(Those around Totem and Vanier will appreciate the reference.)
So, I am sitting in my room, alone, looking at my computer fighting off the urge to play with the two candles next to me (I figured I coated my desk with enough wax already).
Wow, this weekend was stressful. Part of me really does not want to write this, but I know that I really should because the couple posts sitting as drafts are nearly worthless to me as all the details are pretty much erased from my memory at this point.
I guess starting at the beginning would be my best bet, except the beginning was several months ago. For months, I was talking about my trip down to the desert for the first time since arriving in Vancouver for Master Koeppel's seminar (grand-master of Matsumura Seito). This past weekend was also the first year anniversary of my black belt and Austin, Joni, and Louie's black belt test. I was on pins and needles with excitement.
About a week and a half prior, my flight was set, ready to depart from Bellingham to Palm Springs promptly at 07:00am. I was prepared, making and reworking my list throughout the week (in hindsight, I maybe should have paid more attention in history class, but
que sera, sera). At the same time, Hannah was going to be going down to Seattle and spend that Thursday night in Bellingham, so it was decided that I was to sleep at Hannah's aunt's house that night to get to the airport an hour early.
Leaving was not the problem.
Nor was the bus ride down, albeit there were some bumps on the way to the bus (a forgotten passport, intense running to and from the bus loop, massive rolling bags, etc.), but all in all, it was a sleep-filled ride with laughing sprinkled in intermittently. Actually, no, the bus ride down was a problem: rather than a nice 1,5-2 hour ride, it became a 4 hour ride.
And in our last leg of the bus ride, Hannah received a phone call. Her uncle's dog passed away.
I am an animal-lover, losing an animal is, without a doubt, losing a member of your family. To make matters worse, this is the super nice uncle who was diagnosed with cancer. So, we arrive to a grieving family; it was difficult.
Hannah and I went back to her aunt's house, got our things together, set alarms, and fell asleep nearly instantaneously.
06:30am and my phone starts ringing my alarm, an old-time telephone. You know when you have an alarm for a long enough period of time that it gets you awake instantly and your heart beating? That is this alarm. Apparently Hannah does not use that old-time telephone alarm; I rolled over to see her nuzzle her pillow and relax.
Morning preparations occur: brushing teeth, gathering bags, all the good stuff. We get into the car, blissfully aware of how "right on time we will be" to my 07:30am flight.
Her aunt drops us off at the airport (Hannah will be taking a bus to Seattle from Bellingham international). We walk up to the ticket desk to an empty reception. None of the flights had any staffers. Remember when I said my 07:30am flight... yeah, 07:30. We thought it was 07:30, not 07:00. We arrived perfectly on time, 70 minutes early to be precise, for a 07:30 flight. Too bad the plane to Palm Springs leaves a half hour earlier.
I start to freak out, sweaty palms, heavy breathing, the like. The security guards, barely sympathetically, tell me that I must wait until one of the staffers return, that I missed the final bag check by five minutes. I plead, beg, for them to call the gate or someone down to assist, or at least assess the situation. Apparently, as they are not Allegiant employees, they cannot do anything. So, I stand there, in front of an empty reception area (completely empty, not even representatives from other flights. I mean, heck, why should I be that lucky?)
One hour later, an Allegiant ticket staffer walks up, immediately pointedly saying, "Sir, I would ask you that if there was no one at the desk that you stand behind the line. It will not speed things up." Oh how much I would have loved to say that, "If you were here an hour ago things would have been sped up..." Of course, I own no such cajones.
Essentially, all the options ahead of me were to book the flight the next day to Palm Springs. Though, of course, that would be another $400, maybe more because it was booked the day before. There were no more options; I had already spent much too much on this trip to begin. Instead, I decided on the first bus from Bellingham to Vancouver.
Angrily, Hannah and I sit down and wait. And wait. I arrived at 06:20am, my bus was leaving at 11:50am, hers leaves at 10:00.
After Hannah left, and it was nearing 11:50, I headed outside to wait for the Quick Shuttle. Except, it was around four to six degrees. I was not going to wait in the rain and cold for that long, so I went outside about five minutes before the bus was to arrive. Twenty minutes and a foul-mood'd woman later, I was calling Quick Shuttle. "The bus to Vancouver, yes? That bus, they are about 25 minutes behind schedule." ...great.
I tell that woman, who was in flip flops and Hawai'ian-wear and very angry, the news and we both sit, simmering in our delightful days.
It finally arrived, to which we hopped on as fast as humanly possible–we were not going to cause that bus any more delays.
Anyways, crossing the border was simple, though there were many people possessing passports from outside the US and Canada which did slow things down a bit. Getting back off the bus, and I do not know why I do this, but I freak out when people are giving answers/talking to a person going up and down our line, but I freaked out and told him that I was going to downtown Vancouver, the thing the last person said. In actuality, and I realised this once back on the bus, that I needed to get out at 41 & Cambie.
When we arrived at 41, putting on my most humble of faces, I asked him if he would get me my luggage even though it was in a different compartment. I do not know why this seems like such a huge deal, but to me, especially at the time, I felt super guilty for asking him to open the other compartment. In the end, he took pity because he was our bus driver to the airport and recognized me, asking what happened as I boarded the bus in Bellingham.
On the bus towards 41st Ave, I was looking at the buses coming, and the 9 was coming either very soon or in twenty minutes. Well, it was butt-freezing cold, windy, potentially raining, and as found on Facebook, apparently hailing; I did not want to wait twenty minutes. Approaching the stop, the time before departure was creeping really close, but I got off the bus with two minutes to spare. Or so I thought. As I came close to the intersection, I saw the 9. I was exactly kiddy-corner to the bus stop.
Merde. I almost ran right into oncoming traffic in an attempt to catch this bus, instead I just crossed when the cars were turning. Into where I was walking. It was nearly a disaster. Already, the bus was stopped and the stream of people were making their way to the crosswalk.
So, there I am, half-running into traffic with what I equate to being a house-on-wheels bag and a backpack, looking like a maniac as I run into people before the bus pulls away.
Luckily, the line was huge into the bus, but I found a seat. Probably one of the most relieving bus rides of my life.
I get back to totem, go through my contacts, beg the few people who are still on campus to eat with me, and go to the caf with César. Nearly ate his arm off because I was so hungry, also nearly fell into my yoghurt from exhaustion, but, whatever, I was home.
That was my Thursday and Friday.
Oy Givaldt.
The rest of my weekend was super lazy (a bunch of movie/television watching, eating at the Naam, and sleeping). Oh, I did manage to score an awesome find from this adventure: Bathilda. She is this bench/trunk thing that was left at "The Fence" ['the chic new boutique', or, rather, the fence were people discard old items that others can take for free]. Carrying her was a bitch; she was moist, peeing (doing the underwater pee dance [inside joke for those there that night]), and quite rude. Now, she inhabits my "heaven", the super comfortable fort under my bed.
Sorry for the crappy quality, all of my shots tend to be at night. I guess she really is a lady of the night...
I pretty much think I covered everything.
So, now it is time for...
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QuakeCast. Check it out, it is really cool!
