Luggage

Believe it or not, but I think that Saturday was finally the official end of the airport saga.  Of course not many of you know that it continued on that long...  If you didn't know, let me fill you in.

If you didn't already read about my day/night on Tuesday, this will be confusing to you.  In order to catch up, please read this.

I did  end up sleeping, from about 4:30 to 6:00, when I woke up by chance just in time to catch the first bus from the airport to Broomfield.  As soon as I got on the bus, I fell asleep and woke up by chance just in time to get off of the bus to hop on the other bus to my house.  

There was slush everywhere.  It was nasty and cold and gross.  The bus driver let me off just past the bus stop because there was a mountain of snow in front of the actual stop.  I stepped off into a puddle of slush.  In my ballet flats.  That are about as far from waterproof as shoes come.  It was cold and wet and gross.  And I had to walk 3 blocks in that.

By the time I got home, my jeans were wet to the knee, and my feet had hypothermia.  If that's possible.  And I was still so so so tired.  I plugged my phone into my car charger, went inside and emailed my parents to inform them what had happened, and fell into my bad.

A few hours later, I woke up and began the process of getting my luggage and $200 back from Frontier airlines.  I don't want to get into all of the gory details, but let's say this: I made probably 30 phone calls, talked to 5 different people, spent literally hours on hold, and left lots of messages and emails.  Nothing was more frustrating, though, than trying to get in touch with baggage services.

I called and called and called and called, and they would not answer their phone.  Sound familiar?  Yeah, sounds exactly like when I lost my keys and called RTD endlessly to no avail, right?  Apparently Coloradans, along with being flaky, don't answer their phones.  After trying ALL day Wednesday, and all morning Thursday, I gave up and decided to just go back to the airport to talk to the baggage people in person.

Kenny, being the smart guy that he is, suggested that we take the bus and drink on the way.  So we did.  Nothing over-the-top, mind you, but we did drink.  I was normal while I talked to the lady at baggage services, but it took a lot of fortitude not to freak out when she relayed what she knew: Despite the fact that I had canceled my flight long before then, and the fact that I wasn't even supposed to be on the flight, they sent my bag to Fargo at 11:00 Wednesday morning.  I understand that they were probably trying to save time and money by sending all bags to Fargo on one flight, but that is really not helpful to me, seeing as how I canceled my trip.  Then, after I had given her my information, she told me that they wouldn't be able to deliver my bag.  Why?  Because I was late arriving to the airport.  Never mind the fact that the bag never should have been sent or that I had called her office 30 times trying to tell them not to send it, or even just to talk to a person...

Whatever.  Finally, on Saturday morning, they called me to tell me that my bag had come back.  5 days after I was scheduled to fly.  So I took the bus to the airport one last time and got my life back. 

And I think that's the end.  I think.

Lusk, The End

When one goes to bed, wasted, at 4:00 in the morning, it's hard to get up at what I would normally consider a decent hour.  Instead, we got up at about noon, and it took Shauna and I a long time to muster the energy to roll out of bed.  Jettie, on the other hand, that hooker, doesn't get hangovers, and was up at practically 6:00 am, bright and sunshiny.  After taking 2 hours or so to get up and get ready, hungover beyond all measure, we headed out on the town to eat lunch. Thinking back on it, all we did that whole day was eat and sleep.  Awesome.

The Pizza Place had been recommended by a student of Jettie and the clerk of our hotel, so we headed that way.  Now, you can't make this stuff up: As we were walking down Main Street, one of our old man friends from the night before drove by and honked at us.  Hilarious.

The Pizza Place had excellent breadsticks and pizza, which served to soak up some of the alcohol that was still in our systems from the night before.  We also consumed large amounts of caffeine in order to make it through the day.  The food was excellent, the customer service was phenomenal, and the atmosphere (considering it was 2:30 in the afternoon) was wonderful.  We had a really great experience there.

We tried really hard to go shopping that afternoon in downtown Lusk, but the only thing that was open was the local drugstore, and their selection of Lusk souvenirs was scant, at best.  Instead of souvenirs, Shauna bought a case of water to help us make it through the day without dying of dehydration.  And somehow, even after 8 hours of passed-out sleep, we needed a nap.   We staved it off long enough to check out the end of main street that we hadn't yet seen.  We literally almost got run over by some lady backing out of her driveway (not used to pedestrians, I guess).  We found some sweet chairs outside of another hotel.  

Oh, and we got honked at.  Again.  By someone we didn't know.  Ha!

It was then nap time.  We were tired.  When we finally woke up from our nap, we decided to eat.  Again.  Supper this time.  We walked down the street to the Triangle 4, where we ordered daiquiris and were given sugar and rum.  They were so disgusting that we couldn't drink them.  Or maybe it was the hangover.  But really, it was the drink.

After a quick stop at the hotel, we went back to the Silver Dollar Bar, where the crowd was much younger than it had been the previous night.  The bartenders were sad that we were so much more mellow and that there was no hope of me drinking again.  Between the hours of 8 and 2, I had 3 drinks, and I was fine with it. 

Sunday morning, we got up and left town, leaving Lusk with memories of the crazy girls from ND.  We warned them, though, to watch out for next year...

Lusk - Part 1

When Jettie came to Boulder in October, we made preliminary plans to meet somewhere between Boulder and Medora sometime before summertime.  When Jettie plans something, it happens.  She's not one of those people who says, "Oh, hey, we should go to Las Vegas for a weekend once!" and then forgets about it.  If she says it, she likely means it's going to happen.  It therefore follows that her plan to meet somewhere between Boulder and Medora happened.
 

The meeting place turned out to be Lusk, WY, population somewhere around 1300.  We picked it because it's small (we like small town, trashy bars), approximately halfway between Boulder and Medora, and we thought it would have cowboys (that was much more important when both she and I were single).  I had been warned by a co-worker who had taken a similar trip once that the townfolk would either love us or hate us.  We were hoping they would love us, but expected they would hate us.
 

The drive took around four and a half hours, and I arrived about an hour before Jettie and Shauna.  I had a drink while I was waiting, and as soon as they arrived, we commenced drinking.  Keep in mind here that none of us had eaten supper yet.  After finishing our drinks, we left our motel and headed downtown, toward the Silver Dollar Bar, which turned out to be populated by an older crowd, in their 40's (?), 50's (?), and 60's (?), and they were happy to see us.  They were asking our names, why we were in Lusk, what we do, etc., etc., etc., while we had a drink and a shot.  When it was our turn to ask questions, we asked where we could get supper, and everyone's reply was "Fresh Start."  Fresh Start is the 24-hour convenience store.  Classy.
 

As we left to head to Fresh Start, already a little tipsy, a man came out of the bar after us and said, "Hey!  Where you ladies going?"  To which we replied, "We'll be back!"  At Fresh start, we had a wonderful "supper" of cold sandwiches, gas station nachos, and a jumbo cookie, all of which we ate while sitting on the curb outside of the place, watching at least 4 cops drive by 3 times each.  Literally.
 

Having eaten, we went to what the locals had called the bar for the young crowd, The Pub. We were not nearly as welcomed at The Pub.  People were staring, glaring, and the bartender was not nearly as friendly as the other two had been at the Silver Dollar.  We had our two drinks and high-tailed it out of there, back to the Silver Dollar, where our new-found friends were.
 

Much like what happened on my birthday, which is the last time that I drank with Shauna and Jettie, I don't remember much of the rest of the time at the bar.  I know that I sang a lot of karaoke, there was much dancing, much drinking, and lots of older men.  (And no cowboys.  Boo.)  I fell on my face on the dance floor when I tripped over the microphone cord.  But they loved us.  Even the bartenders thought we were a riot, and kept our drinks full for us.
 

At some point, the younger men that we had seen at The Pub came over, and now that both us and they were drunk, they decided they could talk to us.  I was pretty angry about the fact that they had been too good for us earlier, but suddenly wanted to be our friends.  They seemed nice enough, but not as nice as our older friends and dance partners.
 

They bought us drinks, Shauna got one of their numbers, and we inquired about an after-party.  This part of the night is very blurry in my memory.  Jettie tells me we were going to walk to these boys' house to play beer pong, when they drove by and decided to pick us up.  We shoved ourselves into their car, making a total of 7 of us in it.  I don't remember much, except that I couldn't close the door.  Even though the door was open, they kept driving.  I was freaking out.  Freaking out.  Why?  Well, my line of reasoning went something like this:
 

"Oh my gooooodneeeesss!!!  The car door is going to slam closed on my foot!  I'm going to lose my toes!  If I lose my toes, then I can't walk!  If I can't walk, I can't be a famous opera singer!  Stop the caaaaaar!"
 

They didn't stop the car, despite my screaming and bawling.  Yes, bawling.  Full-out crying.  When we arrived at the dude's place, Jettie and I stood outside so that she could console me.  Once she finally calmed me down, we went inside.
 

I was done.  I just wanted to sleep.  I couldn't sleep because I had the spins.  Bad.  I spent some time in the bathroom, wishing that I had a gag reflex so that I could get rid of the alcohol in my system, but alas, that strategy doesn't work for me.  After about an hour of mostly failed attempts, I laid on the couch and fell asleep, until Jettie woke me at nearly 4:00 am.
 

I apparently missed a lot of exciting stuff while I was sleeping.  Curtis, one of the boys, punched the wall.  Shane?  Shawn?  was mad because Shauna wasn't paying attention to him.  Some random girls were so angry that we were at the party that they said to the boys, "Don't you want real women?  Not some girls from North Dakota?"  (One was from SD, so I doubt that she was any better than the three of us.)  I slept through it all.
 

We had to walk back to our motel.  Jettie kept us going by continually telling us, "It's just a few more blocks."  Yeah, it was a bit farther than a few more blocks, but we eventually made it.  And we passed out until noon the next day...

A Very Vegas Adventure

One of the things that I was most looking forward to during Christmas break was our family vacation to Las Vegas.  Mom had been planning it for weeks and weeks, and neither Stacey nor I had been there before.  At first, we weren't excited to have our first trips to Vegas with our parents, because one can't get quite as crazy with the parents around, but as the trip got closer and closer and the details became more clear, we got more excited.

It was our first family vacation in years.

We were scheduled to leave on January 1st from Fargo, arriving in Vegas in the late evening, then returning to the Northland on the 4th.  The flight to Vegas was one of the most amusing (and annoying) parts of the trip.  The kids next to us were from Canada, and were headed to Vegas to have a good time.  If their attitude on the plane was any indication of the rest of their trip, they would succeed.  During they flight, they drank a lot, and were fortunate enough to win a little lottery during the flight.  Their excitement, unfortunately, was a little annoying to us mellow people, but it was fine.

We landed, were shuttled to the hotel, and were met by interesting hotel issues.  They hadn't cleaned our rooms yet (yes, at 10:00 pm), due to New Year's Eve being the night before.  Because of their error we got 2 queen-sized rooms on like the 35th floor.  It was the older part of the hotel, where the famous people used to stay before they added the new wing.  The paint was fantastic, the bathrooms were amazing, and the beds were beyond great.  The only bad part was the lack of a view, but we survived.

We were all hungry and itching to gamble, so after settling into our rooms without a view, we grabbed a late, late dinner and set out on the playing floor for a bit.  We were all exhausted.  Stacey and I managed to get to bed before Mom and Dad, but not long after they went to bed, we received sad news.  I don't want to go into details here, because there may be a blog on this topic later, if I can write it.  

The news that my Grandpa had died, although not a surprise, was still difficult, and issues surrounding his death had us changing our vacation plans.  We would have to leave Vegas earlier than intended, but did our best to enjoy ourselves while we were there.

That day, we walked a lot, and even ran into those kids who sat beside us on the plane.  We saw the fountains at the Bellagio and gambled and gambled and watched people take pictures with homeless people (probably the true low point of the trip).  If there could be a high point, it was definitely this:

 A lifelong Gwinner-ite had moved to Vegas, but was at home in Gwinner for a large bit of time around Christmas.  He had been raving about this place called "Bill's," which served really cheap steak and eggs or something after midnight, and Mom was determined that we go there.  So before we headed to the Venetian for the Blue Man Group, we sought out to find Bill's.  Finding Bill's was not hard, nor was finding a restaurant in Bill's.  

We walked up to the first restaurant we saw, and had enough time to literally glance at the menu on the wall before a hostess came out and said, "Four?"  Now, please let me say that our first hint that this was not the place that we wanted to be was the fact that she was wearing a red dress with tassels, a la the Old West.  We didn't take the hint, though.  

We were escorted into the place, and knew immediately that this was not the place for us.  The waiters were all in full-length coats, the walls were all covered in mirrors and red velvet, and the chairs (which were pulled out and pushed back in for us as we sat) were all high-backed and upholstered.  The table was set for a fine meal, with 3 forks, several glasses, and fabric napkins, which were laid upon our laps for us.  

We felt a little awkward in our jeans, casual shirts, and fall jackets.

As the waiter took our drink orders, we slowly took in our surroundings and the menu.  Mom and Dad each ordered a whiskey drink, and the waiter ran off to get them.  When we looked at the menu and saw that the least expensive item, a plate of pasta, was $20, we debated whether to stay or to go.  And if we decided to go, how does one leave such a place tactfully?  

We decided there was no tactful way, but that we had to leave in order to save our sanity and a little money.  Small-town folk really don't belong in a place like that.  Our waiter was taking a while to get our drinks, so we told the man who was filling our glasses with water that we were leaving.  He gave us the evil eye, and told our waiter, who came.  My mom's words to him were, "I'm sorry, but we've made a mistake."  Mistake.  Yeah, a big mistake.

He begrudgingly brought our ticket, the one with 2 whiskey drinks on it.  Our total was near $20.  Not kidding.  For 2 drinks.  We left money for him and escaped out the front door, leaving our dignity behind us.  

Never before I have I been so embarrassed, yet so entertained.  Ever.  

We walked around a corner to the place with the cheap steak and eggs, and enjoyed meals of chicken strips and kung pao chicken, then headed to see Blue Man Group, which was entertaining, but not as entertaining as our adventure in Bill's.

When we returned to the hotel, we stayed awake as long as possible, until we had to be at the airport at 5:00.  We headed home a day early, but enjoyed our time nonetheless.

Christmas in the Air

I remember going to WalMart last year and being appalled because they already had Christmas stuff out. 

It was the day after Halloween.

It still makes me mad, but there's nothing I can do about it.  It's commercialized holidays.  Blech.  I prefer holidays for their traditions.

Everyone has their own holiday traditions.  At Katie's house on Thursday, we listened to a song called "Alice's Restaurant" by Arlo Guthrie during Thanksgiving dinner.  They have listened to it on Thanksgiving for forever, I guess.  Talking about their family traditions made me think of my family's day after Thanksgiving tradition.

For many, many years, the day after Thanksgiving was reserved at our house for Mom going Black Friday shopping with Lori in Fargo while Dad, Stacey, and I went and found a Christmas tree.  Oftentimes, we went to a tree farm and cut our own.  Once we had it home, in the house, and on the stand, Mom and Dad would  put the lights on.   Then, Stacey and I had the job of putting on the ornaments, of which there were hundreds, maybe thousands.  Mom's philosophy was that there is no such thing as too many ornaments on the Christmas tree. 

Sometime after I went to college, we stopped cutting a tree, and Mom bought a fake one, so it's not quite the same.  And I haven't been home for two Thanksgivings now, so I can't help decorate.  It's kind of like the first time I wasn't home for Halloween and missed having homemade pizza.  The traditions are slowly dying...

I came home last night to find my apartment decorated for Christmas, and it made me downright depressed.  Christina and Jedd had set up a Christmas tree, hung stockings, and put out other decorations.  I, on the other hand, didn't get to decorate anything for Christmas: not my house at home and not my apartment here.  I never really realized that I valued the traditions.

I'm sure that someday, I'll have my own family, and we'll have our own family traditions.  Until then, I'll either have to make my own...  (or continue writing ridiculously sad blogs about what I miss about home)  ... LAME-O!

Vacation Weekend: Denver

Yet another sober weekend for Raissa.  I'm starting to like this more and more, strangely enough.

But just because it was sober doesn't mean it wasn't fun.

On Friday, Dennis and I headed down to Denver for some people watching and hanging out.  We started out at Rock Bottom Brewery, then watched drunk people and ate gelato on Larimer Square.  Kenny joined us, and we hit up a new (to us) bar on 16th Street called Tilted Kilts.  Pretty nice place, if you don't mind staring at practically bare-chested women for the duration of your stay.  Ironic that I was there with two gay guys...  While we were there, I ran into a kid from Jamestown who lived in Watson. I was his RA...

Saturday, Dennis, Kenny, and I went to Longmont for our studio teacher's housewarming party.  It was a good time, with mostly faculty and a few students mingling and eating some delicious curry chicken on a stick.  Mmmm...

Saturday night, Pasha and I had plans with the girls we met at International Coffee Hour a few weeks ago.  We hit up a Chinese restaurant in Boulder, then headed to Denver for the highlight of my weekend: Asian-style karaoke.  I'd never actually experienced Korean karaoke, but having had many friends from there, I more or less knew what to expect.

In Asian karaoke, instead of singing for a whole bar full of people who you don't know and having to wait 2 hours to sing,you can sing for only your friends and as often as you want to.  Each group gets its own room, and each room is stocked with books, a TV, a sound system, microphones, couches, and the like, and the people in your group are the only people who hear you.  You can all sing together, dance around, laugh, sing every 5 minutes, and have a great time.  It was totally worth $5.00 for 2 hours!

The people who we met at the karaoke place wanted to go clubbing in Denver.  I wasn't given that memo before we left, so I was not appropriately dressed for clubbing.  Instead of clubbing, Michelle, Marcus, Pasha, and I walked around downtown Denver, enjoying the crowds and some conversation.

On Sunday, I was completely unproductive.  I got up at noon, watched Season 2 of ER, went to church, and hosted a movie night in my apartment.

Now I have to get to work: blech.