I hate, hate, HATE going on business trips. I am a bitchy traveler. I would qualify it by saying that I am a bitchy business traveler, but, considering my last actual vacation that didn't require me to have the laptop was sometime before the dinosaurs, I'm not altogether sure I wouldn't be a bitchy vacationer either.
See, working for yourself and having that work as an internet only based business definitely has it's perks.
......working in your PJ's all day with bed head from hell...bonus! The cat's don't care as long as you can still find your way to their food dish. The husband him looks about like you do, so he has no room to talk. The mailman stays a few acres away at all times because there's no need for him to come all the way up to the house. Fuck it! PJ's it is!
......go to bed or get up whenever you want. Sure, there are clients, but they don't talk to me. I've made that set in stone. I don't deal well with people. Singularly or en masse. I'm not picky. People piss me off as a general rule of thumb. Keep me away from them so I can do my work and I am a happy girl.
......no meetings, no water coolers, no desk to sit at, no community bathrooms, or corporate lunchrooms where no one cleans their moldy shit out of the fridge or where they don't clean up after themselves in the microwave. I sit in front of the husband him's entirely too fucking big television in my recliner and work. So long as the internet is working I am working. So long as the lights are on I am working. (Did I mention in my PJ's?)
So, yeah, working for yourself from home has it's definite benefits.
Going on a business trip? This violates all of my creature comforts, and forcefully puts people in my space that I don't want anywhere near my space. It forces me to wear things that I don't want to wear (though I admit I clean up pretty well). Forces me to carry pretty much everything with me except filing cabinets and printers just to make sure that I have everything I need in the eventuality the husband him needs me to pull some fancy miracle out of my ass on short notice.
In short. Business trips stress me the fuck out. So, I'm bitchy.
A while back, for the sake of marital bliss, I agreed to go on this past week's business trip with the husband. It's been at the back of my mind ever since. Stressing me out. Little by little, inch by fucking tiny inch.
Finally it's here, we go, and somewhere along the way I lose track of my ass. See, I don't fly. I used to fly. I'll be happy to watch other people fly. I, on the other hand, am not getting anywhere near an airport. So, if I go on a business trip with the husband him, it's by car. Inevitably, all feeling in my ass disappears about 1/2 way to my destination. Being the kind and loving man that he is, the first day, when we reached our first stop, he was kind enough to feel my ass and confirmed that it was, in fact, still attached. Good to know. Thanks, dear. You can remove your hand from my ass now! *shoots him the bitchy traveler evil eye*
The business trip was to San Antonio, TX. It's a long fucking drive from the Middle of Nowhere, MO. The first stop...Weatherford, TX. I've never been so happy to find a hotel IN --- MY --- LIFE. I think it ended up being 9 hours as the Google crow flies. By the way, in case you ever wondered, the Google crow? Drunk! A stone cold, roofied drunk to come up with the directions we used to get down to Weatherford.
Then, the next day, up and out early to finish the rest of the ride down to San Antonio. Needless to say, I thought my ass had recovered and I was ready to knock this last leg of the trip out! Then I sat in the truck, and my ass said, "Oh hell to the FUCK NO!"
Well, we finally ended up in San Antonio, got ourselves checked in, ate at Macaroni Grill, worked and passed out again.
The next day was Monday, and the husband him, being from Texas originally, had plans. Big plans for places to take me to take pictures. We got to one of those plans. The San Antonio Zoo.
I sweated like a pig on a spit waiting for the BBQ bottle to be poured on me. The humidity in Texas was so thick that if I had swung a bath towel over my head for a couple of minutes I, firstly would have looked absolutely ridiculous even by Texas standards, but I also could have wrung the moisture out on the pavement. The humidity was excruciating and disgusting. I would walk out of the hotel room clean from a fresh shower, and before I could make it to the truck I was so sticky that I looked like a life sized, human shaped, walking sticky fly strip. A bug here, some dirt there, a stray bird, a lost pamphlet flying on the breeze or a lost child...you name it, it stuck to me. (Strike 2 on my ability to be impressive in public.) Ick!
However despite the fact that I had to pluck myself clean periodically as I walked through the zoo, I did get some awesome pictures (by my estimation anyway). I took a lot of pictures, but about 1/4 of them were ones worth being on my Flickr account. One of the ones that didn't make it to Flickr will be used on this week's Friday Moment.
(Excuse me...shameless self promotion time...)
As many of you know, I'm an aspiring photographer and I would love to one day to be able to make a living off of something that I love doing. I've kept up a Flickr account with the best pictures I've taken since I've been working to put together a portfolio of work. If you would like to see them, feel free to poke around my Flickr account....
The most recent 25 pictures are pictures from the zoo.
(Ok...back to the story...)
Once that was done, and the humidity had completely sapped what little energy we had recouped during the night, we drove back toward the hotel. The plan was to find a Joe's Crab Shack since we hadn't been to one since we lived in Las Vegas. Instead we found a P.F. Chang's. I think I might have had a Meg Ryan orgasm moment when the lettuce wraps were put in front of me. Only MUCH quieter. Heaven is PF Chang's lettuce wraps. I'm positive of it. I'm pretty sure I even heard angels singing! Absolute heaven.
The next day was the actual conference that we had been invited to go to. The plan, when we left the house, was that I would go on the trip, but I wouldn't go to the conference. I would sit at the hotel and keep my work updated so that when the conference was going on the information being presented would be fresh. Then we would meet up for dinner with the gal that had invited us. (I guess I should say it was *my* plan. The husband him was never really all that on board with it.)
Can any one say...bullshit? Yeah! Me too. The husband wanted me to go with him to the conference so that I could be his GPS to get him to the conference center in one piece rather than him trying to juggle the directions and drive. DAMMIT!
So I cleaned up well. Dress slacks, new top because I knew it would be hot in Texas, and some wicked cute shoes.
Now, as any woman knows, cute shoes do not tend translate into comfortable. Not to mention my feet had gone soft from working at home. So my feet rebelled, as only feet can do, to being subjected to being stuffed into heels. By the time we were done at the convention center we had to walk (kill me now) to the Riverwalk for dinner. During the course of the trek, I'm pretty sure I resembled a well dressed, hunched over, drunk, 3 cards short of a full deck, old bag lady who gave up all her worldly goods in her shopping cart to steal my too cute for words shoes from a dumpster, as I staggered, stumbled, grumbled and whimpered my way down the sidewalk and various stairs. (Strike 3 on the impressing people scale! I suck!)
Second thought "FUCKING CUTE SHOES SUCK!"
All I could think of doing was taking them off and throwing them as violently as I could muster. You'll be happy to know that I didn't actually throw them, because my concentration and my aim would have been significantly warped. With my luck, I would have poked out the eye of a passing police person with one of the heels. Upside...free ride to the pokey without the shoes. Downside...no dinner as a reward for impersonating a GPS system and teetering around downtown San Antonio.
However, by the time I got back to the hotel room, borrowed a pry bar from the maintenance guy and was able to inspect my feet....holy shit! They had swollen to the size of Texas with 2 enormous blisters.
Fucking cute shoes suck. *sigh*
From this point forward there was more getting caught up on work and, of course, the inevitable drive home.
During the drive down and the drive back I had my handy dandy smarter than me phone and created a rather crappy, severely auto-corrected, but possibly hilarious travel log. I say possibly because I haven't yet read anything that I wrote and can't remember anything that I put in there. So...surprises for one and all in tomorrow's post!
Jewell =) xo