Westward Bound: The Great Greyhound Adventure of 2007. Part 6

I realize that I left off my tale at a critical and cliffhanging moment. To recap, and keep you all from having to read back over my first 6 posts:

I took the bus cross country last summer, and my last post left off with me in Bemidji, MN, and my bag on it’s own journy to North Dakota. I’m not going to recap more than that, so you might have to go back and refresh yourself on the status of my journey, because here we go!

This was the first and only time that we stayed in a Motel or Lodging of any sort that was not a friend or relative’s house/backyard. Each of us takes a much needed shower and prepares for the next day when we hope to meet with Curling Legend, Pete Fenson.

I also decide that the next day I will try to make it to church. It’s Tuesday, and I missed Mass on Sunday, so I wanted to try to make it up a little bit. That and I figured a blessing wouldn’t be ill advised given the nature of our trip. I decide that with the weather being so nice, the 12 block walk to the church wouldn’t be so bad.

I awake the next morning to find that a cruel practical joke has been played on me. The wonderful 79 degree, breezy weather, has turned into a 50 degree rainy, gusty nightmare. Most people would just have stayed in, gotten some extra sleep and waited for it to get a little nicer out – the main goal of the day being for us to see Pete Fenson. However, if you’ve deduced anything about my personality, you might well realize that the nature of the task at hand being so difficult also makes it that much more desirable for me. Hence my taking a bus to Seattle. So I grab my rain poncho, which I had packed in my carry-on bag, thank goodness, and set out to go to church. The walk was very cold, very gusty, and it didn’t quite rain, rather, it was that annoying misty rain that just makes you colder. Lake Bemidji, which, the day before, had been serene and pictaresque, now had White Caps from the wind. I kept on.

Eventually I made it to the church, attended the 40 minute weekday mass, and met with the Pastor afterwards, telling him my story thus far. A little old lady overhears me, learns that I walked all this way, and offers me a ride back to the motel. I also learned that the Bairds (other members of the Curling team) are parishioners at this church. Once I get back to the motel, the weather has evened out a bit more. It’s still cold and windy, but not really that rainy anymore. We set out walking…again…to try and meet Pete Fenson before our bus comes into town. We make it to Dave’s Pizza to find no one there. We decide to wait, if he’s coming in, he’ll have to pass by us. So we wait

and wait.

and wait.

We are close to despair. I decide to call the restaurant. Maybe he’s inside, and has been this whole time. Who should answer….but PETE FENSON himself!

He says he’ll unlock the front and we can come in for a second. We are both overjoyed. He turns out to be one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. He said that since he’s won the bronze medal, there are people who have come by just to say hi, and to meet him. Due to our perseverence and weird semi-worship of the curling legend, this moment is born:

Yes that’s me, for those of you who have not seen what I look like. I now have short hair and have lost some weight.

We walk back to the bus stop, triumphant, and wait for our bus.

The bus comes, and lo and behold, my bag is there. We load onto the bus and make our way back the same way we came to St. Cloud (where the movie Juno took place) and get back on course to the west. Our next major stop is Billings MT. And nothing really happens between now and then. We travel through Fargo, which is just as desolate and depressing as you would think, and then I slept through all of North Dakota – thank God. I don’t actually SEE my bags until we get to Billings, as I was relying on the word of the bus driver, who said he got my bag for me. At which time, I sadly discover that my peanut butter, which I had backed in the mesh part of my back pack, is missing. Fortunately this was the lone casualty of the trip.

Tune in next time, because even though you think Montana will probably be boring…it…isn’t (?) No seriously, I got some good stuff coming up. At least now we’re back in the swing of things.

So You Think You Can Take a Practice LSAT and not Do Horribly?

The title of this post can also double as the name of a brand new Reality Show competition, of which I could easily be the star. Except I would be one of the fools who make the show worth watching because I failed horribly at the outset of the season – at least according to Kaplant Test Prep.

This Sunday, I took it upon myself to take a practice version of the LSAT. I have never taken the test in a serious setting, and I wanted to see how I would do as if it were the real deal. I got in late, so I only had about 30 instead of 35 minutes on the first section. I budgeted my time accordingly and finished the whole section. My first impression of the LSAT, on the very first question, was one of slight despair. Here’s the first question:

If we must refrain from liberating the conquered islands simply because the lives of some civilians would be endangered, then we must never engage in any kind of armed conflict near populated areas.

The Author of the argument assumes that

a) armed conflict invariably endangers the lives of civilians
b) the conquered islands can be liberated without conflict
c) one cannot engage in armed conflict near populated areas without endangering civilians
d) the liberation of the conquered islands is less important than the lives of a few citizens
e) the conquered islands should be liberated despite the risk to civilians

Easy stuff, right? It’s not that I found the question hard (it’s C, by the way), but you had to think about it. C and A are very similar, so you can’t just fly through it – without practice, but even then you can miss the key phrase “near populated areas” if you fly through the test. I was somewhat expecting it to be like the SAT, where you could kind of figure out which answer sounded right, without really knowing the right answer. Well the whole test is like that first question. The despair I felt at the outset of reading that question was pretty much based on the thought of how much thinking I would have to actually do. I got used to it, and sailed through most of the rest of the exam. Two logic games questions stumped me, but for the most part, I grasped the point behind each question.

So I wait until the next day to find out how I did. Apparently I got a 144…out of 180. That’s the lower end of the bell curve. A disheartening fact for me to learn since I hope to go to Georgetown for law school, and you would need at least a 165…if not higher. I spent most of my day at work on monday feeling quite depressed, thought of how bad it would actually be if I just stayed in the parks system for the rest of my life, and anxiously awaited the end of the day when I could go to Kaplan and see which questions I had gotten wrong.

When I actually checked the answers, much to my relief, I realized that there was no way the answers they said were correct were better than my answers. (The whole test is a “choose the best answer kind of thing). When I looked up the explanations online, it turned out my answers were right, for the most part, so instead of getting 30% of the Logical reasoning questions right, it looked more like 80%. I still don’t know what my actual score was, but I’m hoping that helps it out a little.

All in all, though, the test was a lot of fun. Despite all the thinking, and all the Kaplan-making-me-feel-like-my-career-choices-have-been-ill-made thing.

“There was the night that John Berryman thought that he could fly”

It’s another music post. Those with inferior musical tastes may want to skip ahead.

I’m just kidding. I’m too desperate for blog traffic for anyone to skip ahead.

Another of my favourite bands is The Hold Steady. They have a single out, which I didn’t realize until today. Here it is:

Sequestered In Memphis – The Hold Steady

You like it or you don’t. It’s listed as “bar rock.” And it is phenomenal. I saw them play in Athens last year, but this summer they’ll be coming to Charleston to play at a dive out on James Island, called the Pour House (very clever).

The show in Athens did not disappoint, and I would say it was easily on of the best shows I have ever seen. (Smashing Pumpkins, Rilo Kiley, They Might Be Giants, The Decemberists, Polyphonic Spree all rank up there too).

Anyways, thought I would share that with you.

With Neighbors Like These, Who Needs Cable TV

First off, my title almost rhymes, and for that, I am somewhat proud of it. That pride is more akin to that of a parent who’s child makes straight D’s in school, but then, beams with pride when said lackluster student brings home a C-. That kind of pride. I’m not proud of my lack of a point with three sentences behind me already in this post, with one of them poorly worded and slightly run-on. (make that two)

I suppose it would be good of me to give you some sense of what my new dwelling is like here West of the Ashley River, or as locals know it: West Ashley, West Trashley, West Ashtray, or Slightly-South-West-of-the-7th-most-crime-ridden-city-in-the-USA-ly. (Trying to keep the rhyming goin) Ok, the last few there aren’t entirely accurate, and the Crime in North Charleston is isolated to certain areas, areas that you should probably not even drive through, ever.

Our apartment is very nice. But, being as we are both not rich, i.e. somewhat poor, we have opted not to sign up for Cable TV. Our interweb service is provided by Bellsouth (or At&t, rather), through DSL Direct, so we don’t have to have a phone line. We have yet to get a bill for this service, and I can’t log into the online account…so we’re kind of just waiting for our internet to just shut down. Who knows. But we do not have cable anything. Internet, phone, or Television.

This really isn’t too much of a problem, as both of us watch NBC, ABC, and PBS exclusively. (I do miss the Discovery Channel occaisionally, but not enough to deal with Comcast, nor enough to pay for VH1, MTV, Lifetime, INSP, E! (The Soup being the only exception there), and a plethora of other channels I never ever watch). But, as one would know, the true entertainment of Cable Television lies not within its content, but within the power of the individual to scan through 100 different shows a minimum of 5 times to come to the conclusion that “I might as well just leave it on the all day marathon of Flavor of Love with Flava Flav.” This is how civilizations crumble.

Nevertheless, this source of entertainment must find its replacement, when it is wrenched from the clasps of one who so relied on it. Which brings me to the title of the post, and its poetic mastery that I babbled on about in the first paragraph.

Right outside of our apartment (we’re on the second floor) is the complex pool/hot tub. While the interior of our domicile (legal term, and vocab word from Claims Investigation) remains virtually soundproof to the outside world, once on our Balcony, you are treated to entertainment that only MTV, or the Hills can rival (Are those two things the same thing? I can’t tell anymore). It would seem that the persons who occupy the hot tub and whose voices carry to our apartment balcony, have plenty to talk about with each other – every second of it mindless, every second of it drivel, every second of it commercial free and amazing.

Take, for instance, this conversation between a man and two “ladies” in the hot tub:

man 1: hey there, do either of you two know a good masseuse in this complex.

female 1: we actually don’t live here, sorry.

man 1: aww man, that sucks. My rotator cuff has totally be buggin me out.

female 2: I used to go to a realy good masseuse at Wild Dunes.

man 1: sweet.

The girls go on to have this discussion with him, and then also give away the fact that they do actually live here. This is only a sample, as I didn’t want to risk embellishing the conversation as I remember it.

Also, the girls sound like every comedian’s impression of a dumb blonde – you know, the high slightly raspy/whispery voice, that manages still to be unbearably loud and obnoxious, just so you have the whole picture. The man is a regular in the tub, who is about 42, has a mustache that could kick Tom Selleck’s mustache’s butt, and looks 42. He tries similar “moves” on every female in said tub, and it would be sad if it weren’t for how succes…wait…no, it’s pretty sad.

So this is what I do with my time. I go biking, watch old Alfred Hitchcock movies, and spy on my neighbors. What’s better is there’s a big bush/tree in front of our balcony, blocking us from view of the hot tub, so we can hear everything, and they don’t know we’re there. It’s like if you were to take Rear Window, subtract the murderous husband, the apartment ridden and broken Jimmy Stewart (That would be me, again, but without a broken leg), and the brilliant cinematography. Also, throw in a dash of Laguna Beach.

One of these days I’ll take pictures of the set up here, so you can have a better visual idea of what I’m talking about.

Internet Search Terms Strikes Back Sort of

Sadly, due to my lengthy absence, my blog has not gotten too much traffic. It no longer appears on search engine searches as much, and as a result, this segment is lacking as well, but heres what I’ve got:

etrade baby voice: yes, the infernal etrade baby. apparently, even though the super bowl was ages ago, this commercial is still very perplexing to the American public. Who is the voice of that financially savvy infant. Perhaps it is the infant itself, if so, can he help with my investments…it’s all too much.

charlestonphilosopher: apparently someone wanted to find this blog, and only google to find it. Congratulations, friend, you did it! Sorry I havent updated in 10 years.

And thats it. two search terms resulted in people finding my blog. I guess I’m just going to have to step it up with these updates so that my blog can be the destination for people looking for much weirder things, and that I can then make fun of them.

Summer Officially Begins Tomorrow

Tomorrow is a very momentous and auspicious day in the Calendar year of the Charleston County Park and Recreation Commission. It’s not the same day every year, as it coincides with the calendar of the Charleston County School District as well, making it equally a momentous day for the teachers of the County as well.

It is the first day that school is out for the summer – which means (more importantly) that your Charleston County Waterparks will now be open every single day until that blessed* day when school goes back in session. (*note, for teachers/students reading this, this word may not fully encapsulate your emotions for the resuming of classes. I fully understand, what with the imperfection of language and all.)

So far, the waterpark has been open on the weekends only, but today was the last day of classes for the county, so everyone will probably be at one of the three waterparks in the area. I have the privilege of working at the second biggest of the two. My last 4 (or is it 5?…think…2007,2006,2005,2004,2003, yep, 5) summers have been spent working at Whirlin Waters Adventure Waterpark – the crown jewel of summer fun in the Lowcountry, excluding, of course, the beaches, and staying inside playing video games/watching tv/vegetating. I would love to recount all the many stories I have from 5 summers of glorious employment at that facility, but I wont. You can search through my old blog at www.livejournal.com/users/cofc_drod, to find them, but seeing as though I’m too lazy to do that, I don’t imagine you will be much up to such a task either.

The best part of the whole thing, though, is that EVERYDAY will now be about as busy as our weekends have been for the last month.  yay.

I imagine that time will pass by quickly, that the work will be so constant that we don’t have time to watch the clock, and maybe the summer will just fly by. Or maybe I’ll just rip my hair out. One of the two.

The Actual Death Cab for Cutie Album is Much Better Than the Fake Death Cab for Cutie Album

I’m not going to lie. I download music. I have a soulseek-like program for Linux that works like a dream. I’m not about to drop a fourth of a tank of gas on a CD that may well suck. But the record companies can rest easy, because if I really like a cd, I’m probably going to buy it. All the better if it’s offered on Vinyl. I don’t actually listen to CD’s too much. I have my Mp3 player, which is what I use in my car. At home, I usually use my computer or listen to records.

That all being said, I downloaded the new Death Cab Album last week. I was actually hesitant about it, since their single that is being played on 105.5 is hardly my favourite song of theirs. I figured, though, that it may just be that the song (I will possess your heart) has a better place in the album itself, instead of the radio. The song is actually over 8 minutes long, but the radio version cuts out the 4 minute instrumental intro. Anywho, obviously, with my only exposure to this new album being a mediocre single, I was not about to buy the cd. I downloaded the album, and was very glad that I had not paid good money for this lackluster garbage. The first three tracks were good. The single, IWPYH, was much better in context, but after track #3, the album just felt like the band was lazy. It still sounded like Death Cab, but this was not the Band I fell in love with on Transatlanticism.

And there was good reason for that. Apparently, and those of you who keep up with your MTV music news will know already, some blogger played a practical joke by “leaking” an album by a German band called Velveteen as the New Death Cab Album. How was this possible? Here’s a link to the prankster blogger, click on the the icon next to Grapevine Fires to hear what is NOT grapevine fires:

Click on the musical note

It sounds like a mediocre Death Cab song…or at least boring.

Anyways, my mistake was pointed out to me by my friend Daniel (blog in the right over there, unless you’re reading this blog in an RSS feed thing), who, upon hearing MY Death Cab CD, informed me that this was not the right album, and loaned me his. Yes, he bought the CD…and I ripped it to my computer.

This is much better. What’s funny is that the first three tracks on the CD I downloaded, where were my favourite tracks, were ACTUALLY the right songs, throwing me off even more. Now that I have the real CD, I do like it a lot better. It may actually be some of their best work, if you ask me.

Here’s Grapevine Fires:

Grapevine Fires – Death Cab For Cutie

it’s awesome.

And now for something completely different:

I’m reading the Koran. I saw that it was on our bookshelf, and decided to see what it’s actually all about. The first book is actually interesting, because, and I’m no scholar of Islam, it seems to say that Jews, Christians, and Muslims (The term “Muslim” actually just means one who is surrendered to God), all pretty much have the right idea, and as long as they remain righteous, they’ll be alright – paradise and all. There’s a lengthy section about God’s covenant with the Hebrews, and about Jesus and Mary. I’d always known that Jesus was seen as a prophet in the Religion of Islam. I didn’t realize that he was so prominent. Anyways, it a big book, and I’m working on it. It’s a nice supplement to 6 years of Catholic School.

At least now I know that my blog has probably been tagged by NSA, CIA, and FBI.

Share the Road

So, I’ve decided to actually start biking to work, fairly regularly (read: once or twice a week). With gas prices actually about to hit 4.00 per gallon, I figure every little bit helps. The other options for fuel efficiency are not actually within my (feasible) grasp. I figure they are as follows, in order from most to least feasible:

- smart car: A smart car dealership just opened up this year in Charleston. It’s a tiny building with tiny cars. I figure that a small sacrifice in comfort might be worth not paying 50 bucks to fill up my car every week. I had only seen the tiny “fortwo,” yes that’s it’s name, at the dealership. I decided to look it up yesterday. It gets about 35-45 mpg, has a 3 cylinder engine, and weighs about 1600 pounds. It seats two and has a little room for things like “groceries” or “your gym bag” behind the seats. In contrast, my Corolla gets 30-37 mpg, seats 5, has plenty of room for groceries, my gym bag, and boxes upon boxes whenever I need to move. A bonus is that the Corolla doesn’t look ridiculous. I do want to test drive one, but it’s not really that practical.

- Walking- This, is how I didn’t use any gas for freshman and sophomore year at CofC. I walked everywhere. Sadly, though, living 8 miles from work makes this less time-efficient. This would probably be safest. I don’t think I’ve actually ever walked 8 miles, anyways. I went on a 5 mile hike in boy scouts, and I remember that it took foooorever. I was also 11.

- Dirigible- I can’t imagine that this would actually use that much gasoline. But, to be practical, my hydrogen/helium bills would probably balance out the amount I saved at the pump.

- Living at work- I say this jokingly, but I seriously considered it…and seriously asked my boss about it. I know it’s been a while since you’ve read this blog, but I’m sure you remember that I work at a Park/campground. This seems like a perfect opportunity. I like camping. I have a tent. The Campground has showers. Bam! Apparently this was not OK with the campground manager. I would have just been camping in the primitive area, which normally is temporary home to persons of much the same class as those who accompanied me on various legs of my greyhound journey last summer. Plus, I wouldn’t have been able to do it for free, and 15 bucks per night is not going to save me any money. (Remember, I’m not really concerned about saving the planet hear, I just don’t want to spend so much money. Terrible, I know.)

- Teleportation/Time Travel- I think I’m real close on this one.

- Quit my job, see how long I live on savings until I win the lottery- yes, this is less feasible than time travel, and yet there are plenty people probably who choose this one.

Since I’m not going to do any of those, Biking is going to be my option. It’s about a 16-20 mile round trip to the park from here. If I get about 30 miles to the gallon, city driving, then I’m saving about 1/2-2/3 of a gallon of gas each day I bike to work. If I can use biking to alllow me to fill up my tank only twice a month, then I would be more than able to afford 5 or even 6 dollars for a gallon of gas (which seems like it might actually be the case, since Bush still has plenty of time to worsen our energy independence, and then Obama and Clinton have both said they want to tax the Big Oil companies windfall profits – which, the last time we decided to do that in the 80s, caused us to increase our percentage of imported oil from 30% to 60%. So I’m really not seeing 7 or 8 bucks per gallon as too far fetched) Sorry for the long paranthetical there, I don’t promise that it won’t happen again, as I’m slightly jaded by our choices for president this year. The hardest part about biking to work is getting up early enough. As it is, I bike to work whenever I don’t have class and work from 11-7, and it’s not raining. I’m looking to expand this criteria by seeing if I can’t get up earlier. No promises though.

My next post, I’ll talk about my experience with the new Death Cab for Cutie album.

And Greyhound trip updates are coming…I just have to remember where I left off.

I’m back!

I don’t know how many people will catch this post, since I stopped updating for about a month and a half. I imagine that most of you simply gave up refreshing my blog link. C’est la vie. A quick catch-you-up on my life though:

Saw Ironman- it was awesome.

Started Summer semester for paralegalism – 4.5 hour long classes, two of them, each meets once a week from 6-10:30. Yes, it’s awful.

Bought a collection of Alfred Hitchcock movies – also awesome.

Completely moved into my apartment.

Done absolutely nothing else of interest – hence the lack of entries. But as my title would suggest…I’m back!

All Moved In

This is not an exciting post. Nor is it funny, insightful, or entertaining. Just thought you should know before you commit to reading the rest of it.

The reason I haven’t posted in a while is two-fold. One is that I have been moving into my new apartment. I flew up to St. Louis on Friday, drove back in a Uhaul on Monday and Tuesday, and have just recently finished unpacking everything.

The second reason is that we do not have internet in our apartment. This makes it difficult to post on the internet. Hopefully this will be remedied soon, and you all can resume your reading of my wonderfully insightful/entertaining/funny/exciting blog.

I will post about the trip, but I’m at work right now, and don’t have time to do so.

And then I found Five dollars.

and the award for best search term related post goes to…

…probably not this post, but here we go.

First off, I get countless hits from searches for “etrade baby” and “greyhound” related searches, which is why I sort of discontinued this regular feature, but I’ve gotten some really good ones recently, so enjoy!

Bemidji Strip Club: I was in Bemidji, and I gotta tell you, I think that a Strip Club would be a little out of place in the Curling Capital of the USA. – I just did a search on the Yellow pages for Bemidji, and there are in fact no strip clubs in the town. There are stripping “services” but no clubs to speak of. I imagine that if they did have one, it would be Paul Bunyon/ lumberjack themed.

rush hour renegades full house: this takes me back to one of my early posts. For those who don’t remember, this was the name of the Radio show DJed by Uncles Jesse and Joey on Full House. I actually caught an episode yesterday, where the duo invited DJ, Kimmy and Steve for their new segment “Teen Talk” or “Yakkin with Youth” (what to call it was a point of contention between the two hosts). The subject was smoking and peer pressure. I sure learned my lesson – don’t watch episodes of Full House that feature the Rush Hour Renegades.

karaoke internetā: one, I don’t know what the “ā” is for there. two, I still have not mentioned karaoke in any one of my posts, except in posts like these to say that I’ve not mentioned it. To appease these people who keep searching for Karaoke on my blog, I vow to go do Karaoke here within the next two weeks and report in detail back to you.

booby trapped coffee urn: I honestly can think of nothing to say for this. nothing.

Olive Garden cheese biscuits: ah…you are confusing Mediocre italian food with mediocre seafood. Red Lobster has cheese biscuits, while OG has regular ol’ breadsticks. Both of these breads are delicious, but still do not make up for the general mediocrity of their restaurants.

 how many unisom for high: this person is an idiot. I’d like to picture him typing this in, bottle of unisom in hand, scouring the web to find out how he can get high because he ran out of money for pot. Maybe he should have watched the abovementioned Full House episode and learned a thing or two about following the crowd.

I was an Ambulance!!

Before I begin my post, yes, my title did require two exclamation points.

Last week, I did my EMS ride along with a Dorchester County medic unit. As a First Responder I am encouraged to get hands on experience with my newly acquired life saving skills. Most of it is me observing “the action,” but there are times where I can play a crucial role in helping the paramedics perform basic life saving procedures.

Sadly, this ride along did not contain any such moments. While it is good for them, and I guess for the people who were not injured or in need of transport to the hospital, it was boring for me. We had two calls the entire time I was there (9am-8pm).

The first was a fender bender in Summerville, and no one was seriously injured, but one of the parties was complaining of abdominal pain, so we transported her to the hospital. Done and done. Back to the station.

Now you may wonder what those paramedics do on slow days where people aren’t off injuring themselves. Well I got to find out…first hand.

First we had the exciting task of eating some snacks! Rice crispie treats, nutter butters, granola bars – you name it, they had it! EXCITING!

Then we watched some TV! I’m not talking regular TV here, I’m talking Daytime TV – the crap you never watch because you’re at school/work or sleeping. NON STOP ACTION!!

Four episodes of “Tales from the Darkside” later (The 80’s cheesy version of the Twilight Zone), we grab some lunch. LUNCH!

We then put in a movie, The Sentinel with Michael Douglas. MEDIOCRE AT BEST!!

Then we eat dinner at Alex’s restaurant. I’ve never eaten at Alex’s and it not be 2am. It was a new experience for me. GREASY DINER!!

But then, we get our second call. A man is having respiratory problems and needs a transport to the hospital. This is actually and interesting experience, because I got to see all of my “airway” training put into use. The man’s breathing was not getting better, but he was stable when we got him to the hospital.  NORMAL VITALS!

 Then after all was done, I went home. I do want to do this again, but hopefully for Charleston County, where all the action is (or so I’ve heard).

“She had man hands.”

For those of you who don’t know, one of my favourite shows is Seinfeld. There hasn’t been a single episode that I haven’t thought was hilarious, and I own seasons 1-4 on DVD.

It is in this vein that I have come up with a Seinfeldian nickname for a class of people that annoy me to no end:

The Winkers – It really is as simple as it sounds. People who wink at me annoy me. There are few exceptions: a member of the opposite sex using it (very) sparingly as a means of flirtation or anyone using it to make fun of said group, The Winkers.

What usually makes the Winkers so annoying is that they are unceasingly pleasant. I am reminded of “The Texan” as introduced in the first chapter of “Catch 22.” It’s really this notion of unceasing that is key to my dislike of this group. They constantly joke and use sarcasm, and feel the need to punctuate 98% of these jokes and sly remarks with a wink.

Winkers are often the same as Invaders of personal space. They will place a hand on your shoulder as a greeting, completely throwing you off your guard. It is also likely that they really like shaking hands and being overly friendly all the time.

Even if, and this is the key part, you’ve been introduced already and have known this person for a period of time longer than one week.

If you find you are a winker, don’t fret, the fact that you realize you’re a winker is the first step to recovery.

I’ve realized, after writing this, that we have a winker currently leading our country.

Who is also an invader of Personal Space:

Who says Hamsters aren’t fun?

I hope this video post works… I actually laughed out loud, in my room at 11pm by myself.

<edit- apparently wordpress won’t let me embed google video, so here’s the link http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-780657532860098240&hl=en

it’s awesome>

also, I’ve been posting less and less as you can tell, I’m sure. I’ve got some posts working over in my head. Plus more greyhound stuff.

I’m alive (SUCK IT DUDE)

Yesterday was an amazingly beautiful South Carolina day. 70 degrees, sunny, breezy – Perfect Weather, I believe it is called.

Anyway, I had the whole weekend off, and I was determined to actually do something with such fantastic weather. On Saturday, I fixed my bike with such intention, hoping to take full advantage of Sunday’s forecasted meterological bliss.

Sunday comes around and I set out to just bike down to Summerville and back – about a six mile round trip.

I get to Summerville, and decide to take the Sawmill Walk/Bike path that runs alongside the Berlin G. Meyer Expressway for a while, so I don’t have to deal with traffic. I keep going and going, and soon I realize that I’ve actually gone quite a distance. Not wanting to turn around now, since I loathe backtracking when I’m biking, I keep going until the next cross street, which I’ll take a right on, so it will take me back to the main drag.

That next street turns out to be Dorchester Rd.

Now for those of you reading my blog who are not familiar with the Lowcountry, Dorchester Rd is, as I believe the official measurement reflects, a ways out there. It’s also a super busy highway with a speed limit of 55 mph.

AMAZINGLY, I do not die. Though one asshole (pardon my fr… you know what don’t pardon it, he was an asshole) sped by me and shouted something rude and probably dumb at me nearly knocking me down. I kept my cool, and basked in victory as I passed by him three minutes later as he was stuck in traffic. SUCK IT DUDE.

Anyways, I do make it home, alive and in one piece. I google map my route to learn that I just biked 20 miles…20.miles.

What’s even better is that my legs today are not killing me like they probably should be. My hip is bothering me a bit, but that’s from sitting in front of a computer at work all day after biking 20 miles the day before.

My conclusion after all this is that I am either:

a) in reasonably good shape since I’ve been going to the gym all winter.

b) Superman.

(I’m not going to lie, I feel like “b”)

An Open Letter to Daylight Savings Time

Dear Daylight Savings Time,

    I just wanted to say how appreciative I am of your arrival here in March. It seems pretty early for you, I must admit, but I’m not complaining.

   I didn’t want to say anything before you actually got here, but your counterpart, Daylight Standard Time, is a total jerk. Do you know what it’s like to get off from work, and have to drive home in the dark? It’s depressing, let me tell you. With you, it feels like my job doesn’t consume my whole day. I can go biking, climbing, or just sit around and enjoy the waning evening hours as the sun slowly fades from view.

  I’ll forgive the fact that your arrival also is accompanied by a lost hour. You just TAKE it. You’ve no regard for sleep or anything. But I’ll tell you, that hour of 2am-3am is hardly missed, so enjoy your justly earned spoils.

   Nonetheless, this does inconvience a lot of people. Luckily it doesn’t really inconvience me, since I didn’t have to be at work until 11am today, and that’s not a problem. But to do away with any confusion, I say you just take over for good. Who needs that Standard Time Jerk? Not me, for one. Why can’t we just settle for our days getting shorter naturally? We don’t need to chop off an hour of useful daylight to emphasize the point that I can’t bike past 5pm without the risk of serious injury or death.

    I’m just saying, you’ve got a lot of fans waiting to be mobilized. We can just ignore Daylight standard time change if we want. But we’d have to do it all together. When November 2 rolls around we can just refuse to “Fall Back.” So what if we’re late for work, a date, or a court appearance. That’s a small price to pay to show solidarity in the struggle to keep our Daylight hours where they’re most useful – in the evening. 

   If nothing else, I’d just like to thank you for your timely arrival. Thank you.

Yours truly,

Daniel 

Westward Bound: The Great Greyhound Adventure of 2007. Part 5

We’re still in Wadena, MN, and I’ve met one of our fellow travelers who is also taking advantage of the Dairy Queen stop we’ve made. Her name is Lisa, and she works with Bears. I don’t remember where, but her job was to study Bears and help them. This impresses me, and we share lunch together. As we all finish up, we prepare to load onto the appropriate bus.

Before we do, here’s a quick note about Jefferson Lines. They are the first bus line that I’ve been on, that will transfer your luggage for you. At every other Greyhound transfer, you get off the bus, wait by the side of the bus, collect your own baggage, and then take it with you into the terminal, where you wait, get back on a bus, and then give you luggage to the baggage guy, who loads it appropriately. The only thing you’re not doing is physically putting it on and taking it off the bus. Not so with Jefferson Lines. In Minneapolis, they tell us not to worry about our luggage, that they’ll transfer it for us. This is convenient, but a little nerve wracking. When you transfer your own luggage, you never have to worry about losing it, YOU’VE got it. Easy.

The same thing happens in Wadena. The Bus Driver tells us that if we’re going to Bemidji we need to get on the other bus, whereas if we are going to Fargo, we should stay on the bus we came in on. He goes on to tell us that they will transfer our luggage for us. No worries. As we finish up lunch, there’s been a change in plans. We are told that it is exact opposite of what he told us. Bemidji-stay on the same bus, Fargo – get on the other bus, don’t worry about your luggage. Fine.

We get on the bus and we’re on our way to Bemidji – land of Pete Fenson and Curling Capital of the USA. This leg of the trip is also uneventful. I get a different seat, one without a bar in my butt, and the bus is pretty sparsely filled. This is the first time that we’ve been on a bus that wasn’t filled to capacity.

We pull into Bemidji, and it is quite beautiful. There’s a large lake and it’s sunny and breezy and just fantastic. As we get off the bus, the driver starts removing our luggage, we all wait and pick up ours as we see it pulled off the bus. You might have guessed what happens next once all the luggage has been pulled off. Mine is suspiciously not there. I refuse to freak out. Perhaps it’s still on the bus. Perhaps it was mislabeled. The bus drive checks again, at my request.

It isn’t there. All my clothes, toiletries, extra pair of shoes, and jar of peanut butter are having their own journey, separate from my own. For the only time on the trip, I get upset. The driver assures me that my things are on the bus to Grand Forks. He’ll be stopping in Grand Forks that evening, and, as luck would have it, is the driver who will be taking us back to St. Cloud, where we will transfer to Fargo. He tells me he’ll pick up my bags and have them on my bus tomorrow. There’s nothing else I can do, so I say that that will be fine, and we go to the “station” to get our tickets for tomorrow, so that there’s no mixup in what bus we’ll be getting on.

I say “station” because it isn’t exactly a station, so much as it is a western union/uhaul rental/store of various odds ‘n ends/ place to buy bus tickets out of Bemidji. The bus parks in the shared parking lot of the “station” and a restaurant.

Since our tent was on my bag, and we were planning to stay at the KOA, we have to modify our plans. There’s a tiny motel next to the bus station, and we settle on that. Which turns out to be the best idea we’ve ever had. We shower, I borrow a shirt from my friend, and we are off to explore Bemidji.

Like I said, the main reason we went to Bemidji was to meet Pete Fenson, skip of the Bronze medal US Olympic Curling team. He owns a pizza place, Dave’s Pizza (go figure), which is in the town. I called up beforehand to find out if he would be in, and talked to him personally for a bit. He said he would be in. I had said we would be in around 12:00, however. And what with the fuss of losing my bags, coming into town late, getting set up at the motel, and needing a shower, we finally called the pizza place around 2:00. He was not there. We were crushed. The guy who answered said he might be in the next day early. Which would be great, since our bus leaves at 1 the next day.

We decide to make the best of it and set out to explore Bemidji. It’s not much of a town. It’s nice, well kept, and tiny. We see Paul Bunyon and Babe the blue ox – or rather, large represenations of the two, since Bemidji is the fabled home of the lumberjack. Everything about Bemidji reflects this claim to fame. We walk down Paul Bunyon Dr to Dave’s Pizza, at least to get something to eat. The pizza is delicious, and we make our way back to the motel. Each of us promptly passes out.

Before I end this post, I’d like to point out some more things about Bemidji.

Everyone in the town had exactly the accent I thought all Minnesotans/Canadians had. I don’t think I wasn’t amused the entire time.

Also, everyone in the town is really really nice.

This is the first place I took any pictures. (I’ll try to post some here)

The weather was fantastic. At the time of our trip (early July) the country was going through a heat wave. Everywhere it was 90+ degrees. Everywhere, that is, except Bemidji. It was sunny, 79 degrees and breezy. That is what weather should be.

Check out the next post to find out:

if we ever meet Pete Fenson

if I actually get my bag back

if the weather stays just as beautiful

and if I ever get a piece of delicious Rhubarb Pie that I mentioned in the last post.

There Will Be Internet Search Terms

All right, it’s a pretty crappy title. But here we go. Obviously I’m not going to do all of them for the past three weeks or something. But I am going to highlight some of my favourite ones:

snickers and peanut m&ms healthy: the short answer for this internet surfer is yes, they are healthy – eat as many as you want.

high off unisom: is this person searching to see how to get high off of unisom, or if they can get high off unisom? I don’t believe I ever endorsed Unisom, but rather the Target knock off brand of it – which does not get you high – it puts you to sleep. As should, I imagine, Unisom.

“got back together with my wife”: the fact that this phrase, in quotes, resulted in my blog, is surprising, because i don’t recall ever writing that EXACT phrase. I’ve written a lot though, so who knows. hope it all works out dude (or lady in Massachusettes).

adventure work blog: I know my job sounds like an adventure, and in some ways it is. But mostly it is not. I apologize if I portrayed my employment as such.

And now for some interesting categories of search terms that I’ll bunch together:

all search terms related to the etrade baby voice: there are a million of them, and I can’t explain it. If you search for etrade baby voice or any derivative of it, I am the first site listed, or at least in the top two. Isn’t that crazy? I think it is.

two of my friends were searched for, and my blog was clicked on instead of theirs, which are over there to the right in my blogroll: “erin marie walsh” (Erin, you must be popular with the internet stalker crowd) and “daniel powell” charleston. Apparently the “charleston” was needed because, I imagine, there are plenty of Daniel Powells out there.

many greyhound or amtrak search terms – listed here:

cross country greyhound trip
greyhound bus ride cross-country
greyhound discovery pass experience
greyhound station in indianapolis in
greyhounds that go to chicago from cincinnati
david sedaris greyhound
layover greyhound sleep
trains from minneapolis to bemidji
atlanta greyhound bus station

I will now proceed to advise all those people who searched for those things. Firstly, I would bet that www.greyhound.com would be a better place to start if you were looking for schedules. If you’re looking to see what the experience it like, then I imagine that my blog should help you out, so congratulations. Secondly, no trains run to Bemidji. Try www.amtrak.com for other train routes. Thirdly, the David Sedaris story that mentions greyhound travel can be found in the collection of stories entitled Naked. I hope that helps everyone, since that’s what I’m here to do, yes? yes.

What I did while other people were on Spring Break.

It’s been a while since I last posted, and it’s been a while since I’ve done regular posting.

Well that all ends now! Well…it’ll actually end once I start posting regularly again, and one post hardly counts for regularly.

What better way to start again with this blog, than by sharing with you some changes in my life since I last posted:

-I grew a beard. Yes, I did. It’s not a good idea, I know that, but laziness turned into more laziness and before I knew it I had a beard. I would shave it off, but I’m too lazy. Plus it’s easier to just trim it now and then so I don’t get the crazy neck beard that would normally accompany the regular beard. gross.

-I’ve slacked off on going to the gym. I went to the gym one time last week. That marked the first time in about two weeks that I’d gone to the gym. That was last Tuesday. I’ve got to start going to the gym again – not so much for my health, but because I don’t want to feel like I’m paying 29.99 a month for nothing.

-I aced some tests. Specifically, my first exam in Legal Bibliography. I didn’t know what the heck I was doing, but somehow I pulled out a 98. I also made a 98 on my Final Exam for First Responder Class.

-I became a First Responder. That’s right, now I can do any one of the following:  CPR, splint a broken limb, stop arterial bleeding, treat shock, put on protective gear, strap someone to a backboard, deliver a baby, and lots of other neat stuff. Something tells me that my current position in the Parks System will not afford me many opportunities to use these new skills. However, we did go over how to remove a pencil that has been lodged in someone’s cheek – yes, that was an actual section in our book. Does that happen often?

Here are some things you can look forward to in the coming days and weeks on this blog:

- more Greyhound posts. I really like writing them. I hope you like reading them…because there’s a lot more coming.

- a post about riding in an ambulance. As a first responder I get to do a “ride-along” with Charleston County EMTs, in an ambulance, on one of their shifts. I get to ride in the back and go with them as they answer all kinds of calls. I’m a little nervous about it, but I’m more excited. The reason for this excitement is that when I was in the First Grade, my favourite tv show was Rescue 911. Due to this fact, I wanted to be an “ambulance” when I grew up. I had not distinguished the difference between paramedics and what they drove, so it was all the same for me. It would have been easier if the word “car” or “truck” would have been in the name. No kid wants to be a Fire Truck, or a Police Car. There might be some weird kid out there who wants to be a Police Cruiser, but I doubt it.  Either way, I get to live this weird childhood dream to at least ride in an ambulance.

- something really dumb that you’ll skip over, and I’ll delete later.

Westward Bound: The Great Greyhound Adventure of 2007. part 4

We left off as we were leaving the bustling Chicago station. After a hectic transfer we were indeed on our way to Milwaukee, where we wouldn’t actually transfer, but, rather, make a stop, since it is a major city of sorts.

We leave Chicago around 10:30 pm, so our arrival time in Minneapolis, our next transfer, is the next morning. With this knowledge I make full use of the Target knock off brand of ,what is essentially, Unisom. I was able to sleep all right from Atlanta to Lexington, but it’s the getting to sleep that is an issue. You’ve got people all around you, it’s not exactly comfortable, and, lest you forget at any time, you are on a bus. Now I don’t want this to be blown up into some huge pharmaceutical endorsement…but Target brand knock off Unisom is amazing. I take one little blue, non habit forming, pill and within maybe 10-15 minutes I am out like a light. It doesn’t leave me drowsy in the morning, and I sleep like a baby on the bus. I take one as soon as we are on the road from Chicago.

Before I fall asleep, I learn a few things about my fellow bus riders for this leg of the trip. The first thing is that two of them really do not get along. How do I know this? I don’t know, really, and I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but when two people start fighting – with their fists – on the bus, I tend to assume that they are not exactly on the best of terms. Now I know, I know this would be an amazing story for you to read about, however, I had already taken said magic blue pill and was awoken just long enough to know that a fight had indeed broken out. The two were separated, and were not on the bus with us beyond the next stop. I apologize for not having more details; it will probably happen again.

I also learn that my other favoured mode of transportation has not been too reliable lately. Apparently Amtrak had some problems with route from Chicago to Madison, so a bunch of those people were given Greyhound tickets and were our companions on this short leg of the trip. I do love Amtrak as well, but I think that if I were bumped down to the bus, I would not be a happy camper at all. Needless to say, these people were not happy campers. They were pleasant enough, and I suppose it was fortunate that for all of these people, their last stop was in Wisconsin, so they didn’t have to stay on the bus past morning.

We pull into Milwaukee. I am awoken by my sidekick, as it were, that we are all getting off the bus, and transferring to a new one. There is, much to our surprise, something wrong with the steering on the bus, and we need to get on a different one. Let me put that another way- The bus that had just transported us from Chicago, IL to Milwaukee, WI had a problem with the steering - that which controls the bus. And, in case you forgot, buses are quite large. I might have been worried or upset had I not taken the blue pill earlier. Remember how I said with the pill I’m never drowsy in the morning? Well “morning” does not apply to 4 in the morning. 4:00am is not morning, nor is it evening. It is a non-time. Unless confronted with it directly, you would never know that a 4 am exists. It does, and it is less than pleasant to confront it when still drugged and in Milwaukee (without your glasses, I might add, since I was not going to bother to go through my bag to find them and put them on – only to take them off again when we get back on the bus).

We do get back on the bus – this time with more leg room than the bus before, which is good – and continue on our way to the Twin Cities. Without any delay, I am sound asleep and the whole “no steering” issue is well to the back of my mind.

The next time I wake up is fantastic. I wake up on my own about 2 or 3 hours later. The bus is still mostly dark, and everyone else is completely out. I look out the window to see the rolling Wisconsin landscape. Just slightly hilly is how I would describe it. Anyways, it isn’t long after that the sun rises. It’s a beautiful clear day, and the entire sky erupts in color. You know that scene in Lawrence of Arabia, you know, with the rising of the sun? It starts in darkness and then slowly it gets lighter and lighter until you actually see the sun breach over the horizon, and it’s all cinematically beautiful and epic and stuff. It was like that, but in Wisconsin. There have been several times in my life that I have been completely moved by an experience of natural beauty. This was definitely one of them. I’d say it would have been completely worth it to do the whole trip and that be the only positive – that one moment. Luckily there were more, but it was amazing, to say the very least.

We arrive in Minneapolis. One thing to note about midwestern cities is this: They come out of freaking nowhere. We’re driving along, with this vast expansive landscape, when all of a sudden, you look ahead and BAM! there’s a city. Middle of nowhere and here’s a city. No warning, nothing. When you drive into Charleston you ease your way out of nothing. First there’s Summerville, then North Charleston, then Charleston. The Lowcountry here is very sprawling and fades out to the edges. Not so in the midwest. One moment there’s nothing for miles…and then you’re in a huge metropolis without any warning.

Minneapolis may have had one of the nicest bus stations we saw on the whole trip. Chicago and Atlanta were “nice” but they were so busy and cramped. Minneapolis seemed just as busy, but you also had a sense that you had a little more room, and it wasn’t as claustrophobic. We get off the bus, and await our transfer to Bemidji. There’s nothing really interesting to note about Minneapolis station except that it was in the middle of the city, or so it seemed. In other cities, the bus station is on the outskirts in a not-so-nice part of town. In Minneapolis it was very nice and you got to see downtown. I liked it and would hope to visit their fair city, when it’s not ungodly cold, that is.

Our next leg is our first non-Greyhound part of the journey since Southeastern Stages carried us from Charleston to Atlanta. Greyhound does not service Bemidji, as it is in the middle of nowhere, Minnesota, so we will be riding the luxurious Jefferson Lines.

We board this new bus line and it is not as comfortable as the previous buses we have been on. Greyhound currently has ads up promoting their new “more comfortable” seats. Jefferson Lines, I think, got all the old, less comfortable seats that Greyhound didn’t need anymore. There was a weird bar in my seat which prevented me from sitting up straight, so I was forced to slouch the whole time, which isn’t all that comfortable for one’s back either.

We pull into our one and only transfer point, Wadena, MN. This is not even a station. The transfer is done in between a McDonald’s and a Dairy Queen. It is exactly what I have described. You have these two restaurants, and on the road between them there are two spots for buses to park. Passengers will either stay on their current bus, or move to the next one. It’s not that complicated. Either way, it’s fairly amusing.

The next segment of the story is a little too long, and is one of my favourite parts of the trip, so I’ll save it for part 5 coming up. I don’t know how I talked so long about the least exciting leg of the trip, but there you have it. If you’re going to get all your friends to read my blog, the next greyhound post will definitely be the time for them to jump in. It’ll have mystery, deception, loss, romance, adventure, and some delicious Strawberry Rhubarb Pie.

Well maybe not so much romance…but the pie will be there. I promise.