I just bought a plane ticket to Reno.
Let me tell you a little about this trip: I will fly out of LAX at 8:05. IN THE MORNING. Do you know how early I will have to be at the airport for this to happen? And do you know how far before that time rush hour traffic begins? Then I will fly to Reno. Reno! Which is as cheesy as, and yet not as exciting as, Las Vegas! Then I will attend my youngest cousin's high school graduation. Now: I am very fond of my youngest cousin, and I am more than happy to attend any events in her honor, but a three-hour list of strangers' children, read aloud, is--I'm sorry to say--quality knitting time, at best (except, of course, for the part where we stand up and whoop and holler, because we are a classy bunch).
Still: I am so excited. I get to go somewhere! It's been awhile: since driving west from DC eighteen months ago, I have made many trips between Los Angeles and San Francisco, plus exactly one weekend road trip from Los Angeles to Phoenix. That's it. I haven't been on a plane since August. And I owe so many visits: by rights, Glenna should be dragging me all over Toronto by now, and let's not even talk about how many times I'll have to go to Seattle to make up for my college roommate's willingness to come to me in my hour of poverty. And the East Coast! It's been entirely too long since my last back-porch Sunday lunch with my aunt and uncle. I haven't had ciders at Deacon Brodie's and dinner at Gazala Place with Lauren, or a sleepover with Sarah, or been furniture shopping with my brother, in just a million years. And I'm a little mad at Broadway for having so much stuff I want to see (The Normal Heart with Jim Parsons and Lee Pace! Company with Neil Patrick Harris and Katie Finneran and Stephen Colbert and everybody else in the world!) when they know I can't make it. Rude, right?
But Reno. RE-NO! It's beautiful to me, like a corny, smooshy song from the 70s. It's going to be a million degrees, and I'm all, Excellent for strapless dresses! I will be sharing a hotel room with my parents, which in my mind just means Extra bonding time! It's all an exotic getaway, with suitcases and hotel continental breakfasts (maybe with those make-your-own waffle bars!) and my very own TSA scanner/pat-down dilemma! The excitement of it all: be still my heart!
So, see you all in Nevada. I'll be the one cheering for everything.
