chocolatepot | Yesterday

What a day! All right, yes, I did start a bit late, but I thought if I left after lunch I wouldn't really need to stop. (Ha.) And then I needed to deposit my first Chapman paycheck and fill up the gas tank (which is now nearly empty, my goodness), and Dad wanted us to take my car over to a guy to find out how much less I owe him for it because of Melissa backing into it last month. Sadly, it's only $300 worth of denting, so I still owe him $2200. I ended up getting on the road properly at about 2.

Nothing much to speak of driving-wise for a good long while. Driving to Albany was the same as going to AIHA, but I got on I-90 and then saw that the GPS was telling me I needed to go 111 mi. before any new directions. I didn't plan to stop, but as MonthlyInfo had been correct and I started my period I was feeling that horrible bloaty/crampy thing you get when you don't move enough, you know? And I was also kind of tired. So I stopped at the service station in Modena (a bit south of the New Paltz/Poughkeepsie exit, I think about halfway through the 111 stretch) and got a cup of tea. I wanted Carvel ice cream but they were closed, boo. That did the trick, though, and I felt so much better. I did decide at some point that I was going to have to stop for din-dins before I got to the family friends' house where I was going to stay, because I didn't want to turn up and need their food, esp. as only their son who's about my age and about my level of sociability was going to be there. But I held out through New Jersey, which was dreadful.

- I didn't hate it at first, and in fact my ridiculous brain was making me think those highway-walls that were overgrown with green were somewhat romantic and evocative of jungles growing on ruins. What is wrong with me.
- 10-lane highways are too big. That is simply too many lanes! It's quite unnerving.
- There was one time around five, or quarter after, when traffic slowed down precipitously. I felt sure that Mom was right and I was running into rush hour traffic, but it transpired (at least fifteen minutes later) that the cause was a stopped car with the hood up, with a man in fatigues and another in business dress and blue nitrile gloves working on it, and with about six cars stopped after it. A little of the problem was people in the left lane needing to merge in, but I'm pretty sure that most of it was rubbernecking. And while a soldier shoulder-deep in an engine is an interesting sight, I still shake my finger at them.

Once I got into Pennsylvania, around 7, I was dismayed to find that everything was very ritzy. I'd planned on stopping at a Wendy's or something for a burger, but everything I was passing was some sort of nice or family restaurant. At last I caught sight of a DQ, though, and pulled in for a hot dog – I should mention that it was across the street from a Coach outlet store, I'm amazed they stand for that. But when I got back in the car, it wouldn't start. Or rather (I've gone over this a lot of times with my dad and stepdad) it starts but the engine stalls immediately. It has a tendency to do this if the engine gets hot enough and then I don't give it enough of a rest, but it's always a surprise because I forget. So I called Dad and we had the usual "why did you stop at a Dairy Queen, what were you thinking?" "STOP TELLING ME I'M STUPID, THAT'S NOT HELPFUL" type of conversation. It started raining then, which I think helped it (the engine, not our conversation) to cool down quicker than it otherwise would, so I got going after not too long a wait. According to the GPS, I was ~45 minutes away from the house in Wallingford at that point, but as I got closer and it became the time I was supposed to arrive and I was not there, the ETA barely updated. I don't know what was going on there, it's also unhelpful.

By this point it was about 9, and quite dark. Oh, also, I forgot to say there was a long stretch of torrential rain around this time that made driving difficult as well. Visibility was terrible. I missed a turn close to the end and had to make a wide curve and come into the neighborhood from a different way. Then I ran into the major problem with the GPS: it is not very accurate for destinations. It told me that I was there! When I wasn't really at a house, and because this is a slightly posh neighborhood, nobody has mailboxes and in the dark it's practically impossible to see the numbers on their houses. I called Dad while starting to freak out (while simultaneously being amused that this is what drove me into freakout mode, when there had been several times that I'd been saying to myself, "this would make Mom insane! It's a good thing I'm driving here and she's not") and then found it, but it was ominously dark. I parked behind Alex's car, which was close to the end of the driveway, and knocked and nothing happened – the dog didn't even bark. I hung around for a while, slightly panicky and thinking about the bad parts of sleeping in my car. Called the land line to the house – nothing. His car was there, but he could have been picked up in a friend's. There was only a dim light on inside, the kind you leave there so it doesn't look like nobody's home, so I don't think he was walking the dog.

I then decided: motel time. The GPS can search for such things and give you a list to choose from, so with Dad's help at deciding which sounded cheap but not too sketchy I found a place to stay and drove there, once more getting screwed by the GPS as to exact location (YOU CAN'T HAVE A BUILDING IN THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERSECTION, DIPWADS) but eventually figuring it out. Just as I eventually figured out the process explained on the sign on the desk, that you used the phone to contact the front desk man to get a key. He said he was worried about me, and since I was alone he gave me a room indoors and not too far from the front desk. It's a very small room, but since I was in the car for about eight hours today it seems lovely. There's also the same kind of self-determination flavor to it – I love driving by myself, getting to choose all the music and what's in the car and where we go and stop. In a motel room by myself, I get to control the remote (Idina Menzel was on a pledge drive on PBS) and the AC and the bathroom and the lamp. It may smell a bit weird and I may be paranoid that the big mirror is a camera, but it is my bedroom for the night, and only mine.

I called Dad to tell him proudly that I'd rented myself a room. "It's not very hard," he said. "That's because you know the script," I told him. "For me, every moment is a mystery."

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Today I am much less bouncy. It was a rough night, there was too much light in the room and the AC was very loud, so there was that. I checked out and don't know what I'll be doing tonight - I don't feel like calling Alex and so I suspect I'll just find another cheap motel.

I'm not sure if I've seen anyone I know. I think I saw

mandie_rw but wasn't aware you were wearing that, and same with

jennil in a high-waisted corselet post-Edwardian skirt. I'm being a bit awkward and have talked to a couple of other not-in-costume people ... perhaps I will be more social next year, when I'm in a proper outfit myself and also don't feel like a vagrant due to lack of living situation. Dad suggested I look into booking into the Sheraton where the con is, but $209 is the cheapest they go. Ugh. Well, better look for a drugstore to buy toothpaste at before I get back so I can be marginally more hygienic.