soupy says

America’s Worst Airline Will Charge $25 to Lose Your Bag: Tim Leffel’s Cheapest Destinations Blog

Travelers reacted with annoyance and anger earlier when United announced that it was going to start charging $25 to check a second bag, but at least with United you stand a good chance of your bag actually showing up at your destination. Now USAirways is following suit.

ugh. I’m glad that I hauled a huge suitcase full of Mongolia items back to America this past winter. I flew both of those airlines on my recent visit.

Note to USAir: You are feeding passengers again. Cut this expense. I only had a 3 hour flight; I could have lived. If I hadn’t just come from Mongolia, I probably wouldn’t have been that excited about it.

Additional Note to USAir: Even though my flight was delayed and I almost missed my connection, Daddy Day Camp playing on the screen above me was the most painful part of my USAir experience.

Mongolian Peace Corps Volunteer’s waistlines are subject to an extra long holiday eating binge. We still celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas by making stuffing, cookies, pies, and cooking chickens that we have slaughtered ourselves*. Then comes New Year’s. This is a big holiday in Mongolia. Every Mongolian workplace has their own party which includes eating, drinking, dancing and Russian champagne. In the beginning of February is Tsaagan Sar, the Lunar New Year. That holiday is marked by 3 - 7 days of endless meat dumplings, dairy products and vodka.

This year my holiday eating has gotten off to a fantastic start. First I celebrated Thanksgiving with my co-workers with a Thanksgiving pot luck. I brought pizza, and my co-workers all put their money together to buy boiled meat.

The Hovd volunteers celebrated Thanksgiving this past weekend. Besides having chicken instead of turkey, we managed to perfectly re-create American holiday food.

And in two and half weeks, I’m going to spend three weeks eating Tex-Mex, sandwiches, dark green vegetables, ham, turkey, and every other traditional Christmas food. Oh, and enjoying drinking coffee and quality beer.

Yes, I’m coming to America.

I decided to come to the land of supermarkets, fountain drinks and infrastructure for a few weeks of long underwear-less vacation.

Here is my schedule:

Phoenix: Dec 16 - 20
San Antonio: Dec 20 - 25
Houston: Dec 25 - 27
San Antonio: Dec 27 - 31
Phoenix: Dec 31 - Jan 7

Yeah, that’s a bit of travel, but I doomed myself to it by visiting my family over the holidays. However, I’m flying between AZ and TX which is a lot nicer than my family’s traditional CO to TX drive.

Please let me know if you will be in those places while I am. I’d love for you to take me out for dinner or a beer. :)

Sorry if our paths will not cross during my short stint back in the homeland, but the ones I care about have done an excellent job of spreading out all over the place (says the woman that lives in Mongolia). We can meet up next year.

*Actually, the chicken thing is only a Thanksgiving tradition out where I live. And this tradition was started last year by me.

This morning, while frying an egg to put on my toast, I caught a bit of “Good Morning America.”

Anchor: Sad news out of Indonesia. Thousands dead due to a massive earthquake. [beat] Good news for Brad Pitt and Angelena Jolie. Their daughter Shiloh was born today…
Me: Two people had sex and produced a child? Why isn’t this the top story?

And then my head exploded.

The Talking Heads, “Life During Wartime (Live)”

Heard of a van that is loaded with weapons,
packed up and ready to go
Heard of some gravesites, out by the highway,
a place where nobody knows
The sound of gunfire, off in the distance,
I’m getting used to it now
Lived in a brownstore, lived in the ghetto,
I’ve lived all over this town

This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco,
this ain’t no fooling around
No time for dancing, or lovey dovey,
I ain’t got time for that now

Transmit the message, to the receiver,
hope for an answer some day
I got three passports, a couple of visas,
you don’t even know my real name
High on a hillside, the trucks are loading,
everything’s ready to roll
I sleep in the daytime, I work in the nightime,
I might not ever get home

This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco,
this ain’t no fooling around
This ain’t no mudd club, or C. B. G. B.,
I ain’t got time for that now
Heard about Houston? Heard about Detroit?
Heard about Pittsburgh, P. A.?
You oughta know not to stand by the window
somebody might see you up there
I got some groceries, some peant butter,
to last a couple of days
But I ain’t got no speakers, ain’t got no
headphones, ain’t got no records to play

Why stay in college? Why go to night school?
Gonna be different this time
Can’t write a letter, can’t send a postcard,
I can’t write nothing at all
This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco,
this ain’t no fooling around
I’d like to kiss you, I’d love you hold you
I ain’t got no time for that now

Trouble in transit, got through the roadblock,
we blended with the crowd
We got computer, we’re tapping pohne lines,
I know that ain’t allowed
We dress like students, we dress like housewives,
or in a suit and a tie
I changed my hairstyle, so many times now,
I don’t know what I look like!
You make me shiver, I feel so tender,
we make a pretty good team
Don’t get exhausted, I’ll do some driving,
you ought to get some sleep
Get you instructions, follow directions,
then you should change your address
Maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day,
whatever you think is best
Burned all my notebooks, what good are
notebooks? They won’t help me survive
My chest is aching, burns like a furnace,
the burning keeps me alive
Try to stay healthy, physical fitness,
don’t want to catch no disease
Try to be careful, don’t take no chances,
you better watch what you say

Also, on this Memorial Day, ditch the magnetic ribbon, and support the troops.

Ok, it’s not a novel. It’s a New York Times column. I hate the title, but the ending made me feel like, well, what I would imagine a romance novel makes some women feel.
J. Courtney Sullivan, Changing my Feminist Mind, One Man at a Time

He gets it, yet he’s bold enough to stand up to me when he thinks I’ve gone too far. Confronted by my beliefs, Colin offers neither the typical blow-off of other men nor the mea culpa that I thought I was looking for. Instead, he listens and discusses sexism with me at length, agreeing most of the time, but not always. And when he disagrees, he says so, challenging me to think about my long-held beliefs in new ways, and occasionally even changing my mind.
—
And now I have fallen for a man who understands and respects my feminist beliefs, and who also takes me to dinner, holds the door, calls me Babydoll in a slow Southern drawl.

Embracing those contradictions has led me to discover a world between the harsh reality of sexism and the airy wishes of my love-drenched fantasies.

It’s true what my Smith professor said about progress depending upon one individual changing another for the better. What she didn’t say was that, inevitably, the change goes both ways.

And yes, I have something like 11 days left in this country. Damn, 11 days. And I am in a full stage of denial. Here’s a little clue on how I’ve been avoiding thinking about this fact.

This past Thursday marked the 7th anniversary of the Columbine Massacre. As someone that was in her junior year of high school in the Denver metro area 7 years ago, the date brings back strong memories of vulnerability, fear, and a million other ineffable emotions.

This past Saturday was Prom a few local high schools. At work, I saved one high schooler’s night by finding a replacement dress when she and her mother discovered (an hour before prom) that the cleaners had messed up her original. When the mother called the store, she had moved into a realm beyond hysertics. If this woman had mowed down several pedestrians on her way to pick up the dress, I would have willingly testified on her behalf for her to be declared criminaly insane.

Prom also brings back strong memories. I didn’t go. I wasn’t one of those kids that thought it Prom was Dumb and wanted to say FU to student population. I was one of those kids that didn’t have a date, and I had 0 self-confidence on reserve to actually ask a boy myself. During high school many adults told me, “it’s not the best time of your life. There are better things to come.” But then I sat in on a conversations like one in my junior year AP English class in which students and the teacher talk about how they knew ___ didn’t go to HER (it’s always a female) Prom. Thanks, please just mash whatever is left of my self esteem into pulp.

But those people that said “better things to come” were right. And Prom, well, I don’t feel like I missed anything. I didn’t like high school dances I did go to. However, it is interesting to see people’s reactions when I say I didn’t go. Some say, “I didn’t have fun.” Most people get quiet and say, “Really?”

Columbine has no direct relation to Prom, but thanks to this horrible article (don’t read it), I did get to thinking how Prom polarizes high schoolers into 3 main groups

1. Prom = Major Life Event Kids
2. FU World Kids
3. No Date Kids

Those people that ask me “Really?” today were in group 1.
10 Things I Hate About You contrasts the last two groups quite nicely

Kat Stratford: Can you even imagine? Who the hell would go to that antiquated mating-ritual?
Mandella: Um, I would, but I don’t have a date.
Kat Stratford: Do you really want to get all dressed up, so some Drakkar Noir-wearing dexter with a boner can feel you up while you’re forced to listen to a band that, by definition, blows?

I wanted to be Kat, but I was totally Mandella. College turned me into Kat.

Instead of going to my junior and senior Proms, I hung out with some Baptists that thought God didn’t believe in dances. Or something. At least one of these Baptists thought Rock and Roll was the music of the devil. Her dad wrote a book about it.

20 minutes south-east of Parker lies Elizabeth. On the map on Elizabeth town’s webpage, The Pinery, a subdivison of Parker is on the map but not Elizabeth. So, it’s small.*

The Chamber of Commerce of Elizabeth is hosting a prom dress fashion show. A woman putting on the show is looking for used prom dresses which they will sale, and the money will go to local charities. I have a prom dress that has sat in my closet since Junior (which I wore to my HS theatre awards). I called about donating the dress.

Actual excerpts from the phone conversation

Do you know where the Chamber of Commerce is? Well, we are right off of 86, as you enter the town. It’s parking lot is paved, and the one filled with cars all day.
…
Well, I have some chocolates from our chocolate factory here that I bought just for people coming from Parker to donate a dress. Have you ever been to our chocolate factory? Well, after you try one of these chocolates, you will go check it out.

*But for some reason Elizabeth’s Post Office has passport services.

I’m good at my job. Why lie? I am. And on most days I am in a good mood coming and going. Not everyone can say that.
I grew up living in the suburbs. I grew up going to chain restaurants, and I grew up driving 15 - 30 minutes to get anywhere. Earlier this month I actually suggested eating at Chili’s, excuse me? Driving 45 minutes to my closest friend doesn’t seem that far anymore.

However, the spark that grew during the last few years of my life isn’t there much. My last year in college I had people describe me has “a passionate person.” This is one of the best compliments I have ever received. (Last year a few people also described me as “genuine” which was pretty awesome too.) Well, that passion that I have for the little things doesn’t surface as much as it soon. My attention to current events has taken a bit of a dive. I discovered that my attention to it increases when I am surrounded by others that do (duh). I like being informed. I prefer “The Daily Show” to be a summarization of headlines instead of my primary source.

When I visited San Antonio in October, I ran into a sophomore that told me, “I took your advice!”
I thought, “Oh, did I give her a suggestion concerning a instructor, a class or a way to circumvent red tape?”
She said, “I went to Mad Hatters, and it was great! Do you have any more restaurant suggestion?” She quickly got out a piece of paper to jot down my list. I’m sorry, chain restaurants, you’ve got nothing on a great local joint.

Especially during senior year, my heterosexual life partner (or best friend) became the information source on cool stuff to do in San Antonio. (Or, there is life outside The Quarry.) Have you been to cute shoe place on Broadway? What about the Bubble Tea place on Old Austin Hwy? If you make friends with the cute Thai lady, you’ll get some free samples. Oh, if you haven’t been to Taco Taco, you haven’t lived. No matter how hard I try, I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same way about Texas Roadhouse as I do about W.D Deli.

When my good friend Aaron visited earlier this month we spent 3 hours at the Flying Dog Brewery. One hour was spent on the tour and two hours were spent chatting with the nice staff woman that also gave the free taste tests. Then stumbled down to the Tattered Cover and looked through books and magazines until Denver. That’s me, a drunk nerd. Wait, what?

Time makes living in a lifestyle I dreaded returning to easier, but I know isn’t me. Screw culture shock. Drop me in the middle of an urban lifestyle as soon as I get back. I need it.

I attended the “state of the company 06″ meeting before work today. They fed us delicious coffee. They are also fed us delicious corporate propaganda. I happily slurped up both.

Yum.

Yes, that’s right. I have become a company cheerleader. I work for a major retailer (I am not saying which company here because sometimes that causes trouble). In the past, I have not had the best of times working for for-profit companies. For example, everyday I worked at Best Buy, I felt my soul draining from my heart (ok, slight exaggeration).

My current employer won me over by their fantastic employee benefits. A living wage for everyone (ok, I don’t know about the cleaning staff). They also really do give a damn about customer service. Really. Every employee I’ve asked says they like working for the company, and so far I do too. However, what really warmed my heart was to hear that life partners get the exact same benefits as marriage partners. Company Policy.

I attended the all girls camp Kickapoo Kamp in Kerrville, TX for three summers. Since the time I spent there occured during middle school, the summers weren’t all the best of times. However, I looked back on the experience positively, and I decided to apply for a counselor position before the end of my freshman year of college. I remembered my cabin leaders as being cool ass college kids, and it seemed like fun (especially if I could get assigned grades other than 6th - 8th). I sent an email and requested an application to be apart of the Kickapoo team. However, on the application I came to a question:

Do you have any tendicies toward homosexuality? Explain.

I stopped and stared at it. This section wasn’t optional.

Due to the relationship of trust imposed upon us and each of our staff members, it is imperative that only persons of the highest fitness - mentally, morally, physically, and psychologically - be employed to work at our camp.

This particular question was sandwiched between questions concerning “records of criminal acts” and “any job related injury.”

I closed the application.

Next year, I thought again about to the last year’s aborted application process. I wanted to be apart of Kickapoo. I requested the application again. Again, I came to the question:

Do you have any tendicies toward homosexuality? Explain.

Again, I couldn’t answer it. I wanted to do this. But I just couldn’t answer that question.

It was the first time I remember making such a hard line decision based on my values. These weren’t values that were passed down by my church, school, government or family. I had developed these values for myself. I could not work for an organization that asked a question such as Kickapoo did.

I will stand up and sing to all about my current employeer. I am proud to drive sales until I leave to spend the next two years of my life in a hut someplace.

Stacey: Hey, could you develop a graduate program that fits my interests and make it apart of the Peace Corps Fellows Program?
University of Denver: Here ya go.

GRE Update: Wow. My math has gone down the shitter. I haven’t taken a math course since the Fall of 2001. And it was Pre-Calc. What do I remember about that class? I remember my professor drawing aliens on the board.
Go COM Major, Go!