Thanksgiving travel

I flew in from Chicago to the great Garden State yesterday morning. I woke up at the fine hour of four AM to do so. Kara, of course, was up and on Gchat.

I took a cab to the airport because it was a special day, and expecting the typical Chicago cab delay, I called and ordered one and then set off to dry my hair. It being 4 AM, the cab came immediately. So I set off to O'Hare with a wet head, which made smoking a cigarette incredibly difficult.

I blew through security, despite having just put Gold Bond foot powder in my shoes, because you never can be too careful, but I realized as I was going through the line that I should probably not have too much of a white powder on my person when going through airport security. Fortunately, the lady at the metal detector did not seem concerned with my feet. I hope she noted the fresh scent though.

I have never flown American Airlines before, so I couldn't help but note the charming Christmas decorations in their terminal. I also couldn't help but note that is was pretty dead. I got my Egg McMuffin to kick off the weekend of eating, and sat in my assigned area only to see a handful of other travelers heading to Neward. Weird. With the exception of two business travelers and a real-life Kath and Kim (the Kath was wearing the most garish green sneakers and matching argyle sweater I had ever seen), the place was deserted. This was all relayed to Kara via text.

Naturally, my thoughts went to the statistic that most planes that crash are not full.

I figured things must improve as we boarded the plane, so I got my Us Weekly (I found out how Angelina tortures Jen AND all about Brandy faking her marriage! I relayed that, as well as how plain and big faced all the girls on "Bad Girls Club" are to Kara.) and hoped for the best. And yet, when we boarded the plane, I found literally ten empty rows of seats in front of me.

And still, I was the only one with someone sitting next to me.

As the pilot announced they were shutting the doors in preparation for take off, I said to the girl next to me that I was going to move up and give her the whole row to herself. She looked up from her Blackberry for a heartbeat to say that she could handle that. I moved up several rows and enjoyed the flight by crocheting and listening to David Archuleta and Beyonce. It is amazing how quickly a flight will go by if you listen to the same three songs over and over.

I will say, I always miss United when I fly, because I enjoy that they show me "The Office" and give me breakfast cookies. Don't get me wrong, I liked American's water. But still.

I hopped on the AirTrain (which is a monorail! And it didn't make me answer riddles!) to go the train station, where I tried to hide from NJTransit officials so that I could smoke a cigarette. The train, of course, came before I could get in two drags. I think the moral here is that transit is trying to tell me to quit smoking.

I text messaged Michael Twigg in anticipation of something exciting happening, because we have a running joke about what we refer to as "Amtrak hookers." Fortunately for Michael Twigg, since it was probably 5 AM in Los Angeles, I did not see any teenage girls riding the rails. To be fair, it was pretty early to be returning from a Jonas Brothers concert.

My sister picked me up at the Long Branch station, and we figured our way back to Point Pleasant, in the course of which I got to see the ocean on a lovely, grey day, and catch up with my sister about restaurant stalkers. And now I have settled in to bask in the love of my family for a few days.

Obviously, that involves blogging.

Election Night 2008

We got our tickets to Grant Park; we waited to see who would need to be our guests, who would be wait listed. We walked with crowds of people through four security checkpoints before going through metal detectors. We found our friends in the field; we stood and watched the election results come in, a state at a time. We were tricked -- we were expecting the West Coast results, to wait for hours more, and instead we were told Obama had won the election.

We watched McCain concede; we danced in Grant Park when he was done. We heard a sound technician say into a microphone, "Sound check...one two three...final sound check for the new President of the United States, Barack Obama."

We bowed our heads during a prayer, and put our hands over our hearts for the Pledge and National Anthem. And then...we saw history.

We walked out of the park and onto Michigan Ave., as all the streets were closed. We walked with thousands of others cheering, never feeling unsafe or scared, just cheering and smiling.

I can't recap the evening without sounding trite. I am too excited about it, about what all of it means, and what I got to see. I have become increasingly cheesy, but I don't care. I keep going back to the text sent to volunteers, sent after they called it for Obama but before the speech, like it is a love letter. I cry very time I read it. It simply says, "We just made history. All of this happened because you gave your time, talent, and passion to this campaign. All of this happened because of you. Thanks, Barack."