Continuing on the theme of "Mary's wacky solo traveling adventures," I thought I'd share a post from my old blog about my first business trip. I was young, fresh-faced, and not yet on Zoloft. Wackiness ensued:
So, my first business trip, over and done. As per my usual, it was full of oddities and chances to embarrass myself. First off, Chicago seems lovely. My hotel was lovely...at least, the bed was comfortable. However, I didn't get a chance to leave the realm of the gigantic conference center/hotel...the closest thing to a "happy tourist" moment was catching a glimpse of the sunrise over the lake...from the windows by the elevator, as I was on my way down to a 7:30 a.m. staff meeting. My flight in on Sunday morning was at 6 a.m. Meaning I got up at 3:30, and yet still arrived at O'Hare ungodly early on a Sunday morning, with no shuttles in sight and a 10 a.m. meeting to make. I hop on the subway, having been instructed which stop was closest to my hotel. I ask directions from the subway attendants to the street my hotel is on. I then promptly headed down that street...in the wrong direction. Not only that, but the Chicago marathon is going on...right through the street I needed to cross (well, the street I thought I needed to cross, my going the wrong way and all). Enter me, in new pointy-toed heels, with a laptop bag and a rollaway suitcase, running through the Chicago marathon. Oh, yes. It happened. And of course, once I made a frantic call to Jeremy and realized I was, indeed, going the wrong way, I had to cross the marathon track again. Then, upon my arrival to the hotel with 5 minutes to spare, I realized that my fly had been unzipped throughout the whole debacle. It was like the perfect storm of high humiliation.
As for the Conference itself, there was really no reason for me to be there. It was nice to get to know my colleagues a little better, but the icky thing is that when you're just about the youngest Conference attendee by around 20 years, creepy old men hit on you. A lot. My flight home was scheduled for 9:00 p.m. Monday night...meaning I spent all of 36 hours in Chicago, getting up at 3:30 one day and not going to bed until 2:00 a.m. the next, because of course the flight home was late. With not one, but two screaming babies, one of whom’s parents didn't realize for quite a while that their apparently steroid-packed newborn was kicking the hell out of the back of my chair.
We finally get off the plane, and head to the requisite Dulles shuttle (can't get ANYWHERE in Dulles without riding a stupid shuttle). I squeeze in, accidentally rolling my suitcase over someone's garment bag in the floor. My thought process: Whoops, I ran over that guy's garment bag. Hey, the leg that goes with that garment bag is wearing what is clearly a very expensive suit. Wait a minute, I know that guy! And finally...Holy crap, I just ran over Joe Lieberman's garment bag with my suitcase. That is the great thing about DC - you never know who you're going to be crammed into a small space with. Although, to be fair, the man was taking up two seats and enough floor space for two bodies with his stuff. And since I was 2 feet from him, I could tell that he is not a man of any substantive size. What's up, Sen. Lieberman? Aren't you supposed to be a public servant? Then move your crap outta the way! So, that was my "holiday weekend." And of course, I had to get up at the regular time this morning and drag my sorry butt to the office, since everyone else was still in Chicago (having actual sensible travel schedules and all). I threw together what is possibly the crappiest newsletter of all time and headed home to rest. Really, I should not be allowed to exit my safety zone unescorted. I'm a mess.
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