Sunday, April 03, 2005
Spring Break Recap
So with all this chat about dead mice and electrically themed malapropisms, I realized that I have been remiss in describing the fun filled and exciting events of my spring break. Now as mentioned before, spring break this year was oddly scheduled. Unlike most school districts, including the one where I attended high school, Underwood's spring break was only 5 days. School was in session the 21st, 22nd, and 23rd of March. Then everyone got Maunday Thursday and Good Friday off. The weekend proceeded as normal and then the following Monday we stayed on break. And then it was back to school on Tuesday. So really there were three days that we would not have normally been away.
And how did I spend those days? Well, I'm glad you asked.
Thursday, March 24: To celebrate the start of spring break, I did my taxes. Ended up paying the federal government more than I normally would thanks to my nanotechnology research stipend. But, such is life, I suppose. I also sent in the official paperwork for my state teaching certificate, so on the off chance I want to keep doing this for the rest of my life, I'll at least have a piece of paper saying I am qualified. Despite suggestions that it might merit display, I intend to keep that paper safely hidden so that my students do not feel the desire to draw on, spindle, or otherwise mutilate it. Or me. Spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the apartment until I grew too stir crazy and went to the bookstore to read Sin City collections over a bowl of chili in preparation for the new movie. The chili was good, the books were better.
Friday, March 25: A big, fat stinking heap of nothing. That was the agenda for Good Friday as far as I was concerned. Everything important had been finished. Everything else was inconsequential. I could clean the remainder of my apartment, finish a novel, watch some movies, hang out with teacher friends who had not abandoned the city. The world was my oyster. And everything was going great. Slept late, but that was no problem--it was vacation. And then I got a phone call from Deep Throat.
No, not the one who leaked Watergate, although I can't say I've ever seen the two of them together. No, Deep Throat is an old high school colleague who earned the nickname "Throat" for his tendency to go deep for passes on the frisbee field. In any case, he had heard rumors that I had been pondering a trip north during break. Specifically to visit my friends in the Boston area. This was true: after the past few weeks I felt a trip out of town would be in my psychological best interest. However, Boston was a seriously long train ride and the best trains had already left. So I had basically decided I would not be going.
Until Deep Throat gave me some of that confidential information for which he has already become famous. He had abandoned the nation's capital in favor of even more confidential work in the wilds of southern New Hampshire and noted that it would be possible for me to fly into the Manchester airport with relatively little difficulty, reducing a 6-7 hr. train ride to a 1.5 hr. plane ride! He could then pick me up at the terminal and commute down to Boston in 45 minutes. I checked the schedules and made one of those spontaneous decisions that I normally regret to roll the dice and take the trip. By then it was about noon and I had just booked tickets on a flight leaving at 4:30 or so that afternoon.
After quickly packing a suitcase, I rolled on down to the corner. (Actually, I walked...my suitcase rolled.) And imagine my luck, there was the bus! Pulling up to the corner. Stopping. And rolling away without me! Stupid Good Friday traffic. Ended up having to wait an additional half hour before the bus came, and the trip to the subway proved to be particularly frustrating since everyone and their cousin decided it would be a good idea to take the bus that day. Perhaps the most amusing character on the trip was a loudmouthed girl of the age I teach who actually held up the bus for an additional 5 minutes while she sent someone to pick up the brush she had dropped on the ground outside. Later on I listened to an argument she had with another passenger over the correct pronunciation of the word "ignorant":
Girl: It's "ignorant."
Other passenger: No, it's "ignant".
Girl: No...it's "ignorant."
Other passenger: No, that's what the white man has taught you.
Around this time, I saw Christ walking down the side of the road carrying a wooden cross over his shoulder. But I didn't have time to watch beyond that because the subway station was ahead.
Caught the airport shuttle and finished the novel I brought with for the flight north. (Confederacy of Dunces--an entertaining book, though I think I might have appreciated it even more had I actually read Boethius.) Checked in at the airport, where security measures were even more strict than before. I actually had to scan my fleece jacket in addition to my laptop and shoes. Oh yes, this was also the first opportunity for my hideously ugly drivers license to make its appearance in this story. I can't wait until I finally get to replace it later in the year.
The plane ride was relatively stnadard. I spent most of it completing the in-flight magazine crossword and involutnarily listening to the mindless chatter of the two women next to me. I did enjoy the flight attendant's sarcastic and humorous approach to inflight announcements though. ("Please be sure to take all personal problems, I mean baggage, with you upon deplaning...")
Arrived a few minutes ahead of schedule in scenic Manchester, met up with Deep Throat, and after a gas/oil run and a quick stop at the Throat's apartment, we were Boston-bound. On the way down I played catch up about all the friends who I never see: Mathman, Caseator, Ramblin' Dave, The Skiing Chemist, and of course Deep Throat himself. Just as we were getting into the details of Throat's plan to open up an Aspen brew pub however, we were in Boston. We stopped at the home of the Mathman, right across from a store promising "Live Poultry, Fresh Killed," before adjourning for dinner at the Cambridge Brew Pub. The Skiing Chemist and his girlfriend were also in attendance, and I made a fool out of myself by forgetting that I had actually met the girlfriend during a previous trip north. She was kind enough to forgive me this day my trespasses though, and we went off to break bread and tip back a few cold ones. The brew pub in question had excellent fare overall. Despite some hesitation on the Mathman's part to recommend it, I thoroughly enjoyed my wasabi-glazed tuna. In another foolish move, I also helped my old friends kill off several pitchers worth of beer figuring that it was not particularly often that I was in a position to drink without having to worry about driving home or getting up in the morning. Now, I will not say that I was plastered. I've been there before. But I was halfway between drunk and plastered by the end of that night. I looked around the table and suddenly realized halfway through dessert that time was behaving strangely, as though time had slowed down and instead of flowing like a river now oozed like maple syrup. I remember conversations about graduate school with the Chemist, mortgage policies with the Caseator, and video games with Ramblin' Dave, and in my memory they are all reasonably coherent. I can not say whether I was slurring my speech, though such would not be surprising. It was not a good night for my liver.
We went back and watched one of my favorite movies in recent memory, Shaun of the Dead--the best example of a rom-zom-com (romantic zombie comedy) ever made. Such a good film! And then to bed, crashing on the Mathman's couch.
Saturday, March 26: Very little planned for this day. Which is perhaps the best thing given that it was a vacation. Deep Throat and I woke up relatively early and went around the corner to hunt down some food. Mathman's corner of Cambridge is a strange place. Not only is it home to the only shop I've seen in recent memory proclaiming its willingness to kill fresh poultry right in front of you, but the convenience store had such unique items as quail eggs, sugar cane, and mango jelly. We settled for cereal and a quart of milk for breakfast. Mathman had digital cable which meant that for the first time in a long while I could watch everything from ESPN to the History Channel. The latter had a fun special about a guy who built a computer in the 1970s to help him win at blackjack. (A wooden computer, no less...old school!)
A little later, we went down to play frisbee with a few of the Throat's buddies. Mathman and I, neither of whom had played frisbee regularly since high school, were put to shame as the others displayed near perfect tosses, while, for example, my forehand kept listing to the left. I got a little semi-professional tutoring to clean that up, but we'll see how long that lasts during the relatively frisbee-free school year.
We returned back to Mathman's pad, and soon enough it was time for Deep Throat to head south for Easter to visit family. I went on a brief tour of the neighborhood with Mathman. Highlights included a building that served as both a courthouse and a prison, which must make things convenient for local district attorney, the Mathman's place of employment (which shares its name with my dorm in college), and the local mall and its frenzy of capitalist consumption. A return home followed by a southern-style dinner (jambalaya!) with Ramblin' Dave, who right now is living the good life programming role playing games. Of all of us I think he has come the closest to having the perfect job. The secret, if Max Fischer is to be believed, is to find something you love to do and then do that for the rest of your life. Dave has done that. I can only hope that we all do someday.
Once more to the Mathpad where we unwound watching The Incredibles on DVD. An excellent, excellent film made even better by extras. "Thanks to you, Mr. Skipperdoo!"...Indeed. I'm still tyring to figure out who did the voice work for the various superhero files on the extras disk. Some of them sounded very familiar.
Sunday, March 27: Easter. Learned from Mathman's roommate that Jesus is a Terminator, or at least looks like one in The Passion. Almost, but not quite, enough to make me want to see it. Spent most of the morning watching Sportscenter on ESPN, before a trip to one of my favorite childhood haunts, the Boston Museum of Science. Unfortunately, I learned too late that science museums are far more entertaining to a kid than to a grownup. The lightning show remained fun though. Gotta love the 3 story tall Van de Graaff. I was most disappointed however not to hear Leonard Nimoy asking me who put the bomp in the bomp sha bomp sha bomp on the massive Imax stereo system. That was always my favorite part! Oh well.
We went for dinner that evening at Fire and Ice, a Mongolian BBQ where I had far too much to eat of far too many different kinds of meat. Even got to see the Josh, the lawyer in training and insominac residing near Allston if his blog title is to be believed. Not that he's blogged since September, so this was something of a catchup. Josh actually knew a few of the folks there from quiz bowl and he fit into the group well. A shame that we basically went our separate ways after dinner with Throat driving me back to Manchester to crash before my flight home the next morning.
Monday, March 28: Woke up far too early. Throat has a routine...he likes to ride the stationary bike in the morning for an hour or so, which meant that I got to wake up at 6:30. All was forgiven though because we got to watch Highlander DVDs. It had been a while since I saw early episodes of the show, but it was not nearly as cheesy as I feared it would be. Except during the Quickening. That always seems weird.
Throat dropped me at the airport and I had an uneventful flight home. the only thing of note was the choice of reading material, Angels and Demons, which for those who don't know centers around events after the death of an established Pope. An interesting coincidence.
When I returned home it was driving rain, which made waiting for the bus sans-umbrella fun, but I got back by 2 in the afternoon and was able to lesson plan and get ready for the next week.
But I've already blogged about that, so I guess I'll wrap up here. It was a great trip, not all that eventful, but definitely worthwhile for seeing all the old guard. Special thanks to Deep Throat and Mathman without whom none of it would have been possible. Now if I can just make it until my next official day off...Memorial Day!
So with all this chat about dead mice and electrically themed malapropisms, I realized that I have been remiss in describing the fun filled and exciting events of my spring break. Now as mentioned before, spring break this year was oddly scheduled. Unlike most school districts, including the one where I attended high school, Underwood's spring break was only 5 days. School was in session the 21st, 22nd, and 23rd of March. Then everyone got Maunday Thursday and Good Friday off. The weekend proceeded as normal and then the following Monday we stayed on break. And then it was back to school on Tuesday. So really there were three days that we would not have normally been away.
And how did I spend those days? Well, I'm glad you asked.
Thursday, March 24: To celebrate the start of spring break, I did my taxes. Ended up paying the federal government more than I normally would thanks to my nanotechnology research stipend. But, such is life, I suppose. I also sent in the official paperwork for my state teaching certificate, so on the off chance I want to keep doing this for the rest of my life, I'll at least have a piece of paper saying I am qualified. Despite suggestions that it might merit display, I intend to keep that paper safely hidden so that my students do not feel the desire to draw on, spindle, or otherwise mutilate it. Or me. Spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the apartment until I grew too stir crazy and went to the bookstore to read Sin City collections over a bowl of chili in preparation for the new movie. The chili was good, the books were better.
Friday, March 25: A big, fat stinking heap of nothing. That was the agenda for Good Friday as far as I was concerned. Everything important had been finished. Everything else was inconsequential. I could clean the remainder of my apartment, finish a novel, watch some movies, hang out with teacher friends who had not abandoned the city. The world was my oyster. And everything was going great. Slept late, but that was no problem--it was vacation. And then I got a phone call from Deep Throat.
No, not the one who leaked Watergate, although I can't say I've ever seen the two of them together. No, Deep Throat is an old high school colleague who earned the nickname "Throat" for his tendency to go deep for passes on the frisbee field. In any case, he had heard rumors that I had been pondering a trip north during break. Specifically to visit my friends in the Boston area. This was true: after the past few weeks I felt a trip out of town would be in my psychological best interest. However, Boston was a seriously long train ride and the best trains had already left. So I had basically decided I would not be going.
Until Deep Throat gave me some of that confidential information for which he has already become famous. He had abandoned the nation's capital in favor of even more confidential work in the wilds of southern New Hampshire and noted that it would be possible for me to fly into the Manchester airport with relatively little difficulty, reducing a 6-7 hr. train ride to a 1.5 hr. plane ride! He could then pick me up at the terminal and commute down to Boston in 45 minutes. I checked the schedules and made one of those spontaneous decisions that I normally regret to roll the dice and take the trip. By then it was about noon and I had just booked tickets on a flight leaving at 4:30 or so that afternoon.
After quickly packing a suitcase, I rolled on down to the corner. (Actually, I walked...my suitcase rolled.) And imagine my luck, there was the bus! Pulling up to the corner. Stopping. And rolling away without me! Stupid Good Friday traffic. Ended up having to wait an additional half hour before the bus came, and the trip to the subway proved to be particularly frustrating since everyone and their cousin decided it would be a good idea to take the bus that day. Perhaps the most amusing character on the trip was a loudmouthed girl of the age I teach who actually held up the bus for an additional 5 minutes while she sent someone to pick up the brush she had dropped on the ground outside. Later on I listened to an argument she had with another passenger over the correct pronunciation of the word "ignorant":
Girl: It's "ignorant."
Other passenger: No, it's "ignant".
Girl: No...it's "ignorant."
Other passenger: No, that's what the white man has taught you.
Around this time, I saw Christ walking down the side of the road carrying a wooden cross over his shoulder. But I didn't have time to watch beyond that because the subway station was ahead.
Caught the airport shuttle and finished the novel I brought with for the flight north. (Confederacy of Dunces--an entertaining book, though I think I might have appreciated it even more had I actually read Boethius.) Checked in at the airport, where security measures were even more strict than before. I actually had to scan my fleece jacket in addition to my laptop and shoes. Oh yes, this was also the first opportunity for my hideously ugly drivers license to make its appearance in this story. I can't wait until I finally get to replace it later in the year.
The plane ride was relatively stnadard. I spent most of it completing the in-flight magazine crossword and involutnarily listening to the mindless chatter of the two women next to me. I did enjoy the flight attendant's sarcastic and humorous approach to inflight announcements though. ("Please be sure to take all personal problems, I mean baggage, with you upon deplaning...")
Arrived a few minutes ahead of schedule in scenic Manchester, met up with Deep Throat, and after a gas/oil run and a quick stop at the Throat's apartment, we were Boston-bound. On the way down I played catch up about all the friends who I never see: Mathman, Caseator, Ramblin' Dave, The Skiing Chemist, and of course Deep Throat himself. Just as we were getting into the details of Throat's plan to open up an Aspen brew pub however, we were in Boston. We stopped at the home of the Mathman, right across from a store promising "Live Poultry, Fresh Killed," before adjourning for dinner at the Cambridge Brew Pub. The Skiing Chemist and his girlfriend were also in attendance, and I made a fool out of myself by forgetting that I had actually met the girlfriend during a previous trip north. She was kind enough to forgive me this day my trespasses though, and we went off to break bread and tip back a few cold ones. The brew pub in question had excellent fare overall. Despite some hesitation on the Mathman's part to recommend it, I thoroughly enjoyed my wasabi-glazed tuna. In another foolish move, I also helped my old friends kill off several pitchers worth of beer figuring that it was not particularly often that I was in a position to drink without having to worry about driving home or getting up in the morning. Now, I will not say that I was plastered. I've been there before. But I was halfway between drunk and plastered by the end of that night. I looked around the table and suddenly realized halfway through dessert that time was behaving strangely, as though time had slowed down and instead of flowing like a river now oozed like maple syrup. I remember conversations about graduate school with the Chemist, mortgage policies with the Caseator, and video games with Ramblin' Dave, and in my memory they are all reasonably coherent. I can not say whether I was slurring my speech, though such would not be surprising. It was not a good night for my liver.
We went back and watched one of my favorite movies in recent memory, Shaun of the Dead--the best example of a rom-zom-com (romantic zombie comedy) ever made. Such a good film! And then to bed, crashing on the Mathman's couch.
Saturday, March 26: Very little planned for this day. Which is perhaps the best thing given that it was a vacation. Deep Throat and I woke up relatively early and went around the corner to hunt down some food. Mathman's corner of Cambridge is a strange place. Not only is it home to the only shop I've seen in recent memory proclaiming its willingness to kill fresh poultry right in front of you, but the convenience store had such unique items as quail eggs, sugar cane, and mango jelly. We settled for cereal and a quart of milk for breakfast. Mathman had digital cable which meant that for the first time in a long while I could watch everything from ESPN to the History Channel. The latter had a fun special about a guy who built a computer in the 1970s to help him win at blackjack. (A wooden computer, no less...old school!)
A little later, we went down to play frisbee with a few of the Throat's buddies. Mathman and I, neither of whom had played frisbee regularly since high school, were put to shame as the others displayed near perfect tosses, while, for example, my forehand kept listing to the left. I got a little semi-professional tutoring to clean that up, but we'll see how long that lasts during the relatively frisbee-free school year.
We returned back to Mathman's pad, and soon enough it was time for Deep Throat to head south for Easter to visit family. I went on a brief tour of the neighborhood with Mathman. Highlights included a building that served as both a courthouse and a prison, which must make things convenient for local district attorney, the Mathman's place of employment (which shares its name with my dorm in college), and the local mall and its frenzy of capitalist consumption. A return home followed by a southern-style dinner (jambalaya!) with Ramblin' Dave, who right now is living the good life programming role playing games. Of all of us I think he has come the closest to having the perfect job. The secret, if Max Fischer is to be believed, is to find something you love to do and then do that for the rest of your life. Dave has done that. I can only hope that we all do someday.
Once more to the Mathpad where we unwound watching The Incredibles on DVD. An excellent, excellent film made even better by extras. "Thanks to you, Mr. Skipperdoo!"...Indeed. I'm still tyring to figure out who did the voice work for the various superhero files on the extras disk. Some of them sounded very familiar.
Sunday, March 27: Easter. Learned from Mathman's roommate that Jesus is a Terminator, or at least looks like one in The Passion. Almost, but not quite, enough to make me want to see it. Spent most of the morning watching Sportscenter on ESPN, before a trip to one of my favorite childhood haunts, the Boston Museum of Science. Unfortunately, I learned too late that science museums are far more entertaining to a kid than to a grownup. The lightning show remained fun though. Gotta love the 3 story tall Van de Graaff. I was most disappointed however not to hear Leonard Nimoy asking me who put the bomp in the bomp sha bomp sha bomp on the massive Imax stereo system. That was always my favorite part! Oh well.
We went for dinner that evening at Fire and Ice, a Mongolian BBQ where I had far too much to eat of far too many different kinds of meat. Even got to see the Josh, the lawyer in training and insominac residing near Allston if his blog title is to be believed. Not that he's blogged since September, so this was something of a catchup. Josh actually knew a few of the folks there from quiz bowl and he fit into the group well. A shame that we basically went our separate ways after dinner with Throat driving me back to Manchester to crash before my flight home the next morning.
Monday, March 28: Woke up far too early. Throat has a routine...he likes to ride the stationary bike in the morning for an hour or so, which meant that I got to wake up at 6:30. All was forgiven though because we got to watch Highlander DVDs. It had been a while since I saw early episodes of the show, but it was not nearly as cheesy as I feared it would be. Except during the Quickening. That always seems weird.
Throat dropped me at the airport and I had an uneventful flight home. the only thing of note was the choice of reading material, Angels and Demons, which for those who don't know centers around events after the death of an established Pope. An interesting coincidence.
When I returned home it was driving rain, which made waiting for the bus sans-umbrella fun, but I got back by 2 in the afternoon and was able to lesson plan and get ready for the next week.
But I've already blogged about that, so I guess I'll wrap up here. It was a great trip, not all that eventful, but definitely worthwhile for seeing all the old guard. Special thanks to Deep Throat and Mathman without whom none of it would have been possible. Now if I can just make it until my next official day off...Memorial Day!
