… and so I went shopping. Since I still had today off and oh mah holy hell people - enough with the togetherness already - I went down to the local strip mall (sigh - I miss my old mall) and hit Dress Barn and DSW. Three hours later, I called Mr. Hot to tell him I was still alive and heading home. “Get your sweet ass outside and be ready to help me carry in my haul,” were my exact words, I think.

I found a couple of floaty tops - very springy. A blue/black/white one and a gray/black/white version. They probably make me look pregnant, but they’ll be nice for working from home - not too dressy but more “work inducing” than my usual sweats/t-shirts and shorts. (What? You don’t think that’s a valid excuse for buying new tops? Snirk.)

And these:

Gray pants, black ballerina neckline t-shirt and crinkly pink/black/cream and gray overblouse. I have a cream colored sleeveless tank to wear underneath this, too, but since it’s still flippin’ winter around here, I’m going with black.

Black Slacks and a red self-belt cowl neck. I have a great red/white/black scarf to wear with this (I may replace the belt with the scarf). I’m never sure how to do the cowl neck though. Mine always look more like an overstretched turtle neck.

Navy slacks. I’ve had the argyle sweater and the lilac t-shirt that I’ll wear underneath it. The sweater was a gift from my sister-in-law (aka The Bitch Who Stole Christmas) for…Christmas(!) several years ago. I love the pants - they have 4 buttons on each hipbone - like sailor pants. (And the plaque to the left? Says, “Kiss Often, Lips Never Wear Out.” Just in case you were wondering. Snort.)

———————

Why yes, I am packing to go to Chicago, thank you very much! I leave at six-fucking-fifty a-in-the-m tomorrow morning. Let the whining commence. (And considering Mr. Hot just brought me a glass of lovely Chardonnay, let the wine-ing commence, too!)

Oh, and for Kelley and Lys and Candy and CookieBitch and the rest of my shoe whores:

Nine West. I love the straps - and the heel is black patent - while the rest is black leather. Yum.

- And -

The box says “Crown Vintage”. I love these. They’re gorgeous and comfortable. They were $79.99 - but on clearance - 30% off. The thing is, I can’t find “Crown Vintage shoes” anyplace. I was trying to Google the name because I fell in love with these and other pairs I saw there, but they don’t seem to actually exist. And I’m not the only one looking!

I only got black shoes this time because my normal two pair need to be tossed out now. I did scope out a beautiful pair of green patent flats and red patent slingbacks that I may just go back for the next time I need some “Me time.”

—- Okay y’all. Car reservations made. Boarding pass printed. Clothing packed. Wine glass filled. O’Horror? Bring it, mutha. I’m ready. —-

Here we go y’all.

After all my whining and moaning and bitching and crying about travel fiascoes in months past, Laurel and Sonia and I thought we should come up with a contest. A contest in which three of you (3! Damn. Wish I could enter.) will get rewarded for surviving a really effed-up travel experience.

Here are the rules:

• Blog about your absolute worst travel experience (train? plane? automobile? camel-back? the mode of transportation doesn’t matter - the sheer horror of it all does. Or the funny. We like to laugh.)
• Link to us (Sass Attack - And the Pursuit of Happiness - The Hotfessional) and display the badge above (with a link to this contest*)
• Get your entry written and posted before February 3rd, 2008.
• Email us at TravHellContest@gmail.com with the link to your post.

We’ll judge 1st, 2nd, and 3rd places for Excellent Prizes. (Y’know, there was Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure - hence, Excellent Prizes.)

The Excellent Prizes (something to wear, something to display, something to keep you sane) will be announced soon after February 3rd (y’all, that’s the deadline, in case you missed it up top there).

*If you need the code to link the badge, send an email to the TravelHell Contest address. We’ll get you the code.

—- Because, sometimes getting there sucks. —-

- A new contest

- News about 24 (the stepson, not the show)

And surely,

- How I am going to be stuck at O’Horror this evening trying to get home since it’s foggy and rainy here and incoming flights are delayed.  I know you’re tired of travel stories, but y’all?  I promise I’ll be back to normal soon.

—- Now I’m off to get into a cab so I can sit in the airport for a few hours, ya’ll. —-

And Bossy was right. I set myself up. But only by an hour. Once we got on the plane, and the ground crew decided to hurry us out to get de-iced (a 20 minute procedure all by itself), a “light” came on in the cockpit. This is what happens when Hotfessional gets cocky about her ass, a plane, and leaving.on.time.

I think the pilot’s exact words were, “Uh, ladies and gentlemen, we were just finishing our status check when a light started flashing in here, so we’ve called for maintenance to come out and see what it is.” There may or may not have been a murmured, “Oh Shit!” in the background.

At that point, I tried to sleep. I’ve been on planes waiting for maintenance before. Once, 3 hours after maintenance got there, they decided that the replacement part was fucked up too, so “Let’s go find another plane!”.

Surprisingly, about 30 minutes after our scheduled departure (they really need to come up with another phrase for that, because, y’know, there’s nothing departure about that schedule), we were headed out for de-icing.

Off the plane, onto the train from O’Horror into the city, a 10 block walk to the office, and ta-da! I’m here.

I’m having dinner with all of my boyfriends tonight (re: the other managers), where I’m sure there will be much drinking and bullshitting. I’ll take notes. I’m sure they’ll provide some interesting tidbits.

—- In the meantime, I’m off to a meeting with someone that I’ve really, truly disliked (abhorred, hated, detested, despised) for about 11 years. I know you wish you were me. —-

Dear American Airlines,

I received my shiny new AAdvantage Platinum card in the mail. Thank you so much for recognizing the continued patronizing you’ve given me patronage I’ve given you since I started all of this business travel in 1999. It’s nice to know that I can count on American to get me where I want to go eventually better late than never.

The upgrades to first class are very welcome. The seats are comfortable even though you no longer give pillows except there’s always sitting someone behind me so I can’t recline and the flight attendants are welcoming. They serve swill coffee and stale cookies granola bars with a smile. Even on the first flight out in the morning.

Speaking of the first flight out, I’m assuming that since you’ve changed the time of your first flight from Detroit to Chicago from damned early 7:10 a.m. to Oh mah holy hell early 6:50 a.m. that we will be less likely to encounter delays due to ground stops at O’Horror O’Hare. That will be great news - on time arrivals are much more relaxing for business travelers rushing to get downtown for their first meetings. It fuckin’ better happen too, because I’ll have to get up at 4:00 a.m. to get to the airport now instead of the leisurely 4:30 a.m. I’ve been getting up to make that flight.

I look forward to another peaceful and stress free flight tomorrow. Thank heaven I saved some of Shortman’s leftover post-surgery Vicodin.

See you then!

Love, The Hotfessional

Update:  Mary @ My Piece of the World gets the bonus points for Burgermeister Meisterburger, the evil “no presents” dude on Santa Claus is Coming to Town.  Yay, Mary!

I’ve always been in love with old architecture. I would wander the streets of downtown Detroit (in the daytime - I’m ballsy, not stupid) while I was working a temp job for a stock brokerage that no longer exists (Story of my life. If I ever come work with you, be afraid); with my eyes straining skyward, looking at the Fisher Building

and Mariner’s Church (where they honor the Edmund Fitzgerald’s dead crew).

Chicago, my second home, has gorgeous buildings of course. But so much of it was lost in the fire. If you’ve read The Devil in the White City you’ll know that very few of Chicago’s buildings survived. The Rookery (completed in 1888) is the oldest high rise in Chicago that is still standing.

But I’ve never, in my life, seen anything like the architecture that I saw while I was in Amsterdam. I found these pictures, and thought I’d share them. I hope you don’t mind.

The Pulitzer Hotel
From the website: Overlooking two of the city’s most picturesque canals, Prinsengracht and Keizersgracht, Hotel Pulitzer, A Luxury Collection Hotel is ideally located in the middle of the old city center of Amsterdam. Our unique hotel is comprised of 25 restored 17th and 18th century canal houses. Named to Condé Nast Traveler’s 2004 Gold List, we are unlike any other hotel. Each of our 230 distinctive guest rooms represents a small piece of Dutch history and culture. Located in the beautiful gardens, our art gallery offers multiple expositions each year.

The room that I stayed in was in a house built in 1620. I had to duck if I wore my stilettos. Well, that or brain myself on the beams.

And the view from the window? More canal houses on the other side of the courtyard. I don’t know whether it was luck or a shame that the person in the room across the way wasn’t an exhibitionist. Based on some of the other guests I knew were staying there? It was probably lucky.

Walking down the Prinsengracht, trying not to get lost in a new city (country, continent, why be picky?), I picked the highest point I could see as my landmark. I knew as long as I could see the top of Westerkerk (West Church), I could find my way back.

It was also built in 1620; the tower is over 245 feet high. Rembrandt was buried here in 1669. I only wish I’d have known at the time that it was possible to climb to the top of the tower to see the city.

As an avid reader who discovered The Diary of Anne Frank when I was around 8, the opportunity to tour the house where she and her family hid brought tears to my eyes.

Her house is in the center. The hiding place is high in the back of the house. All of the walls where she pinned up pictures of movie stars are covered in plexiglass; photos still in place. It’s small and cramped and eight people had to be perfectly silent in order to save their lives.

This statue is nearby, honoring Anne:

A walk over to Dam Square , and handing over more Euros, meant I got to tour The Royal Palace. It was originally built in 1648 as a city hall for the Burgomeister. (Why does that word make me think of this guy?)

Bonus points if you provide his full name in the comments along with the name of the show.

More Dam Square:

New Church built around 1400. (Y’all? 1400. And it’s called the New Church.)

And across from New Church? Madame Tussaud’s wax museum.

—- I could have had my picture taken standing next to Brangelina (they’re both there) or George (Clooney, not Bush - I would have had to melt his ass). Instead, I opted for a seat next to the canal. And a house speciality. Lots of Amstel —-

Karma.

(Karma karma karma karma karma chameleon,
you come and go, you come and go.
Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dreams,
red gold and green, red gold and green.)

I’ve seen the mention of Karma in a couple of different blogs today. Do I believe in Karma? You bet your sweet little butt I do. Karma is when the car that blasted past me in the right lane doing 15 miles over the speed limit is pulled over by a state trooper a few miles up the road. Karma is when the person behind me in the grocery lane zips into a newly opened lane (even though the cashier asks for “the next person in line”) just to get stuck waiting for a price check. Hee! That’s always fun.

Last night, I finally got my own Karma for years and years of O’Horror flight delays.

Tuesday and yesterday, the suck ass snow hit Chicago. It started Tuesday evening, and by 8 pm, it was really coming down. (I know, I was freakin’ walking back from a mexican restaurant in it.)

When I woke up yesterday morning, the ground was covered, but the streets had melted (well, not the streets, themselves, but…shut.up.). There was snow on the rooftops (which you can see when you’re on the 28th floor!), but traffic seemed to be moving okay, and most importantly? There were taxis that were willing to stop for me. (Scoff if you must, but this isn’t always the case when you’re dragging a suitcase in bad weather - even though I was only going to the office.)

I checked the American Airlines website as soon as I got logged on. According to it, we were still scheduled to leave at 6:30 p.m. (I’m such a sucker. I actually checked 10 hours before scheduled departure time to see if we were delayed. Snirk. Like they’re going to fuckin’ post that.) The Federal Aviation Administration site showed incoming delays of 3 hours and increasing for O’Horror. But! Only 45 minute delays for outgoing flights.

(Now, I’m by no means a rocket scientist or air traffic controller, but I’m guessing that eventually? If incoming flights are delayed by 3 hours? They’re going to run out of planes. Y’know? To go out? Because last time I checked, there’s not an overabundance of extra planes laying around Chicago. But, who am I to say? Maybe there are and someone is just hiding them. In the Air & Space Museum? In the basement of the Sears Tower? Under Lake Michigan?)

Aaaaaanyway, I went to my morning meetings, and then met my friend the Logistics Goddess for lunch. As we were sitting there, (her stuffing her skinny little 27-year-old-face with a ginormous piece of chocolate cake with mint frosting, and me sipping my green tea feeling my hips grow just looking at her damn cake), the skies once again let loose with that wet, white crap. Damnity, damn, damn, damn. Another check of the American site tells me, “Yep! Still on time. What are you worried about?!” (sucker)

(I know, I have “sucker” tattooed on my forehead. Must cut bangs so tattoo stays hidden.)

At 2:00, the snow stops and the sky turns that brilliant shade of blue that says, in Midwesternese, “It’s about 12 below out here. But you need sun, so come stand outside for 2.3 seconds and try to soak it up because it’s going to be cloudy, for, oh, about the next 17 weeks.”

At this point, I decide to make my getaway. It’s 2:30. Four hours ’til departure. (So says the American site). I say goodbye and Happy Holidays to everyone. I get a cab and make excellent time to O’Horror. Like, 35 minutes! Door to door.

Except, at the 25 minute mark? I get a Crackberry message from American. “Flight 510 ORD to DTW NOW 8:15 p.m.”

Sucker. First notification of a 105 minute delay.

You’re waiting for the Karma part, right? Well, I’m getting there.

As I get through security, I take a look at the departure board to see which gate I’m scheduled to leave from (yea, like they won’t change it 12 times in the next 5 hours) and I pray that there’s a bar near it.

Wait, what’s that? Right above that big “Delayed - Now 8:15″ lettering next to Flight 510 - Detroit? A 5:05 pm flight? to Detroit? That’s listed as being “On Time”? And leaving from the gate I’m standing in front of?

Well, well, well. You just know that I dragged me and my Staypuft-marshmallow-coat-covered hotness over to the desk and asked about getting on standby. The nice gate attendant gave me a standby card told me to make sure I checked for gate changes before boarding time.

Boarding time? 4:35. Current time? 3:09. Across from the gate? Macaroni Grill. Wine!

To spare you any additional boredom, er, hitting yourself in the head with your keyboard, er, angst, I will tell you that yes! I did get my standby seat (on an 17 1/2 row, 70 seat plane). We landed at 6:25 pm Central time. Which was 5 minutes before my original flight was even scheduled to take off.

The original flight? Left O’Horror at 8:50 pm. Which would have put my in my front door around 11 pm Eastern. Instead, at 11 pm, I was snuggled in my nice warm flannel sheets. Fast, fast, asleep.

—- That, my friends, is Karma. I hope you get your dose of good Karma today. —-