There's something about the Newark airport that makes me intolerably queesy. Maybe it's the $8 beers. Maybe it's the concrete walls. Maybe it's the rude and/or confused people pushing their ways through other just as rude and confused people. Maybe it's the no-less-than 1 hour delays on EVERY flight. Maybe it's the fact that after your 1-hour delay, you get on a plane with broken air conditioning. Maybe it's that after your 1-hour delay and after you get on your boiling-hot plane, you sit on the tarmak for another hour, just to let yourself stew in your neighbor's juices.
Or maybe that it's just in New Jersey.
Regardless, I'm back in Scotland after a month traipsing around the eastern US. I have a lot to say about this month, but I'm in the process of writing an entire novel about it all, and I wouldn't want to spoil it for you (this is a corporate eupamism for, I'm so far behind that I'm just starting anew). But there are some important things I should write down, as a starting point for my novel:
Some aiport experiences, notably 3 lovely hours on the tarmak (in Newark, in case you were wondering, though this time with a/c) with several very drunk and very funny business travelers.
Driving around being hippies in a WV microbus. And the hippies we picked up.
Rockin' out with Victoria Vox.
Front row at a Red's game.
Getting my ass kicked in an interview for the job I really wanted and was 100% qualified for.
Meeting with old friends on Ohio and Washington, DC.
And then, of course, returning to absolutely PERFECT weather in Scotland (think: high 60s and sunny) and a white fridge turned black with mold. How fun is that?
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