Apple Care: Totally worth it and other stories

Last night, save a total of $5 in tolls, crazy unnecessary traffic, and a GPS that told me my destination was the intersection near Tyson's Corner, was a moderate success. I was there about a half hour early, because Google Maps and my GPS had a miscommunication and I didn't turn on avoid toll roads on my way down. I stopped at the Starbucks and quickly made it to the Apple Store. That mall gives me headaches and makes me feel really claustrophobic and nervous. 

The Apple Store was a balmy 2,000 degrees inside. I was glad I didn't bring my coat. I headed over to the Genius Bar, happy because it seemed like an adorable nerdy boy was going to be my genius. As I made mental notes on how to seduce As I waited in line, people crowded around where I was to talk to the Genius Bar attendant, I guess, who was walking around with a MacBook Air with all of the day's registrations. 

Meanwhile, a lady with a MacBook Pro and all sorts of issues, was monopolizing my future husband genius. A few iPod problem people were called up to the bar before me, and a different genius called me because MacBook Pro lady decided to ask more questions after her session with my genius was over, including asking why her lap top got so hot when she was using it. 

My genius told him it was because lap top doesn't entirely mean it goes on your lap. 

In my head, I told him I would be his lap top. (I love my boyfriend, I love my boyfriend, I love my boyfriend. I hope said genius didn't stumble his way over here...) 

So, as MacBook Pro lady is now making a purchase at the Genius Bar (curse Apple Stores and their crazy wandering cash registers) and I sat down with my new Genius. He asked if I caused any of the problems with the plastic casing. I told him no. He asked how it happened. 

"I don't know," I said, "I was just hanging out and it started happening." 

No one there thought I was funny at all. It was really unfortunate. However, since I was coming from so far away, they fixed my computer in an hour, for free, and completely replaced the keyboard and even the touch pad. It looks just as good as new and the clickety clack of blogging sounds even more glorious than it did before! 

So, the moral of this story is: Apple users...AppleCare is worth it, and maybe you'll have better luck with a super-cute genius than I did. 

Happy Saturday. 

Why I don't like Northern Virginia - an anticipation manifesto

My beloved MacBook (Compy for short) has been shedding plastic edging for a while now. I just found out that my AppleCare protection plan is still good right as a large bit of plastic edging peeled off. So I bit the bullet and made a Genius Bar appointment for this evening. 

One problem: the closest Apple Store is in Tyson's Corner. Which is...McLean, Va...which is...Northern Virginia. 

I lived in Northern Virginia in the summer of 2007, in a lovely apartment on George Mason University's campus. I worked at Wolf Trap. I rode the metro to DC. I liked the DC access and my internship. Life would have been nice, had I not been in the most expensive, pretentious part of the country. NoVa thinks it should be its own state. I say...succeed from the union and be your own country! 

Never have I ever been treated so poorly in my entire life. Never had I ever been so looked down upon for trying to save money (minimum wage anyone?!). I was so tired of upwardly-mobile, young Americans at the end of the summer, I vowed never to return. 

Too bad it's a great area for performing arts, Barack Obama and the closest Apple Store. (First line of business when I win the lottery: open an Apple Store in Shepherdstown)

My reasons for all this hater-ade follow. 

1. An area can easily be upwardly mobile without being pretentious and asshole-y. Come visit Shepherdstown sometime. 

1a. This being said, I'm so down with organic food, hybrid cars, and iPhones, but I'm also poor. Giant brand products from Martin's are fine by me. 

2. NoVa claims to be super-duper green. So, USE YOUR FABULOUS PUBLIC TRANSIT SYSTEM. MetroRail busses get you to the metro station which will get you to your DC job just as fast as your car...and they're electric and cut down on dirty emissions. 

3. Tyson's Corner is the circle of Hell Dante forgot to write about. Too.Many.Shoppers.

4. I honestly thought Wolf Trap was an hour away from my apartment in Fairfax until I left late one night after a concert. I got home in a half an hour.

5. I lost count of the number of people who scoffed when I said I was from (and love) West Virginia. Even more people scoffed when I said I want to teach. As in: "you only want to live in West Virginia and teach for the rest of your life." Yes. I only want to educate and enrich the next generation of Americans. That is all. 

Every time I go back, I hope Northern Virginia will change my mind, provide me with a wonderful experience and make me love it like its residents do. 

I am, however, not optimistic. But...I really want Compy fixed while my AppleCare plan still exists. 

Free your secrets and become who you are...

I just got home from DC. Frank Warren of PostSecret gave a lecture at George Washington University that was open to the public. My roommate and I went down. 

Words to not describe. Well, they do, actually. I think the ride back from Shady Grove station included the words, innocent, emotional, amazing, inspiring, funny, sweet and incredible to describe Frank's talk. If you aren't familiar, you should be. If you're familiar and not in love, you need to get there. If you're in love and haven't seen him speak, you need to find a place and go. Our tickets were only around $10 which is a very reasonable entertainment cost. 

He talks about himself, shows secrets that haven't been seen by the public, gives the audience a chance to share their secrets and shares some of his o. There's a different air in the room when Frank's talking. Something in the air that suddenly makes humans trust each other and care about each other. 

We all need a little more of that loving these days. 

Those familiar with PostSecret know that fans typically take secrets into bookstores with them and leave secrets inside other PostSecret books for others to purchase. Tonight, when I bought a book at the lecture, an old secret that Frank received and perhaps put online was hidden in my pages. I hope the girl who sent in her secret to Frank in 2006 is doing okay tonight, and that whatever ailed her three years ago is gone and that she has more happy days like the one she mentioned in her secret. 

At the end, he offers a book signing. And he signs all of them. I have never met a "celebrity" before and was incredibly giddy, but when I thanked him for his project and gave him a secret of my own (!!!), he smiled and said, "thank you, I like it, too." 

Solo Road Trip

I vlogged on the way up here, but, naturally, I forgot my USB cable for my camera  so if I'm not too embarrassed by it, I'll put that up here when I get home. 

My first solo long distance road trip was successful, I think. I assume that the success of a road trip lies in actually getting there so, that part worked out pretty well, I'd say. 

I hit about two hours of traffic in Pennsylvania. There were signs all along 78 that read "All lanes closed, exit 49." When I got closer to exit 49, the signs urged me to tune into AM 1630 to hear more information. This more information said the lanes were closed due to an incident and to use alternate routes. 

I never learned these alternate routes, but instead was given the "hey baby, what's wrong" from a Jeep passing on the shoulder when I was talking dramatically to my mom using my hands free head set. I sat. I listened to my iPod. Sat some more. I read parts of a book. Sat some more. I finally was let through. They opened one of the lanes, which is good because those alternate routes still remain a complete mystery to me. 

This traffic hurt me later, when I rolled into New York City at exactly 5:00. Traffic. Through. The. Bronx. And. Over. The. George. Washington. Bridge. Was. Like. This. And. I. Slammed. On. My. Breaks. A. Lot. But, I even made it through that, the extra four hours to Rhode Island and pulled in here around 8:30 and was eating a pizza in bed while watching "Jon & Kate Plus Eight" in my pajamas by 9:30. Overall, a success. 

Today, while I wait for my mom to arrive, I think I'm going to head into Cranston and go to the used book store my grandfather used to take me to. My earliest memories are there, and I've been wanting to go there to see if it still looks and smells the same. 

Oh, and Happy Epiphany! Christmas officially comes to a close. 

Little Rhody

I arrived safely in Rhode Island about 45 minutes ago, I'd say. It's been a horribly long day, but lucky for you that makes for a slightly punchier me! 

My alarm went off at 5. Five-o-clock. AM. In the morning. I had to leave by six in the morning. Ante Meridiem if you will. The sun wasn't out, but when I hit 270 towards DC, I was surprised at the number of cars that were there, driving into the sun rising over the circumference of D.C. that forgets which side the gas pedal is on. With the metro running how it was, and me unsure of where to park, I just barely made it to my train. 

At this point, my appetite for breakfast had not even been close to satisfied. My bagel from Sheetz was dry and disappointing, so I traded it in at the train station for some crackers. Big surprise, they were even more dry. I opted for the least-beaten-up apple at Primo Cappuccino which wasn't dry and surprisingly tasty. It made up for what would be my lunch. A hot dog microwaved for 45 seconds and a bag of potato chips. 

I know none of you care about this, but as my stomach growls and becomes more and more hungry, all I can really think about is food. And the delicious peanut butter cookies I made for Christmas and brought from home for my journey. 

There was a man on the metro who creeped me out. Big surprise. At first, I thought perhaps he indulged in a poppy seed bagel for breakfast and was checking his teeth for renegade poppies. This is completely explainable on the metro in the slightly-reflective plasticglass at seven in the morning. He was, indeed, conversing with his reflection and digging into his pockets like any great movie psychopath. In the anxiety I've had over the past two or three days, I almost hopped off the train in Bethesda and got back on the train three minutes behind. Almost. Yet again, my anxiety was proven wrong, and he was just feeling a little chatty and exited the train when we got to Tenleytown. 

In my observations on the Northeast Regional over the past two weeks, I've discovered a slightly more normal passenger group than on the Capitol Limited or the Texas Eagle. Perhaps it is because of the larger number of business people trying to get here from there - but it makes for poor people watching. The only real hilarity on the ride up here was one of the assistant conductors. Conversation to follow. 

"What's the stop right before Providence?" I ask, needing to know so my dad could come get me. 

"I don't know," conductor says proudly, "I get off at New York. What is it?"

Blank stare, trying to figure out if he really just re-asked me my question teacher-style or if I'm just showing early signs of sleep deprivation. 

"I think it's Kingston, is that right?" 

Blank stare continues as the assistant conductor pulls out a piece of paper. 

"Kingston, yes, Kingston, Rhode Island is before Providence. That sounds about right doesn't it?" 

"Um. Great." 

I'm so lucky I made it here and did not end up in a) Boston or b) standing on a curbside in unfamiliar downtown Providence for any extended period of time. 

We're waiting on my cousin to head out to dinner. In the meantime, I think I'll have another cookie.

On a side note: my grandmother always said that if you couldn't laugh you would cry. Her sentiments are getting me through all of this, her sentiments and the poor, lost assistant conductor.

Blogging from a PC

Today's adventure not only comes to you from New York, but it also comes to you from my dad's Dell lap top. I apologize in advance for any formatting that comes off looking less than anal-retentive neat or random spacing between words, I'm having an incredibly difficult time with this.

It's not that I didn't travel without my lap top, no no, I would never do that. Apparently, classy New York hotel room is too good to let my little MacBook hook up the internet. Whatever, my MacBook could do little computer laps around their intolerant web browser. (I can't hate too much on a hotel with a pillow menu)

(It took me at least five minutes to type that, because letters were jumping into the wrong words)

Right, so I'm in New York. Positively my favorite place on the planet. I could never live here, mostly because of financial restrictions, but I'd also get really irritated with tourists, but visiting makes me feel a little more alive inside each and every time. This being said, I was given the most incredible compliment today. While elbowing my way through the crowd at the tree in Rockafeller Center, someone commented on the fact that I was using my elbows, head down method of crowd control and said, "she must be from New York."

Actually, I'm just short and when you're short the elbows-out, head-down method is survival, but thank you, tall New York tourist!

We've done the traditional window drooling at Tiffany's (future husband, whoever you are, start saving...I apparently have good taste) and other such high-end stores. My only purchases so far were to appeal to the child in me and were an M&M magnet for the fridge and mocha premium M&Ms from the M&M store in Times Square.

Both completely necessary.

I don't want to leave tomorrow as early as I have to - but the handbells at Trinity Episcopal Church in Shepherdstown need me...I'm the 'ilent' and 'night' in "Silent Night"...I'm important and needed at the last rehearsal before Christmas Eve.

I'm tangenting, however, because I'm really trying to say - I needed this. My holiday spirit has been all but broken because of bra sales and an alarming amount of holiday cynicism. It was saved last night when my dad and I walked past Saks Fifth Avenue and watched snowflake lights dance and flash while "Carol of the Bells" played. I know it's commercial, I know it's not the true meaning of Christmas, but everyone on the street gathered around and watched and I honestly felt like Christmas was finally here.

I'm baking cookies on Tuesday, and it's going to be wonderful!

But, for now, I need to get off this PC. I'm getting frustrated.

Back on Solid and Intarwebbed Ground

Chicago - Round Two. Same Panera, different table. (Ok, one table over. What can I say? I'm a creature of habit)

I was getting settled in my seat on the Amtrak commuter bus from Houston to Longview, innocently listening to some Christmas tunes, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but, CREEPER! He waved at me with his creepy little sparkle in his eye that said, "I knew you would be on this bus/train again." I had a funny feeling I was going to be in for a long afternoon, day, evening. 

I avoided him for a good bit of the bus ride out. He was talking loudly about visiting his girlfriend for the Thanksgiving holiday. I tuned in to the word "intimate" and immediately turned my ears off. There are certain things you don't talk about in public with people you don't know, and one of those things is intimacy. 

He caught up with another younger girl and I on the platform at Longview. They were calling for families first, and he suggested we say we are cousins so we can get on together and that he would get seats for us. I bit. I know. I'm horrible because of it, but I really wanted a window seat and I wanted to sit with someone not creepy (this girl, not creeper friend). 

Things went well. He seemed to woo the affection of an older lady drinking Heinekens out of a cooler. People were obnoxious in the wee hours of the morning when they got on the train. I was irritated. The girl I was next to left in Springfield, and I found hope in being able to stretch out and enjoy the space as I finished my coffee and read my book. 

Then, creeper came back from eating, saying he hoped he could keep his food down because he had felt ill the entire ride. 

There is nothing I like less than vomit. 

He looked at me. Stared at me even while I was sitting innocently reading  (still) and said, "I think you're beautiful." 

Panic. 

He continued to be creepy the rest of the way, scooting over towards me as he slept. He told me when I got off the train he would miss me. 

Should I be flattered? 

Regardless. I leave here at 7, and I'm hoping for a less eventful, even lonely, ride back to Martinsburg. 

Sigh. 

The Holidays - Grown-Up Edition

I think today marks the end of my first grown-up holiday. I'll be leaving on a northbound bus to a northbound train today around 1:00. As a matter of fact, I should be packing currently, but figured I would give this Thanksgiving a bit more thought before I am banished to a train of either screaming children already high on holiday sweets or creepy people who want to be my friend. 

My parents only moved to Texas in February, and it's a bit of an adjustment from when they lived two hours away from Shepherdstown at our home in Forest Hill, Md. When it all comes down to it, the only attachment I really had left in Forest Hill was its proximity to me. Really there can't be any place farther (culturally and physically) away from me when I'm in West Virginia. But, in this life you do what you have to do, and Texas was their big (pun completely intended) have to do. 

I don't think the previous paragraph really ties in with anything, but it seemed important so bear with me. One of my journalism professor's biggest complaints about my style of writing was that it never really connected. (Hey, man, hasn't he ever heard of stream of consciousness?)

Back to my first grown-up holiday. In my conversations with the people in the train stations and dining cars I met on my way down, I actually told them "I'm going to my parents' house for Thanksgiving." This is something I never could have envisioned saying. I was always "going home for the holidays" or "heading back to Har/Co" (which, if you're from Harford County, for whatever reason Har/Co is synonymous with home). This time, I was going to my parents place, this is the first house they've had in my lifetime that I cannot possibly associate any ties of "home" to. 

This, to me, is bizarre and one of the first signs of being an adult. To make it more grown-up, they're coming to my house for Christmas, you know, that whole trading off of holidays that old people do. 

Esh. Holi-daze. 

Regardless, my visit here was nice. Much more positive than my summer visit. It's cooler - but still warm, mind you - and there are more people squirming about because the temperature has dropped below boiling. We went to a hockey game (yes, ice) and it became so apparent that Texans love their sports teams, regardless of the sport. Texans are a proud people in a way that no one in this country is proud of their state and I actually have to commend them for that. Everyone should be proud of where they live, that's what the homeless hippy I met in Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco said. 

"I want you to say where you're from, and smile while you're saying it!" And, as it turned out, he had family in West Virginia. 

I head home to mountains of West Virginia and mountains of Christmas decorating to do, holiday shoppers to defeat (read: sell up) and children to combat. I have a kitty who needs her stitches removed. The "Vagina Monologues" need auditioning for and I need to get myself into tip-top holiday shape (not exercise. ew). 

But first, a train. 

Happy First Day in Advent (if you're down with Christianity). If not, happy Sunday. To shoppers - I hope you got all of the sales you intended this weekend. To fellow retailers - I hope you survived the rush wherever you work. 

The Texas Eagle

I write this on a shaking train with my magnification at around 150% because, anything less, and I can't see because the tray my poor little shaken MacBook is on has fallen victim to the bumpy tracks of the American mid-to-south west. The Allegheny Mountains are curvy and terrifying in their own regard, but the quality of smoothness really starts to decline after Chicago. We've been bouncing and bumping along since Springfield. 

Regardless, I felt the need to start this entry before I could sit down to the safe, smooth, un-moving front of Blogger, incase my selective memory chooses to block out this trek of the 21 Texas Eagle. 

First, a disclaimer, I know that your typical long-journey train crown is nothing by typical. There has to be something unhinged upstairs if you are willing to endure sleeping next to perfect strangers, not shower for a few days and have layovers in strange cities. I include myself in that same unhinged category, but I think Amtrak has really done it this time by putting all of the crazies interested in traveling to Texas by rail on this train. 

The whole experience started out rather innocently. I met a nice college-aged couple in Unition Station in Chicago. They've done this trip before, so it was nice to be around some vetswho kow the ins and outs of Amtrak travel. I like to make small talk on the train, because, let's face it, if you don't you're going to be really lonely and nervous for the entirety of your trip. It's not worth making enemies. So, I talked to a boy who, I suppose, would fall into your typical gamer, Dungeons and Dragons sort of stereotype. (Don't hate on me for using a stereotype - it's the best way I can think to describe him to you folks over the intarwebz)

Apparently, this small talk was a big mistake. He presumed to follow me to my seat, asking me if I was traveling alone and would I like someone to keep me company for the next 19 hours. I told him that it seemed I would have a seat to myself at least for a little while and wanted to catch up on sleep I didn't get the night before on the train from Martinsburg. Had it been me, I would have given up there. 

I have a killer intuition. I know creepy when it addresses me. 

A few hours later, I'm minding my own business, enjoying Three Cups of Tea and listening to a little bit of Belle & Sebastian on my iPod. He comes over and ists down and proceeds to make small talk with me about music and other such things. He's an aspiring romance writer. His friends tell him he writes good smut. He asked if I was a fan of Vivaldi. I'm not, really. He asked how I could not be a fan of Vivaldi, especially "The Four Seasons." I tell him that if you've ever been involved in music on any kind of scholastic level "The Four Seasons" get overplayed like Britney Spears' "Womanizer" (I wish I had thought of that one during the conversation). In an attempt to change my Vivaldi opinion, he puts his headphones on me and has me listen to some Vivaldi piano. Then, he starts to air-piano.

I know many a piano player, I've dated a piano player and as far as I'm concerned, they never air-piano when they are trying to win friends. At this point, I was beyond creeped out. 

I'm texting the boyfriend at this point, telling him he needs to call me. I tweeted for someone, anyone, to call me. My prayers and tweets were answered and my air-pianoing Vivaldi friend went back to his seat. 

I napped and ate a small bag of chips. I talked to my friend from Union Station and he said he and his girlfriend were laughing at the air-piano small talk while my friend was visiting. The couple in front of me made fun of me. A drunk lady a few rows up began yelling something about over-priced sandwiches, I believe. 

Then, my friend came back. At this point, I'm playing some puzzle games on my Nintendo DS. I was very busy. He sat down again and began to ask the only question anyone who knows me know I should never be asked...

"So, are you into anime at all?" 

My high school boyfriend gave me a terrible fear of anime, Dungeons and Dragons and all things role-play a number of years ago. Knowledge of this is still an object of torture my friends use against me at random moments of weakness. I responded with what was probably a too-terse no, and the boy still asked me to join him for dinner. 

At this point, he hadn't asked me anything to get to know me (including my name) and I previously made reservations in the dining car for 7:30. 

The drunk lady is now yelling at people to be quiet, hitting the poor man next to her and telling him to sit up because the train is under attack. People are yelling back at her and f***ing b****es are exchanged. Those of is in my gloriously empty car are told that we will end up with seat buddies for the rest of the journey because we're getting rid of the last passenger car in St. Louis. I go to dinner and the ladies I am sitting with complain about every aspect of the meal. Drunk lady is gone when I return. 

My new seat buddy and his family seem normal, however. Seat buddy father is currently tabbing his Bible and his wife and daughter across the aisle are crocheting and watching a movie. 

Thank you, God. 

It's now 10:00 and I can't imagine anything else interesting will happen for the evening. I shall publish this when I have the Internet and a less-shaky surface to edit on. 

Oh, and my anime friend? He'll be on my four-hour bus from Longview to Houston. 

Greetings from Chi-Town

The first leg of my trip on the train adventure was quite successful, despite almost missing it to begin with. 

I'd never been to the Martinsburg train station before, and it's just as creepy as you would expect it to be. Also, there is no one in the station to tell you that the train outside is, indeed, your train. So, assistant conductor lady is hanging out of the train going by (ten minutes early by my clock...the phone prompt said it would be four minutes late) yelling, "You going to Chicago?! I'm leaving!" I run in and ask the three other people sitting in the station if they, too, are going to Chicago and we jump up and run out there, getting reamed out my assistant conductor lady the entire time. 

Well, Amtrak, if you weren't consistently late, you wouldn't catch me by surprise when you are early. 

I made a dinner reservation in the dining car, and met a dance teacher and his nurse wife from D.C. and Jared from Minnesota. I ate a steak, some potatoes and some ice cream and had a really great conversation with my dining mates. The guy from D.C. considers himself an archaeologist of dance and his wife talked to Jared about nursing (he's a nursing student, currently). We ended up sitting there and chatting for over an hour. I had a seat companion, who managed to fall asleep with her legs up, gating me in, so using the restroom was an aerobic exercise. I slept poorly until she left in Waterloo, IN, when I stretched out and managed to sleep until around 8:30. 

We arrived in Chicago, and I learned that Jared has a similar layover to my own, so we're currently sitting on our Macs in a Panera. The Sears Tower is right across the street. 

It's 10:57 a.m. central time, and my train leaves at 1:45. Here's to an adventure in Chicago. 

I'll be in Texas tomorrow afternoon, if all keeps up with this theme of on-time-ness.