treefroggirl

posted by Thomas on Aug 13

Soon I will be floating in my parent’s pool or in the ocean.

Stuart and I leave tomorrow to visit my folks in Charleston, where I will be doing very little other than cause myself serious skin damage.

I’m all packed. I am now a master packer. When I go on business trips I even just take a carry on. I still take a ton of stuff, but instead of five pairs of shoes I take two.

The last two years at this time we have gone on a road trip. Last year was Spain and the year before was France. Both years we had an amazing time but it was go-go-go-go-go-go-go-go and this year I really just needed to have some sun to help get me through the approaching darkness.

When I lived in California, I had no idea. I mean I knew the weather was good. I lived in Seattle for two years before LA, but after a year you forget. You think it’s normal to wear a short sleeve dress in April and to crank up the AC.

Not to say the weather is that bad here. It really isn’t. It’s not Russia or Chicago. It just isn’t Maui, but then again few places are.

So we’re off. Off for some sun and cervaza and food and hanging out with the parentals.

Then we have to come back and get cracking. Lots of things to get done. Work is going to heat up plus finishing the play plus exercising.

Winter is coming grasshopper. . .

posted by Thomas on Jun 24

I was supposed to be in Seattle by now, but there were problems with the plane that was supposed to take me there. Something about a fuel leak. They wanted to fix it before we left, and that seemed like a good idea to me. So it would be a bit later before I had my jet lag killer of Mexican food and a few margaritas.

After 45 minutes of there trying to fix the fuel leak they turned on the in entertainment system which was a bad sign. I had been upgraded to business class so at least I was comfortable.

I watched My Boys, a sitcom that one of my friends is in. The only time I get to watch it is when I am on a plane. I need to buy the DVDs. Then I watched The Other Boleyn Girl, which is so trashily terrible, I found it engaging. I must admit that I enjoyed the book in one of those “I must read this at home as fast as possible so no one sees me with it in public” kind of ways but the movie doesn’t even have that to commend it. If you didn’t understand what a big deal it was for Henry to break with Rome, you certainly wouldn’t gain any insight here. It’s pure soap opera costume bodice ripping drivel.

At least it was free.

We kept getting updates that they didn’t have any updates.

Four hours in, the Captain came back to talk to us. Never a good sign. They were going to take us off the plane as the folks in cattle class were really uncomfortable.

I could see my planned dinner at Mama’s Mexican Kitchen slipping away.

While we were waiting to de-plane, they told us the flight was cancelled and would now be leaving at 11am the next day.

Sigh.

A long day of travel without going anywhere. I found it amusing that I had to go through passport control without actually leaving the country.

I must say however, that British Airways was fantastic in how they handled everything. They let us know what was going on, kept us as comfortable as they could and were very professional.

So here I am waiting to board again. I’m on my third coffee trying to estimate when it would be not too unseemly to have a cheeky airport cocktail.

It must be 5PM somewhere. . .

posted by Thomas on May 17

Luckily all the treadmills were being used in the gym and I went for a long walk through Belltown, up Queen Anne North and back down to Alaskan Way (don’t recommend sections of that unless you like walking through gaggles of vagrants, drunks and crack heads) down First and up Madison to Ninth then back down Spring along 6th to home at the Westin.

Was late enough that people were out getting their coffee and walking their dogs, but early enough that there wasn’t a queue at Mecca and The Market wasn’t (yet) soul destroying.

Walking down the Counterbalance- picture postcard moment. Standing (panting) under a leafy tree and down below me to the left is the city squinting her eyes in the sun, glittery-shimmery and in the distance, floating in the air, The Mountain was out.

Life is good.

Once I have some coffee, it will be even better.

posted by Thomas on May 17

I get to go home today and I am happy, happy, happy about it.

There are benefits to business travel certainly. Get to hang out with colleagues you usually communicate with over phone, e-mail or Facebook poking. Get to see friends that live in that city. Nice to go to restaurants and expense your meal rather than calculating what that meal will do to your bottom line to the rest of the month. Lovely to be able to take showers. . . our shower at home is such crap, I refuse to use it. While you might think it is wasteful of me to take a bath rather than suffer through the trickle of water that they call a shower at our house. . . I just don’t care.

The best part of business travel is the bed. Nice big King size just right level of firmness and softness mattress with a fluffy comforter and a million and one pillows. I like to stay at The Westin and they call it The Heavenly Bed. It is heavenly. This has been my view from my Heavenly Bed for the last week.

And this is the view from my Heavenly Bed at night. . .

I would love to actually sleep in a Heavenly Bed when I’m not dealing with some level of jet lag. I often will wake up in the early morning and discover that I have been on a little trip while I have been sleeping and instead of laying head to foot, I’ve managed to flip around so I am lying sideways along the bed. One of the benefits of being in a big king sized bed (and only being 5’ 3’’).

But I am going home to our poxy shower and our tiny double sized bed that I share in a tiny little room with a view of other people’s gardens.

Stuart is meeting me at Paddington.

I can’t wait.

posted by Thomas on May 7

Walking off the plane in DC onto the bus tram thing that will take us to passport control. I’m carrying my carry-on, hand bag and my rucksack with my very heavy computer. Rucksack is slung over my right shoulder. All of a sudden I feel a snap and I feel a bit free. I realise with a small amount of oh god why me, that the rucksack has managed to do what most boys I have been with are unable to do. . . unhook my bra strap.

I sit down next to my ex boss who is now my dotted line manager.

I reach behind myself up under the shirt and refasten the girls. There was no way I could do this manoeuvre subtly.

“Excuse me. My bag just unhooked my bra.”

Mark looked bemused and thankfully looked away.

posted by Thomas on Apr 6

I’m in New York City for the Performance Improvement Conference- and god knows that I need to improve. Should be good stuff- although the classes that I have picked for myself are rather telling. They include:

Storytelling Impacts Performance
Have a Nice Conflict
The Narrative Spark: Leveraging the Instructional Power of Story
Training to Image: Improvisational Tools for Enhancing Performance

Even though my flight arrived at 11:40, I wasn’t sitting in my hotel until a little after 3PM for reasons too tedious to report in their minutia, so I have seen nothing of New York other than the view of Times Square from my window.

Last night there was a little opening session and reception at 5:30- but given that I had gotten up at 5:00 GMT I wasn’t up to having conversations where I would have to pretend to be an intelligent, thoughtful, funny and interesting person and all I had in me was, “Guhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Which way did he go George?” I decided it would be best to not attend. So I called Janelle and we made plans for me to walk to her apartment and hang out for a couple of hours.

At 4:45 I knew that wasn’t going to happen so I cancelled, ordered a very tasty but ridiculously overpriced hamburger from room service and was in bed by 6:45 PM.

Of course I then got up at 4AM. The plan was to wait for the sun to rise and then go for a walk. Then I got hungry around 5:30 so at 6 I ordered a very tasty but ridiculously overpriced Denver omelette and trolled around online.

Today, when I’m done at 5, after many classes on how to enhance knowledge, know-how and results, my plan is to put on my walking shoes, walk to central park, walk back, get ready for dinner and then go have a very large, ridiculously overpriced and hopefully very tasty steak.

posted by Thomas on Mar 8

Stuart is in China for work. Got the following text this morning:

These guys don’t mess about. Finally found a place to eat, or so I thought. Ordered chicken soup. It turned out to be a huge bowl with a dead baby chicken complete with head. 2pm here and I’m starving.

Poor thing. . .I gave him a call.

“I was in a Wal-Mart, and some crabs escaped and people were just walking around them. They’re nuts here. “

“Crabs, like little pet crabs?”

“No crabs like big fuck off eat them with cocktail sauce. They have a huge fish section. You’d love it here. Other than being in the Wal-Mart.”

(I refuse to shop at Wal-Mart because of their poor labor practices.)

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Umm. Not really.”

“I was worried about this. Maybe ask at the hotel to send you to a place that will help you pick something.”

“Yeah. Did you read my text about the chicken?”

“Yeah. Did you eat any of the soup?

“I tried, but the baby chicken was bobbing under the surface and it kept looking at me. Slightly put me off.”

“Maybe you should have eaten it.”

“Yeah. That will teach it to watch me while I’m eating dinner.”

posted by Thomas on Jan 31

In some ways, Dublin freaks me out like America does with people being friendly. My cab driver last night started polite conversation by asking where I flew in from.

“London.”

“That’s not where you are from though!”

I laughed, “No, that is not where I am from.”

I went into my usual tap dance and finished with I am thinking of becoming a British citizen in a year.

“Don’t be doing that. You’re selling your soul to the devil!”

I laughed.

I discovered that he is afraid of flying and his girlfriend is afraid of water which is a pain when you live on an island.

Really nice guy. He added the big tip I gave him for being a nice guy to the printed receipt so I expense the whole thing.

Everywhere people are friendly. I’m sure when I wander away from the hotel I will find some unfriendly Irish, but I have a feeling it will be harder than it is in London.

*Gaelic for “The weather was wet and windy this morning.” Which it was. Crazy winds and rain a few hours ago. Now it is just cold and wet and I am not looking forward to facing it out there.

posted by Thomas on Jan 11

Next week I am going to the Paris office for a couple of days. There is an actual legitimate reason for the trip. It’s not just about me wanting some nice food although that will be a pleasant and not to be avoided side effect.

My hotel is in Montparnasse so I went online to see what places I could get a nice meal there Wednesday night after I get off the Eurostar.

There is Le Dome of course, but I don’t want to take the piss with my expenses, plus it sounds really touristy. Then I came across Wadja and I read review after review calling this little bistro a gem. Good food and cheap.

I asked Celine for help so I could call and make a reservation over the phone. Tried to call but our phones at work are acting up so I will try to be brave later.

Celine gave me this helpful phrase: *Je suis desolee mais mon francais est un peu limite. I have a feeling it will generally be a useful thing to add to the few phrases I know.

*Those that know French please forgive the lack of accents.

posted by Thomas on Jan 2

Stuart and I sometimes do not travel well together when things do not go exactly to plan. For some reason we start sniping on each other which makes slightly stressful situations not so good. I suspect that we are entertainment for our fellow travelers – like we are putting on a little play.

Act One

The flight December 21st out of Gatwick was delayed an hour due to fog. This was slightly annoying but not a big deal as we had a 2.5 hour layover in Atlanta so we still have an hour and a half to make our connection..

Cut To: We get on the plane and we can’t take off for another hour because of the weather. We resign ourselves to the fact that we won’t make our connection and we’ll need to get on another flight to Charleston.

Things are slightly complicated by we were flying BA for the International flight and Delta for the US domestic. This will be important later.

We get off the plane and get told off slightly by immigration for going through the US line rather that the foreign line as scanning Stuart’s eyeball and fingerprinting him takes time. Luckily Delta had an information and ticketing desk right outside so we queue up straight away.

Stuart: Now don’t tell them we missed our flight. Tell them our flight was delayed.
Nicole: But our flight was delayed.
Stuart: I know but don’t start with that we missed our flight.
Nicole: I’m not an idiot.
Stuart: I didn’t say that you were an idiot.
Nicole: Yes you did.

We get on standby. If we don’t get on this plane we will need to spend the night in Atlanta. We go to the gate. I sit down.

Stuart: We need to stand at the gate.
Nicole: We’ll hear our name being called.
Stuart: We need to be standing right there because if we miss our name, they will give the seat away.
Nicole: And we are so far away from the desk here. It’s like Siberia.
Stuart: Have you flown standby before?
Nicole: Yes!
Stuart: What country?
Nicole: THIS ONE. Fine. Let’s move. You want to move. Let’s move.
Stuart: No. . .
Nicole: No, you want to stand right on top of the gate so let’s move.

We move. A few minutes pass.

Stuart: Do you have my passport?
Nicole: No.

Stuart is opening every pocket in his jacket and his bag. No passport.

Stuart: Are you sure you don’t have my passport?
Nicole: No!

Nicole looks in every pocket in her jacket and bag. Stuart runs off to look in the loo. He returns a few minutes later with his passport.

Stuart: It was over on the chairs over there. If we weren’t moving around and just stayed still. . .

Nicole glares at Stuart.

Rather than announcing who got seats there was an electronic board. I controlled myself from pointing out to Stuart that we had a better view of the board at the seats than where we were standing.

Act Two

Friday the 28th Stuart and I were feeling rather smug as Jen’s flight to Chicago was seriously delayed due to snowstorms. Smug that is until our flight to Atlanta was delayed an hour and a half.

Our layover in Atlanta was an hour and a half so unless the flight to Gatwick was delayed, we were seriously fucked.

They told us there would be information regarding connecting flights on the board at the gate.

I was feeling Zen. We missed the flight. We would just have to talk to BA and we would get sorted.

Zen until Stuart saw that the flight to Gatwick was delayed. Maybe we would make it!

He ran off to go to the gate. I follow. He stopped and looked at another Departure board. The information wasn’t there. We go back to the gate we just arrived from. There it was – A London Gatwick flight leaving at 7:30. But. . .

Nicole: Stu, wait. That isn’t the BA flight number. That’s a Delta number.
Stuart: What?
Nicole: That isn’t our flight number. Maybe we should ask someone.
Stuart: Who are you going to ask?
Nicole: Someone over there.
Stuart: That’s Delta. They aren’t going to know.
Nicole: Don’t talk to me like that.
Stuart: I’m sorry, but that’s just stupid.

The boarding pass I had printed from BA said that our flight was out of Terminal N. I missed it detailed that the gate was E14. This will be important later.

We run off in search of Terminal N.

Nicole: Stu. Something isn’t right.
Stuart: What.
Nicole: The terminals. On the signs. A, B, C, D, E and T. There isn’t an N.

We get all the way to nearly baggage. Walk/ running. If you know Atlanta, you know this is a little bit of a hike.

Nicole: Maybe we should ask someone?
Stuart: Who are you going to ask?
Nicole: I don’t know. Someone.
Stuart: That’s just stupid.

A moment later Stuart walked up to someone asking where Terminal N was. There is no Terminal N. There is however a Terminal E which all of the International flights leave from.

We hop on the tram. Stuart glares at me.

Nicole: What?
Stuart: Terminal N.
Nicole: Well that’s what the boarding pass says doesn’t it. Not my fault is it? (Nicole looks at her boarding pass.) Oh look. Gate 14E. (Pause.) Don’t look at me like that. You know you could look at this stuff too. Why is it up to me to say what and where and you’re running around like a freaked out little half-cocked yappy dog. A yippy Paris Hilton accessory with a little red jumper. It isn’t MY fault the plane was delayed an hour and a bloody half was it?

People were starting to stare.

We run toward gate 14 E. Stuart looks up at a board.

Stuart: It’s left.
Nicole: Let’s go to the gate and ask.
Stuart: Ask? Who are you going to ask? No one is going to be there.
Nicole: There might be someone there.
Stuart: That’s just stupid.

A man at an information desk tells us that we should go out to ticketing and talk to BA out there.

We get out to the BA ticket counter. Crickets. Tumbleweeds. I stand there for a moment hoping that someone will pop up from behind the counter to save me from this nightmare.

Stuart does the unthinkable and asks the agent at the next desk airline where the BA folks are.

Thick Southern Accent: Oh sugar. They’re gawwun. They’re gawwun for the night.

We call Expedia.

Nicole: BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH and we just want to know who is responsible for getting us home. BLAHBLAHBLAH. Please help. . .

Expedia is incredibly unhelpful. They tell us to talk to BA or to Delta. That it isn’t their problem. They don’t give me the numbers to the airlines.

We go to speak to Delta.

Stuart: Now don’t tell them we missed our flight. Tell them our flight was delayed.
Nicole: But our flight was delayed.
Stuart: I know but don’t start with that we missed our flight.
Nicole: I’m not an idiot.
Stuart: I didn’t say that you were an idiot.
Nicole: Yes. Yes, you just fucking did.

Delta: Well BA is responsible for getting you home.
Nicole: BA is gone for the night. Is there anything you can do to help us?
Delta: If the flight was delayed because of weather there is nothing we can do to help you. Was the flight delayed for weather?
Stuart: We don’t know but we called BA and they told us that it is your responsibility to get us home.

I consider killing him right there for lying about our speaking to BA. The Delta Agent calls someone to find out why our flight was delayed and she comes back and tells us that they will put us in a hotel for the night but BA will need to get us home.

There was much rejoicing.

At the hotel we get the number for BA from the Website.

BA: But Delta is responsible for getting you home. They caused the delay.
A Very Desperate And Strung Out Nicole: But Delta told us you were responsible for getting us home.
BA: No. No. It would be Delta.

I’m not sure if it was because I was on the verge of tears. I’m not sure if they looked at my profile and saw how much travel I’ve done with them for the last year. I’m not sure if the Christmas spirit suddenly hit her, but she put me on hold and when she came back we had seats on the flight the next evening.

We would be able to escape America.

However first we spent 6 hours in an airport piano bar getting trashed and hearing an impromptu sing-a-long of many standard classics including the theme song from Beauty and the Beast and The American National Anthem. (There was also clapping after.)

Sitting there, me drinking a pint of Bass and Stuart drinking a Budweiser to the warbling of “And the Rocket’s Red Glare” Stuart said, “You know what our mistake was?”

“What?”

“We didn’t ask someone at the gate when we got off the plane from Charleston. We really should have asked someone at the gate. Why didn’t we do that?”