how to get a booth to las vegas

B was tasked with getting the booth display to Las Vegas. It had to be at a Best Western at a particular time. It was going to be used by one of their partners, who are doing a demo of their product. When he called the hotel, and explained his needs, he was not impressed. He worried that despite FedEx’s best efforts, something would go wrong.

Since the stand weighs 85 pounds, taking it in our Civic was out of the question. It looks like a giant film canister on wheels, but there is no way to get in into the back seat or the trunk because of its size. He looked into renting an SUV, and determined that it was slightly less than sending the stand back and forth via a shipping company. It also meant he had some control over its safe arrival in the given time slot, and probably its safe return (in hindsight).

The only real issue was payment. In order to prepay the car, we had to pick it up at Burbank Airport. Not a problem, except the airport location is set up for people flying into Burbank. Fair enough. Still, one pass through the airport only to see signs saying “car rental vehicles only” had us pulling into a strip mall so B could find out if we really needed to park at the short term parking to pick up a car. Thankfully, we didn’t.

Since we hadn’t eaten, I decided to run into Panda Express while he figured things out. We shared some orange chicken, and accidentally figured out the best way into the car rental lot, bypassing another trip around the airport at 10mph.

We parked our car, and walked over the few hundred feet to the terminal. After a few minutes we were handed the keys to a Ford Explorer with almost 36,000 miles on it. No one walked us out to do a car inspection and there were no inspection papers in our folder. There was sap on the vehicle, a few minor dings, and the interior was filthy. All of the upholstery had stains. Our only other choice was a Hummer, but that is against my religion, even if it does get about the same gas mileage. Hello, we drove into this lot in a Civic with over 200k miles that still can get 40 miles to the gallon on road trips.

I called a guy over and he helped us note the issues, and we were finally on our way. I am the only authorized driver as one of the clauses in the fine print doesn’t cover non-citizens. Technically B is still a legal resident alien.

We headed back to the office to pick up the canister that holds the booth. I couldn’t figure out how to adjust the seat and was having trouble reaching the pedals. Also, the heat was on high, and I was already on the road and too anxious to try and figure that out. I rolled down the window and stayed in the slow lane with the trucks. Amazingly I didn’t make the wrong turn I usually do onto Colorado Boulevard. Also managed to get a parking spot on the ground floor to save us a trip in the elevator.

B’s coworker met us and helped us load up the car. We then followed him to his house, where we left our car, which I realized on the way over has a broken brake light. We also had to move the rest of our stuff that we were taking with us into the SUV. The fun part was that we were parking where the coworker’s neighbor parks, so he had to move his truck so we could park so he could get in and out. Of course he was ready to move his truck before we had everything out of the car. Still not sure we got everything we packed.

I figured out how to adjust the seat, and also how to control the heat. We even played a CD on the way to Vegas! There was a sticker on the window saying it had Sirus, but apparently that is an extra feature they didn’t try to sell us since we were pre-paid.

The next morning, we checked out of our hotel, and headed to the Best Western to drop off the stand. We arrived at the appointed hour. Pulling up to the hotel, I could tell that B had made the right decision. The place looked dirty and scary. He went inside to get someone to help him, but they basically wouldn’t do it. Thankfully the canister is on wheels, so he managed okay on his own, and saved giving them a tip. The killer part – after all of that – the stand is too tall for the room. One of the people suggested putting it outside, but we will just have to chalk that up to being from a foreign country.^* Maybe a homeless guy would take to a busy intersection and they could get free advertising that way?! Of course the question becomes how to get it back.


_____________________________________________________________________
^* Did I mention B’s parents wanted to stick the decorated Christmas tree on the front lawn to show the neighbor’s their holiday spirit? Yeah, they really did.


on the night stand :: The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff

nineteen days

It's sounds like a long time, but really it isn't. Nineteen days is the amount of time I have to get this house back in order. The time I have left to mentally prepare myself for the arrival. To convince B that we should just head north or east. Be anywhere but here for the holidays. All we need is an Internet connection.

I have a list in my head of all that needs to be done. I need to commit it to paper. I have been so anxious, I just haven't been able to let myself do that.

I also need to prepare for Christmas. I promised myself I would get my cards out on time this year. I have the blanks. My address book is a mess though. And of course I need something to go on the front. That's the hard part.

There is also the question of the tree. This has been a big issue with me and B for years. When we thought B's nephews were coming for Christmas, it seemed like a no brainer. Now, it seems like something I could be judged for as being frivolous or taking over a house that isn't mine. Of course it didn't stop me from bringing home three reindeer ornaments from Starbucks today. I have this idea in my head of having a Twitter themed tree. Very high brow. No one would get it.

And of course there are thoughts of what happens once they arrive. I am a planner by nature. For better or worse, I like to know what is going to happen. I think this is what is driving me crazy. Although this is major progress - getting almost a months notice - we still know little about their plans. So the question remains do we just plan as if they weren't here, or do we keep our calendar open? Either way, I think we are screwed.

Today's progress included taking in the recycling, which required going to two centers. The first was not accepting glass. I also got some tips on taking a preschooler to Disneyland. I apparently need to get bandaides.

Nineteen days is roughly 456 hours or 27,360 minutes. Nineteen days is less time than they will be here.

It's really a pity I don't drink.


on the night stand :: More Information Than You Require by John Hodgeman

happy camper

Since Uni-Camp had worked out so well, the next summer we found ourselves at Girl Scout Camp. This was probably my worst camping experience.

To be fair, I really wanted to go to the horseback riding group, but was too young by about 3 months. It sucked. I still joke when B asks me what I want for my birthday - I say a pony. At this group each girl got her own horse for the duration of camp. You learned how to care and ride a horse, and you didn't even have to clean up after it! I couldn't think of a better way to spend two weeks, but as much as I begged, I could not talk my mother into lying about my age.

And so I was sent to the basic group with my sister, who was just a year younger than me. That meant my sister and I were in the same squad. Basic camp sucked. The Girl Scout motto is "be prepared", but clearly the people who ran this place didn't get the memo. We were at the first session and nothing was ready. We spent most of our craft time, sorting out the stuff in the craft room. Crafting was sold as a big part of the session, but I think we came home with a couple of key chains and a leather bookmark.

The main thing we did was clean. If I had wanted to clean, I could have just stayed home. Every morning we were assigned a chore. This was after we had breakfast and a spin of the wheel determined if you cleared, washed, rinsed, dried, put away, swept the floors or got a pass. I think I got a pass once, which statistically doesn't seem possible (the wheel was spun at every meal). In the afternoons, we also cleaned. The most ridiculous thing we did was rake the camp. Our counselors insisted that the rake lines show. It made me so angry. I wrote letters home every day telling my Mom how awful this place was. I also told her the camp counselors were prejudice and hated me.

Then one morning, on my way back from the no-flush toilets, my counselor came up to me and made me promise not to get mad. She went on to tell me that my "bunk mate" had broken my glasses while she was cleaning up her area. The lenses were glass, and one of them had shattered. I didn't own a spare, and so would just have to go blind the rest of camp. Additionally this girl nor her parents nor the camp would be help responsible for the damage caused. I wanted to tell this stupid bitch "do you think my Mom 'won't get mad' when I come home with broken glasses and she has to pay to fix them?!"

But this was going to be the least of my problems. One morning my sister passed out at the morning flag ceremony. Instead of taking her to the nurse, they made her stand again, and finish the flag ceremony. She passed out again.

They figured she was just hungry and so took her into the dining hall. They once again insisted she stand during the moment of silence, and she passed out a third time, hitting her head on the window, breaking a glass pane. Actually I think she had a seizure at this point. Finally they decided she should go to the nurse. I started crying and got out of eating my oatmeal.

Since my sister seemed fine, they didn't bother to call my Mom or even take her off site to a doctor. They figured she was just hungry and maybe stressed. Of course I wrote home about it. And this time my Mom took action.

She showed up at the Girl Scout Counsel office when they opened the next morning, and showed them my letter. She demanded to know what was going on. She really wanted to talk to us, but they insisted that she not do so. They told her it would be bad for our morale. They insisted my sister was fine, and said that I was probably just exaggerating about making my sister stand repeatedly when clearly she was not feeling well. I don't know if they threatened to call the police, but amazingly my mother left without talking to us.

What no one realized is that my sister was epileptic. What is really odd is that the first time she had passed out was at a Holy Roller church, where we ended up at the local emergency room. They didn't catch it then. And when we went back (now about 3 years later) for our pre-camp checkup, the nurse remembered us. Still though, they missed it.

Towards the end of camp they had us spend the night up near where the horse camp was. We slept in their rec room. These girls didn't do chores all day. They didn't have to build a fire to take a hot shower. They showered every day, and not every three days like we did. They had a washer and dryer for their clothes - not a washboard and metal tub. They even had toilets that flushed. I was so ready to go home. This was torture - seeing what I couldn't have.

On the last day of camp, while we waited for the buses, we had a final singalong in the mess hall. It turned into one giant cry fest. I found one other girl who couldn't wait to go home. We promised each other we wouldn't cry, but we fell victim to all the estrogen in the room.

I was glad it was over when we arrived back at the pick up point. And once my Mom got over her glad you are back, boy was she angry about my broken eye glasses.

on the night stand :: Ella Sets Sail

burning bush

Tonight as we were sitting down to dinner, I saw a flash of light in the neighbor's yard. It wasn't exactly clear what was happening, but something definitely was wrong. I suspect there was an addition of too much lighter fluid to the grill and POOF - up went a few branches. Thankfully they reacted quickly and the crisis was averted.

It was a bit scary. The neighbor is behind us, and there is a line of trees along the end of their yard, along our fence. If that went up, it is only the lawn between the fire and the house. Thankfully the sprinklers had just gone off. Still, one more reason to add a pool. No?

This little fire scare reminded me of an incident that happened when we were living in Austin. We had come back from spending the day in the Hill Country in an effort to get away from the craziness that had entered my life with my mother's death. It was July 4th weekend, but not Independence Day. I got out of the car and as I started walking towards the house, noticed that the fence was on fire and one of our bushes was burning!

Our neighbor, a fire fighter on medical leave, had rented one of those gigantic grills - the kind you need to hitch to the back of a truck to move. He had dumped the used charcoal in his yard, and went to return the grill. He didn't douse the hot charcoal, and it started a small grass fire that made its way to our shared wooden fence.

Their dog was in their yard, barking. No one was home - I tried knocking and ringing the bell. I turned on their hose in their front yard and tried and put out the fire, but it was the kind that had holes in it, so it didn't help. Meanwhile B got out our hose and I called 911.

Fire trucks were on the scene within three minutes. The operator kept me on the line until help arrived. We could almost immediately hear the sirens heading my way.

Once I knew things were taken care of, I went inside. But before I did, our neighbor returned. He actually had the gall to tell the firefighters on scene that I had over-reacted by calling them. I had no idea how long the fire had been burning, or when he would be returning. The guys were buddies of his, so I don't think he wasn't even cited.

on the night stand :: The Pixar Touch

there are no figs in figgy pudding

Here we are just two days left in November and I feel so conflicted. I think part of it is just having everything up in the air regarding the holidays makes me edgy. Having plans and being able to make a to do list would keep me busy and out of trouble. But of course I know it goes deeper than that.

Here are things in a nutshell: B's sister sent him an email suggesting she spend the holiday in LA (she has a husband and two children under 3). B was a bit surprised, and my initial reaction wasn't much better. B replied back trying to dissuade her, believing that if she came, his parents would also join them. His concern was more how I would react to being together under the same roof. And unfortunately I share his concern.

So last night, we talked about it AGAIN. Keep in mind, we still have no answers from anyone, AND our initial thought about the holidays was to go away as Thanksgiving kind of sucked donkeys. The bottom line is that I asked him if my issues were taken out of the equation, how much would he want his entire family (his other sister would also likely join in on the festivities) to spend the holidays with him. His response: "a six or a seven". That's out of TEN, by the way.

That's pretty high. I didn't expect a 10. I was hoping for a 2, but I figured maybe a 5. B loves his family, but he also has issues with them.

So now the big question. Do I try and push for this to happen? There aren't too many Christmas holidays that this would work out? Or do I push for us to make plans to go out of town?

I should step back here and talk about my concerns about being under one roof for the holidays. Me and B's family are like oil and vinegar. We just don't like each other. In my defense, I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that we don't really know each other. Some of it has to do with the fact that B tried (and succeeded) in separating us. Another part has to do with obligation, and how his parents feel none towards me. And another part has to do with a theory that a friend of mine has that when you meet your potential in-laws at a young age, they always see you at that age (or at least it is a very difficult thing to overcome).

The first meeting of B's parents was memorable, although to this day, I don't think they realize what happened. I will repeat this story, but long time readers can skip if they like. Here is how things went down:

B and I had been living together. His parents didn't know it, and he was going to make sure they didn't find out. So as his graduation approached, I found a sublet and moved my stuff there, although I didn't start spending the night there until they came (and eventually kidnapped him).

B and I knew they would start their trip to the US in Los Angeles, but they wouldn't give him a date as to when they were visiting him in Berkeley. We had gone out shopping (it was a weekend afternoon) and returned to B's apartment to find a message on the answering machine from his parents. They were at Harris Ranch (the midpoint on the 5 between LA and SF), and planned to be in town in a few hours. According to the time stamp, that would be any minute, and so I panicked. I was certainly not dressed or in any way ready to meet these people.

Soon thereafter, there was a buzz on the intercom. Holy crap - they are here! No way!

Thankfully we were on the fifth (top) floor of the apartment, in the back. B didn't have a car. So there was no way to tell if he was home. I said we should just wait it out and they will go away. Ha! You won't believe what happened next, but I assure you this is true:

When the buzzing stopped, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then a few minutes later, the phone started ringing. I thought if we didn't answer it, they would get that B was not home. I figured they would leave a message with their plan and I could go shower and change (at my apartment).

Apparently this is not how these people worked. Now not only was the phone ringing, there was now knocking on the door! Simultaneously!! The building wasn't very secure, so clearly one of our lovely neighbors had let them in.

The ringing, buzzing and knocking, simply wasn't going to stop. These people weren't going to go away. So I did the only thing I could - I HID IN THE CLOSET.

This whole thing probably lasted about 15 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. B eventually did answer the door. He said he had been taking a nap. Oy!

The good news is he got rid of his parents quickly. He lived in a tiny studio apartment with no real furniture to speak of, so it wasn't like he could invite them in and chit chat. It still doesn't make sense to me why they didn't just leave a message, or better yet call from the hotel and make plans to meet for dinner.

Honestly, I never saw anything like this. Who treats their son like this? This was a behavior of a scorned lover, not ones parents visiting from out of town with no itinerary. The banging on door while the other is downstairs calling from a pay phone on the corner was kicking things up. I almost never wanted to come out of the closet. Who were these people?!

But this was my first impression of them, and it has been a hard one to break. I don't think that they have changed much. They are still about control. They don't act like adults. They don't respect their children. They still don't tell us when they are coming to visit until the very last second and then more than likely change their plans anyway.

So while I know what I am up against, I need to decide what I am willing to do this Christmas. I don't want B to miss out on an opportunity to spend with his family. Part of me knows that I will be missing mine again this season, and certainly wouldn't wish that on anyone. At the same time, I am not sure how I wouldn't be miserable while they are around.

I wish I knew the answer. Of course, they could make it easy and make other plans. I just want to know what we are doing so I can move forward.

on the night stand :: 2008 Moleskin Large Red Daily Planner- Limited Edition