California Dreamin'
It's been a little while since I had time to sit down and do the Spring Break post, but here on Friday afternoon, fortified with soda and Easter candy, I'll see what I can do. I think I'll go with the ever popular play-by-play method, with some commentary sprinkled in for good measure. Soooooo...
Saturday the 12th. Mom and Dad came up and took me and Austin to Indy to catch our plane. They took us to the Spaghetti Factory for lunch, and all in all fun was had. You know. Until I had to go through security. I hate airports and airplanes and everything really associated with travel that doesn't take place on the ground. So it makes sense that my bags would get stuck in the x-ray machine. Which leaves me standing there in front of the machine, shoeless, beltless, nervous that somehow someone put drugs or bombs or stolen children in my carry on and I'm going to be tazed to death by those scary airport security guys. After, of course, some giant lesbian she-man strip searches me and makes me cry. So the big fat guy behind the machine decides that the best course of action is to yell at me, since I must look suspicious, standing there, white-faced and on the verge of throwing up, my eyes on the black hole where my bag is. I politely choke out that the conveyer belt has stopped and I'm just waiting on my bag, but no use. Tears happen. Eventually the bag comes through, cleared of being a cleverly disguised destructive device, and the fat man tosses me a look that says, "Sorry, kid, it's my job. Now get the hell out of my line." So I hop along, tugging my bag and trying to put my shoes one while Austin leads the way to our gate. Where we sit for some time...30 minutes maybe. Something like that. I'll spare you the details of this first plane ride, just that my situation would have been greatly improved by something the strength of an elephant tranqualizer. I hate flying. We make it to Minnesota, which is totally the worst state in the country, and I really think we should give it to Canada. Stupid ass people with their stupid ass accents and really really bad haircuts. When's Canada's birthday? Great present, I swear. Another plane ride after our two hour and some layover, and we sat behind the amazing Gorillia Man. Seriously. If a man had sex with a gorilla like, 25 years ago, we totally saw the progeny. And let me tell you, ladies and gents...it was not pretty. Stop mating with animals. Ew. Made it into Sac, met Austin's dad, drove back to the house, where younger brother and his girlfriend, and little sister had waited up to meet us. Crashed out into bed soon afterwards.
The rest of the week. Spent in a myriad of basketball games, 24!!!, movies, and video games, with days trips sprinkled in, and a night of drinking for good measure. Love Austin's family so so much...little sister Chloe rocked out, so smart and diabolical and just fun to have around. Plus, you know, she's a gamer girl. Which is totally cool. Even if Austin and Jason and their dad did yell at her for using cheat codes. I defended her :) Brett, the younger brother...very quiet, very polite, very useful to have on a team whilst playing trivial pursuit. Major history buff. But I didn't really talk to him a whole lot. His girlfriend Nicole...not very bright, but made up for it in being very nice, very helpful. Also very loud, though, which eventually drove us crazy. Still. Sweet girl. Older brother Jason...*sighs*. Well. The first time he was in the house I was glowered at, and he left after about 10 minutes. And then didn't come over to watch 24, which I gathered was something that he usually did. Or out to dinner with us. So. He was irritated more with Austin, but I was the cause of it. He did come for dinner on Patrick's Day, though, and we rode with him into Sac for a parade...when we actually did have something of a break through. Austin was dozing, so Jason and I started talking about music, found we had several interests in common, which sustained us for the ride. On the way home, he blasted the speakers for me, seeing how loud we could get them without getting fuzzy. I think if we'd spent more time in a car, we would've gotten on better. I did really like Mulholland Drive, which helped, and he answered any questions I asked him directly. So. He didn't hate me, but he wasn't exactly excited by the fact that I existed either. Whatever. His mom was a blast. She's very smart, and very opinionated and just a lot of fun to talk with. I wonder how many hours I logged with her, just sitting at the table and talking about education and kids and...wait. I wonder how tricky she actually was being about all that...hmm. Something to think on...did I get an interview, testing my potential and views, and not even realize it? *ponders* Yes. Yes I did. Damn. She was good. His dad was equally fun, but for different reasons. He's the only basketball watcher in the family, and was damn excited to have someone to watch games with and talk to about them. We had a highly rousing discussion over breakfast one morning comparing IU basketball to Notre Dame football. And I cracked him up, the way I yelled at the Tv, especially at Duke and Kentucky. San Fran was way cool and I got to ride a trolley car and took some fantastic pictures. Dude. If Bloomington had a trolley car, I'd ride it every chance I got. I also found a button in an antique shop that says I heart Folsom. So I bought it and pinned it to my purse and wore it around the whole week. All in all...major fun was had and I'd go back again any time. I'll tell you later about our hellacious journey home. I want lunch.