Friday, March 26, 2010
Journey To Dublin
I picked up Lara at her apartment at nine thirty AM on Wednesday morning, March 10th, 2010. We left her apartment at ten AM and drove eighty miles in heavy traffic to her friend's house near downtown Orlando. We pre-arranged to have a taxi waiting for us at her friend's house at eleven AM. We arrived ten minutes late and the taxi was waiting for us when we got there. I parked my truck, grabbed my backpack, headphones, and camera, and headed directly toward the taxi. Lara was standing in the driveway with her luggage in hand, but she wasn't moving toward the taxi. She was looking at my truck. She tells me that my parking job could have been better. Without turning to look and evaluate my parking job, I tell her that it looks fine to me, and I dive into the back of the taxi. She doesn't like being ignored. I don't like driving eighty miles through heavy traffic. We are even. No need to discuss it any further.
The cabby asks us where we are headed. We tell him that we are going to Orlando International Airport. He asks us how to get there. I looked at Lara in bewilderment. She looked at me in what appeared to also be a look of bewilderment. We both then turned back to the cabby and noticed his GPS unit mounted on the dash. Then we both looked at the cabby in bewilderment.
Neither Lara nor I had any idea how to get from her friend's house to Orlando International Airport. We tell the cabby that we don't know where the airport his and that we were sort of hoping that he might know how to get us there. You know, because its a pretty big place that most people in the Orlando area have heard of, right? He nods his head and tells us that maybe he'll take this road to that road, and then get on this toll road, and then get on this that or the other road, and how would that be for us? Lara and I decide that would be just fine. So thirty minutes later and forty six dollars lesser, we found ourselves at Orlando International Airport.
We ate a fairly mundane lunch before a fairly mundane ninety minute flight to Atlanta International Airport. We arrived in Atlanta around three PM. As I walk through the domestic terminal, I take great pleasure in the sight of my fellow fat and lazy Americans, wearing their travel gear--which I would bet is the same clothes they sleep in--gorging themselves in McDonald's, or Panda Express, or sometimes both, in plain site for all to see. I love this. We seem to be proud of our fatness and laziness. We refuse to tuck our shirts in and we refuse to wear dress pants when we could be so much comfier in our sweatpants. We will show up in just about any public place in said sweatpants and start looking around for the nearest McDonald's because the MSG from our last meal is wearing off and our palms are starting to sweat and our shoulders are beginning to twitch. Americans will not rest until we have eliminated all dress codes and we have a chain restaurant in every public place in the world. It is the American dream.
Just as the putrid stench of McDonald's mixed with Panda Express is about to make me vomit all over my sweatpants, I find a reprieve from Americana when I find myself entering the International terminal. Its amazing how different it is in this terminal. Its quiet. Its not so crowded. I don't smell McDonald's. It feels sophisticated. Worldly even. I like feeling Worldly. It feels better than feeling Wal-Marty.
We depart Atlanta at six-thirty PM local time. The eight hour flight was relatively smooth. We were served dinner about two hours into the flight. I watched a movie. Slept for about two hours. Breakfast was served at some point near the end of the flight. I slept for another hour after breakfast. Or maybe I just stared at the seat in front of me. Its hard to tell. The sun rose as we descended into Ireland. My body thought it was two-thirty AM, but in Dublin it was seven-thirty AM. Time to start the day. Time to start our journey through Ireland.
The cabby asks us where we are headed. We tell him that we are going to Orlando International Airport. He asks us how to get there. I looked at Lara in bewilderment. She looked at me in what appeared to also be a look of bewilderment. We both then turned back to the cabby and noticed his GPS unit mounted on the dash. Then we both looked at the cabby in bewilderment.
Neither Lara nor I had any idea how to get from her friend's house to Orlando International Airport. We tell the cabby that we don't know where the airport his and that we were sort of hoping that he might know how to get us there. You know, because its a pretty big place that most people in the Orlando area have heard of, right? He nods his head and tells us that maybe he'll take this road to that road, and then get on this toll road, and then get on this that or the other road, and how would that be for us? Lara and I decide that would be just fine. So thirty minutes later and forty six dollars lesser, we found ourselves at Orlando International Airport.
We ate a fairly mundane lunch before a fairly mundane ninety minute flight to Atlanta International Airport. We arrived in Atlanta around three PM. As I walk through the domestic terminal, I take great pleasure in the sight of my fellow fat and lazy Americans, wearing their travel gear--which I would bet is the same clothes they sleep in--gorging themselves in McDonald's, or Panda Express, or sometimes both, in plain site for all to see. I love this. We seem to be proud of our fatness and laziness. We refuse to tuck our shirts in and we refuse to wear dress pants when we could be so much comfier in our sweatpants. We will show up in just about any public place in said sweatpants and start looking around for the nearest McDonald's because the MSG from our last meal is wearing off and our palms are starting to sweat and our shoulders are beginning to twitch. Americans will not rest until we have eliminated all dress codes and we have a chain restaurant in every public place in the world. It is the American dream.
Just as the putrid stench of McDonald's mixed with Panda Express is about to make me vomit all over my sweatpants, I find a reprieve from Americana when I find myself entering the International terminal. Its amazing how different it is in this terminal. Its quiet. Its not so crowded. I don't smell McDonald's. It feels sophisticated. Worldly even. I like feeling Worldly. It feels better than feeling Wal-Marty.
We depart Atlanta at six-thirty PM local time. The eight hour flight was relatively smooth. We were served dinner about two hours into the flight. I watched a movie. Slept for about two hours. Breakfast was served at some point near the end of the flight. I slept for another hour after breakfast. Or maybe I just stared at the seat in front of me. Its hard to tell. The sun rose as we descended into Ireland. My body thought it was two-thirty AM, but in Dublin it was seven-thirty AM. Time to start the day. Time to start our journey through Ireland.
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