Saturday, April 14, 2007
Goodbye Ann Arbor, Hello Ann Adams
...To Be Continued
Oh, so where was I? I'm not going to recap the whole Michigan or Georgia trip, but before I get to Georgia, I must recant one last thing about my trip to Michigan: The Ann Arbor Film Festival.
Hufton had mentioned briefly that he had tickets to the Ann Arbor Film Festival, so the three of us decided to go to the theatre and skip out on an encore visit to Pinball Pete's for Tekken 5, air hockey, and grand prix racing. The theatre was very old, but still well maintained,
which made for a great atmosphere to view a film. I knew that these films would not be top notch, but I'm a semi-artsy guy, so I was game.
The first movie started and the screen was mostly black with no sound. You could start to see the film and it sort of gave the effect like the projecter was broken, as you could catch a very faint image here and there.
"Huh, this is an interesting intro," I thought.
Then, after three minutes of this, I grew suspicious. Thirty seconds later, the film stopped and the credits rolled. This was followed by applause by most of the audience. I believe I actually laughed out loud. I knew what I was in for.
The second short film started out with an inverted view of the horizon over a wheat field, where the sky was at the bottom of the frame.
"Oh, maybe this will be better," I thought again. "It has images of things."
Well, it ended a few minutes later, having shown only those images I just mentioned.
An hour later, the films had begun to feature people, but they still weren't talking. I was happy that I had some twizzlers to ease the pain. Finally, Irf and Hufton couldn't take it any more, and I'm pretty sure I had thrown in a "just so you know, I'll leave when you guys want to" by then, just to test the waters. I was thrilled to see that they were ready to leave without watching the second hour. My artsy side was tested. My artsy side was defeated.
Fast forward five days: I'm airborn with the fam, headed toward Savannah for Cousin Sean's wedding. My Dad had mentioned that the plane we were scheduled to take was a little smaller than usual. I passed this info onto my sister, which seemed to make her slightly uncomfortable. She has taken over my title of being the "bad flyer" in the family.
"I always kiss the plane before I go on it," she told me.
"What do you mean?"
"I kiss my hand then I touch the outside of the plane before I board."
"You're crazy."
"I told Jenny Mueller about it and now she does it, too."
I didn't think Sarah was going to get a chance to kiss the plane, because as it became evident that we would be walking out on the tarmac to board our flight, Sarah stopped dead in her tracks and stuck her hands out desperately, like a cat about to be thrown into a bath tub.
"I'm not going."
I believed her. I've heard that tone of voice from her before. That tone speaks the truth. In a
split second, I thought of the phone calls we would have to make, explaining that Sarah would either not be attending the wedding or was just getting on the highway, due to arrive in Savannah within 25 hours or so.
As it turned out, she was bluffing. Five seconds later, we were walking up the steps to the plane. We got on the plane and I had flashbacks to that Geico commercial, spoofing a reality TV show called Tiny House, which is hilarious (I would watch it if they made it). I am not a tall man, but I felt the urge to duck my head as I walked down the aisle. I noticed that Sarah and I were seated in Row 13 and began to wonder if this plane even had 13 rows. As it turns out, the plane had exactly 13 rows. Actually, make that 13 and 1/2. The only seat behind row 12 on the other side of the plane was a toilet.
Sarah and I became the unofficial ushers to the tiny bathroom, letting people know if it was occupied or informing them that there were no paper towels left, which we knew only after seeing the pilot himself exit the facilities with sopping wet hands. Eww.
We arrived in Savannah and hit the ground running. I dropped my bags in the hotel room and then jumped in the car with my Uncle Pete, who drove me to pick up my tux while everyone else went to grab lunch. We headed back to the hotel, but soon it was time to meet at the church for the rehearsal, so I caught a cab driven by a 45 year old woman who drove like she was fresh out of driver's ed. She dropped
me off at the side entrance, which was confusing, because from that vantage point the church looked more like an apartment building. I walked into a room with some couches and noticed a few robes hanging on the coat rack. I began to think that maybe I wasn't supposed to be in here. When I walked through the door on the other side of the room, I was next to the altar, looking out at the church. Oops. I saw my Uncle Pete and my cousin's grandparents sitting in the back, so I approached them. Sean's grandmother said she initially figured I was the pastor when she saw me walk out from the back entrance, dressed in a suit. Not the pastor, just a goober.
We had a great time at the rehearsal dinner and then at the wedding, which was filled with lots of good food, friendly people, and just enough Jack Daniels to turn me into a Chatty Kathy and a dancing machine all at once.
On Sunday, we packed the fam into a rental car and headed for Hilton Head, SC. We have family friends there, so Sarah and I stayed for a day while my parents hung out until Wednesday. Sarah and I took the Delta Express back to Boston, flying in style again, finally reunited with our new friend: Row 13.
During the flight, Sarah broke a nail while trying to fix the air nozzle and it flew directly into my eye.
"Oh good," she said after laughing hysterically,"I have to take these off for basketball anyway. One down, nine to go."
We landed in Boston wearing shorts, which, it became clear, were an inappropriate clothing choice. Shortly after, I realized that my bag had somehow been lost on a direct flight. It brought back memories of landing in Detroit just a week before.
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Oh, so where was I? I'm not going to recap the whole Michigan or Georgia trip, but before I get to Georgia, I must recant one last thing about my trip to Michigan: The Ann Arbor Film Festival.
Hufton had mentioned briefly that he had tickets to the Ann Arbor Film Festival, so the three of us decided to go to the theatre and skip out on an encore visit to Pinball Pete's for Tekken 5, air hockey, and grand prix racing. The theatre was very old, but still well maintained,
which made for a great atmosphere to view a film. I knew that these films would not be top notch, but I'm a semi-artsy guy, so I was game.The first movie started and the screen was mostly black with no sound. You could start to see the film and it sort of gave the effect like the projecter was broken, as you could catch a very faint image here and there.
"Huh, this is an interesting intro," I thought.
Then, after three minutes of this, I grew suspicious. Thirty seconds later, the film stopped and the credits rolled. This was followed by applause by most of the audience. I believe I actually laughed out loud. I knew what I was in for.
The second short film started out with an inverted view of the horizon over a wheat field, where the sky was at the bottom of the frame.
"Oh, maybe this will be better," I thought again. "It has images of things."
Well, it ended a few minutes later, having shown only those images I just mentioned.
An hour later, the films had begun to feature people, but they still weren't talking. I was happy that I had some twizzlers to ease the pain. Finally, Irf and Hufton couldn't take it any more, and I'm pretty sure I had thrown in a "just so you know, I'll leave when you guys want to" by then, just to test the waters. I was thrilled to see that they were ready to leave without watching the second hour. My artsy side was tested. My artsy side was defeated.
Fast forward five days: I'm airborn with the fam, headed toward Savannah for Cousin Sean's wedding. My Dad had mentioned that the plane we were scheduled to take was a little smaller than usual. I passed this info onto my sister, which seemed to make her slightly uncomfortable. She has taken over my title of being the "bad flyer" in the family.
"I always kiss the plane before I go on it," she told me.
"What do you mean?"
"I kiss my hand then I touch the outside of the plane before I board."
"You're crazy."
"I told Jenny Mueller about it and now she does it, too."
I didn't think Sarah was going to get a chance to kiss the plane, because as it became evident that we would be walking out on the tarmac to board our flight, Sarah stopped dead in her tracks and stuck her hands out desperately, like a cat about to be thrown into a bath tub.
"I'm not going."
I believed her. I've heard that tone of voice from her before. That tone speaks the truth. In a
split second, I thought of the phone calls we would have to make, explaining that Sarah would either not be attending the wedding or was just getting on the highway, due to arrive in Savannah within 25 hours or so.As it turned out, she was bluffing. Five seconds later, we were walking up the steps to the plane. We got on the plane and I had flashbacks to that Geico commercial, spoofing a reality TV show called Tiny House, which is hilarious (I would watch it if they made it). I am not a tall man, but I felt the urge to duck my head as I walked down the aisle. I noticed that Sarah and I were seated in Row 13 and began to wonder if this plane even had 13 rows. As it turns out, the plane had exactly 13 rows. Actually, make that 13 and 1/2. The only seat behind row 12 on the other side of the plane was a toilet.
Sarah and I became the unofficial ushers to the tiny bathroom, letting people know if it was occupied or informing them that there were no paper towels left, which we knew only after seeing the pilot himself exit the facilities with sopping wet hands. Eww.
We arrived in Savannah and hit the ground running. I dropped my bags in the hotel room and then jumped in the car with my Uncle Pete, who drove me to pick up my tux while everyone else went to grab lunch. We headed back to the hotel, but soon it was time to meet at the church for the rehearsal, so I caught a cab driven by a 45 year old woman who drove like she was fresh out of driver's ed. She dropped
We had a great time at the rehearsal dinner and then at the wedding, which was filled with lots of good food, friendly people, and just enough Jack Daniels to turn me into a Chatty Kathy and a dancing machine all at once.
On Sunday, we packed the fam into a rental car and headed for Hilton Head, SC. We have family friends there, so Sarah and I stayed for a day while my parents hung out until Wednesday. Sarah and I took the Delta Express back to Boston, flying in style again, finally reunited with our new friend: Row 13.
During the flight, Sarah broke a nail while trying to fix the air nozzle and it flew directly into my eye.
"Oh good," she said after laughing hysterically,"I have to take these off for basketball anyway. One down, nine to go."
We landed in Boston wearing shorts, which, it became clear, were an inappropriate clothing choice. Shortly after, I realized that my bag had somehow been lost on a direct flight. It brought back memories of landing in Detroit just a week before.
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