Interlude: In which I travel from the UK to LA, then I find my way to San Jose, and on up to Monterey Bay...
"When you look like your passport photo, it's time to go home."
-Erma Bombeck
You be the judge.
After closing up the flat (seriously, it's like initiating a shuttle launch) I hopped on my final tube ride out to Heathrow. Surprisingly, I cut it a little close! I finally cleared security and found myself in a HUGE duty-free shop. I started sprinting, and made it just as they were calling my section.
I sat next to the conductor for the Phresno Philharmonic, no wait, I mean the Fresno Filharmonhic, no wait...anyways he's Czech. He was heading to LA to conduct the L.A. Phil at the Walt Disney Hall, a local landmark I'm ashamed to say I've never been to (another is Watts Towers). Shostakovich, I believe, though I spotted some Dvorak in there too. He cracked me up, especially when he kept ordering more and more wine and then arguing with the flight attendant (Andy) over tiny misunderstandings. Delightful.
Having downed the last of my Vicodin (it's not that I have a problem, it's just that I didn't need it for my maxillofacial surgery in January and I DO need it for a 10 hour flight) I decided to watch The Pink Panther. I know, I know. It was pretty stupid, but I gotta say, pretty funny! Also good was The Matador, with Greg Kinnear and Pierce Brosnan.
Miraculously, I cleared customs, and then it was back on the Flyaway to the Red Line to the apartment. I had some blogging and packing to do, and when Micah and Rosemary finally showed up (they had been at some party I wasn't invited to. My one night in LA in weeks, and nowhere to go...*sigh*) I thought I'd go straight to bed. But around 1 am PDT, I had been up for 24 hours and my circadian rhythm clicked over. All of a sudden I wasn't sleepy. Around 2:30 I decided I would just lay down and see if....(snore).
Somehow I made it to the airport on time (god bless LAX) and got on the Greyhound of the Skies, Southwest Airlines. The flight to San Jose is over before you know it.
SJC lacks the architectural majesty of say, Eero Sarinen's JFK terminal or Frank Gehry's new Venice airport, but it sure is easy!
So now I'm all checked in and settled at Asilomar Conference Grounds. My room is in The Pirate's Den! Yaaargh.
The internet is free and easy here, and I brought my tripod, so I'm gonna try and get you guys some nice nature shots. Because something's gonna have to break up the monotony of my endless rants. I gotta warn you, up here with all these union brothers and sisters, this narrative could get a little political in tone. I'll be sure to pepper it with nuggets of self-deprecating humor. I know what you sickos like.
-Erma Bombeck
You be the judge.
After closing up the flat (seriously, it's like initiating a shuttle launch) I hopped on my final tube ride out to Heathrow. Surprisingly, I cut it a little close! I finally cleared security and found myself in a HUGE duty-free shop. I started sprinting, and made it just as they were calling my section.
I sat next to the conductor for the Phresno Philharmonic, no wait, I mean the Fresno Filharmonhic, no wait...anyways he's Czech. He was heading to LA to conduct the L.A. Phil at the Walt Disney Hall, a local landmark I'm ashamed to say I've never been to (another is Watts Towers). Shostakovich, I believe, though I spotted some Dvorak in there too. He cracked me up, especially when he kept ordering more and more wine and then arguing with the flight attendant (Andy) over tiny misunderstandings. Delightful.
Having downed the last of my Vicodin (it's not that I have a problem, it's just that I didn't need it for my maxillofacial surgery in January and I DO need it for a 10 hour flight) I decided to watch The Pink Panther. I know, I know. It was pretty stupid, but I gotta say, pretty funny! Also good was The Matador, with Greg Kinnear and Pierce Brosnan.
Miraculously, I cleared customs, and then it was back on the Flyaway to the Red Line to the apartment. I had some blogging and packing to do, and when Micah and Rosemary finally showed up (they had been at some party I wasn't invited to. My one night in LA in weeks, and nowhere to go...*sigh*) I thought I'd go straight to bed. But around 1 am PDT, I had been up for 24 hours and my circadian rhythm clicked over. All of a sudden I wasn't sleepy. Around 2:30 I decided I would just lay down and see if....(snore).
Somehow I made it to the airport on time (god bless LAX) and got on the Greyhound of the Skies, Southwest Airlines. The flight to San Jose is over before you know it.
SJC lacks the architectural majesty of say, Eero Sarinen's JFK terminal or Frank Gehry's new Venice airport, but it sure is easy!
So now I'm all checked in and settled at Asilomar Conference Grounds. My room is in The Pirate's Den! Yaaargh.The internet is free and easy here, and I brought my tripod, so I'm gonna try and get you guys some nice nature shots. Because something's gonna have to break up the monotony of my endless rants. I gotta warn you, up here with all these union brothers and sisters, this narrative could get a little political in tone. I'll be sure to pepper it with nuggets of self-deprecating humor. I know what you sickos like.
posted by m@x at 4:48 PM
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