truvy
Wednesday, March 26, 2003
Ketchup, Catsup - Catch up
Well alrighty then.
So, there I was having a nice time in Arrowhead, just outside of Beavercreek, just outside of Vail & planned to come back a week ago yesterday (Tuesday the 18th). I drive (in the Thank God 4-wheel drive SUV we rented) from Vail to Denver to catch my flight, along with Evan (who was going back to Chicago), and Robert, who was then returning to Vail to snowboard the rest of the week & then go on to Portland to visit his family. I'll tell ya, I was white-knuckling it the entire way, especially when this van did multiple spins right in front of us, and all sorts of cars were sliding off the road, plowing into snowbanks, and generally getting fucked over pretty hard - most of them were stuck there for at least the next 48 hours, because boys and girls, there was a BLIZZARD working the region, and I mean working it hard.
At Denver International Airport, Evan and I board our respective flights and he sits on the runway for over an hour before United canceled all flights for the day. I was on American, which was taking a more optimistic tone and hoping for takeoff to get their FULL flights the hell out of there. But, 3 hours after we boarded and had sat in line to be de-iced and for takeoff, American operations pulled us back and cancelled all its flights.
Now, by this point, the thousands of United passengers had of course already taken every hotel room in the greater Denver area, and lines for taxis or busses or rental cars were hundreds upon hundreds of people deep. Luckily for me, Evan had a) already secured a hotel room at the Monaco in downtown, and had endured the taxi line for over and hour & 1/2, and was next up to bat by the time I zoomed out of terminal, running like OJ when he worked for Hertz (which reminds me of Nicole's last words..."No OJ, it Hertz, it Hertz!"). But I digress.
We shared our taxi with 2 overweight ladies from somewhere in the midwest - 1 of whom was the picture of misery and desperation - sweating, wheezing, wild-eyed, freaking OUT that she was stuck and that it was snowing, and that all this was happening to HER.
By God, we put her in the front seat just to give it a bit of space.
So, inching along the freeway back downtown, Evan and I try to place phone calls to let everyone know what's going on. Evan receives a phone call in the meantime from his insurance agency - informing him that his car WHILE HE WAS ON VACATION, had been involved in an accident. Yes, the dogsitter had smashed up the Mini - 2 days prior, and had not yet informed him of it. Interesting, yet not pressing at the moment, since we were still on our hour-long journey from DIA to downtown.
Well, we made it, of course, and the Monaco is lovely, and proved fertile grounds for adventure over the next few days.
We met Tom, from LA, whom we both cruised in the lobby at free-wine hour (woo-hoo), and invited him to join us basically for the next 2 days. Luckily the restaurant was open in the hotel, and most importantly the bread & pastry chef showed up each day for work, so we actually had some great meals, albeit we really wanted to get the hell out of the building.
More interestingly, perhaps, was who else was stuck with us in the hotel - The Cher Dancers!
Cher had to cancel a concert the previous night (due to weather or electric outage or something), and her dancers and musicians were all in the Monaco with us. Evan knew one of them, Shannon, who of course in this small gay world is the same Cher dancer that helped yb decorate his Christmas tree this past December. Yes boys and girls, the blogs work in strange and wonderful ways...
I can't really say that we "hung out" with them, but I did get to meet several of the dancers, especially the very handsome Sal (*sigh*), and they were all very nice and a lot of fun.
Well, I was able to book a flight out on Thursday, so we basically hung out & watched some movies and talked on the phone for work most of the day Wednesday. That is, until I got a call from Josh (Evan's bf), asking for Robert's insurance information.
Ex-squeeze me?
Trying not to panic, I find out that Robert has broken his wrist while boarding. It seems that he was having his best day of snowboarding evah, and was learning some jumps. He was the last to go for a jump, after the instructor & the other 3 in the group, and the moment he hit it he thought "This is not going to end well." Indeed, it did not, as he flipped about in the air like a desperate fish out of water, and smacked down with enough force to snap his wrist in a few places, despite the dual wrist guards he diligently wears.
So, Robert spends the rest of the day in the hospital in Vail, getting x-rays and being subjected to Chinese torture devices used to re-set the bone and put it in splint. He has to cancel his trip to Portland and return to NYC to see an orthopaedic surgeon, and gets a flight out of Vail/Eagle into JFK at roughly the same time as I return.
Well, after more delays and the most bizarre airline pilot I have ever had, who told us about his 18 years in AA (he' s been flying for 34, so let's not think about the math there), and how he likes to go to a Peaceful Neutral Place during times of stress and hardship like the ones we're experiencing now (oh yeah, in the meantime we had gone to war...), and then proceeded to play the harmonica for us. I'm not sure, but I think my civil rights were somehow violated by being forced to listent to that fucking harmonica, and all I could think of was, "Sit your ass down and let's pull this fucking plane out from the gate and get the hell out of Denver!".... it almost goes without saying that I missed my connection in Chicago to La Guardia by about 30 seconds, doing yet another OJ run through the airport from one gate to the next (hint, if you have the choice, nevah connect at O'Hare - it sucks, it's too big, you taxi for about 20 minutes before you get to your gate, and they gate attendants and airline personnel there are surly fucks who enjoy slamming the door in your face), and was then of course late to pick up Robert from JFK with his board & all his luggage.
Once finally home, and reunited with our wonderful dog (thanks Gene for taking care of our baby), things were a little better, and I tried not playing too much of the worried mother over Robert's arm.
All of this done, I don't really want to see another airplane for a while, and I sure as hell am not going on another ski trip anytime in the next several years. What I mostly could think of was, "there are no snowed in flights from Mexico, sweetie - none...".
Ah travel.
It was surely an adventure, but I'm glad to be home.
Next up of course, I spent the weekend partying my ass off at the Black Party and Alegria. Saturday night at the Black Party was great - HUGE, packed with people on all levels, and a lot of fun. I found out after the fact that several of my other friends from the Chorus were there, but I never ran into them. Sunday night at Alegria was even more fun, and I danced for a solid 8 hours before I became too pooped to party. I took Monday off, and dozed fitfully during the day until it was time to pick Robert up from the hospital where he had surgery on this wrist, including the installation of a Wes Craven looking bolt and pins into his arm to hold the bone in place (I learned that it was called a Colle's fracture, or a distal radial fracture). Kind of gross, but also kind of interesting. The bolt causes more than few stares on the street, but it's only for 6 weeks, so it will hopefully be over soon.
Ah, so that's what's been going on with me -
snow, stuck, Cher, airlines, home, parties & broken bones.
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