No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service

by

So how about.

No bras.

No elastic bands.

No dental floss.

No idea what I was on when I was packing.

“Seriously, Martines,” I said aloud to myself as I finished unloading the contents of my rolling suitcase–a rolling suitcase that I hope makes it through the weekend and back to San Francisco.

It’s time for an upgrade.

I have had it for much longer than I realized when I looked back and recounted all the trips it has gone on with me, beginning with my return to Paris, sober, in 2007.

I have had it for 8 years, that’s a good stretch.

And I know how to pack it, I can get a lot of stuff in it and be jamming out the door fairly quick.

in fact, when I was done with my packing last night I still had 45 minutes before I had to leave for the airport and really, that was also giving myself a generous amount of wiggle room to get through the gate and to be on time for the plane.

Not that it mattered, considering how long we sat on the runway.

And, fyi, this blog may come out strange, discombobulated, unhinged a teensy tiny bit.

I have not had much sleep.

In fact, barely any at all.

I am going to sleep so hard in my great big king size bed.

Yup.

I’m in my own room, with my own bathroom and bed and though I had not planned on dropping the big cash (and it’s not too bad, really $360 for the three nights) I am happy and grateful to have a quiet place to rest my head and to collect myself.

I am also in a perfect place location wise.

Just outside of the conference grounds enough to not feel like I am in the noise and the ruckus and yet, close enough I can walk there in a bout fifteen to twenty minutes.

Although this evening when I ventured out I took the complete opposite direction of what the navigation on my phone told me and I was so certain I was right it took me 45 minutes to walk the 18 minute route.

Oops.

I didn’t mind so much though, I got some great shots on my phone and I was happy to play photographer during the pretty early evening light and to be traipsing about in my light summer dress, my sleeveless summer dress.

It’s actually summer here and not quite as bad as I thought it would be.

I am handling the heat and the humidity pretty well.

The lack of clothing and toiletries options not withstanding.

I really don’t know what had my brain pre-occupied that I missed completely putting bras in my suitcase.

I mean, come on.

That was the discovery that prompted the out loud scolding earlier.

However, I got over it pretty fast and was grateful I have the one I am wearing and it’s my favorite and it’s black, so it will go with most of my things anyhow, but it was annoying to discover that I had over packed panties and completely spaced my bras.

I had also spaced hair elastics.

Something I never do and I couldn’t even locate one in my lip gloss bag, where I usually have one or two squirreled away.

No pigtails for me.

Which is too bad, pigtails would rock with the dress i have planned for tomorrow, or even braids.

Ah well.

And the dental floss.

That was just a fluke, I used the last without realizing how little I had left.

I suppose a run on a pharmacy will fix the majority of those things.

All except the bras.

That’s a bummer.

But, in the scheme of things, in the rough out line of my day, really nothing to be even a little bent out of shape over.

I had a great day.

I ran into someone I know from Paris.

That was awesome, and he handily pulled my suitcase around for me while I took care of getting my registration lanyard and paperwork.

I had lunch with three of my lady friends.

One of whom happens to be the lady who came to my rescue when I was in Anchorage last December and drove me all over the place and was basically the person who kept me tethered to the planet and able to do the work I needed to do to show up for my dad.

I cannot, side bar, believe I am still writing, it’s beginning to feel like an odd surreal painting of someone typing words, I’m so removed I’m sleeping on the couch.

THere’s a couch in the room too.

It’s a really big room.

It could have held three people quite comfortably–two in the big bed and another on the couch.

But, as I said, more than happy to have my own chill quiet, calm space.

I need it.

I got a little lost in the crowds today and at one point felt terribly alone, funny that, horribly alone, despite being surrounded by thousands of like-minded folks.

I was dressed up after having taken an exquisite achingly hot shower and washing and shaving and doing up my hair, lots of flowers.

You can take the girl out of San Francisco, but you can’t take the flowers out of her hair.

I milled around the convention center and when the band, a really good band, an astoundingly good band, when I recall other such dances (though none as heavily attended) that I have gone to over the last ten plus years, played “I Had The Time of My Life” I got stupid.

Yeah.

Shut up.

I got sad listening to a Dirty Dancing cover song.

Yup.

Because that is where my disease will take me, sappy land, with no one around, yet thousands present, lonely, though so not alone, and a bit maudlin.

Really.

A dearth of bras is not that bad.

Feeling lonely in the middle of thousands of people is horror though.

I muddled through, I turned back twice, then made myself go and approach the dance floor, the music was good and so what if I didn’t know anyone.

I would by the end of the evening.

And when I least expected, I did run into a friend I haven’t seen in two years.

We danced like fools.

I danced the self-pity away and ended the evening surrounded by amazing women and sweet friends.

I sweated off a pants size and got my self hoarse singing along to the band.

Then.

A late night dinner–ham and cheese omelet and a side of fruit–in a 24 hour diner downtown.

I had come full circle.

And another friend pinged me and joined me for a last-minute conversation before we both called it a night.

There is much to do tomorrow.

And sleep must to be had.

I can go without the proper undergarments a few more days.

But I need my sleep.

So, with that.

I bid you adieu.

Good night.

Aufviederschoen.

Good bye.

To you, and you, and you.

Big ol’ hugs from Atlanta.

I’ll keep you abreast, though braless, of further adventures.

Real soon.

Like after I sleep 18 hours.

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