Day two...

In California, it's called the beach. In Oregon, the coast. Here in New England, they call it the seacoast. I don't know why, it's a bit redundant and twice as many syllables. That's far too many for the gal on the go.

Today's big goal was to drive the entire coast line of New Hampshire. We knew it wouldn't be a big deal, since it's a mere 18 miles long. There were sand beaches and rock beaches and crappy drivers on back highways. With the sun and the wind and the creepy tilt-a-whirls it felt like being at home.

On the way east (it was weird driving east to go to the coast!) from Concord, Tara and I missed our exit and didn't even know we'd ended up in Maine until we left the state and ended up back into New Hampshire. We were too distracted by this amazing giant chair in front of a school. We were taking each others pictures and posing when a garbage man with a sweet New England accent on his lunch came across the street to take our picture for us. Then we chatted with someone who worked at the school and we all agreed that, as Americans, we like our kitsch either tiny or gigantic. Nice guys.

Another good day.

Day one of REAL vacation.

Yesterday ended on two high notes. So high they almost make all the pain (both emotional and physical. Seriously, my legs hurt from all the running I did at the airport. Oof.) of the day go away. When I finally landed in Boston around 10pm I went looking for baggage claim. I wasn't sure where I should go with the whole American/Alaska debacle hanging in my head. I ended up at a random baggage claim stall and guess what was there!? If you said my bag, thanks for paying attention. I said a really loud "Holy Shit!" for all to hear, apologized, then remembered I was in Boston and that no one cared. It made it. My bag made it on the flight that I hadn't.

The second high note? After I picked up my miracle luggage I went to the rental car place where they'd been so busy all day they didn't have my reservation. So instead they gave me a super fancy and new SUV to ease the trauma. Tara and I will be taking a few mini-day trips, so I picked the smaller car because of the gas mileage, but when a gigantic new car with a camera for when I back up is waved in front of my face, I can't help it. I'm American, for craps sake.

After a day of travel Tara and I decided a day settled in Concord would be nice. We wen to the buffet for lunch, did a little grocery shopping (the prices here are AWESOME, all of my fancy gluten/dairy/egg-free foods are like $1 cheaper than at New Seasons), and even went in to the NH State House and saw the governor's office. It was pretty sweet. A good day.

Day "one"...

I wrote this yesterday in an airport bar.

It's 3:30pm. I'm not quite sure where I am as I step off the plane. It's been a long day so far, and all I really remember from the morning is that I got on a flight that was headed in the basic direction of my final destination. Then I remember: Dallas. Right.

First? Bathroom. Second? Booze. The only way the second leg of this pieced together flight will be bearable is with beer. I walk up to the host and ask if they serve booze and where the quickest I can get some is. He says, "just go up to the bar, sweetie" and later tells me he thought I'd order a double of anything.

So I'm in Dallas drinking a Texas sized beer. Seriously, this thing is huge. When the bartender asked "regular or big?" I assumed he meant the difference between a glass and a pint. Hell, no! I'm in Texas now so I better drink like it. It's dark, delicious, and everything that's happened finally starts to sink in. I have an actual seat for my flight to Boston so I'm not worried about being on stand-by anymore. I go through the morning in my head.

1. Exhausted.

2. 100s of people in PDX saw me cry. Awesome.

3. First missed flight ever.

4. I have no idea where the hell my bag is.

5. While I was in PDX waiting for my flight to Boston, Travis Outlaw was paged over the loud speaker. I had to stop myself from making a break for it.

At least I'll be in Boston tonight. A few hours behind schedule, but a gigantic dark beer will help me not worry about that. Plus, one of the waitresses is wearing a bolo tie and somehow that makes everything okay.