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October 09, 2000
The long drive to Pittsburgh
Yawn... got home from JournalCon at 3 o'clock this morning. I just woke up, and am making my way through my first cup of coffee, while a very happy cat sits on my foot. (She missed me, apparently.) I'm still processing the weekend -- it was way too much fun. Met way too many cool people. Dude, Pamie hugged me. I'm still startstruck. Patrick already has three good entries up, so go read him. He's coherant, which is more than can be said for me right now.
First off -- the trip to Pittsburgh. Patrick and Melissa (can't do links yet, too tired.) picked me up at around 9 on Friday morning, and we headed out, all bright-eyed and excited. It was a good drive, much conversation and fun -- I hadn't spent much time one-on-one with Patrick, and had wanted to. I hadn't met Melissa at all. She's a lot of fun, very friendly and easy to talk to. Took shifts driving, didn't make many stops... at one rest area, I found a vending machine on the wall of the women's restroom that dispensed "mixed adult novelties." I should have bought one, just to see exactly what sort of adult novelties one can get from a bathroom vending machine in the middle of nowhere. However, the pen of goats right outside the bathroom startled me a little too much to take the risk. Everything went smoothly, until we stopped at a rest area and noticed that one of Melissa's tires was a little low. No big deal, right? We'll just5 go get some air! Went to a gas station, where we noticed a nasty, burning-rubber smell coming from the engine, which was rattling and shaking. I don't know a damn thing about cars, but I knew something was very wrong. Turned out to be the compressor. Patrick and I stood around looking worried while Melissa talked to the very nice gas station owner. He couldn't fix it, so he called a buddy of his ( mentioning that he "might be out in the field, huntin') to come over and look. The buddy, who we dubbed George (I have no idea whether that was his name or not) came over, bringing his big, stinky hunting dogs with him -- one of them was friendly, and the other... well, all George would say was "Don't touch that one," in a rather dire voice. The dog in question looked very friendly, but that may have been a ruse. George said he couldn't fix the car, much to our dismay. Patrick and I decided to see if we could rent a car, so we could at least get the hell out of Milesburgh, PA. Called the airport, reserved a nice big Chevy Blazer, and George offered to drive us out to pick it up. (Patrick decribed the ride so much better than I can -- suffice it to say, it was very long, and Patrick got to sit in the back being drooled on by the big stinky dogs, while I sat in front and listened to George talk about how the staff of his grandmother's nursing home keeps stealing her underwear.) Got the car, and I made George take $20 for his trouble. It really was nice of him to drive us there -- after all, he could have just handed us the phone book and suggested we call a cab. Went back, got Melissa (who was sitting and looking very pitiful on a pile of our luggage) and got back on the road -- but we made the mistake of listening to the gas station owner, who told us not to get back on the interstate, but to take a little highway instead. A shortcut, he told us. "It'll knock fifty, sixty miles off your trip," he said. It was a two-lane blacktop, speed limit 45 most of the way, past some very scary strip clubs, and with nine thousand stop lights, all of which were red. After an hour or so, we were in fits of bitter, hysterical laughter, punctuated by cries of "We just want to meet Pamie! Took us, I think, four and a half hours or so to finally get to Pittsburgh. We'd missed the opening dinner entirely, and were really to tired to care. Patrick and Melissa (once they sorted out their nonexistant hotel reservations) got a message from JournalCon's organizer, telling us to meet the whole crew at a club down the street -- a club none of the hotle staff had ever heard of. We wandered around looking for it fora while, then gave up and went back to the hotel. Melissa and I were desperately in need to a stiff drink, so we all went to the hotel bar, where we met Greg (again, no link. Too sleepy. Sorry. All the JournalCon folks are listed on the web page -- I'll link tomorrow or something.) Waited around in the lobby for a while, hoping someone would show up, then gave up and went to bed. I left a note on the door for my roommate, who was out having fun, explaining that it took us more than 14 hours to get there, and I would meet her in the morning when I was awake and alert. Fell into bed, and was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
To be continued...
Posted by Mary Ellen at October 9, 2000 04:58 PM