7 posts tagged “moving”
I wrote on a piece of paper from my purse the other night. It was a large piece of paper.
I’ve been in the Cayman Islands for three weeks now. I don’t know what compels me to keep moving to vacation destinations, but here I go again. Great Whitesnake tune. Anyway, first Fort Myers and its accompanying beaches, then the Florida Keys, and now here. It’s so vacationy that I can see cruiseships parked just a few miles away. Do I have some masochistic tendency that drives me to relocate somewhere for work just so I can I obsess over all the fun all the tourists are having that I’m not having? I don’t know. Maybe I jus like sand between my toes and sunshine.
Also on my mind – the fact that I’m at a bar alone, writing. Isn’t this what I did at Cabascas? Do I really want to go down that road again? Then again, what else am I going to do when I’m not working? Things will be awesomer (that’s right) when I have some cash and I can start diving.
Wow. I just noticed the pillar I’m sitting next to is covered with pictures of girls making out at the bar. Classy. And yet, this is the island that arrested two gay male tourists for kissing in a bar. Double standard. Why is it cool for girls to suck face with each other? I’m not down with this trend that won’t go away.
There’s a map of the Caribbean sitting under glass at my stretch of bar here. Fun fact: the Cayman Islands are very, very small. I had an English teacher who loathed the word ‘very,’ saying that it doesn’t add anything to the sentence stylistically or in meaning. So, I especially like using it multiple times in a sentence, separated by as many commas as possible. It makes me feel so rebellious. But I digress. The Caymans are tiny, like you’d try to wipe them off a map, thinking they’re crumbs from your breakfast Danish. My new country is pastry-bit small.
Another thing about Grand Cayman – or at least where I’m sitting right now – B.O. is just hanging in the air. Perhaps that’s because humidity hovers around 85% on a daily basis and rain just never comes. The aroma of others’ sweat contributes to the heaviness of the air, as if the sweat is actually the cause of the humidity and not the other way around. But it doesn’t faze anyone – people are still playing volleyball, running on the beach, drinking. Well, I guess that last one isn’t too hard, no matter the temperature, no matter the latitude.
Like any bar, this one has money taped to the wall. I don’t see any American cash, but there is a Canadian bill right in front of me. It has hockey players on it. I had no idea. I wonder if there are any Canadian bills that feature curling. Someone else has written all over a Cayman dollar, which somehow seems wrong since our currency features the Queen. I wonder what William and Harry would think if they saw Sharpie tarnishing grandma’s face.
Eh, they’re partiers. I’m sure they’ve seen it before.
The preponderance of scantily-clad chicks taped to nearly all surfaces here makes me wonder if the proprietors are aware that women also like to imbibe alcohol at bars and some may even like to see the strategically placed scantily-clad dude here and there.
Or so I’ve heard.
I just got a wetsuit and new snorkel yesterday for my job in the Keys. The snorkel is kind of exciting because it's a dry snorkel, so that means I don't have to blow into it to get water out. Yeah, at the point where things like that excite me, it would be fair to say that I don't have much else going on.
This morning, I poured myself into my wetsuit, put on my mask and snorkel, and carefully stepped into our swimming pool. Diving is for pussies whatever is the opposite of that word I just crossed out. Mostly, I just wanted to see if my mask and suit fit and if my snorkel truly is a dry one (it is). Swimming around the pool in a wetsuit and snorkel, though, was kind of fun. Of course, there wasn't much to see, unless pool algae growth excites you (and at the point where things like that excite you, it would be fair to say that you don't have much else going on). Still, it was a very peaceful experience -- no big waves making me nauseous (I have gotten seasick while snorkeling), no menacing barracuda scaring the puke out of me -- pool snorkeling was quite nice...lovely, even.
I still have to buy my fins. Apparently, I have very small feet; you'd think that a dive shop run by a dwarf woman would have a fair selection of small gear, but, alas, ours did not (seriously, this woman was maybe 4'6"). I found one pair of fins that fit perfectly, but they were cracked, so the store is going to order some for me. Then I get to spend MORE money. Hooray. It's all I freaking do this week, to get ready for this move. Still on tap to purchase: a few books, bedding, tires, a haircut for me, a haircut for my dog, dog food, rabbit food, birth control and more. I can't wait. I'll have to take a few more dives wade into the pool carefully a few more times to put myself back at ease.
Anyway, if you have a pool and a snorkel, I highly recommend exploring the cement wonderland. I'm all about cheap thrills.
I just accepted a job yesterday in the Florida Keys.
I had been mulling over the whole job offer for a day and a half, and had asked the director in the Keys to give me the weekend to think about it -- the offer was for a job that pays $10,000 less than the job that I interviewed for. But housing, in the cute little house on the right, is included, and the job is exactly what I want to be doing, so I figured what the hell -- when else in my life will I be able to live in the Keys? I made up my mind when my supervisor at my current job asked me if I could run a project in late May. I blurted out, "no, I'm leaving. For a job in the Keys. Yeah. I'm giving notice" before I had really definitively made up my mind. So, saying that kinda made my decision for me.
Since I'm leaving in just over a week, now is naturally the time for men to suddenly become interested in me. Never mind that no dude (save the asshole ex who was in my life far too long before this year) in the last year has given me a second thought -- now that I'm moving, I'm a hot property! A dude at work wants to fix me up with his doctor cousin! An old man at work is taking me to see Chicago on Sunday! A cute bartender at the restaurant I worked at part-time wants to spend time with me before I go! Although, honestly, the last thing I need in my life is another bartender with a military background.
Either way, I am flattered and annoyed by this attention. Here I had accepted the fact that I very well may have to be celibate for the rest of my life on account of my unluckiness with men; now that I'm moving away, though, I am apparently releasing some "come and get it" pheromone. And since I have very little time left in which to "get it," I am annoyed.
This is just hilarious.
My car is fixed and we have a vehicle so we can leave Casper! Finally! And we have a game plan to get ourselves back on track!
BUT...
We can't drive south because there's A BLIZZARD IN DENVER. The snow starts in Cheyenne, Wyoming, and just gets worse the further south and east you go, which makes sense since we need to go both south and east. OF COURSE there's a blizzard in our path. What's next? Hurricanes? Earthquakes? Locusts?
So, that means we're in Casper ONE. MORE. DAY.
It was a sunny Monday afternoon. We were headed down I-25S, on my great move from Big Sky Country to the Sunshine State. My feet were propped up on the dashboard and I was looking out the window watching the mountains turn into hills. Chris, my traveling companion, best friend, all-around everything to me, chuckled softly.
I turned to face him. "What?"
"I don't know how to tell you this," he said with a smile.
Before he said anything else, I knew where he was going. We're close like that; I don't know if he is capable of shocking me anymore. I hoped he was going to surprise me and go in a different direction with his next words, but I realized that I should have gone with my first instincts when he said, "We've got problems."
At this point we were 20 miles outside of Casper, Wyoming. My transmission (or "tranny" as Chris calls it; I'm not entirely comfortable with the idea of having a "tranny" under my hood) had been acting up for the last few miles. I drive a superhip minivan and we were pulling a U-Haul trailer packed to the brim; honestly, I kind of expected my car to give out after crossing the Continental Divide. We limped off the interstate on Exit 182B, pulled into the Exxon station on the corner of English Drive and English Avenue, and popped the hood. It seemed that my transmission was dead/dying. In Chris-speak that is: "Your tranny pissed all over the side of the car." He does have a way with words.
A tow truck ride later, we were firmly situated at the Parkway Plaza hotel in lovely Casper. And that is where we've been since Monday. Yep, Monday at 1pm. It is currently 6pm MST on Wednesday. The mechanic should have called us today -- we decided to swap out my transmission, put the contents of my trailer in storage in Casper, drive to Florida, and come back here when Wyoming thaws out to retrieve my belongings. But the mechanic did not call today. I'm thinking that Room 1113 at the Parkway Plaza might just be my new home.
So, if you happen to be in Casper, Wyoming, in the next 36 hours, stop by. We've exhausted the entertainment possibilities of this town -- amazing since we've been on foot the whole time and saw everything there is to see in the span of about 6 hours. Today we walked upstairs to the second floor of the hotel...for fun. It's actually come to that.
If you can find it in your heart, think happy thoughts for us. We hope to be back in Florida by 2007, but who knows. Also, if you happen to know of any jobs available anywhere in Florida, let me know -- I was kind of moving just to get out of Montana anyway, and now I really need the cash. I'm thinking of starting my own 501(c)3 charity to benefit me. I'll let you know where you can send donations.
PS -- If you have any marijuana, you know where to find me. We're just about out and Casper is better with weed.
...Or so I've heard.
That's right -- it's true. As I type, I'm sitting in a hotel room in Casper, Wyoming, with Chris, my loyal traveling companion. We both were suddenly wide awake at 1am this morning and now we're just trying to figure out what to do with ourselves...in Casper, Wyoming. The best part? It's Chris' birthday today. I'm sure this is exactly where he wanted to be. I consider this to be my special gift to him. He's so lucky to have a friend like me.
Tomorrow, hopefully, I'll have a new transmission so we can skedaddle on out of here. Here's the big plan:
1. Get new transmission
2. Drop off the contents of my U-Haul trailer in a storage unit in Casper (my van is not to pull that trailer again -- unless I want to get another transmission in 700 miles)
3. Continue this neverending drive to Florida
4. Come back here in May to get my stuff out of storage
Somewhere in there I've got to get a job so that I can pay for this shit. Yay, I'm so glad I quit my respectable job at the museum for this!
We're making the best of it, though, because what else can you do? If you need a bar recommendation for Casper, I'm your girl.
Okay, I think I'm going to put something on other than my underwear. That's right: I'm blogging pantsless.
So, I'm on day two of my move from Montana to Florida. Everything went well yesterday -- the minivan didn't die going over the Continental Divide, we had a rockin dinner in Sheridan, Wyoming, and I never cried once (I cried often in the days leading up to our departure).
Today, is a different story. We left Sheridan just fine, but when we were 20 miles outside, Chris turned to me and said, "I don't know how to tell you this, but...your car has problems." Ah, yes, music to my ears.
We pulled off the interstate -- Exit 182B, in case you're ever in Casper -- to an Exxon station at this corner:
Yes, the intersection of English Drive and English Avenue.
Whilst pondering how a city runs out of street names, we took a little look-see to find out just what kind of problems we were dealing with.
Afterwards, a cigarette was most definitely in order.
And then a little phone call was made, and I got to wave goodbye to all of my belongings. Yay!
Apparently, there's something very wrong with my transmission. We're not quite sure what yet, but I may have to start looking through the "help wanted" ads depending on how long it takes to fix this thing. In the meantime, the Parkway Plaza on West E Street, Casper, Wyoming, is my new home. It's almost like Florida...
