Alone and Unobserved

Several people have asked me to get on with it and blog about my little jaunt to Topeka, KS last Thursday and Friday, but the problem is that SO MANY THINGS HAPPENED in those two days that I’ve had trouble coming up with a coherent blog post on the topic that’s not dissertation-length. So I decided to go the lazy route and simply post the highlights of the trip.

The actual event I attended—the CULS Summer Institute—was great. Everyone was very friendly, even though they were surprised I had traveled all the way to be there (everyone else was local to Kansas or Missouri). The keynote speaker was Sheryl Stanley, a former consultant and business professor who specializes in management and leadership development, and she spoke informally for about an hour on how to develop the interpersonal skills necessary to be a good library advocate in your organization and community. After that, we broke up into small groups and spoke about conflict management and resolution, quick “elevator speeches” we could memorize and how to interest non-library types in library services. And then it was over. (You can see a gallery of photos from the institute here.)

So the institute was a success. Travel? Not so much. Here was my itinerary:

Thursday:

Fly from Salt Lake to Denver. Feel airsick for the first time when the pilot has to circle the Denver airport for ten minutes, and the toddler in the seat behind begins a nonstop, high-pitched screech that lasts until touchdown. Locate barf bag, but, fortunately, do not use it.

I now believe that children should not be allowed to fly until they are, say, seven years old. There could be kennels where parents can leave them. Or you could stow them in the cargo hold in little child carriers! But forcing a hundred other passengers to sit through several hours of keening and shrieking and whining is just inhumane.

Fly from Denver to Kansas City, MO. Rent car at Dollar Rent A Car. Get a GPS unit, because I am a nervous driver and a terrible navigator. Ask lady at rental counter if it is easy to use. She enthusiastically says yes, right before she tries and fails to turn the damn thing on.

Drive to Topeka. Almost drive off the road several times when the GPS unit nosedives off the dashboard. Wonder why there isn’t a dashboard mount.

I’ve never been passed on the right and tailgated so many times in two days–while I was speeding myself, no less!–and each time it was some old guy. My conclusion: Kansas is home to a different breed of old guys than the somnolent retired folks of the little California retirement town I grew up in.

Spend the night at the Capitol Plaza Hotel in Topeka. Eat dinner at the hotel restaurant—a dinner so massively huge (and bland) that I can hardly waddle up to my room.

The waitress’s patter went something like this: “…and what side do you want with that enormous platter of pasta? …And what dressing do you want on your salad? …Here’s your bread basket, which contains two slices of sub-par bread, along with six pats of butter.” Some of this was my fault; the waitress didn’t force me to order a glass of wine and a shot of Hennessy, or the vile, tasteless and overlarge portion of crème brûlée that tasted like it was mostly cornstarch. Or something even more unmentionable in that context.

Discover that the hotel’s water is the hardest I’ve ever encountered. Relish the feeling of living with a slick of soap scum coating my body.

Seriously. If the area water is so hard, why doesn’t the hotel invest in a water softener? I was also puzzled to find the coffee machine in the bathroom. Because, if there’s anything I want in my coffee, it’s toilet-scented water. Thanks for looking out for me, Capitol Plaza Hotel!

Friday:

Get lost in Topeka, because I’m sure I can find my way without the GPS. Realize this is not the case, and let the GPS guide me the rest of the way to the campus.

The institute was on Washburn University campus, whose mascot is “the Ichabod,” which you can see here.

Attend the institute. Have a wonderful time. Learn about interpersonal skills and library advocacy and conflict resolution. Drink lots of coffee and eat many bagels.

Investigate the pouch the GPS unit came in, and discover the dashboard mount. Strike self on forehead for being an idiot and almost getting killed because I didn’t pay enough attention.

Instruct the GPS unit to take me back to its home base, Dollar Rent A Car at the Kansas City International Airport. Make mental note to buy a portable GPS model to take with self EVERYWHERE. An hour before plane is scheduled to take off, arrive at location the GPS unit claims is the Dollar Rent A Car, but which is in fact a derelict parking lot full of weeds. Drive frantically around the airport for twenty minutes, cursing the GPS unit and its sweet, authoritative female voice.

Finally discover the rental car return on the other side of the freeway. Race back to the airport terminal just in time for the check-in for my flight to be closed. Get on the standby list for the next Denver flight and wait around the ticketing counter in despair, munching mournfully on a Power Bar. As the available seats on the plane decrease towards zero, finally give up and spend fifty dollars to confirm a place on the flight.

Because of the travel schedule Travelocity suggested to me–and to which I consented!–I often found myself in the middle of nowhere (say, on the Kansas Turnpike, or in the dreary Kansas City airport) with no food other than a protein bar. So now I associate Kansas and Missouri with the artificial, chemical taste of a Power Bar. Also, very hard water, as mentioned previously.

Learn that the flight is delayed. Begin to worry that I will miss my connecting flight in Denver. Worry, worry, worry. Finally board plane and discover that there are still several available seats, and I could have saved my fifty dollars. Buy and chug a gin & tonic to help with the worrying and self-recriminations. Feel much, much better.

The key to traveling without worry or care is alcohol. Or drugs, I suppose. Just throwing that out there.

Get into Denver. Learn that the connecting flight has also been delayed. Attempt to eat Pizza Hut pizza to calm ravenous stomach (protein bar store now being exhausted) but fail because the pizza is so obnoxiously foul-tasting.

Board plane. Endure a chorus of shrieking, whining children and sarcastic flight attendants. Get into Salt Lake an hour late.

I flew Frontier for the first time on this trip, for all of my flights. As I was reminded constantly by the pilots and flight attendants, Frontier is “a whole different animal,” whatever that means.

Take shuttle home. Collapse in bed.

That late-night shuttle trip was enlivened by the company of a bizarre individual of ambiguous gender whom I will call “Pat.” At first I thought Pat was an ugly, growly-voiced woman, but then s/he began talking loudly about how the reason s/he was late for the shuttle was because s/he had been in the bathroom, but the men’s bathroom was closed, so s/he was forced to use the women’s bathroom. In fact, Pat repeated this point several times, as if s/he didn’t think we believed him/her. And guess what, Pat? We didn’t.

And that was that. Aside from the mental scarring (which may be permanent), I survived the trip unscathed, despite all the worry I wasted on it beforehand. As I mentioned previously, there is a lesson to be learned from this: I should drink more and worry less.