the surreal life

at the vegas airport on valentine's day. en route to california.

the stewardess has made us applaud a couple with matching "bride" and "groom" t-shirts who are heading to some elvis chapel to live happily ever after, beginning today.

i am grumpy and nervous and stressed. and i hate to fly.

i am greeted by the smell of cinnamon and butter emanating from cinabon and the sounds of clanging music and bells rising from the slot machines clustered around the airport waiting areas.

no sooner have i begun to walk toward my gate than do i cross paths with a porn star.

for the record, i do not watch porn. (i'm a good catholic girl!). but i recognize him from the vh1 show, the surreal life. he appears just as he does on screen. short, pudgy, and unkempt with his long-ish black hair, green eyes and faded PETA t-shirt. nevertheless, i am a little bit thrilled to be crossing paths with celebrity. i think to ask him for his autograph, but then think better of it. will i really want to show off my porn star autograph? probably not.

instead, i opt to call my roommate to share my star sighting. i leave a rambling message on her voicemail. "you know who i'm talking about. that guy! i think his name is jeremy something. jeremy irons?" five minutes afterward, it hits me, and i text message her--ron jeremy!

my layover will last nearly two hours, so i decide to play the slot machines. after winning two dollars, i decide to quit while i'm ahead and head to starbucks to spend my winnings on a cup of coffee.


valentine's day in southern california

it is a perfect california day. sun shining through a sky, pristinely blue. a brisk wind blowing through the fronds of thin palm trees. i am waiting curbside at the airport when a black luxury car approaches with the name of my hotel stenciled on the side. i am embarrassed to hand my suitcase with its busted zipper to the driver.

i talk nervously to the driver as we weave through the afternoon traffic. we talk about everything from austin, to my job interview, to his family, my family, music, his girlfriend, our careers. i am overwhelmed when we arrive at the hotel, an enormous spanish style complex, its old stones illuminated by soft lights as the sun sets, its palm trees strung with white lights. my driver unloads my bags and wishes me luck.

the driver has told me that the hotel complex--the rooms and the three restaurants it houses inside--is nearly booked tonight because of valentine's day. as i wheel my suitcase into the lobby, i see that he is right. there are couples dressed to the nines in the hotel lobby and in restaurant waiting areas. women carrying long-stemmed roses. i check in and traverse long hallways to my room. i notice "privacy please" signs hanging from nearly all of the doorknobs along the way.

a friend, who is a professor of women's studies at the university where i will be interviewing, picks me up and takes me to her house to have dinner with her family. i marvel at how her ten-year old daughter has grown tall and cut her hair short. they introduce me to the newest addition to their family, a baby girl who is hardly a baby any more! (my friend was just a month pregnant the last time we saw each other). we enjoy a dinner that my friend's mother has prepared, white rice with a kind of japanese beef curry.

back at the hotel, i make last minute preparations for my interview. review the history of the department, faculty profiles, rewrite the introduction to my job talk.

the chair of the department calls to make sure i've arrived safely, to inform me that he'll be picking me up for breakfast the next morning at 8AM. he will try not to be late.

to be continued...

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