Oh dear, this one is hard to write. This trip has kicked my butt every since I got here. Unrest till the bitter end. It only lets up when I stepped on the airplane to leave.
But I’m getting ahead of myself here. When I woke up, the fact that I am leaving hit me. No amount of creative financing on my part will let me stay at least one more day. I’m doomed. So I commence packing. OMG, I have a lot more than I started with! So I sit on the floor with a pile of everything that is mine surrounding me and my suitcase. This is an activity that I do not relish! Somehow, with great concentration and effort, I get everything in. I even loaded up my computer/camera bag with as much as I could!
Okay, good. There it is … and as I turn around, I see my new perfume (in purple tissue paper) (my winnings for the Salem photo contest I might add) sitting there on the nightstand. 
Oh well, I’ll just put it in my purse. I want to use it after I shower anyway. I leave the rest of my Hurricane Sandy supplies for the maids.
So I shower, spritz and dress and make my bumbling way down to the front desk to pay. Turns out … remember when I told them NOT to charge it to the Credit Card on file (which belonged to my good friend)? “Charge it to my Debit Card, pweeze!” So they give me a ridiculously low bill to pay. I look up confused expecting the bill to be much higher. And the lady says, “Oh, when you checked out Sunday (to go to the airport), we charged the bill to the Credit Card on file. When you returned that same day and checked back in, well, we opened it again with the same Credit Card (smiling).” So there it is. They charged the WHOLE BILL to my friend’s Credit Card! That is not what I wanted to happen! I promised my friend that that would not happen! But there it is. Another dark cloud over this trip.
So my ride arrives and believe it or not, the ride was uneventful all the way to the airport! I can’t believe it! Hoping that I will end this trip on a peaceful note, I go into the airport. Hmmm, line’s not too long, not like the other day at least. I check in, pay my baggage check fee (highway robbery) and head on over to Security.
I begin to move through Security but as I get my computer bag and purse and shoes up on the conveyor, I hear the guard say, “No liquids over 3 ounces. No liquids over 3 ounces.” I stop in my tracks and think, “My perfume?” I reach into my purse to look at my perfume. It’s 4 ounces. I say to the lady, “But my perfume is 4 ounces.” She coldly replies, “Sorry ma’am, you will have to throw it away.” I stare at her all wide-eyed with disbelief. “But I can’t throw it away.” “You can’t take anything over 3 ounces aboard the plane, ma’am, now move along,” she retorts. I think she is enjoying this. I again try, “But I can’t believe you won’t let me. It’s just an ounce for cripes sake.” She offers, “Do you have a friend here that can come get it?” “No, no friends, here or anywhere for that matter.” “Well, you can go back and check it,” she tries. I look down at my perfume in my hands as she interjects, “Ma’am, you will have to move along. You are holding up the line.” By this time, I’m in tears and all of these people in line are watching …. even enjoying … the whole fucking ordeal. I look at the guard while holding my perfume as she says once again, “The trash can is right there.” I turn and look and with my heart completely broken, I walk over to the trash can and drop my perfume in purple tissue paper, my winnings from the Salem photo contest, into the trash can. That is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. Those fucking certificates laid around my room for fucking 2 years! For 2 years I had to keep tabs on those certificates so I would be sure not to lose them. I so looked forward to coming to Salem to spend them. And now this. If you would have told me 2 years ago that I would end up having to throw my winnings away, I would have been shocked and dismayed.
So I move on enduring the rest of the hoops that Security makes you jump through. I then sit down to put on my shoes and arrange my bag. I am really trying not to cry. I see tears dropping on my shoes as I put them on. I am so damn mad. I haven’t been this mad in a very long time. And then, as I sit there fussing with this and that all the while seeing my tears drop on my shoes and bag, I hear the Security lady saying something over my head, “I’m really sorry about that.” I don’t even look up. I don’t want her to see I’m crying and wishing more than anything to close my hands around her throat and …. she moves on. “Good decision because you got one pissed off bitch here entertaining the idea of your demise.” Somehow an apology doesn’t make it better.
I understand it was my fault out of my own ignorance. This is one of the downfalls of traveling alone. There is no one there to watch over you and tell you your mistakes. I did know there was a restriction on liquids but it had completely slipped my mind. Well, I guess someone out there got a nice bottle of perfume wrapped in purple tissue paper. You can’t tell me that they don’t go through those trash cans and pull out the good stuff. Yup, someone out there got my winnings for the Salem photo contest. I got nothing.
Now as I move on to find somewhere to sit, I am inconsolable. I sit there and cry in front of God and everybody right there in the Boston airport. I don’t care who sees me cry. I just cry. My heart is broken. That photo contest was the one thing I did good in my life. It wasn’t first place because that’s the story of my life but it was a good 2nd place out of about 1,000 photographers. And the postcard … the postcard for God’s sake! All gone and I notice this one lady across the way really watching me intently. I met her eyes 2 or 3 times and I’m thinking that maybe she will come over and comfort me is some way. But no, that’s ridiculous to think, she just sits there and stares at me.
As I cry, I decide to call Jason. I am completely shattered and my voice is broken as I cry. When I hear his voice, I cry even harder. Do you do that? Well, I do. It’s hard to speak. He immediately freaks upon hearing me. He thinks something horrific happened to me … and something did! But when I tell him I had to throw my perfume away at Security, I can hear the relief in his voice and he laughs incredulously and says, “Your perfume? This is about your perfume?” I can barely talk but I try to explain it to him. It’s the principle of the matter. The perfume was the winnings from something I was very proud of myself for – the Salem photo contest! So Jason says, “Okay, I’ll buy you another one.” And somehow that makes me feel a bit better. I tell him, “No, I’ll buy it.” I realize I’ll have to live with yet another disaster on this trip for the rest of my life.
Finally, it is time to board the airplane. As I enter the jet-way, I feel relief and I’m glad to be out of there. No tearing myself away now. I can’t get away fast enough! I count every minute of that flight and I am the first to stand up when the airplane stops. Get me the fuck out of here!
As I sit and wait for my ride home from the airport, I go over the trip in my mind. I see that I never should have gone on this trip. I should have stayed home. I realize that all of it was my fault. The whole trip was my failure to know all the things that I should and to prepare and use good judgment. Really? Me? Ha!
Love you all,
Janet
Afterthoughts – Strange thing this. My very first day in Salem 2009 concerned an experience with fragrance and the very last chapter on the last day I stayed in Salem yet again concerned my experience with fragrance. Don’t know if this really means a thing or is some weird cycle in my life. Oh well, I guess I’ll know after I die.
And they quit making that particular perfume, I can’t find it anywhere now. It figures…..
…….. and I waited 3 hours for my ride to pick me up at the Airport. Geeezzzz, is there an end to this madness?
Nope, I guess not! A dog chewed up my beautiful witch’s hat. I’m done!
See you later, spookies!
Maybe I am a bit nervous. I sit down and send a text to my best friend, Dash Beardsley. Yup, that’s the Ghostman of Galveston for all you kindred spirits such as we. And, of course, I include his lovely girlfriend, Tamara. She’s a bit skeptical about the ghost thing. She definitely is a lot less crazy than we are what with all the spirits Dash and I see and speak to. And I, of course, have been known to take a pretty convincing ghost photo or two, as has Jason. And I have had orbs follow me around at Dash’s ghost hunts at Ashton Villa in Galveston. All just in a day’s work as they say. I’ll have to add some of my ghostly lore here in my blog. Maybe even interview the Ghostman when the season is upon us. Yes, we do have such fun! Are you scared of ghosts? Well, we the hell are not!
I now call Jason and he’s resigned to my plight. He tells me NOT to leave the hotel and I say, ok, I promise. I hang up the phone and promptly go out and have dinner at the Hawthorne Hotel. Great food, warm cozy place and I snap a few photos of their pumpkins. I linger and have a couple of cocktails at the bar. This is a lovely, old hotel. When it storms and you are here in the Hawthorne, the wind whistles through the ancient eaves of the windows. With its old Victorian design and stormy sounds, well, I could not feel more at home and happy. The hotel is decked out in its Halloween trappings making the visuals perfectly complete. I am one happy girl at this juncture but try though as I may, I can’t seem to find one single orange feather here. Since my first trip here and my experiences in the hotel, well, I will always look for orange feathers at the Hawthorne Hotel. I liken it to looking for beads in New Orleans! Oh yes! For those of you who do not remember or have neglected your duty to read this blog backwards and forwards, the Hawthorne Hotel IS haunted. Yup, I had an experience right here in this wonderful hotel!
Oh my gawd, how I do run on! I almost forgot, it’s the beginning of Halloween week but first we’ve got to weather this storm. Frankenstorm!
Okay now, can I get on with my vacation, huh? So now the tour is out but I am starving and it is Friday night in Salem. I pull myself together, stop crying, and go to my favorite pizza place in the Mall. Wow, it’s really crowded. I put in my order and sit and wait, and wait, and wait, and wait, and friggin’ wait! I notice the couple next to me waiting and I ask if they had been waiting long. They say, ya, about an hour. What? An hour? Sheeiitt. I’m hungry and really begin to worry here. Do you do that? You start to worry about getting your food and your whole world reduces down to just that one thought, will I ever get my food? You watch them, maybe that’s mine he’s working on over there. No, that went to those people. Well, they’re still working back there. No one is standing around doing nothing. Oh there maybe? No not mine. I look at my watch, man, this trip’s not going so well. I just want to eat my pizza. I look at the people next to me, they are still waiting. Why do we want others to suffer along with us? Somehow it makes us feel better. Wait, wait, waiting. Maybe I should leave. I’ve been here…… Oh! My number was called! Wow! Shit! Wow! I got my pizza, I got my pizza! Isn’t it funny what bad luck reduces us to….. and the people next to me, still waiting. Dang! I dive in and feel bad for them all at the same time! Their pizza finally comes. I now notice that he’s carrying some bongo drums and she’s carrying a saw, you know, one of those old timey flexible ones? Oh, I know, they’re a street act. You know how when you flex the saw and run a violin bow across it, it makes this weird sort of music? Ya, I’ve seen that and when they opened their case, it was FULL of cash. Ya, that’s what they do and now they can eat. Good, very good. It doesn’t take much to make me happy now as I eat my pizza with my tear-stained face. Oh pulleeeze!
And I do and as I get ready for bed, I am reminded of what a weirdo I am. I move all the good pillows to the side and select the smallest, flattest pillow I can find and sleep on that. Probably a throwback to my vampire days. Those wooden coffins just didn’t have enough room for pillows. G’Night!
My Salem Happenings 