The Horrible Horrible

Well, I don't have any pictures from this week's tour of New Jersey; I'm sparing you all from images that would be only sad and depressing. I knew things were off to a bad start on Sunday morning when I boarded the airplane and settled in to seat 11F, straightening out my NY Times and unraveling my headphones when a woman from across the isle reached over and grabbed the blanket by my seat, giving me a mean look. It was a good metaphor for New Jersey: a bunch of mean and hungry dogs all fighting for a scrap of food.

I started prefacing New Jersey with "Horrible Horrible," and soon just changed the name of the state to "The Horrible Horrible." The people there are assholes. I saw one grown woman tell another to "shut up" during one of our seminars. The servers at restaurants complain when you order food. I spend two hours driving six miles. There is nothing at all good about New Jersey. Never go there.

My Abrupt Family Reunion

Saying my goodbyes to all my fans in Columbus, OH

My week touring the Northern-South was cut short by news on Superbowl Sunday of my grandma Helen's death, which required me to fly home for her funeral. I had been lucky to have visited her about a month ago when I was home for vacation, and the encounter is much more appreciated now that she's gone. I spent Monday and Tuesday arguing with outsourced customer service agents as I tried to bargain bereavement fares, only to hear scripted condolences, but I finally arrived in Minneapolis Wednesday evening and met my brother Andy at baggage claim, where we picked up our luggage and headed to MOA (Mall of America, for all you non-Minnesotans), via light rail:

Brother Andy waiting for the train to MOA

Thursday morning my brother, my little sister Betsy, my father and I headed South to Alton, IA, a small town of 1,095 people (from the 2000 census), where my mother grew up and my grandparents lived out their lives. While it was a sad occasion, it was great to see family I hadn't seen in about three years. There were even a few I had never met:

My cousin's daughter, Reagan, sporting a short skirt and pacifier

My immediate (and aristocratic) "fam"

My flight from Souix City was delayed, resulting in a short night's sleep at a hotel in Denver, but I'm finally back in Seattle after a good month-and-a-half. It's funny how foreign the landscape and climate is after all this time; I've forgotten about how green everything is! Tomorrow morning I'm flying non-stop to New York where I'll spend the week driving around the Northeast. Then I'll have a much deserved week's break. It's all been worth it, though, because this opportunity won't come again and I still have many local brews to sample. Until then, a Ranier Beer from the good old Puget Sound will suffice!

The Mile-High Flub

Here I am, stuck in Alabama with the Seattle blues again. Out of a series of mechanical problems with United flight 5993, I ended up at the Holiday Inn five minutes from Birmingham's airport with a Guatemalan friend named Lorenzo who spoke no English. I helped him figure out how to use the phone in his cuarto (dial 9 + 1 + Area Code + Number) and then took to the lounge with my $15 voucher courtesy of United Air. At the bar I met Tom, a brash Republican and small-business owner of a vending machine distribution company and Mark, his General Manager who came across as more of a sidekick. We discussed the merits of Mitt Romney and Barak Obama and four beers later I was fed up with their welfare-hatin' rhetoric and decided to go to bed. Now I find myself waiting for a flight to Chicago where I'll spend the weekend. It makes more sense than heading back to Seattle where I'd get about 8 hours of leisure time in before heading back to the airport to fly across the country to Richmond, VA.

In any case, what a week! Newark, NJ was my stop on Tuesday, where I got to spend a couple hours touring its beautiful Downtown before my flight left for Richmond:

A stroll down Broad Street, Newark, NJ

Newark felt like a ghost of what once was a clean, booming city. Walking the streets on Tuesday I saw lots of pawn shops and street vendors selling belts and disposable contact lenses.

A parking lot in one of the many dark alleys of Newark

The rest of the week I fought banquet managers in Richmond over the price of soda ($2.50/can), bellmen in Alabama (please leave my luggage alone, for once! I'm not giving you any fucking more money for carrying it up the elevator), and a whole slew of cattle ranchers from the Alabama Cattlemen's Association:


Another week away from home. I wonder if I'll ever get a change of clothes. My night in Chicago will be fun, though. It'll be good to party down with some familiar faces and have a much shorter flight on Sunday. What time zone am I in? Don't change the towels! I asked for those eggs over-medium not over-easy! Anyhow, off to the airport.