Flute Convention Dispatch No. 3 / I'm Home!

Technically, since I am writing this from the relative comfort of my own home, this post does not qualify as a "flute convention dispatch;" however, since I am about to speak of things that mostly have to do with the convention and my trip home from Albuquerque... Well, fuck. I can call it whatever I want.

We left Albuquerque yesterday afternoon. The morning was kind of wasted, though, we had planned, the night before, on going sight seeing on some bus tour... but then I was tired, and Patty went lap swimming in the hotel's pool, and I had to check my email, and then we had to pack and eat lunch and check out and buy gifts and write cards... we just didn't have time to do much. So we had yet another awesome meal at NYPD, the pizza joint that was about two blocks from our hotel, and lugged our luggage up to the train station. Our train left at 4:45 p.m., which was perfect.

The Albuquerque train station is really small, minimally equipped with services (I think there might be a bathroom, which I did not see but I did smell. There is one ticket window, and no waiting room. You wait for your train out by the tracks, under a sheet metal awning), and kind of confusing. There's also a Greyhound bus station there, and a lot of the type of people one expects to see at the Greyhound bus station. It's fine, though. We were used to those people: we saw quite a lot of them walking from our hotel to the convention center.

Actually, I should watch what I say; I've only been to one Greyhound bus station, one time, when, a long time ago Drew and I dropped off his friend Ken at the one that used to be on Fifth Street in Santa Monica in the middle of the night so he could get home to Santa Cruz. He was a cool guy, Ken. So what the hell do I know about the Greyhound bus station? My one and only experience there was about 15 years ago. I shut up now.

We weren't checking any bags, and so we just had to wait about 20 minutes before our train arrived and we were loaded on.

Seated on the train, we started our journey home, which was uneventful, though, long. 16 hours in a row spent primarily in the same seat did get a bit tedious, but we're big girls: we can handle tedium. I don't think I wrote about our trip from LA to Albuquerque; I suppose all the same things happened going home, in reverse. We read, talked, looked out the window, Patty worked on a crossword, I worked on a Sudoku. We didn't get to eat dinner until about 9 o'clock - the train has a dining car, but you're supposed to make reservations way at the beginning of the line; since we didn't board until Albuquerque, we missed out. They do allow for non-reservations at the last dining call, so that's how we got to eat in the dining car. Surprisingly, the food was quite good, and our dining partner last night was a Lebanese writer guy from Santa Fe named Ned. He was nice.

My dad signed up to pick us up in L.A. this morning, since Patrick had to work, but at 2:30 a.m. this morning, after I was awakened by some asshole who decided that 2:30 a.m. was a good time to check in with his wife (bastard. I was only half asleep anyway - that seat was pretty much 100% uncomfortable [next time I ride the train I'm springing for the sleeping car] but half asleep was way better than all awake), I overheard one of the conductors commenting that our train was about 30 minutes behind schedule. I made a mental note to call my dad when it was a more reasonable hour and more people were awake.

And then I forgot to call him.

Anyway, turns out my dad got to the station 30 minutes early, and so, because by the time we got to Fullerton, we were an hour behind schedule, he ended up waiting for us for much longer than he expected; he said he didn't mind, but I think that's what dads are supposed to do. Take note, dads: waiting for your grown kids for two hours at the train station is in your contract.

After we dropped Patty off at her house, I went to my mom and dad's house, where my mom served up breakfast, and then they brought me home. Which is where I am, now. In my home. Listening to 94.9 FM online, the first non-flute music I have heard in a full week. Oh, NYPD (the pizza joint) played classic rock, and I was able to point out, to Patty, the Dio (or it could've been Rainbow, I always get those two cheesy bands mixed up) and Styx and Pearl Jam and... Patty knows all there is to know about flute stuff, but she's sorely lacking in appreciating music created on electric guitars and monster drum kits. It's fun filling her in on that stuff. Anyway, I am home, I have kitties to pet, a ton of laundry (of course I do!) to do, and a shower to take, and this to contemplate.

Maybe later I will get out my book and give a detailed report on the music I heard and bought and played and the things I learned at the convention, and upload the photos I took. Right now I want to listen to Icky Thump without the sound of my too-long fingernails pounding the keyboard.

Oh, it's nice to be home.