Look at those DUCKS!!

Memphis, Tennessee... home of Elvis, the Blues, BBQ and BB King... and while those things are all well and good, there's not much else. I recently returned from the National Association of Biology Teachers convention in good ol' Memphis and I must say, I was a bit disappointed. I've been to the south a lot in the past 4 or 5 months and am proud to say that I hold a special little place in my heart for the food, friendly "yes ma'am, no ma'am," the music and the sweet tea, but Memphis was only a little of those amidst A LOT of crack heads! Downtown, where I stayed, was not terrible by any means. I got to enjoy some good (but honestly Mo's in SLO is better) BBQ, see a famous Rockabilly band (The Dempsies - they were in Walk the Line) and enjoyed a lot of walking. There was one highlight, however, which is why this blog is worth writing...

A block from my hotel was the world famous Peabody Hotel in downtown Memphis. A local at the convention let me in on the special story of the Peabody and why I HAD to visit the hotel lobby at 5:00pm. Since the 1920's, the Peabody has been known for its ducks when a couple of duck hunters came back to the hotel from a long (whisky saturated) day of duck hunting. They decided to bring their (then legal) live duck decoys back with them and play a trick on the other guests in the hotel. They gingerly placed the ducks in the lobby's grandiose fountain, hoping that they would inspire shock and awe the next morning. Turns out that guests were delighted and the famous Peabody Ducks have attracted people like me ever since. 

Every morning at 11:00, the Duckmaster, dressed in a dignified red jacket and a duck headed cane, makes his way up to the Peabody's roof where he retrieves the ducks from their lavish Duck Palace. They follow him in a line onto the elevator and ride it down to the lobby floor. The elevator door opens to a red carpet leading from the door to the lobby fountain. After a wave of his cane, the ducks waddle out of the elevator, down the red carpet as hundreds of onlookers flash their cameras and cheer. The ducks climb the step stool next to the fountain then jump in with a little splash and swim inside the lobby fountain until 5:00 pm when they reverse the entire extravaganza.

I left my convention about 30 minutes early on Friday afternoon. I made it to The Peabody lobby just in time to grab a Vodka Collins and nestle into a spot on the floor, right next to the red carpet. 

I was so thrilled with the performance that the ducks delivered that I bought myself a little rubber ducky keychain as a souvenir. She's so pretty with her lipstick red beak and eyelashes. Her boyfriend, a rubber mallard duck keychain (my gift to Daniel) is quite smitten with her :)

Suggestions

There isn't much to do on a plane but read. Even with my slow as a turtle reading speed, I've averaged about a book a trip! I'm just finishing up The Secret Life of Bees, which is WONDERFUL. I'm so excited about the movie! I'd love some suggestions on great books to pass the time. What book are you ranting and raving about this month???

Bring in the Air Marshall!!

I paid the good ol' Sunshine State (Florida) a visit last week. Unfortunately, I didn't get to bask in the sun in Miami or discover an oceanic ecosystem in Key West. I was, of course, there for work and by there, I mean Orlando. I've got nothing against Orlando, in fact, the weather was beautiful, my bed at the Double Tree rivaled my favorites - Westin and W, and I managed to find a great place to get a Vietnamese mani/pedi.* My hotel was located at the entrance of Universal Studios so I filled my spare time with strolls through Universal City Walk, Downtown Disney and a leisurely jog through the beautiful grounds of a neighboring Italian Villa style resort. It was pretty low key, and I was even worried that I might not have an entertaining anecdote to share. 

I closed my exhibit around noon on Saturday and made my way to the airport. As I sat at my gate, I was not too thrilled to be entering the confinement of an airplane with the dozens of rowdy rug-rats donning Crocs and Mickey ears. It turned out that the rambunctious kiddies were the least of my worries. 

I nestled into my usual window seat and prayed that I would be blessed with good seat neighbors. That, I was granted. Within 5 minutes, two 30 something women made their way down the aisle laughing at their own sarcastic quips. They settled in and we found the perfect level of acquaintance - friendly, but not overly talkative. It turned out that they had been in Orlando for work as well and we bonded over our annoyance with the surrounding whines, cries, giggles and shrieks. "Damn you Disney World!" I said, and we all laughed. Soon enough I had my earplugs in and had found my way back to the narrative of an autistic adolescent's murder mystery (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time). I looked up to see my two quirky neighbors huddled forward, talking secretively to the woman in the seat in front of them. My curiosity got the better of me as I ripped out my earplugs, straining to eavesdrop. 

"Hey, if there's gossip, then I wanna know about it," I said. 

My new friends giggled and let me in. 

"That guy over there (she pointed across the aisle to the guy sitting by the window) is crazy! He's demanding to be moved to first class, hassling the flight attendant and the couple sitting next to him and I think he's coming on to that poor old woman!!" 

I strained to see the man sitting in the opposite window seat, but I couldn't manage while maintaining at least some level of discretion. I could however, see the older man in the aisle seat, looking ahead as if to be fighting painful concern. I watched in anxious anticipation as I received updates from the girls next to me. We had worked out a game of telephone with all the neighboring passengers who seemed to all be on pins and needles as well. The nut job had, in fact, demanded to be moved to first class (there wasn't first class on this particular flight) and then had cuddled up to the 80 something year old woman sitting next to him, caressing her arm and apologizing for his behavior because he was "a pretty crazy man who does pretty crazy things sometimes." When the flight attendants came around to offer snack boxes, I saw money flying and arms waving from across the plane as the nut job insisted on buying the old couple their snack boxes to make up for his crude performance. I heard the flight attendant repeat those dreaded words "Sir, I need you to calm down," and I could see the distress on every staff face. 

In heroic fashion, my new friends flagged down an attendant to say that they would like to switch seats with the old couple. These girls were feisty and could most certainly hold their own more fervently than the victimized grandparents. After little debate, the older couple agreed to switch seats. As soon as she could stand, the old woman lunged toward me, grasping my arm, crying and shaking in fear. She continued to apologize and repeat

 "I don't understand what's going on, I'm so scared." 

Between her husband and me, we managed to soothe her nerves a bit. In a feeble voice that showed her distress, she told me that she was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's and that she was easily confused. While I sincerely felt for her, I was put somewhat at ease knowing that the events might have been exaggerated beyond reality. At 36,000 feet in the air, with 2 and a half more hours to go, I don't think I was the only one who wanted a reason to believe it was all just a misunderstanding. 

Just as her trembling began to subside, I noticed a hustle and bustle across the aisle. The girls that had given up their seats were getting up to stand in the aisle to let the nut job out for a restroom break. I made eye contact with one of the sacrificial woman and she rolled her eyes and gave me a look as if to say, "I'm fed up with this asshole." 

He stumbled into the aisle which was when I realized that he was intoxicated beyond what he could mask. As he turned to head to the back of the plane to relieve himself, he bent down toward the old man at the aisle, blubbering something about how "cool" has no age. This was the first time that I had seen his face. He was a middle eastern man whose diminutive stature was dwarfed even more by the disproportionate size of his large head and bulging bug eyes. 

I think of myself as a cultured individual and pride myself on my interest and respect of other cultures and religions, but I must admit that in this instance, I was not so much my "worldly" self. I could tell that I wasn't the only one whose concern reached a new intensity at the realization of the skin color of the man who had caused such an ordeal. As he continued to hassle the old man and woman in passing, I tried to urge him on to the bathroom from my secluded corner by the window. The return of his presence sent the poor old woman into another frenzy. Her tremors returned and she held tight to my arm. I reassured her as he moved along, rocking back and forth, leaning on every sorry soul who happened to be in the aisle on the way to the toilet closet. When the man of the hour returned to his seat, the ladies let him back in and shortly after, he was again ringing his call button to hassle the flight attendant with more demands. Fortunately, neither of his neighboring female passengers nor the flight attendants were subject to his offensive antics for much longer. 

I had begun to make progress in my book, transporting myself into the mind of an autistic boy who happened upon a neighborhood dog that had been murdered, when I noticed a flight attendant coming to once again converse with the infamous row of travelers. I saw her motion toward the front of the plane, obviously offering the 2 ladies new seat assignments in Economy Plus (LUCKY!). I thought to myself, "why would they be playing musical chairs again?  Why subject yet another passenger to this guy's behavior?" The ladies moved to their new, leg roomier seats as I saw a casually dressed, yet distinguished man walk towards our row. He held a large business binder and a briefcase that didn't quite match the image of his Tommy Bahama - like khaki shorts and grey rayon shirt. I held my book slyly below my eyes and put my best listening ears on. I couldn't hear any of the conversation, but my position gave me the perfect angle to seemthe newly transplanted passenger lean over toward Mr. Crazy with his wallet in his hand. He flipped it open as he made, what seemed like, a very authoritative statement.

"Holy S#!t!" I thought. This guy is someone serious! I didn't know whether to feel safe or seriously threatened. I decided that the best thing to do was to force myself to feel the former. I said a little prayer to myself, being careful not to let on to the distraught grandma to my left that I was fearful. I dove back into my book and forced the current situation from my mind. Eventually, we landed in Denver and I can honestly say that I don't know that there has ever been a time when I have been THAT excited to touch ground. But even as we landed, the good times weren't over. As all the passengers jumped into the aisles, anxious to be free from confinement, a flight attendant came over the loud speaker, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience Ladies and Gentlemen, but we need to ask everyone to be seated immediately. Please stay in your seats until otherwise notified."

"IT'S NOT OVER!?!" I thought, but I was halfway anticipating what happened next. Two men, dressed in full police garb came down the aisle and stopped right next to my row to accompany the drunk middle eastern out, IN HANDCUFFS! I can't imagine the horrifying confusion in the minds of those at the front of the plane who had no idea of the events of the flight. After we were released from our seats, I spoke to the couple (un)lucky enough to be sitting in front of the nut job. I asked why the Air Marshal had suddenly been brought to sit next to him. Apparently, he had been dropping quite a few "trigger"words, bragging about his physical prowess because of his days as a Navy Seal and his knowledge of government intelligence. The old couple and the 2 good Samaritans exited the plane and went straight into a meeting with the officers to answer questions, I, however, got out of there. So grateful to be on land and safe, I felt a weight lifted and decided to treat myself to one of my favorite cinnamon rolls at The Coffee Beanery outside gate B45... yes, I know the Denver airport THAT well!

*Yes! I got a PEDICURE for the first time in... well at least 6 months, maybe longer. My damaged toenail has worked its way out to a somewhat respectable length and is actually able to be painted! I can't wait to get my first French pedi for Alli'es wedding!!!

double your pleasure

the reason why i'm so often stuffed into a confining airplane seat or working to make a hotel room feel homey is because of my job. sure i've got a love for travel but, more often than not, the trip that i'm on is on behalf of insect lore, to spread the joy of creepy crawlers. BUT, this weekend was different! i traveled, not for business but for pleasure. 

a few months ago, daniel and i watched ONCE, a musical independent film that i had heard great things about. while we didn't really think the film was all that amazing, the music was phenomenal and we became instant fans of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova who tour as the Swell Season. after a little online research, i found a california tour date and surprised daniel with tickets. even better, Iron and Wine, one of my favorite bands, was to open for them. 

on saturday morning we drove thru starbucks for fuel and were off to LA for an activity packed weekend we had anticipated for a long time! our first stop was Chubby's Cruisers, a specialty bike shop that i had discovered online. we walked through the showroom and after much indecisive chatter (a vanessa classic) i decided on the model and color scheme for my new beach cruiser. my TAHITI will be a vanilla color with pink rims, a rattan basket and a bell :)

after we picked out my new bike, we headed to downtown LA where we grabbed some MUCH NEEDED lunch at an irish pub near the staples center. we freshened up (by we, i mean, i freshened up while daniel napped) and headed to the club lounge at the millenium biltmore for our complimentary wine and hors d'oeuvres and we were off to the greek theater.

our cabbie dropped us off in the beautiful residential area leading up to the amphitheater under the stars and we walked with the super cool LA hipsters, quickening our pace as we heard Iron and Wine already into their set. the night was beautiful as we enjoyed cocktails and great music. richard sherman (composer for the Jungle Book and Marry Poppins) made an appearance and sang spercalifragelistik expialidotious - or however you spell it - with the Swell Season. 

after the concert, dan and i hailed a cab back downtown. we almost didn't arrive in one piece as our driver seemed to be unfamiliar with even the most popular areas of LA and landed us on a one way street, going the wrong direction. we eventually made it back safely and walked to an irish pub we had seen earlier. a little bummed to find, what daniel and i call a "broseph bar," we walked back to the biltmore to sip martinis at the classy bar and listen to some live jazz.

the purpose for our trip was 2 fold. we had concert tickets, but we had also promised ourselves that we would FINALLY make it to the Getty Center. we have talked about going to the getty together for the better part of 5 years and we decided this would be the time... but first, we needed brunch. where else do you go in downtown LA for a swanky sunday brunch than The Standard?? i showed daniel the ultra hip hotel and we had some devilishly delicious brunch - honey marscapone stuffed french toast topped with baked apples and watermelon lemonade - DUH!

we journeyed north to the getty center and meandered through sculptures, paintings, photographs and gardens until the museum's closing. it was an incredibly beautiful day: a little fall crisp, plenty of sun and the perfect breeze. art and flowers - you can't get any more romantic!

when i was 17, daniel introduced me to a contemporary and genuinely bizarre author - Chuck Palahniuk. the first book that i read by him, was Choke which daniel passed along to me. recently, a movie, inspired by the novel was released - but of course was not in the hellishly conservative bubble that is bakersfield so we made it part of our LA adventure. after the getty, we went a bit farther north to sherman oaks where we had some italian food and wine then caught the movie at the galleria. unfortunately, neither one of us gave it the enthusiastic thumbs up, we had to see it. come on, it's Palahniuk!

our little romantic weekend came at a great time. as of thursday, i'll be away for work every weekend until the middle of november! it's going to be a longgggg month...

P.S. i took a ton of amazing pictures at the getty. i don't want to toot my own horn or anything, but the garden pictures were pretty impressive. but after trying to upload pictures all day at work, i ran out of patience. blogger.com should work on this!

Take the Poll!

In keeping with my frustrations with the traveling obese, I created a poll!! Play along to the right of my page!

oh you whiners, i was getting to that!

to angie, allie, christie and jill (who i'm sure will find out sooner or later), i apologize profusely, for not sending out an informative email to put the world on alert about my blog. honestly, i was excited to do so, but i wanted to wait until i had this thing all figured out... which is still something i'm working on. i'm a myspacer, you must remember and i'm finding this transition a bit confusing. slowly but surely... new blog coming soon!

Excuse me, have you heard of the Biggest Loser

Obviously, I've already proven to be bad at blogging. And just to give you an idea of how much I travel, I've been to 2 separate states and back since my intro blog. I suppose, like anything else, practice makes perfect, so I shall work on my discipline with my updates.

Two weeks ago, I went to North Carolina for another early childhood education conference. I was to fly from Bakersfield to LAX to DC to Greensboro, NC. As I settled into the giant airbus in LAX, bound for DC, I watched in anticipation at the approaching line of passengers. I do this often - size up my fellow travelers and take a wild guess at who will restrict my sprawling for the flight. It seemed that nearly all of the passengers had entered the aircraft; the hustle and bustle of jamming "carry-ons" (don't even get me started on the bulbous and oversized crates that are passed off as carry-on luggage these days) into the overhead compartment. As I scanned the aisles from my window seat I thought, "No way, did I really luck out and score a free neighboring seat." Then I saw him, the man that I knew - even from 7 feet down the aisle - was to be the aisle seat to my window.

I had just watched the season premiere of the Biggest Loser the night before. I find that show incredibly inspiring. Rarely can I watch an episode without blinking back a few tears. While I would consider myself to be in relatively good shape, I am no skin and bones kinda gal and I'll be the first to admit that my entire life has been peppered with dieting and exercising regiments in an attempt to shed a couple pounds. I think obesity is a devastating epidemic, but one that is all too often excused as a condition beyond the "victim's" control. And, with the ever pressing topic of America's obesity at the forefront of my brain, I could not look at the approaching airplane behemoth with compassion. 

After situating a leather briefcase into the overhead compartment, being careful to take out any items that might be needed throughout the flight, Tubby settled into the seat next to me. Well, maybe I should rephrase that... he never really settled. I can imagine that it's uncomfortable to carry around that much extra weight and he certainly confirmed that inclination with his incessant shifting and wiggling. As the other passengers bumped and pushed their way to their seats in preparation for departure, my large neighbor flagged down a flight attendant to ask for a seat belt extender, which in my opinion (with the exception of pregnant women, obviously) is a read flag that you are out of your league in one economy seat. After a couple of minutes, Tubby realized that the attendant wasn't rushing back to his beck and call. In a fashion that spoke volumes about his need for instant gratification, he requested an extender from another attendant. Here's the kicker, he looks at me with disgust and says "God, what dumbasses they have working on these flights." Our pretty pretty princess eventually got his extender and we were off to the east coast.

As i mentioned, Tubby (I like this name so I think we'll stick with it) had the hardest time trying to sit still. With his bulbous leg challenging the boundary of our 2 seats and his love handles bleeding out under the arm rest, I wondered how he couldn't be comfortable with all of MY space! Believe me, I delivered plenty of slightly obvious but somewhat discreet huffs and puffs to demonstrate my frustration with his constant fidgeting. I heard the click of a seat belt unbuckling and peeled my eyes from my little window in anticipation. "Maybe he's going to get up and go walk around! Give me some breathing room, damnit!" But just as I looked, I regretted it. Oh, he got up alright, but it wasn't to take a look around or stretch his fluffy limbs. Oh no, he stood up half way and turned his back toward me only to reach down with his stubby arm to scratch an itch. Not just any itch, but an ass itch... then he worked toward the challenging goal of releasing his underwear from the tight clench of his crack. All this delightful eye candy was, of course, accompanied by an olfactory sensation reminiscent of a sweaty locker room and dirty underwear. 

Now, I realize that if United, American, Continental, etc. made a statement declaring that people over a certain weight were no longer allowed to fly without purchasing 2 seats, an all out revolt would ensue. Honestly, even I would understand the arguments against discrimination and wrongful treatment. But, as I sat there in my hellish corner of the traveling world, I wondered, "where do his rights end, and mine begin?!" He was, after all, invading MY space that I (well, Insect Lore) paid for! While he most certainly possesses (and obviously exercises) his right to treat his body however he chooses, that treatment, in this case, has invaded the personal space of others. The growing girth of America is also cause for concern on the part of airlines. The person who used to weigh 160 lbs. now weighs 230 lbs. and requires a considerable increase in fuel to transport. Thus, just one more reason for the increase in airline ticket prices. I agree that airlines seats aren't exactly the most comfortable or spacious environments, but when you can't keep your body from spilling out into my space, it's time to put the Twinkie down and buy a second seat!