The Midwestern Treasure Hunt

If you've never driven through MidAmerica, then you've likely never had the chance to get trapped in the maze of highways and county roads sandwiched between the major interstates out here. As a semi-full-time traveler I have had such an experience. More than once. And let me tell you, more than once is way too much. Here is the moral to this little intro: driving through Indiana can be hard. A big part of what makes the drive so tricky is the terrible navigational advice from my Garmin. Now I know that sentence may be a little confusing for some of you out there, but the Garmin is not always right, and sometimes it is very very wrong. In my wildest dreams, I have never imagined a world where tractor-paths-turned-winding-cornfield-roads were the BEST way to get from one interstate to another. Clearly I never dreamed in Garmin. Ugh, what a joke. All we wanted to do was find a casino to lose a little money at on a Friday night. Instead we ended up spending almost two hours driving through pitch black, deer infested woods and up a mountain. How a mountain got into Indiana I don't know, but I am sure that this was it. So we drive up this dark, dark mountain, dodge a few deer and then what to we come to find out? I'll tell you. Apparently, Garmin decided to forgoe the closest escape from the torture road to get us just a little farther west on the interstate. Uhh what? Did I hit the civilization avoidance in the settings? I think not. Thanks Garmin, thanks a whole bunch. Thank goodness my navigator finally figure out what was going on and got us pointed in the right direction, otherwise we probably would have ended up sleeping in the van and trying again at daybreak. Side note: how anyone lives out there, I don't know. It's a corn maze everyday and really those things are only fun for like, 20 minutes tops, so I am totally stumped on this one. Ok, back to the action. So we finally find the interstate, and we finally find a hotel (the only one for miles--no joke) and we finally think we're going to get to sleep when yours truly misses the turn and gets back on the interstate...in the wrong direction. The only thing worse than missing your bed for the night is missing it by 6 miles to the next exit and then another 6 to turn around and get back. Yeah, not good. However we did finally make it to the Comfort Inn and got a room and then proceeded to collapse into a deep, deep slumber. While enjoying our free breakfast the next morning, we notice a nice little rain storm going on outside but does it really matter? Nope! Why doesn't it matter you ask? Because there is no rain in the casino!!! Yep, after all those mountains and deer and missed interstates, we were finally ready for the casino. This isn't just any casino trip either. Our destination was well researched and put through a vigorous interview process before being chosen as the destination of choice that night. When it came down to it though, Indiana Live! really had everything we needed: penny slots, a bar, a fancy restaruarnt with creme brulee, coctail waitresses and a bar. I'd go back to Indiana Live! anytime I'm driving down Interstate 74 through Shelbyville, IN because they had the most generous penny slots I've ever had the priviledge of pulling the handle on. I'm not saying I walked away a milloinaire, but I did only leave $30 behind and that was after getting risky with my machine winnings and losing it all for a few high priced spins of the wheel. Sometimes it's just so hard to stop though. The best part about the night?? Creme brulee and dessert wine with the lovely Sam. You know you're in a fancy part of town when an $8.50 glass of wine is approximately 2 shots of liquid in a port sized glass. That dear sirs and ma'ams, is what I like to call swanky. Wine like that is not for chugging. It is meant to be slowly sipped and enjoyed while it enhances the flavors of our $8 dessert, and let me assure you, it did all that and more. That creme brulee was literally the best food we ate all week. Panera did come pretty close to the Maker's Mark Steakhouse dessert, but that delicious concoction absolutly takes the cake. It made our midnight drive SOOOO worth it, and although I never want to drive THOSE roads again, I'd gladly go back for seconds of the creme brulee.

The Joys of Air Travel

This week something very special happened to me at work: I flew to a job. For any of you who know about FUN Enterprises, this is a huge deal because 99% of our travel is driving, so when you get offered a plane ticket, you take it. With that being said, please note that any following complaints are not a commentary on flight choices made by the travel coordinators in the office but rather on the logistical plans designed by United Airlines. Now I know I don't work for an airline and I really don't know a thing about how flight plans are created, but I'll tell you one thing I do know: a flight from Boston to Atlanta that connects through Chicago just does not make an ounce of sense. Not one ounce. A trip from Boston to Atlanta should take 2 hours max, but instead I was lucky enough to enjoy a 5.5 hour journey including 3.5 hours of flight time and a 2 hour layover. Ugh. The day started around 2:00pm with a lovely trip on the Logan Express getting me to the airport at 2:30. I've been on several flights in my day, but this was my first time at terminal C, and what a delight! It was a nice quiet day so all I had to do was walk right up to the self-serve kiosk, push a few buttons and boom, there are my boarding passes. My first flight that day boarded at 4:52 so the question then became, "What do I do for the next 2 hours?" It didn't take long to figure this one out. I found myself a nice cozy chair and settled in for a little one-on-one computer time. Airport gates are the perfect location to get some really good people watching done, and here is my #1 observation from the day. When presented with the option of the usual airport chair or the decidedly New England white rocking chairs, it appears that the temptation of a little rocking time is just too great for some folks to resist. Of the 12 rocking chairs at my gate, I'd estimate that there were only 2 or 3 open at any one time during my hours spent there. The great thing about rocking chairs is that they don't discriminate. Anyone can sit in an airport rocking chair and still look fairly normal, posing as a tourist passing through the area. Once I was able to get over my fascination with the rocking chair lovers, I made my #2 observation of the day. A former hairdresser of mine, a woman that I had not seen for at least four years, was sitting a chair away from me. If you've ever been in one of those public sighting situations, then you know how tormenting it can be trying to decide whether or not to say hello to this person who may or may not remember you from years past. What made my ordeal just that much more difficult was the fact that there was a cute little baby distracting my hairdresser and her family, so much so that I couldn't get a good chance to interrupt and say hi. I waited and watched for the better part of an hour trying to get a word in edgewise, but it just didn't happen. Eventually, I gave up and started making my pre-boarding preparations including buying an $8 magazine and gum combo pack for the flight. By the time I got back to where I had been sitting, my seat had been claimed by a fellow passenger and I got stuck with the only empty seat in the middle of a college speech team. To put it lightly, these kids didn't take a break from warming up their instruments. Great. Finally our flight boarded and while walking down the aisle to my seat WAY back in the plane, I spot the hairdresser again, and I realized that this was my chance. I casually leaned over and asked whether she used to work at the Hair Condition and what do you know, she looks to her mom and says, "I knew it! I knew that was her!" As it turns out, she had seen me at the gate too and was trying to figure out why I looked so familiar. Isn't it funny how airports work? Granted I was in my home state, but still, meeting up with a hairdresser from a salon that isn't even open anymore? It was pretty cool. That was the most fun I had that day, it was such a great little treat. My third and final observation for the day hit me when I arrived in Chicago for my connection to Atlanta. As I was digging in my bag for my wallet, I pulled out my car keys and discovered that I had forgotten to take the little Swiss Army knife off my key chain. I swear I didn't mean to do it, I didn't really need it for work since I knew I would have plenty of scissors around and I had fully intended to leave it at work that morning. I just forgot. As it turns out, TSA didn't seem to think that it was a big deal and they let the little guy travel with me. How kind of them, in a scary sort of way.

PS (These are just funny: Q1 - Which door in the airport did this dino stroll in through? Q2 - At what other times have folks attempted to put their seatbelts on?)

You've made it to a rest area, now what do you do?

As I learned this weekend, some folks have very unusual answers to this question. And that's the tricky thing about an open ended question like that, you NEVER know what you're going to get. I wish I still didn't know. ::shiver:: Anyhow, here are two answers that I got, one slightly annoying and the other slightly awkward. I'll let you figure out which is which. Answer #1 (courtesy of NJ Turnpike, NJ, USA): Stand in the doorway of the ladies restroom and completely block entry by any other patrons while juggling two kids and giving the appearance that you are waiting in line when you indeed are not but are merely being selfish with floorspace. To put it lightly, I was infuriated. Most of this had to do with the fact that my bladder was in the danger zone after a gigantic water four hours of work, but the rest of it was this woman's blatant disregard for common courtesy. The worst part about the whole thing is that I was trying to be EXTRA courteous and not seem all impatient by sticking my head in the door to see if there really were any available stalls; I was content to wait my turn. I'm not saying I'm Miss Manners or anything, but I thought I was doing my part at making the world a more courteous place. Then this happens. Seriously lady, you know that 99% of people walking through this door are here to use the facilities. What voice in your head is telling you that it's ok to stand in the middle of the sink area and block the path to liquid build-up relief? (The voice in my head was pretty upset at this point) Now, you may be wondering exactly how I determined that there was no line. This is the the most irritating part of the story. I realized the truth of the situation when some other lady swooped in around me in line to look for an open stall and disappeared into the abyss, leading me to realize that I'd been standing there like an idiot waiting for an open stall that was already open. Gah. I believe that by now, we humans should be so used to waiting that we can recognize when those accidental lines start forming, like when you're really not waiting but rather, striking a pose in front of the counter/trying to figure out what to order at McDonald's or Starbucks or some place like that. Apparently this skill has not been passed along in every family. Fortunately, I was resolved the situation just in time to avoid any further embarrassment, but not without a few grumbles and some angry soda indulgence following the episode. Ok, deep breath and on we go. Answer #2 (courtesy of Interstate 64 East, VA, USA): Hike your skirt to it's full extent and expose appropriately named "granny panties" to restroom full of mothers, children and unsuspecting young adults in order to adjust fallen pantyhose. ::double shiver:: The first thought that went through my head after experiencing this phenomenon? And I quote, "Uuuuummmmm...WHAT??" Here's how it all went down. I'm taking a fairly regular stop along the interstate, making good time getting to my next destination, and I think things are hunky dory. I stroll into the ladies room, do my business and proceed to wait my turn behind a bunch of kids who are making sure that their hands are VERY clean. To my left is the mom, waiting to head out to the car. To my right is a young thirty something assisting a much, much older woman who is sporting a skirt suit and a terry cloth visor. Before I have time to shield my eyes, up goes the skirt! Did I mention all the children present? Now, I know that wearing nylons is a huge pain, especially in the south on an 80 degree day, but I have to admit that I was not really expecting her to resolve the problem in that way. However, one could also make the argument that it was a LADIES RESTROOM and we all have the same parts, just in different stages of disrepair. So, now that I've gotten past the initial shock, I look around the room expecting someone else to notice. Did they? I'm really not sure because NOBODY in that entire restroom reacted. I figured I'd get a giggle out of the kids or maybe a dropped jaw from the mom, but there was nothing. Nothing besides me nearly bursting a blood vessel in my forehead to keep from laughing at feeling so completely uncomfortable. I only hope that I'm that wild and crazy when I'm her age. So there it is, the beginning of my collection of answers to the question "You've made it to a rest area, now what do you do?" I'd venture to say that a multitude of answers abound, but overall this seems like a pretty good way to start.

The Wasp.

Every once in a while, you'll come upon a hotel room that has "guests" already checked in when you open the door. Sometimes they are hiding right under the pillows, sometimes they're on the bathroom floor and SOMETIMES you find out they're in the room when they buzz over your head. Last night falls under the third category. And it was terrifying. I've never seen a wasp that big before, ever. He was a beast and I'm pretty sure he had me in his sights. He didn't give up his position until about 20 minutes after I walked in the door and got cozy in my bed or else I never would have stayed in that room. This was not a very smart wasp though. After he flew over my head, he landed on the light fixture on the ceiling and then there was no hiding from my shoe. Or so I thought. When I finally worked up my courage, I grabbed my sneaker and tip toed over and then...WHAM!!! At first I thought I got him, but then he started flying around like crazy until he landed on the wall. He buzzed a little bit and then finally curled up into what I believed to be a death ball. What a tricky little bugger. He stayed in that position for at least an hour, silent and still, planning his next move. All of the sudden I hear the most dreaded noise a person can hear when locked in a hotel room with a seemingly dead wasp: buzz. My stomach dropped and I felt adrenaline rush through my body as I jumped off the bed and scrambled for a weapon. After completing my arsenal with the coffee service tray and a plastic cup, I debated whether I should give the little guy leniancy and try to set him free but after looking at his huge waspy body again, I decided that my personal safety was far too important and it was time to take him down once and for all. Up I snuck, tray in my right hand, plastic cup in my left, ready to pounce. WARNING: This next session is not for the faint of heart. Armed and ready, I rushed the wall and SMASH!!! (much more effective than WHAM) and then SLIDE as I smeared him down the wall to make sure that I really got him. The rest was quick to follow: scoop the corpse, dump it and flush the toilet. Done. Unfortunately, I was in too much of a hurry cleaning up the scene to grab a picture, but this is a pretty good resemblence. Scary. Very scary.

Pink Lightening

Yes, it's true, I saw pink lightening. It was awesome! I don't know if lightening is always pink when one is driving directly under a thunderstorm, but it certainly was in this case. I know when my mom reads this, she is going to want to know WHY I was driving under a thunderstorm--she really did teach me better, I just don't always listen. Let me answer that question for all of you, just for the fun of it. I was under a thunderstorm because I took a two hour detour that completely destroyed the head start that I had on the storm when I starting driving out of Illinois. Honestly, it's the most worthwhile detour I've taken in a long time. I took a chance on a little roadside sign for Cameo Vineyards and Winery and I am so glad that I did. Before yesterday, I thought Illinois was all corn fields and Wal*Marts. No no, not the case at all. In Greenup, IL you will find a gorgeous homegrown winery featuring some of the best wine I've ever had. Owners Sonya and Dan grow all of the grapes on their 10 acres, care for the vines and tend the store where they sell the fruit of their labor. I drove off the interstate on a whim and ended up chatting with Sonya for 2 hours about wine and being a business owner and following dreams and men and kids and what it's like to live in Illinois and, well, the list goes on and on. It was fantastic. She told me about how she and her husband had worked in corporate America for years when they suddenly decided that wine was what they wanted to do. They quit their jobs and starting spending everyday in the fields, cultivating vines and caring for the fragile plants. That was nine years ago. Imagine taking a major leap like that, not knowing what will happen, and then having it all working out? She was so candid with me, I almost forgot we had met only a few hours prior. That is one of the greatest things about the Midwest, instant friends. Sometimes, they are what we in the industry call IBFs: Instant Best Friends. IBFs are not really the kind of friends you want to make, they like to chat A LOT and they usually hover. In this case, Sonya was the complete opposite. She has that great Midwestern quality about her where she can speak to a complete stranger like an old friend just because it's the right thing to do. Bottom line, it was a great two hours. On to the winery. I wish I had some photos of the building but I didn't have a chance before I headed back into the rain, so I'll do my best do describe it instead. It's spacious for a smaller house, one large room out front with the tasting bar and then the production room and small office in back. The front porch is perfect with wooden rockers and a little grassy spot before you hit the gravel driveway. Off to one side of the building is a little patch of vines--just a fraction of the 10 acres that grow the rest of the crops. This house has a great story behind it. Sonya explained to me that all of the materials came from an old barn that used to stand on Dan's grandfather's land and when they decided to open the store, they took the materials and reconfigured them into a great little structure. It really was perfect. It had the old country feel to it, but it was absolutely immaculate and there was nothing kitch about it. The wall boards were aged, the tin on the tin roof was really tinny and the bricks on the display wall behind the counter looking like they had been there for decades. A girl could really get used to hanging out in a place like that! I apologize for the quality of the picture, it was raining really hard...so here's the link to their website to get a better view: www.cameowine.com. Check it out, it's fancy :)

As it turns out, you do sometimes get what you pay for...

You may remember when I mentioned that my hotel room in Rochester was a sweet $45 find. If you don't, news flash: I got a $45 hotel room last night. I think I may have figured out why it was such a deal. (please notice photo that features the one person shower stall) Yep that's right, a one person stand up shower stall. In almost two years on the job, I have NEVER encountered a hotel with a shower quite this small. Yes, I've stayed in teeny tiny rooms that only had enough space for a bed. Yes, I've been in bathrooms so small that my giant 5'9" body could barely turn around or close the door that had normal sized showers. No, I've never stayed at a hotel with a one person stand up shower stall. Having trouble picturing just how small this is? Let's just say it's a good thing I wasn't planning on shaving my legs today because that really wasn't an option. And now onto bigger and brighter hotel rooms! I've made it to lovely Mattoon, IL and the always enjoyable and always comfortable Baymont Inn. I have a desk, a chair with an ottoman and a full size shower. It's the little things people :)

The Fitness Center

"Fitness Center". That particular phrase can be somewhat deceptive, especially to the new traveller. It's always exciting to think that there might be a chance to get a little work out in isn't it? When you spend much of the year driving and living in hotels, exercise is not always an option, especially when you're pulling into places at all hours of the night. I have learned that the best way to up your chances of getting in a workout between hours of driving and eating gas station meals is to search for a little green rest stop book entitled "Room Saver". This book is green gold. Not only can you find super cheapo rooms -- sometimes you'll even find a good hotel at a reasonable rate -- but most coupons list the amenities featured at the location. Fitness center is a very rare find so when you see it, take it. It MIGHT be worth the stop. This Days Inn in Rochester, NY is a reasonably good find. $45 dollars, parking right outside my door, TWO Tim Horton's right down the road and of course the fitness center. For the remainder of this entry, please note the sentence above where I suggested that "it MIGHT be worth the stop" and focus on the word MIGHT. There is one thing that you should know about a fitness center: it is almost never a gym. Do not confuse the two, please. A gym is well A) built in a gym B) usually has towels and wipes for dirty equipment and C) at least one working TV to convince me to stay on the treadmill. A fitness center is completely different animal. If you find that you exercise best in a converted hotel room with a few giant mirrors pasted on the walls, TVs that usually don't work and a few pieces of miscellaneous equipment that were likely picked up at yard sales, then the fitness center is for you! The great thing about this particular Days Inn is that there are a few different buildings on the property, so I got to walk all the way around my building to get to the treadmill. It really doesn't make sense to have a hallway to cut through, you're so right Days Inn. So, after all that I have to admit that other than my rainy trek around, I can't really complain about this particular room because they DID have a working TV and a decent treadmill. I do want to point out one particular piece of equipment that I've never seen at a hotel before though: the AB Crunch. Again, I site the yard sale find. I really doubt that management here was watching late night shop-at-home, noticed this piece and thought "Finally! A machine that my guests will really be able to use!!". It's more of a decoration than anything else, I promise.

Monday is a good day to start something new :)

So, the first thing I should explain is that I am not ACTUALLY a trucker. I am a girl, but as far as that first part is concerned, I consider myself more of a professional driver than a trucker. What does a professional driver do when she's not behind the wheel you say? I am glad you asked!

The hours that I spend on the road are merely a means to an end, one that usually has me on a college campus taking pictures of students and putting them into FUN giveaways. This may be a little confusing if you've never encountered an orange polo clad FUN Enterprises employee, but it's really very simple. See, I work for an entertainment company. This company (FUN Enterprises) sends their staff to bring all kinds of fun to locations from the Atlantic to the Mississippi River.

The best part about my job is all of the travelling. In the past two years, I've driven through 26 states and worked in 22. This weekend I'll make that number 23 with my very first job in Virginia. The second best part of my job is the sweet rides I get from Enterprise. If this cherry red Chevy HHR doesn't make you jealous, then you've clearly never driven one. It is, in a word, fancy. And I'm not just saying that--I literally tapped the gas to pull out of the parking lot this afternoon and before I knew it I was zipping down the street. Very unexpected for this vehicle that looks like a strange cross between a PT Cruiser and a brick. The downside? Not quite as much cargo space as I would like. Barely any in fact, especially compared to what I usually get. It's going to be one of those "I can't see out of the back window" kind of trips -- love it.