travel

Wednesday

They grouped in the road at the top of the rise and looked back. The storm front towered above them and the wind was cool on their sweating faces. They slumped bleary-eyed in their saddles and looked at one another. Shrouded in the black thunderheads the distant lightning glowed mutely like welding seen through foundry smoke. As if repairs were under way at some flawed place in the iron dark of the world.
– Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

Happy birthday, Mr. McCarthy, sir.

My own day was largely uneventful, at least until my evening commute when the train car I was in flooded. I didn’t notice it for the longest time — long enough that my bag, which I make a habit of placing under my seat, got wet, and then so did my pants leg when I lifted the bag off the floor. I hoped at first that somebody had just spilled a large drink, but when I stood up before my station I saw that it was down the entire length of the car, a long puddle of water. At a guess, the toilet in the bathroom (which, as it happens, was in that car) overflowed.

There’s nothing quite like overflow from a communal toilet underfoot to liven up your evening commute.

Have I mentioned lately how much I don’t like the LIRR?

Beyond that, it was just a typical day, although I did manage to get a fair amount of work done, which was nice. And I finished reading John le Carré’s Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. I decided to read it after seeing the trailer for the upcoming new movie version. (It was already made into a miniseries starring the late Alec Guinness.) I liked it a lot…but also didn’t. It can be kind of boring and obtuse at times, although I think somewhat deliberately, since it suggests that’s an awful lot of what spycraft is, sifting through old files, making connections, ferreting out the truth. There’s a lot to really like about the novel, which is full of inventive jargon, often suspensful, and often quite dryly funny. But my opinion’s split.

I do think I’ll watch the miniseries and movie, though.

And that was Wednesday: mass transit toilet water and Cold War espionage.

In my mind I’m gone to Carolina

I mentioned on Saturday that my cousin was getting married. What I didn’t mention was that I was in North Carolina, where she now lives, for the big day.

I’m always a little hesitant about posting when I’m going to be away, at least when no one else is going to be here to watch the house. It’s not like I think there’s this large criminal element reading my weblog, waiting to pounce, but it does always seem like an open invitation: “Hey, I’ll be gone for three days, the house will be empty, and oh, by the way, the dog’s in the kennel while we’re away.”

But anyhow, that’s where I was: Wilmington, North Carolina.

We woke up early, around 5 am, on Saturday, and drove to LaGuardia for an 8 am flight, connecting in Atlanta. Aside from a slight delay and the screaming babies on both flights — matched only, later, by the screaming babies on both flights home — we arrived without a hitch. We met up with my sister and her husband, who had driven down from Maryland, and together we drove to the spot for the evening’s wedding and reception, the North Carolina Aquarium. It was an interesting venue, as you might expect, which we had to ourselves for several hours, but altogether, it was a lovely evening.

Of course, it’s an evening that very nearly wasn’t, thanks to a huge summer storm that came out of nowhere and kept most of the guests and the bridal party trapped behind a police roadblock, them on one side of flooded roads and lightning-fed fires, and the aquarium and we few early arrivals on the other.
For awhile there, it looked like both groups were trapped — us out at the beach, with no wedding party to speak of and no way back out to civilization, and them back out in town, with no way out to the beach and the evening’s festivities.

But the rain cleared, and apparently the police relented, and the rest of the evening was quite lovely.

We spent Sunday brunch at my aunt and uncle’s (and cousin’s) house, then walking and driving around Wilmington. We flew back this morning.

I feel a little out of the loop, having decided at the last minute not to take my iPad with me. Instead, I just brought along a couple of books, finishing one of them. But I’ve yet to do the Sunday crossword, or really even check my e-mail. And near the end of the flight home from Atlanta, when I was just exhausted but not tired enough to fall asleep, when I didn’t really feel like reading anymore, I could have done with a podcast or something.

The best Delta seemed able to offer were episodes of Glee and The Office with the sound turned down all the way.

Anyway, it was a nice weekend, but I’m glad I booked tomorrow off.

Tuesday is as Tuesday does

Nothing much happened today. It rained until it stopped, and that’s about it. My first train this morning was late, and then the connecting train at Jamaica was flooded. Not exactly underwater, but it’s one of those double-decker trains, and I was on the bottom level. Luckily the seats themselves are elevated off the floor, because the floor itself was one giant puddle.

Oh, and it turns out I didn’t win the Geist Literary Postcard Story Contest. That’s too bad, as I really liked the piece I submitted. I definitely think I’m going to rework it a little, expand it just slightly from the contest’s (maddening) 500-word limit.

And, yep, that was pretty much my Tuesday.

Thursday various

  • English Teacher Writes Racy Novels. Which…what? Should be grounds for firing the teacher? It’s not as if she assigned the novels as readings for her class, or even mentioned them to her students; by all accounts, she kept her writing life very separate, if not secret, and I don’t see why this should be anybody’s business, much less a problem.

    “Now my son knows so how is he thinking when he’s sitting in her class knowing what she does on the side,” said parent Wendy Apple.

    To which I say, maybe it’s time you and your son both grew up, then. The woman is allowed to have a personal life, and has committed no crime or obvious impropriety. And, honestly, if you’re trying to get a 10th-grade boy to quit thinking about sex, whatever the circumstances, you’re fighting a losing battle. [via]

  • Oscar Wilde takes on Jersey Shore. Does exactly what it says on the tin.
  • TSA security looks at people who complain about…TSA security.

    “This violation of my Constitutional rights in the service of fear-mongering and creating the illusion of safety is really — oh no! They’ve caught on to my nefarious plan!” [via]

  • When words change meaning. [via]
  • And finally, because it was only a matter of time, Infographic of Infographics [via]

Sunny, chilly, day-offy Friday

I took the day off from work today and managed not to do a whole lot with it, beyond a little reading (Kaleidotrope slush, Steve Martin’s biography), a little television watching (this week’s touching, if not hilarious, Community), and a little faxing (some confirmation forms for my residency at the Banff Centre in September).

That last one took a little longer than anticipated, as I first thought to mail them, then ran into confusion and resistance at the post office — I FedEx stuff internationally regularly from the office; I’ve never needed a commercial invoice unless there’s something of value and weight enclosed, and certainly never for two sheets of paper. But whatever — and then went to the local Kinko’s to fax it instead. I don’t think it would be the end of the world if I faxed it from work on Monday, or even it arrived near the end of next week in the mail, but they did say “within two weeks.” So anyway.

Of course, the fax number just rang and rang, and when I tried calling the Registrar’s Office directly, I just got a recording. The two-hour time difference might have been working against me, as I was likely calling on their lunch hour. But I finally got through, and the woman at the other end confirmed the fax number, then told me she’d switch it off then on, and I should try again. And that seemed to work. I sent an e-mail following up, and now everything should be confirmed and paid for.

I think now with this, and buying my plane tickets earlier in the week, there’s no denying that I’m actually doing this quite possibly crazy thing. I still have to book my hotel stay in Calgary, but I am looking forward to it — to the week of writing, to the inspiring scenery of Banff itself, and to the chance to meet Heather in person. She’s the one who recommended the residency in the first place, and honestly no slouch as a writer herself.

And she sent me this for my birthday! The first of the books won’t arrive until early summer, unfortunately, but they look like an interesting enough mix that it will be worth the wait. Seriously very cool and thoughtful, and a nice way to ease into the fact that tomorrow — in just a few short minutes from now, actually — I will be thirty-four years old.

As little as I did with it, the day off helped with that, too.