Time Flies (& Flight Times).

Closed the bar Monday night.
Woke up at 7am on Tuesday.
Left for thye airport at 7:30.
Got to the airport in PLENTY of time, so stood in line (incredibly long, as everyone now has to check bags) to check bags.
Got to the freont of the line to find that "You have to check your bags at least 45 minutes before your flight." Our flight was in thirty minutes. We gathered that the woman behind the counter didn't really give a rat's ass that we had in fact gotten to the aiport well over an hour before our flight. Though we had been there in what should have been plenty of time, the "Terror Alert Level" (TAL) is now orange, and no liquids are allowed in carry on luggage, including toothpaste, shampoo, and other things that every hygienic and not wealthy person on earth has to pack for a trip. So we flew standby, along with at least twelve other people who were obviously so silly as to expect that being there when you are told to be there would be good enough.
We sat separately in the plane, the b.h. and I, but were lucky just to have gotten on. I was happy that by checking bags I was able to bring the kudzu blossom jelly that I had made at Jamie's house on Monday. None of my Southern friends had heard of it, so I figured it would be a real treat for my Yankee family.
I had forgotten to get some antihistamines out of the bag that was now sitting with the b.h. several rows behind me (and also in a middle seat, so I wasn't keen on trying to retrieve anything from him). My teeth felt like they would rip out of my head for the last thirty minutes of the flight.
The b.h. made an interesting discovery mid-flight while rummaging around for the headphones in our carry-on, which had not been opened or even glanced at in security. I had, in my exhaustion while packing the night before, left in the bag a disposable lighter, spray on sunscreen, liquid roll-on deodorant, and multiple cosmetic type items that were less than solid, as well as a pack of matches. Coupled with the no less than six electronic items for which there are various wires and power supplies, one might have thought that security would have at least looked a little sideways at these items. Not in Atlanta, apparently. Incidentally, one might also wonder why the hell I didn't pack two separate carry on bags, as the one we had was clearly jam-packed and uncomfortably heavy. I can only say that I was really, really tired, and perhaps not making a lot of sense.
As we sat at the gate waiting to get on the next available flight, there were constant announcements over the loudspeakers that "The Department of Homeland Security would like to remind us that the terror threat level is now at orange, and that any and all people should be viewed with suspicion and possibly killed, or at least turned over to the authorities." Or something like that. We were also intermittantly treated to loud, repetitive,Brazil-like alarms going off at various doors leading to the tarmac, doors that no one was even close to, alarms which were mostly ignored by the airport staff. One might think, if one were a cynic, that these people were trying to frighten us.
More later- I need more coffee.

Wow. New discovery, from A Cook's Guide To Chicago: Cardamom coffee. Just crush two green cardamom pods up, mix in with ground coffee beans, and brew. Good stuff.

So where was I? Oh yeah, at the blessed airport. Waited about three days for baggage at Midway Airport, then called my mom who picked us up and brought us to lunch. Stopped at three different Dry Cleaners by my sister's house, where i learned that "Same Day Service" is only available if you drop your clothes off before 9am, no matter how much money you offer them. One guy looked at me like I was a total assshole, even after I explained that I had just gotten off a plane and that I was leaving for a funeral the next morning at six. Seriously- you'd have thought I was asking for his first born son.
See, the b.h. and I aren't really the type of people who like to play dress up, so not only are our options limited, but they are also worn very infrequently. Since our house has but two window air conditioning units (rather than central air, which is more, um, centralized), and since it is hotter (and much more humid) than hades here in the summer, our funeral-appropriate clothing, having spent at least ten consecutive months in the closet, was less than fresh. The good news is that *Dryel* sheets work perfectly well with a quick tumble on the warm cycle, and they cost about twenty dollars less than a dry cleaner. Also, my sister is quite skilled in ironing and managed to rescue the b.h.'s shirt from me before I left any permanant marks.
So we waited at my sister's house for my dad to get home from work, all the while enjoying Goose Island's lovely Summer Ale and coming down from the sleep deprived airport nightmare. When my dad arrived, we all adjourned to a local pub (where they make their own veggie burger patties, and where if you ask very nicely, they will add swiss cheese and vidalia onions to said patties-yum!) and continued to unwind.
Got to bed early, got up around five-thirty, and were on the road by six am.
I had forgotten just how gorgeous Iowa is. No, I am not kidding. Anyone who has had the pleasure of driving back and forth through central Illinois a million times has a real appreciation for landscape, and this was amazing. I'm not sure what kind of justice th photos will do it, but it's worth a shot I guess. Check it out:





Yep- sure is lovely, right? Well, it gets even better. We stopped in Iowa City around 10, and were lucky enough to stumble into a coffee shop that brewed gourmet coffee by the cup. Awesome. Twenty ounces and a quick breakfast later, we were back on the road. We had to skip the World's Largest Truckstop for lack of time, but we did stop for gas here:



I couldn't believe this place. Bummer was they didn't have any lighters, matches, baseball caps, t-shirts, or anything else with their logo on it.

So we hauled ass through to Lincoln, and went straight to Yia Yia's for a slice of pizza and a much needed beer. I had heard so much about this place from the b.h. that I almost expected to be let down, but I wasn't. The stoners in the kitchen screwed up our order the first time around, and the second time it was half right and all the way delicious. I have never been in a bar with more varieties of bottled beer. I could have stayed there forever, but I was too tired to have more than one.