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Red eye from New York. Some people think red eyes are good ideas. I'm not one of those people.
I got on the bus at 8:30pm, and it started to snow before we hit Binghamton. That first leg of the journey was the longest, from New York City to Syracuse. At midnight we stopped at a Wendy's. I bought a vanilla frappucino and all was well. I did a fair lot of writing on the bus and my stamina died before my battery did. (Thank you, Apple!) I think I slept some on the bus, but I can't be sure. I was plotting a fic with the aid of Tiffany lyrics.
The border on the way back was much easier than on the way in. Of course. The customs people were confused by the fact that I have worked in the US before, in spite of the fact that the visas are still in my passport and that it was 1999 the last time I worked in the states. They took a good 7 minutes just with me, and they stopped the 'ethnic' looking guy on my bus for about 45 minutes before they let him go. Intense. Oddly, no one asked me about my strange last name, which vaguely looks middle eastern. Possibly the fact that I'm as white as Tom Felton's scrawny little ass helped me out in that department. On the way back they just asked where, how long, did anyone give me anything. (I left out all the hot hot lurve I got while I was there.) Then back on the bus.
I arrived (late) in Toronto at 8am. I was very groggy. I caught another bus at 8:30am into Guelph, where I had 10 minutes to say hi to my mother at work and then boarded one more bus (just one more!), a city bus, which took me home. I stumbled across the parking lot, fell into my apartment, and collapsed on my bed.
I woke up at 5pm. Am currently still in my pajamas and am still feeling very groggy.
Oh, also: me and![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eleveninches have talked everything out, and the case is closed. I do so appreciate all the interest in this matter, but it really is a private affair among a small group of people and Erin and I are both in agreement about the future. I still have a few people to talk to, though, so don't think I'm trying to get out of that. And, never fear, I will be punished. I am contrite.
I realize there is a lot of mudslinging going on, and I very much appreciate the people who are stepping up to defend me. I will not, however, be reading or commenting on said mudslinging. I think it's counterproductive and the people who are actually involved are the ones who get my time and effort, not random people who have been just dying for another reason to post about how much they hate me.
So I think that's all I have to say about that.
I got on the bus at 8:30pm, and it started to snow before we hit Binghamton. That first leg of the journey was the longest, from New York City to Syracuse. At midnight we stopped at a Wendy's. I bought a vanilla frappucino and all was well. I did a fair lot of writing on the bus and my stamina died before my battery did. (Thank you, Apple!) I think I slept some on the bus, but I can't be sure. I was plotting a fic with the aid of Tiffany lyrics.
The border on the way back was much easier than on the way in. Of course. The customs people were confused by the fact that I have worked in the US before, in spite of the fact that the visas are still in my passport and that it was 1999 the last time I worked in the states. They took a good 7 minutes just with me, and they stopped the 'ethnic' looking guy on my bus for about 45 minutes before they let him go. Intense. Oddly, no one asked me about my strange last name, which vaguely looks middle eastern. Possibly the fact that I'm as white as Tom Felton's scrawny little ass helped me out in that department. On the way back they just asked where, how long, did anyone give me anything. (I left out all the hot hot lurve I got while I was there.) Then back on the bus.
I arrived (late) in Toronto at 8am. I was very groggy. I caught another bus at 8:30am into Guelph, where I had 10 minutes to say hi to my mother at work and then boarded one more bus (just one more!), a city bus, which took me home. I stumbled across the parking lot, fell into my apartment, and collapsed on my bed.
I woke up at 5pm. Am currently still in my pajamas and am still feeling very groggy.
Oh, also: me and
eleveninches have talked everything out, and the case is closed. I do so appreciate all the interest in this matter, but it really is a private affair among a small group of people and Erin and I are both in agreement about the future. I still have a few people to talk to, though, so don't think I'm trying to get out of that. And, never fear, I will be punished. I am contrite.I realize there is a lot of mudslinging going on, and I very much appreciate the people who are stepping up to defend me. I will not, however, be reading or commenting on said mudslinging. I think it's counterproductive and the people who are actually involved are the ones who get my time and effort, not random people who have been just dying for another reason to post about how much they hate me.
So I think that's all I have to say about that.
