Can anyone name the source of my title quote? Anyway, I'm back from NYC for NCTE. I shall do a series of blog posts about it (Don't I always say that and only end up doing one or two?), the first being about the actual travel experiences. On the way, our flight was delayed for about two hours. It wasn't horrible, and Matt and I ate some funky sandwiches at O'Hare. Our car ride from the airport was pleasant, and our hotel room was nice and in the middle of everything. It seemed great until... The cheerleaders arrived! Freakin' 7 billion cheerleaders, all to appear in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, were staying in our hotel. I don't know if they were all cheerleaders, but I actually called the front desk and asked, "Are there any floors without cheerleaders?" And the woman laughed at me. Because it was funny. And because the answer was no. Now, I do have to say, they weren't that bad. It just happened that Saturday night Matt and I were really tired and just wanted to order room service and watch a movie in our hotel room and really did not want to hear teenagers in our hallway. But they were done by 11:00, and weren't super loud. It just felt weird knowing they were right outside our door.
In other travel news, I am always afraid of people driving me places, so taking a bunch of cabs was going to be stressful, I knew. I was pleasantly surprised that so many cab drivers were nice and drove fine. Until I had a horrible driver coming back from the Jewish Museum (to see the absolutely perfect William Steig exhibit. I cried when I saw the original Sylvester and the Magic Pebble drawings. I'm tearing up now). He had some serious road rage, which seems to me that you would have serious heart issues if you were cab driver and have road rage. You're in your car ALL DAY. And it was sad, because I had a very nice driver on the way to the museum. My mom has sort of instilled this fear in me that I shouldn't talk about being Jewish because you never know who's out there hating you, and I almost just gave the cab driver the address instead of saying "The Jewish Museum." But I did say it, and guess what? My driver then said he was Jewish and he'd never been to that museum. It was a nice conversation.
Our second driver of suck came on our final ride of the trip. The guy who drove us back to the airport was a jammer-- pressing too spazzily on the accelerator AND the brake. And he was all speeding and swervy. I'm not just being some hillbilly about drivers in New York (Hello, I'm from Chicago. And besides, other places have way worse drivers. And even more besides, I actually lived in NYC and drove in NYC, so I can handle the flow). By the time we got to the airport, Matt and I were both really nauseated. I am thinking of saying something to the company. Is that weird? I never know, but I don't think someone should be allowed to drive people around if they're not going to do it well.
Lastly, I wasn't sure if our plane would make it out on time because of rainy weather, but it did-- until we had to pull over and sit IN the plane for an undetermined amount of time. When the captain announced this, everyone groaned, and I panicked. I have heard too many stories of nine hour waits inside an airplane. I was getting claustrophobic and weepy and freaked. Luckily, we only had to sit for an hour and half (which isn't horrid, compared to what it could have been). I always wondered when the on-board wait would happen to me. And there ya go.
Well, I'm stuffed on my Baker's Square meal. I had a half slice of Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup pie, which is weird because I know I'm going to be pie-ing it up come Thanksgiving. But whatever. This is a week of pie-filled debauchery, and I'm starting early.