03-14-2010, 09:16 AM
I hope yo guys are laughing..... 'cause here we go again!
I have some business to take care of outside New York, so I reserve a car, get a GPS and set the alarm for early. The bag my friend gave me for overnight wasn't big enough for my computer too so I go into my son's closet and find a nice black bag that is just perfect. Cool. Loaded up, I head out on foot the four blocks to the car rental place. I stop about once a block as the bag is heavy, it's been raining and the ground is wet and I am breathing out what looks like smoke in the cold morning air. Schlep... schlep.... Oops, went the wrong way. Back I go.. schlep schlep. Stop, rest, schlep. It's raining now but only lightly. Amazingly they do have my reservation but alas, the car that is signed out to me is nowhere to be found. Ahhh, be proud of me; I have left an hour early or so I think. Turns out we changed the clocks back last night and I am just on time. They find a car but it is nearly out of gas. I am in MANHATTAN ladies and gentlemen.... there are no gas stations. I head for the Lincoln tunnel and hope for the best.... it's tricky... I miss the turn. No problem. Circle back. After about the fourth try getting cut off, now there is a road block up. Okay, so just drive away and let the GPS plot a new course. I discovered the Holland Tunnel which wasn't so bad! I am on my way. Hmmmmm gas... it reads nearly empty but the little light isn't flashing. No gas stations in sight; I am now in New Jersey around some nasty looking landscape that says silently "Don't get off the highway here... you will never find gas and you may never find the highway again either". Drive... drive... drive. After almost an HOUR I see a sign for a 24 hour Exxon station. I don't care if gas is $6 a gallon.... I gotta stop. Wow, gas in New Jersey is only $2.25 a gallon AND they pump it for you; they don't allow you to pump your own gas. What a deal! AND it only took about 5 mintues to find the gas door release... I go inside and have a Twix for breakfast.
Back on the highway to Pennsylvania.... some little town outside Scranton. No problems, find the place I have to go but I am early so go looking for the hotel. For a town with only about 4 roads on the GPS there are an awfully lot of streets. GPS goes on strike because it can't change instructions as fast as I am driving and turning (which is like 25 mph).. technology! Sheesh. As I am about to give up and try to find a building that looks consumer friendly where I might ask some directions, I see around the corner a place called FRIENDLIES. Never heard of them but obviously an eatery and by the 300 lb people piling in and out of the door, I am figuring its like Denny's. Apparently they serve enormous Ice Cream Sundaes. It's 11:30 am and everyone is scarfing down ice cream. I have a bowl of chili and a cup of tea. It is, after all, about 50 degrees out and there is snow on the ground. After a nice deep breath and a glance out the window I realize the Ramada Inn I was looking for is across the street. How great is that? if I get frustrated after my meeting, I can go eat ice cream until I am sick. Great.
Being the more adult person, I do not return to Friendlies after the meeting., but check into the hotel and order room service.
I talk to my son and find out i have "borowed" a $1200 Armani designer bag he has never used. Oh, well. I am ready for some quality food. So I order in, Fillet Mignon, red potato and Ministrone soup. I knew it was going to be a less than stellar night when room service arrived 45 minutes later with a plastic bag. The gal in sloppy corderoys and a sweatshirt dumps the food on the bed side stand (even though there s a table and chairs in the room) and hands me the black folder. I ask for a pen and she says "I don't have one". I dig through my purse and she stands there.... and when I find a pen and take the little black folder I ask "where do I sign?" and she says, "Oh, you don't have to sign it". Too Wierd for me. I move the bag to the dining table and my fears are not relieved. Inside are about 6 styrofoam containers. One has lumpy mashed potatoes (they are supposed to be lumpy so that's not so bad, except they are not warm, and not cold.) The large black box has a hunk of meat and some onion rings with a plastic fork spoon and knife. I am supposed to eat Fillet Mignon with a plastic fork and knife. The ministrone soup has one undercooked piece of pasta in it and a few peas. I can't even eat it for the salt. The three styrofoam cups have iced tea in two and 30 packets of sugar, saccharin, etc...in the other. they kidly send six straws, perhaps as backup for the plastic knife? It all tastes like it sounds and I put most of it into the room refrigerator for midnight raid....that ice cream is starting to sound better.
Nothing exciting; I found the heater and turned it on, am snuggled down into bed and will maybe lose a pound I put on at Del Posta a couple days ago.
And what does this all have to do with Hawaii? Well, of course, it is because compared with my experience moving to Hawaii, this is a piece of cake! Didn't drop the vehicle down a puka. Even though the news showing storm conditions it isn't bad at all here. The weather-men must belong t the same union cauze looking out the window is telling me a very different story than the pictures on the news. The photos are probably from ... well.. not today... but the flooded streets look so dramatic.
All I can say is I may be gone a couple more weeks but Ia sure wish I were home in Hawaii, in the rainforest, with chickens and sheep and a tractor.
Tomorrow is a breakfast meeting. Wish me luck!
Pam
So, now that I have had such a wonderful day's food
I want to be the kind of woman that, when my feet
hit the floor each morning, the devil says
"Oh Crap, She's up!"
I have some business to take care of outside New York, so I reserve a car, get a GPS and set the alarm for early. The bag my friend gave me for overnight wasn't big enough for my computer too so I go into my son's closet and find a nice black bag that is just perfect. Cool. Loaded up, I head out on foot the four blocks to the car rental place. I stop about once a block as the bag is heavy, it's been raining and the ground is wet and I am breathing out what looks like smoke in the cold morning air. Schlep... schlep.... Oops, went the wrong way. Back I go.. schlep schlep. Stop, rest, schlep. It's raining now but only lightly. Amazingly they do have my reservation but alas, the car that is signed out to me is nowhere to be found. Ahhh, be proud of me; I have left an hour early or so I think. Turns out we changed the clocks back last night and I am just on time. They find a car but it is nearly out of gas. I am in MANHATTAN ladies and gentlemen.... there are no gas stations. I head for the Lincoln tunnel and hope for the best.... it's tricky... I miss the turn. No problem. Circle back. After about the fourth try getting cut off, now there is a road block up. Okay, so just drive away and let the GPS plot a new course. I discovered the Holland Tunnel which wasn't so bad! I am on my way. Hmmmmm gas... it reads nearly empty but the little light isn't flashing. No gas stations in sight; I am now in New Jersey around some nasty looking landscape that says silently "Don't get off the highway here... you will never find gas and you may never find the highway again either". Drive... drive... drive. After almost an HOUR I see a sign for a 24 hour Exxon station. I don't care if gas is $6 a gallon.... I gotta stop. Wow, gas in New Jersey is only $2.25 a gallon AND they pump it for you; they don't allow you to pump your own gas. What a deal! AND it only took about 5 mintues to find the gas door release... I go inside and have a Twix for breakfast.
Back on the highway to Pennsylvania.... some little town outside Scranton. No problems, find the place I have to go but I am early so go looking for the hotel. For a town with only about 4 roads on the GPS there are an awfully lot of streets. GPS goes on strike because it can't change instructions as fast as I am driving and turning (which is like 25 mph).. technology! Sheesh. As I am about to give up and try to find a building that looks consumer friendly where I might ask some directions, I see around the corner a place called FRIENDLIES. Never heard of them but obviously an eatery and by the 300 lb people piling in and out of the door, I am figuring its like Denny's. Apparently they serve enormous Ice Cream Sundaes. It's 11:30 am and everyone is scarfing down ice cream. I have a bowl of chili and a cup of tea. It is, after all, about 50 degrees out and there is snow on the ground. After a nice deep breath and a glance out the window I realize the Ramada Inn I was looking for is across the street. How great is that? if I get frustrated after my meeting, I can go eat ice cream until I am sick. Great.
Being the more adult person, I do not return to Friendlies after the meeting., but check into the hotel and order room service.
I talk to my son and find out i have "borowed" a $1200 Armani designer bag he has never used. Oh, well. I am ready for some quality food. So I order in, Fillet Mignon, red potato and Ministrone soup. I knew it was going to be a less than stellar night when room service arrived 45 minutes later with a plastic bag. The gal in sloppy corderoys and a sweatshirt dumps the food on the bed side stand (even though there s a table and chairs in the room) and hands me the black folder. I ask for a pen and she says "I don't have one". I dig through my purse and she stands there.... and when I find a pen and take the little black folder I ask "where do I sign?" and she says, "Oh, you don't have to sign it". Too Wierd for me. I move the bag to the dining table and my fears are not relieved. Inside are about 6 styrofoam containers. One has lumpy mashed potatoes (they are supposed to be lumpy so that's not so bad, except they are not warm, and not cold.) The large black box has a hunk of meat and some onion rings with a plastic fork spoon and knife. I am supposed to eat Fillet Mignon with a plastic fork and knife. The ministrone soup has one undercooked piece of pasta in it and a few peas. I can't even eat it for the salt. The three styrofoam cups have iced tea in two and 30 packets of sugar, saccharin, etc...in the other. they kidly send six straws, perhaps as backup for the plastic knife? It all tastes like it sounds and I put most of it into the room refrigerator for midnight raid....that ice cream is starting to sound better.
Nothing exciting; I found the heater and turned it on, am snuggled down into bed and will maybe lose a pound I put on at Del Posta a couple days ago.
And what does this all have to do with Hawaii? Well, of course, it is because compared with my experience moving to Hawaii, this is a piece of cake! Didn't drop the vehicle down a puka. Even though the news showing storm conditions it isn't bad at all here. The weather-men must belong t the same union cauze looking out the window is telling me a very different story than the pictures on the news. The photos are probably from ... well.. not today... but the flooded streets look so dramatic.
All I can say is I may be gone a couple more weeks but Ia sure wish I were home in Hawaii, in the rainforest, with chickens and sheep and a tractor.
Tomorrow is a breakfast meeting. Wish me luck!
Pam
So, now that I have had such a wonderful day's food
I want to be the kind of woman that, when my feet
hit the floor each morning, the devil says
"Oh Crap, She's up!"
I want to be the kind of woman that, when my feet
hit the floor each morning, the devil says
"Oh Crap, She's up!"
hit the floor each morning, the devil says
"Oh Crap, She's up!"