Hunting the Great White Chicken Tender
You'll be happy to know I finally finished that E&E reading for Con Law. I also printed out all of my notes for both Con Law and Evidence (and spell-checked them prior!) and bound them with bulldog clips until I can get them bound up proper at Staples. I've learned that the $2 it costs to get that little nylon comb put on them is the best value around. No more notes flying everywhere as I attempt to outline my class in 48 hours. And worse comes to worse...I just circle stuff in the bound notes in red pen and flag the pages with the post-it tabs.
My friend Jeff was flying in from Fort Lauderdale and asked for an airport pickup. Asking your friend who is studying for finals to pick you up at LAX on a Sunday nite is an ENORMOUS favor. You might as well have asked me to clean your bathroom with my tongue at 6 a.m. on a Monday morning. I tried to give him some guilt about it and then I remembered that Jeff has been a truly amazing friend -- bringing me kleenex and Gatorade when I was sick and always giving me left-over schwag from awards parties. So, karmically...I owed him.
I checked the Delta website and it said the flight was running mostly on time, but would be about 10 minutes late. There is also this uber cool graphical flight tracker thing that my mom uses which shows you the flight path (and approximate location) of the flight. The flight was supposed to land at 6:10 p.m. and by 5:15 p.m., the little graphic was over Phoenix.
I drove out to the airport and arrived at around 5:50. I always wait in the Burger King parking lot that's near the back entrance to the airport and tell people to call when they've picked up their bags. It saves me from driving in circles around LAX and is also handily near trash food, if I feel peaked. I began listening to Studio 360 on KCRW. It was on Moby Dick. They had that dude who plays the Grandpa on Gilmore Girls reading bits of it. Also interviews with Laurie Anderson, Frank Stella and a pretty wack Ray Bradbury. It was a pretty interesting lil radio piece.
In college, when I was in the Theatre dept., one of my favorite directors did an ensemble piece of Moby Dick. It was all very improv and collaborative and the end result was pretty incredible. So incredible that the troupe ended up taking it on the road to various Fringe festivals around the globe. In one of those strange turns of fate that always seem to happen to me, right after I moved to NYC, I met Moby at a party. Yes...that Moby. This was before Play came out and he wasn't so famous yet that he could still eat a brown rice salad at Dojo without being recognized. Anyway...he took me out on a couple of "semi-dates" which were interesting, if not slightly bizarre. But he's actually a sweet person. And always was very kind...and weird.
The Theatre troupe was performing at the NY fringe festival and I found out about it. I actually drug Moby along to see it. I liked the irony of that. Moby contends he is the great grand-son of Herman Melville or something. His middle name is supposedly "Melville." All I know is that whenever he phoned, it said "Richard Hall" on my caller ID. But I digress.
So while I sat in the rain in the Burger King parking lot, listening to Studio 360, I kept phoning the Flight Information line. Literally every 5 minutes, it would say "The flight is in the air and above Whittier. It will be landing in 6 minutes." and then another 5 minutes would go by and it would say, "The flight is in the air and above Malibu. It will be landing in 4 minutes." This continued with the flight being "in the air" above every conceivable Southern California city for the next 30 minutes. The flight was now officially 30 min late. And I was hungry...listening to all this talk about hunting the Great White whale. So I pulled into the drive-thru and ate 5 chicken tenders (w/BBQ sauce) and drank an entire medium coke. And then Jeff finally called at 6:45.
So I navigated my way through the sea of drizzled Wally Park shuttles to the Delta terminal and picked up Jeff. The traffic wasn't too bad on the way home, so at least we got back quickly. I was slightly peeved at having to waste all that time in the Burger King parking lot when I could have been reading the hearsay rule. But then again, my Evidence notes don't come with chicken tenders.
Or Moby, for that matter. Moby was vegan. I assume he still is. He would've been disgusted with my chicken tender-munching self.
But I think Melville would have approved.
My friend Jeff was flying in from Fort Lauderdale and asked for an airport pickup. Asking your friend who is studying for finals to pick you up at LAX on a Sunday nite is an ENORMOUS favor. You might as well have asked me to clean your bathroom with my tongue at 6 a.m. on a Monday morning. I tried to give him some guilt about it and then I remembered that Jeff has been a truly amazing friend -- bringing me kleenex and Gatorade when I was sick and always giving me left-over schwag from awards parties. So, karmically...I owed him.
I checked the Delta website and it said the flight was running mostly on time, but would be about 10 minutes late. There is also this uber cool graphical flight tracker thing that my mom uses which shows you the flight path (and approximate location) of the flight. The flight was supposed to land at 6:10 p.m. and by 5:15 p.m., the little graphic was over Phoenix.
I drove out to the airport and arrived at around 5:50. I always wait in the Burger King parking lot that's near the back entrance to the airport and tell people to call when they've picked up their bags. It saves me from driving in circles around LAX and is also handily near trash food, if I feel peaked. I began listening to Studio 360 on KCRW. It was on Moby Dick. They had that dude who plays the Grandpa on Gilmore Girls reading bits of it. Also interviews with Laurie Anderson, Frank Stella and a pretty wack Ray Bradbury. It was a pretty interesting lil radio piece.
In college, when I was in the Theatre dept., one of my favorite directors did an ensemble piece of Moby Dick. It was all very improv and collaborative and the end result was pretty incredible. So incredible that the troupe ended up taking it on the road to various Fringe festivals around the globe. In one of those strange turns of fate that always seem to happen to me, right after I moved to NYC, I met Moby at a party. Yes...that Moby. This was before Play came out and he wasn't so famous yet that he could still eat a brown rice salad at Dojo without being recognized. Anyway...he took me out on a couple of "semi-dates" which were interesting, if not slightly bizarre. But he's actually a sweet person. And always was very kind...and weird.
The Theatre troupe was performing at the NY fringe festival and I found out about it. I actually drug Moby along to see it. I liked the irony of that. Moby contends he is the great grand-son of Herman Melville or something. His middle name is supposedly "Melville." All I know is that whenever he phoned, it said "Richard Hall" on my caller ID. But I digress.
So while I sat in the rain in the Burger King parking lot, listening to Studio 360, I kept phoning the Flight Information line. Literally every 5 minutes, it would say "The flight is in the air and above Whittier. It will be landing in 6 minutes." and then another 5 minutes would go by and it would say, "The flight is in the air and above Malibu. It will be landing in 4 minutes." This continued with the flight being "in the air" above every conceivable Southern California city for the next 30 minutes. The flight was now officially 30 min late. And I was hungry...listening to all this talk about hunting the Great White whale. So I pulled into the drive-thru and ate 5 chicken tenders (w/BBQ sauce) and drank an entire medium coke. And then Jeff finally called at 6:45.
So I navigated my way through the sea of drizzled Wally Park shuttles to the Delta terminal and picked up Jeff. The traffic wasn't too bad on the way home, so at least we got back quickly. I was slightly peeved at having to waste all that time in the Burger King parking lot when I could have been reading the hearsay rule. But then again, my Evidence notes don't come with chicken tenders.
Or Moby, for that matter. Moby was vegan. I assume he still is. He would've been disgusted with my chicken tender-munching self.
But I think Melville would have approved.
posted by spycygrl at
8:02 PM
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