Tag Archives: Travel Tribulations

Tick*Nick*Al Difficulties

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A year ago I would not have been able to tell you the difference between a Tweet and a Twat.  Actually, I still couldn’t tell you what a Twat is.  Oh dear, I just looked it up… so….anyway…..

My mom had a great saying about forgetting things when you travel.  “If I have my credit card and a tube of lipstick I can go anywhere.”  Which has been true for me for years.  I have now amended that to credit card, lipstick, and IPhone.

I’m in New York for a visit and just “knew” that at some point I’d whip out my IPhone at a funky coffee shop and dash off my blog.  Except I had a wifi breakdown.  I’m one of those people who know what my phone should be able to do, I just don’t know how to make it do it.  So, no blog on Sunday like I planned, sorry about that.

I’m having a wonderful time here but, really…what’s with all the walking people?  I get in my car to drive from one side of a parking lot to another, so watching my nephew and his wife bring four little girls from their home in Queens to Manhattan on the subway was, for me, like watching an astronaut walk on the moon.  I was mesmerized, but I certainly wouldn’t want to do it.

I’m sitting in the kitchen of my brother’s Manhattan apartment (don’t’ get excited, it’s the size of a postage stamp) where we’ll be leaving shortly so he can go to rehearsals for a show he’s working on.  I plan to shop at some sort of discount store called Daffy’s (love the name) and then we’re taking the subway to Brooklyn to watch another brother film an episode of Person of Interest.  After that, we’ll walk around the “hipster” part of town and have a late dinner.  I mean, late for a midwesterner.  The way I figure it, we’ll be eating dinner about the time I’d normally be falling into my deep REM sleep.

One day soon, I will figure out how to post to this blog from my IPhone, and then I’ll figure out how to Tweet and then I’ll figure out how to finish my novel and then I’ll be rich.  Or I’ll be a twat (I’m talking about the person who’s stupid definition, not the vulgar slang for a woman’s genitals kind of person)

Beware Alligators

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Beware TO Alligators

I want to be one of those perpetually nice people.  Really I do.  But it doesn’t seem like it’s going to work out that way.

Our last trip was to Kiawah Island.  We landed at 11:30 pm in Charleston.  Charleston hates me, by the way.  The one other time I’ve been here we flew in slightly ahead of a hurricane with enough turbulence to last me a lifetime.  Then the driver got lost and couldn’t find our hotel.  Then the hotel didn’t have any electricity.

But I digress.  This time there was no driver.  We waited around until midnight, then convinced another driver to abandon his rider and take us to the hotel.  We arrived at the check-in desk around 1 am – behind six other people, one of who was trying to change rooms because he had no hot water.

I’m reading a book by Fannie Flagg and one of the characters is a perpetually happy person.  Hazel convinces her friends to take belly dancing lessons and then to march in a local parade.  She sounds like fun.  Hazel sounds like someone I want to be like.

Instead, I’m like my Grandmother Nellie.  I spent the trip sighing, moaning and mumbling nasty remarks under my breath.

Evidently embodying Grandmother Nellie burns a lot of calories because I woke up the next morning starving.  Our villa was a ten minute walk to a restaurant and we came across this sign along the way.  My husband kindly pointed out that with my bad attitude he thought the alligators were the ones in danger.  I decided to be Hazel and let him live.