and for this old musty brain, might just be essential, at the end of the day, there really is no place like home.

A few views of old Vegas

So finally I’m back on a plane headed westward to San Francisco which means home and my cranky Feline (who has been wreaking havoc in my mom-in-law’s home).

The trip to Vegas was a good one. The Good Man’s business was conducted, we ate some great food and even took in a Penn & Teller show at the Rio.

But as with every trip I take to Vegas, I’m done. Yup. She wears me weary and it’s time to get back to the place and get to where I can live normally without the ching-ching of a slot machine as my background music.

I did get a chance while visiting to take a look at the old Vegas that I remember (and sometimes yearn for).

While the Neon Museum’s boneyard is closed for construction, they do have a few beautifully restored signs installed down on Fremont street that you can visit.

Here are a few photos I took on my trip. I haven’t sorted out all 350 photos I shot, but these are a couple of my faves so far. (click image to see full size)

Vegas Vic, an icon of early Las Vegas history when he was the image often used by the Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce.

This comes from high atop the Nevada Hotel Sign.

The orginal lamp from the Aladdin Hotel and Casino. I remember this one well. It was like seeing an old friend.

And finally, the Hacienda horse and rider from the original Hacienda Hotel and Casino. I also remember this one. It’s been beautifully redone!

There may be more to come as I sift through what I got.

For now, I’m ready to be home.

Oh, and as a final thought…how cool am I? I’m blogging from thirty thousand feet in the air. WiFi on airplanes, what a cool concept! (Go Virgin America!)

I happen to like New York

This winter, the holiday season, has me profoundly missing New York.

Well sure, you might say, New York in December is beautiful!

And I’m sure you are right.

Only, I’ve not been to New York at the holidays.

I’ve been only once. And it was in May.

So how, you might ask, would you miss a season in a town where you’ve spent the sum total of ten days visiting?

Well.

I’d say, first of all, that maybe normal logic doesn’t apply to me.

But I’d go further.

Last night The Good Man was out at dinner with a friend from out of town, so I was on my own. Chilled to the bone from the freezing rain I went to my local grocer to find something ready-made to warm up (and yes, surprisingly, I wore a jacket on this jaunt. But only because of the rain. Otherwise I would have left it at home.)

I prowled the aisles of ready-made food looking for something to satisfy.

And my eyes landed on pre-packed containers of…

(Oh, my heart flutters just thinking of it)

Matzoh Ball Soup.

Here! In California!

I almost cried, I really did.

I know that I was baptized and raised Catholic, but I honestly believe there is a part of me that is fully Jewish. I’ve thought this for a while. Mainly, because I love Jewish food. Matzoh ball soup is only the beginning.

There is my deep and abiding love for chicken liver. Egads. It’s borderline obsessive.

And let’s talk schmaltz! If someone says something is schmaltzy, I’ll run toward it with a cracker! Delicious!

If it weren’t for that whole keeping meat and dairy separate, I might be kosher. But I need cheddah on my beef tacos, so that ends that.

But back to New York. I *loved* every minute I spent in New York. Every street block has a diner and every diner serves their version of the delicious healing chicken broth over a lump of matzoh-y goodness. Twenty four hours a day.

And I got to the point, after bowl upon bowl of the stuff, that I know my preferences.

Some serve a huge matzoh, some small. I prefer smaller.

Some matzohs are dense, some are lighter and almost fluffy. I like the lighter.

Some broth is heavily salted and with an onion flavor. Some lean toward bland. I like the salty onion infused broth.

Some broth has almost no other veggies included. Some have quite a few. I like no veggies, preferring to enjoy the broth as is.

But you can see, you get all kinds of variations depending on who is doing the cooking.

So as I paid for the soup last night, anticipating the chickeny healing goodness, I knew intuitively that it wouldn’t be good. It wouldn’t be right.

But, it was matzoh ball soup, and that was something.

See, you can look for yourself. It was ok, but it wasn’t right.

What’s with all the carrots!?!?

The matzohs were too big and too dense. I didn’t eat all of them (there were FIVE in the container!), preferring to slurp at the broth instead.

So while it wasn’t perfect, it was close enough to make me content.

Close enough to make me miss New York. I long to be back there, and not just because of the soup. The soup just reminded me.

I remember very clearly, as soon as I set foot on the island, my heart began to beat in time with the rhythm of the city. I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.

As Cole Porter famously said (and in this version, Bobby Short sings), I happen to like New York.

Civility is not dead, merely on life support

I believe I’ve had occasion to rant here regarding my feelings toward airplane travel.

In as few words as I can muster, I believe that flying brings out the worst in people.

Especially on those “open seating” type of airlines. Ya’ll know which one I’m talking about. People will knock over little old ladies and run their too large roller bag over toddlers in order to get to that perfect aisle/window seat.

Very rude.

And then the folks who are unable to entertain themselves for the time they will spend on the plane require YOU to entertain them.

“So, you going to Albuquerque? You from there? What’s it like? Have you ever been to Santa Fe? Is it anything like Phoenix? How come I can’t fly into Santa Fe? What’s that you are reading? Why are you ordering tomato juice?”

You know the type.

When I fly, I usually bring a book, wait patiently, take the first acceptable seat and crack that book open right away. Then I hunker down for the duration, and hope for the best.

So imagine the the peace I found on the final leg of my trip home from New Mexico.

Everyone seemed on their best behavior. “Oh, it looks like your boarding pass number is ahead of mine. I’ll just slip behind you.”

And “Excuse me, I’d like to sit there” and “Oh sure, let me hop up for you”

In my own row, I found a good spot, had a brief interaction with the guy on the aisle, and took my window seat. Soon a very polite lady arrived and said, “Do you mind if I sit there in the middle” and we made room.

She got settled quickly and pulled out a magazine. The guy on the aisle pulled out a book. I was already immersed in mine.

The duration of the flight from LAX to SFO was quite calm and really very civil.

Upon landing and when at the gate, the guy on the aisle stood up and said, in a jokey way “Well, I hope I wasn’t too much trouble on this flight.”

The lady in the middle said (to both the guy on the aisle, and to me), “You know, I’d just like to say thank you, this was one of the nicest flights I’ve been on in a while. This was a great row to sit in.”

And I smiled and agreed, “Thank you” I said to both of my fellow travelers.

Wow. People do still know how to be considerate. And polite!

Those sort of folks sure are getting harder to find!

Do ya’ll remember Goofus and Gallant from the Highlights magazines for kids? I *loved* Highlights magazine! My mom was cool enough to get me a subscription!