It's been an age and a half since I've journalized here, though I've been doing it in the actual physical journal a lot. Lots of feelings I can't really share with the world at large. Or at least would feel stupid and embarrassed to tell the world at large.
So where do I stand? Pretty much the same place that I did the last time I journaled. My attempts to pawn the computer were shot down in flames. I visited ten pawnshops and the most any of them would offer me was $200. For a computer I paid $2500 just three short months ago. "They're obsolete so quickly," they all said. Well, $200 wasn't going to solve my problems, so I didn't bother.
I'm back in Pittsburgh, now. I flew back home on the evening of July 4th, and doing so ate up the last of my money. Who knew that there was a $75 fee when you book a Dividend Miles flight with less than 14 days notice? Clearly, not me. Anyway, I loaded as much stuff as I could into one piece of luggage and dragged that luggage and my shoulder-bag out of the apartment, onto the downtown 1/9 train, from the 1/9 train to the uptown 2/3 train, and then switched at 125th Street to the M60 bus to La Guardia airport. Said switch involved hauling this huge-ass piece of genius packing job I did up out of the subway and onto the street level before cramming myself onto that bus. My stroke of luck for the day was when the M60 happened to be traveling very lightly loaded, it being a holiday and all.
So I got to the airport, and made my way to the check in counter. I paid my $75 fee, and hauled my bag up onto the little counter to check it, only to discover that the lovely ticket service agent had decided it seemed a little heavy, and wanted to weigh it. Did you know that US Airways limits each piece of luggage to 70 pounds? I didn't. And mine weighed 86. It was an amazing packing job, if I may say so myself. So my dilemma was to lighten it by 16 pounds or pay $75 penalty. It would seem that the airline thinks seventy-five is a nice, round number. Luckily for me, I happened to have packed my knapsack in the bag, so I lightened the load by exactly 16.5 pounds, and sent my bag on its way. Then I went off in search of food, carrying two carry-ons instead of the one I'd planned on.
Earlier in the day, I had gotten a call from Amy Hartman, who was supposed to pick me up at the airport. What hadn't occurred to either of us is that she lives on Mt. Washington, which is the place where everyone in Pittsburgh goes to watch the annual fireworks display. Consequently, there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that she was getting on or off that mountain, since the crowds start gathering in the early afternoon. So I put in a call to Gavan to see if he could pick me up.
While I was wandering around the airport, looking for something to eat, Gavan called me back. He'd just gotten the message and was already at his friend Kathy's party. I felt guilty about asking him to leave, so I told him I'd take the bus home. Kathy kindly suggested that they come and pick me up and then we all go off to see fireworks, but it seemed to me that by the time they got to the airport, picked me up, and made it anywhere, the fireworks would be long over, so I passed and wished them all a happy 4th.
Eventually, I got my flight and got into Pittsburgh. I collected my bag and went to wait for the ol' 28X bus. It runs from the airport, along the west busway, to a stop just at the bottom of the hill from Gavan's place. Unfortunately, when the bus arrived, it turned out to be one of those commuter jobbies without a luggage rack, so I had to squeeze my luggage (all three bags worth) down a tiny aisle barely large enough for me, and take up a couple of seats. And don't you just know that bus was packed. I can't count the number of people I whacked with that luggage. I wasn't, to say the least, very popular. When I finally got to my stop, I dragged my shit down the aisle, nearly herniating myself the whole time, and started down the steps of the bus. It's at that point that the strap on my knapsack broke, I tripped, and went ass-over-tincups down the stairwell and out the door. The bus driver offered a cursory "Are you alright?" before the bus doors slammed shut and she sped away.
But my tale doesn't end there, friends! I'm still not home!!!
So there I was, with 70 pounds worth of suitcase, 16 pounds worth of broken knapsack, and probably 20 pounds worth of shoulderbag, all of which had to be hauled up the hill to Gavan's house. I never knew that a quarter of a mile could seem so damn far. I've never sweat so much, or cursed so much, or paused for breath so much in all my life!
But eventually I made it, and I settled into a guest bedroom here. I'm looking forward to a fresh start. Wish me luck.
So where do I stand? Pretty much the same place that I did the last time I journaled. My attempts to pawn the computer were shot down in flames. I visited ten pawnshops and the most any of them would offer me was $200. For a computer I paid $2500 just three short months ago. "They're obsolete so quickly," they all said. Well, $200 wasn't going to solve my problems, so I didn't bother.
I'm back in Pittsburgh, now. I flew back home on the evening of July 4th, and doing so ate up the last of my money. Who knew that there was a $75 fee when you book a Dividend Miles flight with less than 14 days notice? Clearly, not me. Anyway, I loaded as much stuff as I could into one piece of luggage and dragged that luggage and my shoulder-bag out of the apartment, onto the downtown 1/9 train, from the 1/9 train to the uptown 2/3 train, and then switched at 125th Street to the M60 bus to La Guardia airport. Said switch involved hauling this huge-ass piece of genius packing job I did up out of the subway and onto the street level before cramming myself onto that bus. My stroke of luck for the day was when the M60 happened to be traveling very lightly loaded, it being a holiday and all.
So I got to the airport, and made my way to the check in counter. I paid my $75 fee, and hauled my bag up onto the little counter to check it, only to discover that the lovely ticket service agent had decided it seemed a little heavy, and wanted to weigh it. Did you know that US Airways limits each piece of luggage to 70 pounds? I didn't. And mine weighed 86. It was an amazing packing job, if I may say so myself. So my dilemma was to lighten it by 16 pounds or pay $75 penalty. It would seem that the airline thinks seventy-five is a nice, round number. Luckily for me, I happened to have packed my knapsack in the bag, so I lightened the load by exactly 16.5 pounds, and sent my bag on its way. Then I went off in search of food, carrying two carry-ons instead of the one I'd planned on.
Earlier in the day, I had gotten a call from Amy Hartman, who was supposed to pick me up at the airport. What hadn't occurred to either of us is that she lives on Mt. Washington, which is the place where everyone in Pittsburgh goes to watch the annual fireworks display. Consequently, there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that she was getting on or off that mountain, since the crowds start gathering in the early afternoon. So I put in a call to Gavan to see if he could pick me up.
While I was wandering around the airport, looking for something to eat, Gavan called me back. He'd just gotten the message and was already at his friend Kathy's party. I felt guilty about asking him to leave, so I told him I'd take the bus home. Kathy kindly suggested that they come and pick me up and then we all go off to see fireworks, but it seemed to me that by the time they got to the airport, picked me up, and made it anywhere, the fireworks would be long over, so I passed and wished them all a happy 4th.
Eventually, I got my flight and got into Pittsburgh. I collected my bag and went to wait for the ol' 28X bus. It runs from the airport, along the west busway, to a stop just at the bottom of the hill from Gavan's place. Unfortunately, when the bus arrived, it turned out to be one of those commuter jobbies without a luggage rack, so I had to squeeze my luggage (all three bags worth) down a tiny aisle barely large enough for me, and take up a couple of seats. And don't you just know that bus was packed. I can't count the number of people I whacked with that luggage. I wasn't, to say the least, very popular. When I finally got to my stop, I dragged my shit down the aisle, nearly herniating myself the whole time, and started down the steps of the bus. It's at that point that the strap on my knapsack broke, I tripped, and went ass-over-tincups down the stairwell and out the door. The bus driver offered a cursory "Are you alright?" before the bus doors slammed shut and she sped away.
But my tale doesn't end there, friends! I'm still not home!!!
So there I was, with 70 pounds worth of suitcase, 16 pounds worth of broken knapsack, and probably 20 pounds worth of shoulderbag, all of which had to be hauled up the hill to Gavan's house. I never knew that a quarter of a mile could seem so damn far. I've never sweat so much, or cursed so much, or paused for breath so much in all my life!
But eventually I made it, and I settled into a guest bedroom here. I'm looking forward to a fresh start. Wish me luck.
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