rare vacationing

I left the beloved hometown on Sunday afternoon, driving to Akron-Canton to take the Airtran and be amused at the massive amount of Rush fans populating the terminal and the Ohioana for sale mostly having to do with tractors and Amish people, whose cookbook included recipes for "Jimmy Carter Pudding." There was also a piece of artwork on display in the lobby with this title:



I'm always jittery about flying, though fascinated by being on top of clouds, looking over the Atlantic Ocean and the waves breaking on a seashore a few miles below, knowing that people fly every day but wondering if my last moments of this life will consist of reading "Midnight's Children" and plunging into the salty brine of Davy Jones' Locker.

I have no TSA horror stories, being an unassuming fair-complexioned Caucasian female, and somehow avoided the naked scan though my traveling companion was subjected to it. It does creep me out to see men in blue shirts walking around with big guns in the airport like they're overcompensating a whole lot and hope there's somebody to shoot but anyone who knows me knows I've got a somewhat irrational dislike of men with guns.



Public transit was super easy and we got from the airport to the station easily though we were squished in among a sea of Celtics fans and one guy said I should be taking pictures of "The Gahden" instead of the graffiti on the building across the way.



We started walking in search of food and ended up in the Beacon Hill neighborhood with its gorgeous apartment buildings and narrow streets that are nothing like what I see around where I'm from.





We walked back to watch the sun set over the bridge and the lights of the city come on and caught the train to Acton where we went the wrong direction down Main Street in total darkness past lots of old homes and woods that should scare me since I'm in a small New England town of the kind where nearly all horror fiction seems to take place and bad things happen to clueless young women, but it was such a beautiful night and I was euphoric to be out of the airplane and figuring my way out through unfamiliar surroundings.

We never did meet the lady whose house we stayed in, but the keys were taped to the door and we woke up early to find coffee and bagels before heading out to meet my traveling companion's aunt at the marathon. The Green Line was packed with people and we ended up in some swanky suburb with huge houses where people had grills and space heaters going in the front yard and their kids jumped around in those inflatable play palaces. Every single dog we saw was purebred.

It was like 4th of July or something. People were friendly to us out of towners and invited us to hang out on porches and such, but we ended up walking from Mile 20 to Mile 17 past people in lawn chairs, Japanese girls waving banners, hippies banging drums, Ethiopians waving flags, bros getting drunk, vendors selling fried dough and hot dogs because nothing says spectator sport like watching people do athletic things while you get fat, as the first runners came down the street.





My friend wanted to go to the finish line and watch everyone come in but it was just too many people for me so we split up and I used my transit pass to explore, hitting up bookstores, wandering through old cemeteries, going to the People's Republic of Cambridge to dig through bins at record stores, take pictures of graffiti in alleys, wander around while eating takeout Indian food and people-watching.







From there, I went to Harvard Square to explore some more, take pictures of old buildings, cutting through the campus and its surroundings, down side streets and alleys, observing a world so different from my own. Thanks to some National Merit recognition and a very good ACT score, Harvard actually sent me an application when I was in high school but decided that I really wouldn't fit in there, opting for the less illustrious option of the state school known to most as a place that Neil Young wrote a song about.

I didn't mind looking completely out of place, scruffy in an old Rites of Spring t-shirt and black hoodie, because I'm a stranger here, a tourist in a world that feels like a living J. Crew catalog with the collegiate/preppy/old money atmosphere complete with shops for all your lacrosse/squash needs, walking past a seemingly endless procession of Bright Young Things and people in suits. There was also a man playing a hurdy-gurdy on the corner. That was awesome, but I forgot to take a picture of him.



I go into culture shock every time I'm surrounded by all white people, which is ironic since I grew up in Parma but I must not have been in other parts of the city or on the wrong train lines because everyone around me seemed to be affluent and Caucasian, the only exception being Chinatown and the surrounding area. While I venture into sundry sketchy neighborhoods on a regular basis in Thieveland, I figured I wouldn't test my luck alone in a big strange city.

By this time, the sun began to set, and I went back to North Station to wait for the next train, watched the Celtics and the Bruins on a small TV in the waiting area, and made my way back to the house.

We did the Freedom Trail the next morning with a suitably snarky tour guide who gave us a hard time about our losing sports team and traded historical re-enactment anecdotes with my fellow traveler who does Underground Railroad and Voyageurs experiences for inner-city schoolkids. I think I spent most of my sputnik turista time here hanging out in cemeteries and taking pictures of gravestones replete with skulls and creepy angels.









It was rainy and cold so we split up again, because days like this are perfect for museums and I wanted to see the MFA and the Gardner, which was the most amazing place I've ever been. I felt like I was somewhere in Europe when I walked inside the Venetian-style palazzo into a world of tiled walls, a lush courtyard, dark rooms full of candelabra and tapestries, and three floors of art from marble sarcophagi to parts of altarpieces, paintings of angels, works by Degas, Raphael, and Botticelli.



Photography being verboten, I took a few pictures sans flash when out of view of the security, but thankfully there are better views courtesy of the Internet. I wish this place was next door to me because I'd be there all the time.





From there, I went around the corner to the absolutely huge Museum of Fine Arts where I got to see the Chihuly exhibit,











feel small next to chunks of Egyptian temples



and get up close to mummies, Japanese prints, paintings by El Greco and Monet.





Our last day, we slept in, went hiking in the woods down the street,



ended up at the science museum with the dinosaur out front, and killed time downtown where I was amused by stoners making a statement about weed legalization in front of the Civil Rights Monument, took pictures of the gigantic Masonic lodge, was amused bypigeons in front of cherry blossom trees,
bought cheap and gorgeous art books (there were so many amazing bookstores),



and ended up in Chinatown before catching the train back to the airport where she bought various Sanrio products as I took pictures of buildings with pagoda facades and ate purple and green biscuits that were theoretically flavored with taro and green tea.







They offered to re-route me to Atlanta and give me round trip tickets, but I was tired and ready to go home so I declined, felt jittery as we went through turbulence after hearing all about "horizontal tornadoes" flipping airplanes on CNN, but I got home safely and buzzed on bad coffee as the man next to me talked about his wife and drank lots of Jack Daniels.

Drove home up I-77 listening to the entirety of "Welcome to Sky Valley," to my now-much-smaller-looking city, finding comfort in the familiarity of empty streets, all-night diners, and my couch. I felt so refreshed even in being exhausted, so glad to be gone from Ohio for a few days, yet so happy to be home.

best of the blotter 35: banana thieves, fake nails, and piles of salt.

THEFT, COMMONWEALTH AVENUE: Vehicles in neighboring driveways were reported broken into Friday. One resident said two vehicles, left in their drive overnight, had been ransacked but nothing was stolen. The neighbor said a GPS device, loose change and a banana was stolen from their vehicle.

SUSPICIOUS PERSON, PEARL ROAD: A female employee of De’ Sol Tanning told the owner of the shopping plaza that she was scared of an elderly intoxicated man who came into the business to tan. She stated he came in with his hands in his pockets and was mumbling. Police responded, and did not believe the man was intoxicated; however, he did act belligerently with employees of the business and police. The man — who indicated he was homeless and living in his van — left and had his money refunded.

THEFT, CHAGRIN BOULEVARD: A Shaker Heights woman, 50, was arrested Feb. 8 for stealing fake eyelashes and fake nails from Walgreen’s.

MISCHIEF, BROADVIEW ROAD: Around noon on Feb. 9, an officer was dispatched to an RTA bus that was stopped on the side of the road. The police department had received word that there was a person on the bus who was lighting paper on fire and refused to exit the bus.

The officer entered the bus and noticed a 27-year-old Cleveland woman sitting near the back door and staring straight ahead. The driver of the bus explained that the passenger entered the bus in downtown Cleveland, rode it to the last stop at Broadview Center and then re-entered a few moments later. She was the only passenger on the bus.

As the driver headed north, she started smelling smoke. She stopped the bus and asked the passenger if anything was burning. The passenger explained that she was lighting paper on fire.

The driver demanded she exit the bus and would not continue to drive until she did.

The officer approached the passenger, who said that she had no identification. She explained that she was so bored that she decided to light paper on fire. She insisted that she wasn’t doing anything wrong.

After she gave officers her social security number, the officer learned that she had a warrant out for her arrest.

The woman was cited for criminal mischief and disorderly conduct.

And in Chagrin Falls, which totally has the so bucolic it must be weird factor going for it:

DISTURBANCE, NORTH MAIN STREET: Police were called shortly before 8 a.m. on Feb. 10 to Starbucks Coffee Shop, where two well-dressed men were “fighting — all verbal” for unknown reasons. One man had left upon arrival of police and the other said “he was in a hurry to leave and did not wish to press charges.”

SUSPICION, CARRIAGE DRIVE: A woman reported Feb. 8 that she thinks someone is harassing her and her husband, after they left a large pile of salt at their front door.

premature thaw

Usually my public transportation commute is unremarkable, as the Rapid is generally crowded with other souls who work banking hours and kids on the way to school, but yesterday was consistently entertaining, with the three teenage girls from the hood affecting convincingly posh British accents no doubt acquired during 10th grad English earlier that day, advising each other on the etiquette of a proper prom date and making snarky jokes about each other's mums riding the mechanical bull at Cadillac Ranch.

Not to mention disco-dancing middle-aged crackers with their CD walkmans and the Honduran couple watching the music video for "Whoomp! There it is" on the guy's phone so everyone can hear it.

It's getting warm in my fair city and it's starting to prematurely come alive once more in all of its absurd glory.

Yesterday was the first day in this new year when it was almost warm enough to roll down my windows and listen to music again, even if the heat is turned up as well. Hoodie weather is a beautiful thing and I can't wait until the days get longer and I can dig my bike out of the basement and wander the streets of Cleveland and the dirty shores of Lake Erie.

>

This isn't Stravinsky, but the anarchic spirit and emotion are there in homage, and even though my little sister isn't into anything with loud guitars and ragged vocals, being a Millenial Indie Kid, she's stolen the t-shirt with the above design from me multiple times. The music majors I know are disappointed when I explain that it has nothing to do with Igor and everything to do with an unhinged one-album punk band including two future members of Fugazi.

he's like a detuned radio...

In half an hour, I'll be running across the parking deck down the stairs to catch the bus to the train to the car to make art and commiserate with good friends over an as-yet-undecided dinner, pondering and doubtless pots of tea and perhaps a bottle of wine or ludicrously fruity beer.

I caught the earlier Rapid today, which had no teens on it, and mostly people older than me including a guy and a lady who were talking about having an affair with each other and he thought he was way deep for saying that he bases his entire life philosophy off of Led Zeppelin's "Good Times Bad Times" but I don't know how that works, though in all honesty I was listening to Jimmy Page's guitar and that amazing John Bonham drum sound than the lyrical content so maybe I'm missing some kind of esoteric deeper truth other than not caring about what the neighbors say and the rhyming of "heart" and "part."

RTA seems to be experimenting with their background noise... it was straight up Smooth Jazz for awhile which is supposed to make the masses soothed and complacent but reminds me of working in Retail Hell, and then it was some kind of lame talk radio, and then it's something like one of those 80's, 90's and Today stations, but with really terrible smooth jazz covers of "With or Without You" and "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?" U2 & CCR are just fine, you know.

So now I'm waiting for the Rapid to come and it's Neil Young's "Southern Man" and "Time of the Season" which is probably one of my favorite songs of all time just because of that awesome keyboard solo in the middle and the general pop spookiness. But it leaves me a bit confused at the same time because I just don't know what's going on and wish they could save money by not having any music and at least keep the fares where they're at instead of raising them all the time.

Meanwhile, the BBC is entering austerity mode and cutting most of its World Service broadcasting, and while I don't listen to it much, not having an Internet connection at home, it makes me sad, especially being at a radio station where there is an incredible diversity of music and culture and my life has been so enriched by hearing current events from other perspectives, and music from all over the world.

Since the American populace is often too busy getting worked up about culture wars and such, we really don't have any clue what's going on in the rest of the world half the time, and especially now there's a whole lot going on, in Israel/Palestine, Yemen, Albania, Tunisia, Lebanon, Egypt and such. While I like to giggle about bunga bunga and chicks with guns and Pooty-Poot, this stuff really is important...

looks like somebody forgot about us...

The recent service cuts to the RTA don't affect me nearly as badly as someone living on Madison or Wade Park because I drive to the Rapid station, for me it's more of an inconvenience than anything else. The way things are going, I'll wait around longer and get home later. Instead of running down Euclid and through Tower City to catch the 5:18, I'll be waiting around with everybody else for the 5:32.

Good times.

So I did some thinking and some Google Mapping, and I live just under three miles from my place of employment. Since it's mostly flat, I'm seriously contemplating getting my bike tuned up and reverting back to the mode of transportation I used all the way through my teens and early twenties, either walking or biking it for this spring and summer. I've gotten soft having a car, and I'm too cheap to pay $100 a month to park downtown if I don't have to.

We'll see how this goes, but in the situation of most of us who've tried to not contribute to congestion or have no other options, the Violent Femmes feel your pain.



We got the mother and the kids
We got the guy and his date
We all get mad, we all get late.
Looks like somebody forgot about us,
Standin' on the corner, waitin' for the bus.

Say, Hey Mr. Driver Man don't be slow
'Cause I got somewhere I gotta go.
Say, Hey Mr. Driver Man drive that thing fast.
My precious time keeps slippin' past.

Lets call the mayor, lets complain
Looks like the city's done to us again
Tied up in traffic, what do ya know
The damn city bus moves so slow.

Say, Hey Mr. Driver Man don't be slow
'Cause I got somewhere I gotta go.
Say, Hey Mr. Driver Man drive that thing fast.
My precious time keeps slippin' past.

thieveland

I took off a little early yesterday because I got sick, and I picked up the 3:40 rapid back to the west side.

As we get to the West Boulevard stop, I hear a scuffle behind me and this woman is yelling that someone stole her phone. The guy and his friends are already up the steps and out the door before anyone really responds. She's borrowing someone else's phone and keeps telling everyone that she has a plane to catch. I understand why she's frantic and demanding but she also looks like an easy target. Most of the kids are laughing as she gets off and the older people just look irritated that they had to wait.

I wonder how we all got so cold.

There's a kid behind me who I see every morning on my bus. He's on his phone telling someone about how he just got kicked out of school but it wasn't his fault and is smirking at the woman while saying to his friend "they're probably all the way down Madison by now. She's not gonna get her phone back." I know that he's right.

Me and the kid get off at the same stop. He's still laughing about the woman and saying she had it coming and that he knows who the guy was who stole her phone but he's not gonna snitch.

I'm thinking about both of them when I get to my car. I saw this whole situation go down and I didn't act at all because I honestly didn't know what to do. It's not like I have anything to say to her, and someone already let her use their phone, it's not like I'm going to chase this guy down West 98th.

I'm not really sure why I'm still thinking about this. I guess it was my lack of response that bothered me just I can't imagine what a logical response would be since I didn't even see who did it and only heard his description. I guess it's the next in any number of times I've seen something go down and either looked the other way or, in other situations, got out of the way as much as possible.

In some ways, this is common sense, but in others, it seems like this is the reason that things can get as bad as they are, when we don't do anything when we should because it's not convenient, not worth the trouble, or it doesn't seem to do any good.

too many creeps.

friday night at the rapid station...

got hit on by an aspiring yoga instructor/physicist who was really just a nasty dirty hippie who wondered if my backing away from him had to do with "space issues" that i had because evidently "something happened to you as a child" or "you're on medication aren't you?" and somehow my shoe size has something to do with all of this. because he asked about that too.

no, i don't need my chakras opened up. no, i'm not a nice hippie kind of girl. no, i'm not interested in dating you. no, it's not that i have space issues, it's just that you're completely creeping me out. maybe people in cleveland seem unfriendly because you're really freakin' weird.

yes, i'm going to be sure i get on the other rapid car that isn't yours and hide behind the seat and hope you don't notice until the doors close and i'm home free. thank God he got off at the next stop.

he came up to my shoulder so i wasn't really afraid, just irritated. no more funky tanktops and vintage earrings. i'm going to start rocking the hooded sweatshirt/bandanna look again. it feels good to be left alone.