An Escape is Due
A trying ten days
Whew.
It’s been a heavy week and a half. In addition to the onslaught of crazy, I’m recovering from a bad spell of allergies that turned into a sinus infection. Nothing awful, just enough to keep me sidelined and bored and tired.
Did you know that I have 17 medically confirmed allergies and give myself four shots a week for them? Until last month, it was six shots a week. Fifteen of those allergies are pollens found where I live. This might be part of the reason why I’ve spent my life trying to go everywhere but here. My particular allergens were high last weekend, and they collaborated in kicking my ass.
Being sick gave me too much time to get engrossed with the happenings and the social media, and boy, I have a headache. But it also gave me time to consider my upcoming trips. I took care of some logistics—I had forgotten to book a car for next week’s Los Angeles trip, so I took care of that.
For the past year, I’ve been renting through Turo. It’s like AirBnB for cars. I like how affordable it is, and being able to pick exactly what car I want. Like last September, when I cruised through Joshua Tree National Park in an electric BMW sedan.
What I don’t like about Turo is that it somehow feels shady. I haven’t had any problems, but I’ve had a couple of awkward interactions with owners. I’m also paranoid about causing any damage. With a big rental company, it’s less personal. Yes, I once returned a car, walking away as I yelled, “I ripped the hell out of the passenger side door—charge my insurance!” without making eye contact with anyone.
Not like the SUV I rented in New Orleans last Halloween. My perimenopausal readers understand how, sometimes, a period can sneak up on you while in the driver’s seat of someone else’s car. I scrubbed the hell out of it, and I think it was okay, but I felt like I might get chastised. Because that happened with an Airbnb owner in Vermont last year, when the same thing happened on her white sheets, which I offered to replace. She replied that she was “disappointed” in “the mess” I made. People are weird.
Anyway, this week I had time to shop around, and it seems the big rental companies have lowered their rates, so I went that route.
A bit of disappointment for the L.A. trip—I was using my friend Chip’s presence in an art exhibit as an excuse for the trip, but now he’s not going to be able to make it. Things happen, and I’m sure we’ll catch up somewhere down the road. Time to make that a priority.
I put together my New Orleans birthday trip for next month. I’m road tripping like I did last spring, although I’m having some misgivings, considering the hangings this week. I’m not fearful for myself; I just don’t know how much money I want to spend in a state where they’re so quickly writing off hangings as suicides when history indicates it could be far worse. But really, it’s the best time to be there, to bear witness if necessary.
And it’s the time of year when they sell boiled peanuts on the side of the road. So…
Besides, as we’re seeing, awful future historical moments are being made daily all over this country. I could avoid them all and stay home, but I won’t.
So, this birthday trip … I have a history of rough birthdays, so I try to escape. Since I started this in 2018, this is the third birthday escape to New Orleans. It’s a good place to mark the passing of time. I’ll be doing that with a tattoo appointment at noon, followed by a fortune-telling session at Bottom of the Cup. I did that last year and, eleven months later, I can say my reading was uncanny in its accuracy.
New Orleans friends! I know there are two of you likely reading! I want to dine with you and yours on October 22nd. So you’ll hear from me when I get the guts to ask.
And so it goes. The world and time aren’t stopping for chaos and lies and violence, and neither am I. I don’t know any other way to try to make sense of this world unless I’m out in it. I don’t know how to maintain my hope cooped up in my house. Caution’s getting thrown to the wind and, god willing and the crick don’t rise, I’ll be eating a Parisian ham sandwich in L.A. this time next week.
Okay, Freebie Friends, I have to cut you off now. The Big Spenders—my paid subscribers—have a goodie at the end of this missive. About once a month or so, I give them a playlist. This one’s a little melancholy, made for those contemplative autumn drives or too-early mornings at the airport gate. It’s got new yummies from Mavis Staples, Jeff Tweedy, Big Thief, and old-sweater comfy favs from R.E.M., Patti Smith, Andrew Bird, Nina Simone, and a bunch more. Want access? You know what to do. I’ll also send it to people who buy me a coffee. Enjoy!
Okay, you pumpkin-spiced Big Spenders, you can get the playlist via Apple Music or Spotify. Thank you so much for your support! Love you like a chilly breeze!