Adventures in America, part 1

Outward Journey
I am too much of a damn princess these days, and not necessarily in a good Avril Lavigne rock star way. I had to fly American Airlines (instead of British Airways) because it was much less expensive and would you believe I actually threw a fit (in my head) because AA doesn't have fully lie-flat seats in Business Class? The last time I flew to California it was in Premium Economy and I felt like I had been beaten with a stick the whole way. I quickly realised I needed to slow my roll, big time. I was very VERY lucky that my company adopts a humane approach to transatlantic travel regardless of the airline. And the seats went 98% flat, and we had really fancy nice food.

The flight over to LA was pretty uneventful, except for the fact that I went through a box and a half of tissues. I woke up the Sunday before I left feeling like I had been run over by a freight train and it was no better that Monday when I flew out. I felt so bad for the guy sitting next to me because every five minutes I was blowing my nose. By the time I got to San Diego, I was exhausted and ready to collapse. I checked myself into the hotel (a very nice Hyatt in Mission Bay) and went immediately to bed, do not pass go. No, wait, I cannot tell a lie. I ordered a room service hamburger that I didn't really eat. But it sure smelled good. It smelled like America, land of real beef that they will cook any way you like.

San Diego is absolutely as beautiful as I remember it. It's a gorgeous city, and a really nice mix of old and new, modern and manageable. The water is gorgeous and so relaxing and I loved waking up everyday and opening my patio door in the hotel room to stare across the bay. There were birds and boats and palm trees and it was just... serenity.

The next few days were spent working out in the field with a sales rep and then at the annual AAOS Congress. The highlight was on Thursday when one of our agency representatives took me to a business lunch. We needed to discuss some things about upcoming events and so we decided to leave the confines of the convention hall and seek sustenance out in the real world. The convention center in San Diego is right by the Gaslamp District and so there were many restaurants to choose from. We settled on Nobu because we both love sushi, and Nobu is known for having awesome sushi. By sheer dumb luck, we ended up with two seats at the sushi bar and so we proceeded to murder the menu. And then it happened. We decided to have just one more spicy tuna roll. Right after we ordered, we heard loud yelling and commotion.

There was a man standing in the middle of the restaurant, very disheveled looking, and he was yelling at the top of his voice. I couldn't understand what he was saying at first, but I noticed the entire restaurant had gone deathly silent. A line of people who were waiting for a table suddenly moved quickly back out the door. And then the man yelled, "I've got 75 grams of Lithium!!!" along with some other nonsense. I don't know if I've just seen too many episodes of CSI and Criminal Minds and Law and Order, but my brain translated "lithium" as something like "plutonium" at first, and I swear my heart stopped beating. For about a good 30 seconds, I really thought the man was holding some kind of radioactive material and was threatening to nuke the place. So many thoughts went through my head - "Can I make it to the door?", "What the hell?" and "Holy shit, is this how it's going to go down for me? I'm going to die because I just had to have one more damn spicy tuna roll??!!"

The man kept yelling and then it seemed like everyone was able to breathe again and the noise level in the restaurant returned to normal. Some men from the kitchen came out and I think they escorted the guy out back onto the street. It turns out he was a recently released mental patient. Because, of course, the first thing you want to do as a recently released mental patient is run smack dab into the middle of the city's most prestigious sushi restaurant and start yelling.

I am thrilled that he was just a normal crazy and not a blow-the-place-up crazy. But I have to tell you, it really put things in perspective. I realised, sitting on my stool, surrounded by delicious food and congress attendees in their suits and ties, that nowhere is really safe. And that Americans really do live inside a perfect little bubble of safety. Even after the tragedies of 9/11 and Oklahoma City, we still tend to go about our business as if nothing bad could ever happen to us. The idea of a sidewalk bombing or a suicide bomber rushing into a crowded restaurant is unthinkable. And yet, in all honesty, there is nothing to stop anything of that happening. Sobering thoughts.

Seattle
I flew to Seattle at the end of the congress to spend the weekend with friends. I got lucky enough to sit next to a mother and son on the flight who talked nonstop. The child was 2, and he was adorable... for about 20 minutes. And then he was basically a walking advertisement for birth control. He wasn't a devil child, he was just a two year old on a several hour flight. Which, let me tell you, is no fun to sit next to. He was up, he was down, he was crawling around, he was yelling, he was poking, he was crying when he had to sit in his seat, he was spilling cranberry juice on me. He did get entertaining as we were about to land because he kept yelling, "Seattle! Seattle!" and his voice was LOUD. The entire plane was cracking up laughing because the kid was SO excited to be going to Seattle, even though I'm pretty sure he didn't know who or what a Seattle was.

I spent a wonderful few days catching up with friends, during which I actually sang karaoke at a place called the Tiki Bar. And, like Forrest Gump, that's all I have to say about that.

I miss Seattle. I love how green everything is, and how spacious the city is. Driving around, I kept marvelling at how wide the roads were, and how much room there was for everything. After England, Seattle seems like a playground of space. I was also struck by how many stores there were. On every corner. It's not like that as much in England. If you want to buy something, you have to really want it because it's a production. There are no Wal-Marts or Targets where everything is at your disposal. There are no Rite-Aids which have everything from gardening tools to makeup to groceries to small electronics. I started to feel the old pressure..."Buy, buy, buy". I don't feel that in England. I still want stuff, but because I know that it's at least a train ride + a few tube stops to get anywhere decent, I carefully consider my purchases. Well, that and also the fact that everything is ridiculously expensive.

I did have a facial and that was pure heaven. America knows facials. The ones I've had in Europe have been embarrassingly bad. No glycolic peel. No steam clean. No vitamin treatment. No extractions. Just a bunch of washing the face and slopping gloop on it, which doesn't help anyone involved. So it was glorious to spend an hour being pampered and having my skin really looked after.

I have severe housing envy now, too. My friend's place where I stayed is absolutely gorgeous - it's a two bedroom, two and a half bath condo - and we worked out that once you convert my rent from pounds to dollars, we are essentially paying the same amount a month. Which is mega depressing. She has cathedral ceilings, a huge kitchen, a patio, a two car garage, wall to wall carpet, two floors, a massive walk in closet, a huge master bedroom and master bath... the list goes on and on. I have a fourth-floor walk up with periodically functioning appliances, sporadic heating, rugs that I am scared to black light for fear of what I might see and gravitationally challenged furniture which I assembled myself. I won't lie, I miss the American standard of living. If anything were to bring me back to the US, besides missing friends and family, it would be the fact that I could live a much better life for my money.

Cleveland
I flew out this morning from Seattle to Cleveland. I got upgraded because I flew Delta and I still hold status with them, and my cabin was filled with the elderly and the obese. That is something I've definitely noticed on this trip - how much bigger Americans are. While the English aren't the most svelte people in general, they have yet to achieve the rotund physique of many Americans. I've noticed that seeing someone really huge is a rarity overseas. It seemed that 8 out 10 people I've seen so far over here are overweight in some fashion. Now, I know that I am not going to be on the cover of Maxim or Fitness magazine anytime soon, so I'm not judging.

I just find it somewhat depressing. America is so wealthy compared to other countries, and there are so many places and ways to exercise, and yet as a nation, we choose to stuff ourselves and live unhealthy lives. Where I live in England, there aren't many gyms or workout places, so I tend to work out in my apartment or go for runs around my neighborhood. But over here, it's so easy! There's a gym every couple blocks it seems.

Of course, what also struck me were how many restaurants there were, and fast food. We don't have that in England. There are pubs and there are restaurants, but not huge chain places and not so easily accessible. I also noticed all the food commercials on TV - that's a big difference too. It seems America is a culture that worships the super thin and yet everything about our marketing and media and commerce is centered around more is better and eating, eating, eating. I'm staying in a Marriott and around me there are SIX different restaurants within walking distance... and that's not counting the four across the street, or the ones down the block, or the ones further down from that, and so on and so on. Just makes me wonder - who needs that much food all the time? And the restaurants are not healthy options either - Mexican (well Americanised Mexican), The Olive Garden, Red Robin, etc. I think it would be more palatable if the food weren't overprocessed and served in ridiculously large portions. I mean Red Robin has bottomless baskets of fries. Sure sounds like a great idea, but healthy it is not. (I do have to admit that I have, on occasion, been known to put the hurt on some Red Robin, though.)

I went over to some friends of mine while in Seattle who happen to be from France. They made lunch, and here is what they made - pate with french bread (delicious), a roasted salmon, roasted zucchini and rice. Dessert was fresh fruit. We had a glass of white wine with lunch and then coffee afterwards. This is apparently normal for them - the way they eat and the way they cook. The food was delicious, filling and healthy.

I've noticed this in the UK - that the Europeans on my team tend to insist on actually taking a lunch, and going down to the cafeteria to sit and eat for 20-30 minutes. They get really grumpy if I suggest grabbing a sandwich and taking it back to our desks. My American friends reading this will understand that eating a sandwich is normal for lunch, or grabbing a burger or a frozen meal or something like that. One thing I have learned living abroad is to really take my time with my meals and appreciate the food. I do miss the convenience factor of frozen meals, but I do enjoy sitting down to a real meal more. It helps that the frozen meals in England are absolutely disgusting (at least to me). Maybe if more Americans took time preparing their food and then sitting down to eat it, we would be healthier?

I'm off to test some of my theories by having dinner here in the hotel. I know I'll be shocked by portion size and yet simultaneously thrilled by the low, low price for all that food. What can I say - it's the American in me. I love a good value. ;)

More to come as the adventures continue, and as the DayQuil continues to work its magic and my mind clears... (I love American OTC drugs!!)

Federman out.

Homeward Bound

I know I have been horribly remiss at keeping this blog up to date, and that is something I will strive to change in the future. I always have these great ideas on the train, or in the shower, and I mean to put them in my blog - and, in typical absent minded professor fashion, I forget.

This morning I had a bit of a tussle with my driver. My team administrator was nice enough to order a car service for me, so imagine my surprise when I walked outside to find a vehicle the size and shape of a panel van waiting for me. I reminded the driver that I was only one person and he said that he just takes the vehicle he is assigned to. As I am such jolly good fun in the morning, I felt compelled to point out that we had ordered car service, not van service. He didn't like that so much. I swear he drove over every speed bump he could find on purpose just to make my life miserable. I swear I think a rickshaw would have had better suspension and given a smoother ride. So I got to make the 1 1/2 journey to the airport in the back of a serial killer van being driven by a pissed off fat dude with a bad attitude and an even worse Cockney accent.

I am sitting in the Admirals Lounge at Heathrow awaiting my flight to California. I'm off on a bit of a work/fun jaunt to the U.S. - my own four-city tour of awesomeness. San Diego, Seattle, Cleveland and Cincinnati. The Admirals Lounge is not nearly as nice as the BA Galleries Lounge. The bacon rolls are on the wrong sort of bread, although they do have tomato on them here. But I think that's less of a "let's be healthy" feature and more of a "if we load this up with cheap tomato, maybe they won't notice that there's not that much bacon" approach. The bacon rolls that BA offers are like 1/4 pig they are so thick. Now that's how I like my bacon rolls to roll ;)

I am fighting the beginnings of a cold - my throat is scratchy, I'm all stuffed up and I'm coughing up a lung. I'm currently all hopped up on Beechams Ultra (kind of like DayQuil without the "I'm on crack" feeling) and Vick's VapoRub. I am hoping to get some sleep on the plane because I really did not sleep at all last night. I went to bed at about 12:30 am after chatting with my brother and I kept waking up every hour or so. I'm not sure why, but I find this always happens the night before an early flight. It's like I'm afraid I won't wake up on time or something. Considering that only happened to me ONCE, and it was in Evansville, Indiana after a night of way too many shots and jokes about Sir Beef, I'm not sure why I'm so paranoid. (Incidentally, the Evansville story is hilarious. I made it on to that plane with literally seconds to spare. I don't know how I did it but I managed to shower, check out of the hotel, return the rental car and get to the plane in like 40 minutes.)

I'm really looking forward to going back across the pond.  I plan to eat salads... real salads, and lots and lots of them. If there is one thing that England cannot do well, it's make a decent salad. (I won't even touch how furious it makes me that they insist on referring to the lettuce + tomato + onion that goes onto a sandwich as "salad").

On a side note, there are some funky looking people in this lounge. It's a good thing you don't have to be attractive to get in here, or the place would be empty except for me and the woman sitting next to me who looks like a Ralph Lauren model. Oh and that cute guy over by the bacon rolls. But I've just seen him eat four bacon rolls, two yogurts, three danishes and six croissants so I'm getting a bit concerned. I'm also a little worried about the old guy sitting in front of me with SIX duty free bags which are all chock full of alcohol. He looks confused enough as it is without adding booze to the party... And well looky there, bacon roll guy just got himself a glass of red wine. At 09:42 in the damn morning. I sure hope I'm not sitting next to him, as I worry about the after effects of these choices.

And on that note, I'm going to go apply a second coat of Vicks VapoRub (thus assuring that any man who displays interest in me must REALLY be interested) and stuff my pockets with packets of green tea for the long 11 hour flight ahead.

I love travel. ;)