The Valentine's I won't forget... that I hope you won't either.

I have a story to tell.

This is the lengthiest blog I have ever written and probably will ever write- but I really encourage you to read all the way through to the end. Since I am extremely chronological and detailed when I write, this will be quite tedious to read but I hope it will provide some potential life changing guidance.

I had a rather unforgettable Valentine's Day yesterday.

It started out as a usual day at our office in Washington, DC. I had an afternoon flight out of DC which had me connecting through Memphis and arriving in an undisclosed remote Mississippi town by 8:19 pm. From here, I will pseudonym the city “MON” which stands for “Middle of Nowhere.”

Now typically, I no longer fly out of DC in the late afternoon. I had gotten into the habit last year, of working at the office all day (9-5) and then flying out to my destination, which often had me traveling late at night, by myself, in unknown, and often very "in the middle of nowhere" places. I had had enough scares to make me realize that without exception, I need to stick to the rule that I do NOT travel in the evenings unless I am absolutely comfortable and familiar with my destination.

In this particular case, I didn't really think it was a big deal that I would be landing at 8:19 pm in MON because I was also planning to book my hotel in MON for that night- Therefore, avoiding driving very far from the airport. No big deal, right?

Well I didn't plan very well, and come yesterday morning, I still hadn't booked my hotel.

Through our company we have an internal website that allows us to type in a city and then view a list of all the nearby hotels within about a 25 mile radius. There are typically, dozens and dozens of options that come up. For instance even in my small hometown of Pawley's Island, SC, the hotel search yields 107 results.  

These hotel searches typically provide instant insight as to how remote or not remote your destination is. I often joke to my colleagues and myself that, "you KNOW you're gonna be in the "boonies" when you try to book a hotel in a city and only a handful of options pop up."

When I tried to book my hotel yesterday morning, there were only 10 options for hotels within a 25 mile radius of MON. The options were a collection of: Days Inn, Econo Lodge, Super 8 Motel, America's Value Inn, and the Hampton Inn.

"Sweet!" there's a Hampton Inn. "Perfect," I thought. I clicked on it and quickly realized there were no vacant rooms. I called the hotel just to confirm, and it turned out that yup, there were no rooms at the Hampton Inn.

I didn't feel entirely comfortable staying at one of the other options, especially in such a middle-of-nowhere town, well, and especially because of the options themselves. So I called our company travel agents to talk through the issue. They recommended that either I stay at the Comfort Inn, or drive 40 miles to the next biggest city with some better hotel options.

I did NOT want to drive 40 miles once I landed in MON. I wanted to stick to my "no driving on the roads at night" rule; A rule that I had founded by the way due to a scary late night drive in this exact region last fall. There was no chance in hell I was going to drive 40 miles from the airport.

So I sucked it up, and booked a room at the Comfort Inn. "What a Valentine's Day...." I thought. I was already imagining landing, getting fast food, and staying in a crappy hotel and writing some sort of sarcastic facebook status about how romantic my evening is. I was secretly glad that this would potentially make a funny story to tell.

I ventured over to one my colleagues and told her that I would be staying at the Comfort Inn in MON for Valentine's Day. She had been to MON before, visiting the same hospital where I had a meeting the following morning.

She couldn't believe that I was going to spend the night there. She had previously gone for the day, and felt extremely uncomfortable, even in daylight. I felt a tad nervous at this, but figured that I could handle it. Not to mention, a part of me thought she might be over-exaggerating just a bit, with her larger than life New Orleans southern expressions. (Love you Linds!!)

As the day passed, I organized my things, made sure I had all of materials, etc. At one point I started to think in the back of my head that I should try and change my flight so that I fly directly into Jackson, the capital of Mississippi where I would be staying on Tuesday and Wednesday night.

If I flew into Jackson, I would enjoy the comfort of a nice hotel, for three nights in a row, in a MUCH larger city. The problem, was that Jackson was over two hours away from where my meeting was the following morning. I would have to get up really early if I stayed in Jackson. I quickly dismissed the thought of flying into Jackson. The main reason why, and I am embarrassed to admit this, is because the stupid side of me, thought that I might just end up with a funnier story to tell if I fly into MON. Unbelievable.

Fast forward to my connection in Memphis. All is well so far. Except that I'm in the Memphis airpot. I HATE this airport. It smells like old BBQ, the bathrooms are disgusting, there is tacky, gaudy, Myrtle Beach type souvenirs everywhere... I don't like this place. (Not at all how I feel about Memphis by the way- just the airport).

On the way to my gate, I pass Corky's BBQ- my colleague warned me about Corky's so I snapped a a quick picture, sent it to my Mom and colleague with the subject title: "What a romantic Valentine's dinner." My funny story was unfolding quite well and I started laughing to myself.

I proceeded to my gate, and eventually boarded the plane for MON. We had a small plane. That I expected. I'd say that the plane had seating capacity for 50 people.

There were only 7 people on my flight.

Apparently we were supposed to have 9 people, "But two must have gone to Popeyes," the Stewardess joked. (Popeyes = Bojangles).

I chuckled to myself. This is really getting good.

It was a short flight. And it was precisely the moment that we landed, that I realized, this was not going to be a funny evening.

Typically when your airplane descends at night, you see lights down below. You see signs of civilization. You can tell how close you are getting to the ground because of this. The sky last night was pitch black. I could feel that we were descending, but didn't see any lights anywhere. Then all of sudden, BAM, we touched down. I was so jolted at first because I thought that our airplane had hit something in the sky. The landing came out of nowhere.

I gazed out the window as we were coming to a stop... and I couldn't see a thing. Not one light- not even on the runway. It was pitch pitch black. It was actually kind of creepy, because here we were, moving quite fast on the runway, but you couldn't see anything.

As I collected my things and walked to the front of the plane, I asked the flight attendant if she knew of any fast food restaurants in the area. I was hungry. It was technically 9:15 to my body, and I hadn’t had anything to eat since noon. I figured I should pick something up before heading to my hotel. Her response when I asked her if there was fast food nearby: "Be careful."

I think a lump started forming in my throat at that moment. My heart started racing a little bit. Why would she say that? What could be so dangerous about getting fast food at 8:30 pm?

I de-planed and headed towards the airport (there are no jetways/gates/ramps at airports this small, you just walk down the steps of the plane and go on your merry little way.

I went to the rental car counter to pick up my car keys. As I was waiting to get the keys, I figured it would be a good idea to go ahead and type in my hotel address in my GPS so that I wouldn’t be sitting in the parking lot trying to figure this out in the car, alone… in MON. I wanted to get in the car and start driving asap.

I typed in “MON” in the GPS. No results. “Are you kidding me!?” I thought. I told the girl at the counter that the GPS wasn’t recognizing MON. “Are we really THAT small?!” she joked. It was one of the “Ha ha… ummm… holy crap” moments.

So I called the hotel and figured they could direct me from the airport since it was less than 7 miles away.

“Hi there, my name is Betsy Barrows and I am a guest in your hotel tonight- can you tell me how to get there from the MON airport?”

Silence.

“Umm..” the girl replied….. “I don’t know how to get here from the airport.” She wasn’t “that familiar” with the area.

I hung up the phone and the girl at the rental car counter asked me where I was staying and then directed me. (It was literally, 3 turns from the airport.) She gave me her phone number and said I can call her “just in case.” I asked her if she knew whether or not it was a safe area. She told me I should be fine since there is a police station right next to the hotel. Don’t know why, but that actually didn’t calm my increasing anxiety one bit.

I got in the car as quickly as possible- as quickly as one can with two roller bags and a purse.

I pulled away from the airport and started driving through MON. And that’s when everything sank in, that this was a really bad idea.

I want to pause here, and remind my audience that I have now been traveling for my job extensively for nearly 10 months. I have seen my fair share of “sketchy areas”, and not so safe neighborhoods. This was probably the most unsafe I’ve felt in a town I’m visiting. So unsafe, that I did not want to stop when approaching stop signs. It was run down… abandoned… scary.

Rounding the corner towards the Comfort Inn, my eyes scanned the parking lot to see what kind of cars and how many were parked there. I hate to say that- but that was my first thought. It looked like a decent mix- perhaps a few random business travelers were staying there.

I pulled up to the front of the hotel, unloaded my things and headed inside to check in. There was no-one at the front counter and one of the main lights flickered on and off. I felt like I was in a horror movie.

I cautiously approached the front counter and my friend who didn’t know how to give airport directions popped out from a back office. As I proceeded to check in, I asked her if there were any fast food restaurants nearby so that I could get something to eat. Again, I am pretty hungry by this point.

She thought for a moment and then said… “Ummm.. there is no fast food but if you want, there is a couple of casinos down the street that have a good buffet.”

Oh my God. Casino buffets….?  In MON?! Are you crazy?!

Just then two men walked into the hotel who looked like they had just wandered in off the street. They were guests who wanted to switch rooms because they didn’t like the rooms that the “boss man” had put them in.

One of them handed a to-go box of food to the girl behind the counter and said in a mumbled sort of English, “Here, you can have leftovers if you want them.”

“That’s it” I thought. I am OUT OF HERE. I waited until the men left because I was actually scared to walk to my room. And if I wasn’t on the first floor, I don’t think I would have gone up the elevator. So I thought to myself, I’m going to go to my room and figure out what to do.

Once in my room I did some serious back and forth about what to do. I can honestly say it is one of the first times in this role that I didn’t know what to do. Do I stay in this freaky hotel, without anything to eat, OR do I get the heck out of here and head to Jackson- a much bigger city where more than likely I could try to get into my nice hotel one night early.

On the one hand, if I stay in this hotel- at least I am safely put. If I go to Jackson, I risk driving at night on these roads that I know from experience are not good.

“Alright, it’s 8:45 pm….” I thought. “I’m going to watch the rose ceremony of the Bachelor for the last 15 minutes and then get out of here.” (I actually can’t believe this thought crossed my mind).

I started having second thoughts about leaving once I looked down at my key and saw a number for dominoes. Perfect. I can order pizza and just stay put. That’s it.

I called Dominoes. An hour and a half wait for delivery.

I hung up and called my Jackson hotel and asked if I could check in a day early- just to see if this was an option. It was.

What to do? What to do? What to do? Precious moments were going by and I knew I had to think fast.  

Somewhere between trying to map out the route to Jackson on my iPhone and seeing Michelle get voted off of the Bachelor (finally), I decided, I’m getting out of here, and FAST. It was 9 pm, I would be getting into Jackson after 11 pm (central time).

I typed the address of my Jackson hotel in my GPS while in the hotel room so that I could get in the car and go. I checked out and loaded my things back in the car.

I headed out of MON and within seconds realized that it was a very very bad thing that my rental car only had ONE cigarette lighter charger. Why was this so bad? Because both my cell phone and GPS were dying. (I was only going to be driving a few miles from the airport at 8:19 pm- why would I need them to be fully charged?)

In that moment it was more important to charge my GPS so that I could get headed in the right direction. Then I could always switch out and plug in my phone if needed. Luckily, this time,  I actually had my cell phone car charger with me- an absolute absolute must on the road.

I headed out of there with only 12% battery left on my iPhone and a nearly dead GPS. And then I did what any female marketer would have done in that situation: I called my mother.

She answered (after all, the rose ceremony was over), and said in a cheery voice, “Hey Bets! So how was Corky’s?”

WHAT I WOULD HAVE GIVEN TO BE AT CORKY’s in that moment! Corky’s was NOTHING compared to what I had gotten myself into.

I don’t know what was scarier: MON, or the driving through complete darkness, all alone, with no other cars on the road but mine.

I’ve driven at night alone plenty of times. Lot’s of times. This was very very different than driving down an interstate or main highway at 10:00 pm. I was on a two lane bumpy road, in the backwoods of rural Mississippi going 60 mph, driving through swamplands with a dying cell phone. I was scared. And 20 minutes into the drive, I wish I’d never left the “Comfort” Inn.

I knew if I kept talking to my Mom, my phone would die. But I was too scared to hang up and be all alone. At one point she suggested hanging up so I could save my battery. But I asked her to please stay on the line. I’m sure my Mom was worried from the moment I called and told her the situation I was in, but I would guess that it was in that moment, that she realized how afraid I was.

She then tried to stay as calm as possible and talk about normal things: How was my day at the office? What’s new? How is apartment searching going? I knew that she could have cared less about the answers… she just wanted me to keep my mind as preoccupied as possible.

At one point I started telling her the names of the towns I saw on road signs so that she could track where I was on “google maps.” You see, my crappy GPS does not allow me to see the entire route that gets me from point A to my final destination. I only can see what my next turn is. So for instance, I didn’t have visibility into the fact that I will be on Road A for 10 miles, then Road B for 15 miles, then Road C for 7 miles….. etc. etc. and then end up in Jackson. I could only tell how far it would be until my next turn, and then go from there. And I was zigzagging all over the place. So at any point, I never knew how far I was from Jackson because there were no signs for Jackson, or for ANYWHERE.

Then the inevitable happened- my phone died. And it was me, my car, and darkness.

Just when I thought things could not get any worse, I started driving through fog. The fog would get worse, and then light up, and then get worse again. It seriously looked like ghosts hitting the windshield of my car. I had to reduce my speed, and turn off my bright lights so that I could see the road. “Why so foggy all of a sudden?” I thought. I looked to the right and noticed a bank that went down into a body of water. I was driving over a bayou. Please note in this definition the part that says “Many bayous are home to crawfish, certain species of shrimp, other shellfish, catfish, frogs, american crocodiles, american alligators, and a myriad other species.”

Oh lovely. My heart really started pounding fast and there was a few brief seconds that I thought I could have a heart attack. It was getting late now, I was tired, hungry and scared and getting more and more so.

I did my best to just stay calm. But of course it was impossible to not think about the possibility of hitting an alligator, hitting a pothole and having a flat tire, getting pulled over by a cop on a deserted road…

Eventually I unplugged my GPS and started charging my phone again and after it charged back up for 10 minutes I called my Mom back.

She had now gotten my Dad involved and they were looking through a huge paper map of Mississippi trying to figure where I was, and how far I was from Jackson. I would tell my Mom, “My next turn is this road called “16” and she would say, “16?!?! Why is it telling you to go to 16?? It looks like if you just stay where you are you will eventually end up in Jackson but I can’t quite tell….”

I kept driving and driving and driving. At one point my Mom put my oldest sister on the phone because I think she’d run out of things to say to me. Bonnie got on the line and I told her the whole story of what had happened that night from start to finish- from being in the office in DC, to 7 people being on my flight, to the alligators… and at the end of it she waited for a few seconds to say something and then said, “Well…. I walked around the Island today.” J Thanks Bon!

EVENTUALLY, I got to a critical point where my GPS was telling me to turn onto yet another deserted road in 2 miles, while my Mom was telling me I should keep going straight. As I approached the turn I decided to keep going straight, perhaps there might be a sign up ahead. Just as my GPS was blaring in my ear “Where possible, make a legal U-Turn”, I saw a green road up ahead. It said…. JACKSON 36 miles. PRAISE YOU JESUS!!!!! JACKSON!!!!

We both screamed on the phone we were so excited! Shortly after I merged onto a 4 lane highway. A four lane highway! It was so exciting! I exclaimed, “Mom! I am on a 4 lane highway now!!!!” (Which by the way, still by all accounts was not the safest place to be at night but was 10,000 better than the roads I had just driven through).

Eventually I made it to Jackson. I swear I will always think of this night when I hear the song Johnny and June Cash’s “Jackson.”

It was almost 11:30, and hungry, I passed my hotel exit to get to the nearest McDonalds a few miles down the road. The lights were on, people were inside, thank God. I pulled up to the drive through and an automatic voice virtually slapped me in the face and said, “we’re sorry, this location is now closed.” YOU WOULD BE CLOSED! I thought.

I turned around and headed back to my hotel. Luckily, there a Wendy’s right beside it. I got a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger, Combo. Happy Valentine’s Day.

I staggered into the Hilton, so very glad to see a Hilton, while carrying my bags, soft drink, fast food bag… I looked ridiculous.

I got to my room…. heaven. Dropped to my knees and thanked GOD that I made it there safely. I haven’t felt such relief in a long time.

I sat in bed and started chowing down, just in time to catch some late night comedy on TV; Also just in time to notice the “In room dining” menu with room service until midnight. Go figure.  

I downed the burger- took a hot shower, and looked forward to putting my comfy PJ bottoms on that my sister got me for Christmas. Too bad however, once opening my suitcase I realized that I’d I left them in DC. Along with deodorant and underwear.

This was one night that had beat me down. And all of it could have been avoided if I would have followed “the principle of the path” (the life changing guidance I mentioned at the beginning of this blog), but this I will save for next time, because I’ve been typing for four hours, and I have meetings tomorrow in other middle of nowhere Mississippi towns.

Goodnight from Jackson.  At least I can smile at that. J

Angola prison... and my grandfather?!

Where to begin.

Really had a special experience today visiting with a Vice President of Human Resources at a Southern Lousiana hospital. One that I won't forget.

As we started our typical small chat- I learned that she used to live in Asheville, North Carolina. I shared that I used to spend childhood summers in Asheville going to a summer camp called "The Cove Camp" at the Billy Graham Training Center. I figured that because of her age, and that she had spent time in Asheville, she would be quite familiar with Billy Graham and potentially my grandfather, Cliff Barrows who was the music director for Billy Graham's crusades for over 50 years.

Billy Graham and "Papa" to the right, probably in the 50's?

I don't typically talk about my "Papa" in meetings, but something told me that this VP of HR would be intriqued if I shared that I was his grandaughter. Perhaps it was the fact that she had told me she was a Southern Baptist Christian?!

After I told her, she excitedly told me, "Your grandfather came to Angola State Prison here in Lousiana and spoke/sang and told the prisoners that he would donate one of his organs (musical instrustments) to the prison." Apparantely it was big new in Lousiana, or at least, among the Baptists... :)

She then proceeded to teach me a bit of the history of Angola prison, and that it was once known as one of the most brutal prisons in the country.

She then shared that, in fact, she couldn't remember whether or not my grandfather had said he would donate an organ, or if he had said that he was going to have his casket made by the prison since apparantely they make wonderful wooden caskets. (At this point I'm thinking, when in the world am I going to get to my sales pitch?)

But I felt intrigued and told her that I would call my Mom to investigate which one it was- something about the organ being donated sounded terribly familiar- but I just couldn't put my finger on it.

Then we somehow got on the subject of George Beverly Shea- the third original team member who was famous for singing beloved hymns at Billy Graham's crusades, most notably, "How Great Thou Art."

Papa, Billy Graham, and George Beverly Shea

She had thought that George Beverly Shea had passed away, since he was the oldest of the group. I shared that he in fact was alive and very much still kickin'. "In fact," I exclaimed, "... my Mom and I visited him in his home this past fall."

And that's when it clicked!

When we were there in his home I remember "Uncle Bev" proudly showing us his brand new organ; one which could play songs automatically. He told us that the organ was also his alarm clock, and he would set it to play this extremely loud music all throughout the house and this is what he would wake up to!

I told the VP of HR that I think in fact it was not my grandfather who came to Angola prision, but George Beverly Shea... but that I would double check with my mom and get back to her.

Sure enough, after my meeting I called my mom, told her the story, and she said that yes, in fact, it was George Beverly Shea who wanted to donate an organ to Angola prison. After we had visited with him last fall, on our way out the door, Uncle Bev had pointed to a much older organ of his (he must have had 5 organs in the house) and exclaimed that in a few weeks he would be traveling to Lousiana to give the organ to the prison.

The reason why my Mom remembered this, is because, in her typical Lydia Barrows humor, she turned to Uncle Bev and said, "You are the only living organ donor I know."

It was as if a light bulb went off and I remembered exactly the organ which now sits in Angola Prison here in Lousiana.

Next time I think I might have to go find it. ;)

"Go out to see the world. Come home for love."

I love this quote!

I first spotted it on a decorative block of wood in a cute San Diego shop earlier this summer. It has become a fitting motto for my life.

Over this past year of extensive travel I've learned that though there are so many interesting and wonderful things to see in this world, one should never expect from the world what can only be fulfilled by what we each consider "home."

To me, "home" means family. And over the past two weeks of no travel, meetings, or phone calls, I have soaked up a whole lotta love from this crazy group. In fact, I think I might have overdosed. 

Introducing... Buzz Lightyear.
Earth name= Nephew Jackson.

Buzz helps Papa cook some bacon on Sunday morning.

Introducing Miss Mailey... here she wears the little dress my Swiss nanny gave me when I was a baby!

My hero. She can eat and sleep at the same time!

Buzz gets a surprise from Daddy. A Toy Story 3 inflatable ball to roll inside of!
It took Papa and Justin hours to manually pump this ball up!



Papa rolls Jackson around (while wearing Jackson's hat).
P.S. It's snowing in South Carolina!

Aunt Betsy jumps in! (Harder than it looks).

Yay! Jackson gets big boy Toy Story underwear for Christmas!

Too bad they fit Auntie JJ better than Jackson.



Hard to keep up with the Barrows' stockings.



Bobby was responsible for filling Dad's stocking, per our family tradition. Not knowing where Dad's stocking was, Bobby improvised,and literally hung Hanes socks across the mantle with Dad's goodies inside. (Please note the last Hanes sock to the far right. Bobby filled it with... Hanes socks).

Mailey loves to pull Uncle Bobby's hair.

Mom... being Mom. ;)

Bobby.... being Bobby.

Buddy/Bobby... being Buddy/Bobby  :)

Jackson loves dressing up in our coats. Here he wears Bobby's poofy vest. I love this!

For New Years, 4 generations of Barrows girls (and Buddy)  watched fireworks from our front porch in our new bath robes.

STAY TUNED... VIDEOS COMING SOON!

Fried Green Tomatoes, Y'all!

Calling all local Carolina women who happen to love Fried Green Tomatoes as much as I do:

Fannie Flagg, the author of "Fried Green Tomatoes at The Whistle Stop Cafe", is coming to the Lowcountry next week to talk about her latest book set in her hometown of Birmingham, AL. (Scroll down to see her book signing schedule).

Upon reading this in Southern Living magazine earlier today, I couldn't help but think of my adventures stumbling upon the real Whistle Stop Cafe (where the movie was filmed) during business travel to Macon, GA earlier this fall.

I was about 2.5 hours early for my meeting with nothing to do in Macon, GA. Starting to feel hungry, I figured it might make sense to go settle down in a restaurant (a rare luxury on the road), fill up my stomach and do work on my laptop for a little while.

So I used one of my phone apps to search for nearby restaurants, sorted from nearest to farthest. As I scrolled the list, the very last one, located 26.1 miles away, in a little town called Juliette, GA jumped out at me and made me squeal with excitement- it was The Whistle Stop Cafe.

I had known that The Whistle Stop Cafe was a real place. Growing up I was obsessed with the movie and in college I remember googling "Whistle Stop" and discovering that indeed, the restaurant was kept open after the filming of the movie.

Click here to read about the Cafe

Doing the math in my head, I tried to calcuate how much time I would have to drive to Whistle Stop, eat and get back to Macon without jeopardizing my meeting. Not wasting any time, within 7 seconds I put the car in reverse, and headed straight for Juliette.

I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. I pulled into the little town and marveled at the familar scenery. It took me a few minutes to recognize where the actual cafe was- what gave it away were the hanging porch celing fans I noticed from a distance. There it was- THE Whistle Stop Cafe!

Before walking in I took a good walk around- noticing the famous BBQ pit where Big George barbeque's Frank Bennett- ("Bennett's BBQ" is a favorite dish on the menu!)

I also noticed Smokey Lonesome's little cabin (original pictures are on my lost cell phone- I found these on google).

Eventually I headed inside, found myself a table, and ordered Bennett's BBQ, fried green tomatoes (of course), and sweet tea which was served in a mason jar. Though I had brought my laptop along, it just didn't feel right to pull it out and start doing work. So I just sat there, munched on my fixins and took in the scenery. The walls were filled with old antique paraphernalia which was placed there during the movie- as well as framed photographs of the cast on set.

Following my meal, I walked around a bit into some of the local stores- and stumbled upon this old antique store, with a proud owner whose nickname is "Bear"- he explained to me that the entire movie was shot within about a 3 mile radius or so. It was the perfect location for filming. He helped design a lot of the sets with the era-proper objects.

He told me to stop by the old Baptist church on the way out just up the road. The (real) church cemetary where Ruth is buried, along with Buddy Jr's arm, still hold those fake tombstones created during filming.

And the most interesting thing I learned - to this day, Juliette locals put a jar of honey on Ruth's tombstone- just as Idgie did in the movie. And to this day tourists take the jar of honey as a souvenir, which is quickly replaced by another jar.

I didn't have time to go lookin' through the cemetary for the jar of honey. I knew I had to prioritize getting to my meeting on time- I'll save it for my next trip.

Tawanda! Click here to see one of my favorite scenes from the movie.

Fannie Flagg's Book Signing Schedule

Charlotte, NC -> Joseph-Beth Booksellers, November 29th  7 pm

Charleston, SC -> Barnes & Noble, December 2nd @ 7 pm

Pawleys Island, SC -> Litchfield Books, December 3rd @ 2 pm

After seeing that Fannie was going to be in Litchfield, I quickly checked my calendar to see where my business travels would have me on Friday, December 3rd. Though I was kinda sad to see that I wouldn't be anywhere nearby, I got a kick out of the fact that on this day, I will be in Valdosta, GA, where the fictional story takes place! How fitting.

Fun in... Iowa?!

Had myself a heck of a time traveling in the midwest this past week. At first, I was less than thrilled to have scheduled meetings in Iowa, however my midwest meetings also allowed me the chance to see my wonderful Aunt and Uncle (love you guys!) in Chicago, plus their two GINORMOUS dogs.

Meet Beauregard and Beatrice (the dogs) .

Anyhow, turns out my hospital visit in Iowa was one of the most memorable I've ever had. From the valet volunteers, to the gift shop folks and the cafeteria workers, everyone was so very kind and hospitable to me.

The gift shop, without a doubt was the best I've ever been in. I bought the cutest little booties for my precious neice Mailey. (Mom, if you're reading this, don't tell Bonnie!)

Also found some darling cards... loved this one... Girls, do you ever feel this way?

And the background music playing in the gift shop was this beautiful solo piano by Iowan Jim McDonough. I'm a sucker for the piano, and I had such a sweet time listening to his CD, "Home for Christmas" driving back to the airport in Des Moines from Fort Dodge- If you're looking for some holiday tunes, do give this a peek (and listen to the samples): http://www.pianofavorites.com/

Finally, all my goodies were packaged in this oh so cute hospital gift bag:

I headed back to Des Moines and had some extra time before my flight... so that could only mean one thing.... airport gift shopping!

Found some funny shirts: "Not everything is flat in Iowa." ;)

As well as this mug that looks like a cow utter.

As my Mom so cleverly put it, "Utterly adorable!" (How does she come up with this stuff).

And finally, I couldn't leave Iowa without.....

"Romeos" of the Road.... I'm not interested.

Inevitably, solo female travelers get hit on...

...Whether by random people in the airport, in the hotel lobby, in the elevator, and my personal favorite, going through security. <- the absolute worst. Seriously. Just scan my suitcase and leave me the hell alone!

Actually I take that back. The worst is when you are seated on the airplane by the Romeo. Last night I was on a flight to Birmingham and I took my seat by a man probably in his late 30's. He struck up small talk with me as a I settled into my seat (by the window of course). I was tired. I had worked at the office all day. I didn't feel like talking.

"Hi, how are you?" Romeo asked. "I'm good, thanks," I said as I clicked my seatbelt and shuffled through the pocket of the seat in front of me to find the latest edition of Sky Mall magazine to give the impression that I was very busy.

But my cues didn't work (one word responses, looking down at the magazine, fake note-taking, etc). Romeo proceeded to play "20 questions" with me until I decided to plant my face against the window to hint to this guy that I simply wasn't interested in talking or getting to know him. (Another reason why the window seat can come in handy).

I managed to ignore him to the point that once up in the air, he didn't ask me any further questions until we landed in Birmingham.

As we were pulling up to our gate, my face still planted to the window, he starts talking to me again: "You know, since you're staying in Birmingham, you should really try Nicki's West cafeteria downtown."

"Thanks for the recommendation- I'll have to try it sometime," I replied, and then glued my face back to window.

Romeo continued, "So... how long are you staying in Birmingham?"

Knowing perfectly well that this wasn't exactly a question he would have asked the 90 year old lady sitting three rows up, I turned to him, looked him straight in the eye and said, "No offense- but it's none of your business."

Suffice it to say he stopped asking me questions after that.

Window... or Aisle?

I am a window-seat convert. Few reasons why:

1. You get to look out the window. Well, DUH you might think, but this is actually far more interesting than looking at the back of the head of whomever is sitting diagnolly in front of you.

2. Awesome views. And I am convinced that seeing the sunset is good for your soul.

3. Perspective on life.... "rising above" the clouds, etc.

4. A place to rest your head since you didn't get any sleep the night before because the stupid hotel air conditioning unit was making wierd noises all night.

So what are you? A window or an aisle person? And WHY? Would love to know your thoughts.