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slumberSO. One month in the United States of America with relatives I barely remember and godfathers and godmothers in three of the top five States where Filipinos eventually wind up (And I should know, I checked it on Ellis Island. ;P) and countless tourist spots later, I have found my way back to heat and living out of a closet (as opposed to a suitcase) and a decent connection. Hurrah for me!
I'd been looking forward to the vacation, actually, but contrary to popular misconceptions, taking holidays does not mean leaving all sorts of issues behind.
In fact, I took plenty of baggage with me.
California
My aunt (aka Dad's Baby Sister) and her husband picked us up from LAX (whe?) and drove us for miles and miles on end until we came to an Asian buffet, where we had lunch. (I did not know it yet, but I will know much more of these buffets in the next months, and while I considered them binge-worthy back home, I will eventually prefer them to the regular American-serving-size restaurants.)
I tried to look for a McDonald's, but California is so spread out it took me until well into a day of driving to find one. You disappoint me, America. Boo. :|
Much of the two weeks we spent in California was spent at factory outlet stores (where my aunt bought me two fabulously tiny skirts, one of which I mistakenly thought to wear in Times Square--the real one,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jaig ;P--on a windy day), two malls, and nearly every theme park God allowed be built along the California fault line.
Fun Fact #1: We lived a couple of blocks away from Knotts' Berry Farm, and I never even stepped foot in it.
We did go to Universal, California Adventure Park and Disneysomething, and Las Vegas, which counts. Duh.
Pride be damned, it was SPIDERMAN! *facepalm* Shut up, my legs aren't short and pudgy, my pants were just exceptionally long. In a skirt, they're beautiful. Apparently. According to a New Yorker. Who stopped me on the street. Probably on a dare. :|
It's fascinating how, on the trip, there were so many illusions.
Oh, Vegas. My father and brother made me walk the whole length of the Strip. If my mother were with us she'd never have let them speak of such a vile, evil deed.
A sign in Hollywood, go figure. How difficult would it be to figure out where the upper floors were? :|
At the Universal Studios tour. Welcome to Whatever Drive. Props to whoever guesses where this house comes from, and no, looking at the filename does not count. :P
There was also a three-day bus tour that my aunt and cousin signed us up for, so we could go to San Francisco, Gay City.
Fun Fact #2: To explore Gay City, do not go on a tour bus owned by a Chinese company, because you'll only end up in Chinatown for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
The best I got out of SF being a gay area was when our nice tour guide, Charles, told us that Castro Street was the "HOOOOMOsexual area". *cries*
But hurrah for the Golden Gate Bridge! We took a ferry to come see it closer as part of the tour, and that was when, after days of successfully coming out of Universal's and Disney's water rides as dry as the Sahara, karma tapped me on the shoulder and drenched me in seawater when I turned to look.
It's a city something. :| I forget what, but my dad forced me and my brother out of the bus into the cold San Francisco morning to take plenty of pictures.
It's funnier out of context, so I won't give you the context.
(It was also here in California, at the earlier leg of our trip, when I figured out that I HAD to STOP EATING FRIES.
I mean, seriously. Greasy, thick fries with every serving of food? If it isn't fries, it's mashed potatoes or baked potatoes, and, nooooo. I love fries, but face it: they're bad in excess. Eventually I ended up looking at the menus for something that DIDN'T serve a side of potatoes, something that didn't leave me a lot of options :|, but trust me on this one: Stay AWAY from the fries.)
New York
I'll not lie, but New York was definitely the part of the trip that I'd been looking forward to most of all, primarily because I'd been planning on watching Rent in Broadway, even THOUGH we missed the 10th anniversary original cast performance by two days. We, of course, had to visit the mandatory tourist spots first, so for the first few days we stood in line for the Empire State Building (longer than usual, because we'd arrived at the queue JUST AS DRAMA WAS APPARENTLY UNFOLDING WAAAAY above the observation deck--I cannot believe we missed this by an hour.), the Statue of Liberty (which, as a well-meaning friend of my dad pointed out, is "a popular landmark in New York". :| Thank you. We're tourists, not idiots.), and Atlantic City, New Jersey. Haha.
Unlike California, we weren't dependent on cars: my godfather took us around by subway. LIKE California, we were dependent on our resident tour guide: the subway lines are so complex that we HAD to always stick with him wherever we went. :|
It didn't matter much, as I almost squealed when I saw the subway. RENNNNNT.
The godfather also took us to Times Square on our first night for a teaser. What girl wouldn't get excitedand greedy?
We were in New York from Thursday to Thursday, exactly a week. I waited patiently for Broadway musicals until finally, after Lady Liberty and the Empire State and a sudden two-day trip to the East Coast's Las Vegas, my godfather went to buy discounted tickets for Rent on Tuesday morning, while my family and I were coming home from New Jersey.
The phone rings!
AND my godfather, who is sadly not as cool as Sirius, informs me that despite what was written in the Broadway schedule, Rent was not going to have a Tuesday performance, and the Wednesday performance--our last day in the city--was sold out because it was for a benefit.
"Oh. Does Avenue Q still have available tickets?"
This is the good thing about back-ups. :| Yes, Avenue Q had tickets, and while my dad and brother went on to watch Hairspray, which apparently had Diana Degarmo in it, I waited for an hour until they let people into the theater for my puppet musical, though I did not wait unproductively.
I asked my godfather if we could go to the Gershwin Theater, which was where Wicked was showing, so I could spend at least a few minutes tormenting myself and looking longingly at the people who'd managed to book their tickets early enough to sell out the whole Broadway run of Wicked. (Bitter? Who, me?) He agreed, and the theater was gorgeous and I asked some personnel where I could ask for tickets.
He says "Over there, ma'am, but I doubt you'll find any more tickets."
I might have pouted, but I went anyway and asked, just to be certain, because I have that insane habit of needing to be sure before assuming anything, which was, as it turned out, a fantastic thing, because hey guess what?
They had good seats for the Wednesday performances of Wicked.
That was the happiest $110 I ever spent on anything. :|
Avenue Q was even more hilarious than just its soundtrack, and because I sat at the aisle, Nicky managed to give me a big warm puppet hug during The Money Song, which is just the icing on top of my happy New York Cake, really. I come out of the theater in fantastic spirits and wait for my dad and brother to come pick me up so we could go home.
Dad had a different idea, though. The theater beside mine was running Three Days of Rain, which is Julia Roberts' Broadway debut, and my dad insisted that we be part of the crowd forming across the street, waiting to catch a glimpse of her leave the theater.
It was a story, I figured, so I readied my camera along with fifty other people and my dad and we waited for Julia Roberts to come out. It took her forty-five minutes, but finally, the door opened and she stepped out, and waiting in the cold was SO worth this:
Because two seconds after she opened the door and her head popped into view, a big yellow bus rolls into the street and STOPS RIGHT THERE. Oh, sweet irony.
Everyone on the other side of the street was visibly upset, but my dad the hero braved late-night New York traffic and tried valiantly to get unblocked shots, so I could stay in my corner and laugh at the irony. :|
The next day, Wednesday, my dad and godfather decided to go to New Jersey for boring business, so they left me and my brother in Times Square to fend for ourselves. :| This was about the time my brother and I decided to split up (because they were going to watch Lestat and I had Wicked for the matinee showings) and I was accosted before I crossed a street by this man who stopped me to tell me I had great legs. Hah.
Oh, and Wicked was awesome. Different from the book, and they took plenty of liberties rearranging bits and pieces to make it flow into a musical, but I liked how they redid it, and the set was amazing and Glinda was so blonde and Eden Espinosa was a pretty decent Elphaba, so I really couldn't complain that I had to pay for that show myself.
I met up my dad, brother, and godfather after their show (Lestat included the bits with Nicholas, apparently, whee) and they proceeded to inform me that we were going to head over to the Lincoln Center to see David Blaine.
What?
David Blaine. Prior to his drowning act thing.
I hadn't even heard of that, but apprently we got there in time for his seven-day endurance period thing. Huh. Crazy man.
After Lincoln Center, I dragged everyone else to the Borders store (Have I mentioned I became a Borders Rewards member in NYC? Well, I did.) in the Time Warner Building (no proper names for now, lol) because I'd found out that very day, through a quick check in my flist when my brother and I went to a net cafe in Times Square, that there was a PostSecret discussion and signing at 7pm.
Yeah, I could hardly believe it too.
Fun Fact #3: Yes, everything happens in New York. No, you do not see everything that happens in New York. On this eventful Wednesday, apparently, Tom Cruise showed up for the MI3 premiere in 54th Street. While we were in 51st.
I sat front row and almost-center, beside this nice girl named Jenny, who taught kinder and was from Alberta, Canada, and I had to buy a thirty-dollar book but I got a photo with Frank Warren and he read us his secret, which is in the book, and when I got home, I decided really couldn't have had more fun in New York.
Chicago
My cousin didn't really live in Chicago. He lived in Woodstock, which is one Illinois town away from Wisconsin, so when we came to Illinois we only actually intentionally went to the city once for nearly a day, to see the Sears Tower (which I'd never actually heard of, pardon my ignorance) and the Millenium Park and also to meet up with my friend, who'd been staying in the city with his sister since before I even got to the US, and twice for convenience: once after we'd dropped my other cousin off at the airport and we decided to drive through the city to see the fog-covered skyling, and once more to wait for godmothers who got lost for two hours and a half before they could take us away from the cold cold windy city to warm food and warmer houses.
The Millenium Park had this bean-shaped thing in the middle. It was weird and funky and clearly very random.
It also made for a kick-ass mirror. ;)
In one of our incidental trips to Chicago, we also happened to pass by the Navy Pier, and we walked around trying to find the nice sparkly shiny ferris wheel that had caught everyone's attention, though once again, as a lesson in irony, we arrived at 8:00pm, right after they closed the ferris wheel for the night.
My nephews were happier before they found this out. (That's my dad in the background, trying to take pictures with his kick-ass new 6.0 megapixel, 3x optical zoom Canon digital camera, which ALL OF US (brother, me, and cousin) all insisted he'd never use because he happens to like his pictures developed. Inexpensively.)
The little boys got tired after a while and had to be carried back to the car by their daddy.
On the second incidental trip to the city, I rode the Woodstock-Chicago train with just my dad and my brother, who was very, very tired.
This is my dad's fault, though. HE started taking pictures, and we, evil beings that we were, carried on for thirty more minutes taking even MORE pictures while my brother snored peacefully on, blissfully unaware. My dad and I, see, we're really the mature ones in the family. :|
My brother wasn't as amused as I was that we ended up riding Cab No. 1337 either. :|
My dad made it a point to take a photo of me and my brother standing in front of the Wisconsin state sign.
I grumbled and protested and froze in the cold, but this is apparently Gaiman Country, so now it's better.
We visited this place called Holy Hill twice because the first time we went there, my dad hadn't been able to come along. Old classmates who now lived in the Chicago area abducted him from us, you see. On the first visit we rode on my cousin's sports car, and on the second we brought along practically the whole family, so no sports cars for us, which is just as well.
Fun Fact #4: Riding down the road with the top down is only glamorous in the movies. The wind totally messes up your hair, ponytailed or not, and it hurts the eyes. :|
One of the boys got pretty sick, though, and as soon as the mini-van stopped moving he threw up his breakfast. My cousin cleaned him up in the bathroom of the sacred place, took off his clothes (he vomited everywhere), and made him wear his daddy's extra jacket.
No, Ethan, Luke Skywalker is taller than you. I'd say you're more Yoda-ish. Yes, Ethan, Yoda is a Jedi too. Now pose for your Auntie.
We took dad up to the chapel and down to the original cross that they had on the Church, and right before we left the place, Ethan's younger brother put to plan his devious scheme and promptly wet himself.
My poor, poor cousin. He took Ezau to the bathroom, removed his clothes, and made him wear mommy's extra jacket.
Okay, Darth Maul, give me your best scary face and no, no. Don't kill Yoda just yet.
Randomly: My nephew is so adorable. And tiny. But adorable.
Anyway, the rest of the days, after we'd gone to Wisconsin (and the Holy Hill) and Minnesota (and the Mall of America), we pretty much settled into a routine of waking up late in the day, playing Batman with the nephews (they had a little less-than-a-year-old sister too, but she's too small to play), going to Borders (which showered me with coupons, GOD I love America :|), renting a movie for the night, and sleeping late, until eventually we had to go home.
I tried to imagine what kind of person would have this kind of luggage at the airport, after I tried to imagine what kind of airport thought it clever to use that bag as a friendly public service announcement.
I'd been looking forward to the vacation, actually, but contrary to popular misconceptions, taking holidays does not mean leaving all sorts of issues behind.
In fact, I took plenty of baggage with me.
California
My aunt (aka Dad's Baby Sister) and her husband picked us up from LAX (whe?) and drove us for miles and miles on end until we came to an Asian buffet, where we had lunch. (I did not know it yet, but I will know much more of these buffets in the next months, and while I considered them binge-worthy back home, I will eventually prefer them to the regular American-serving-size restaurants.)
I tried to look for a McDonald's, but California is so spread out it took me until well into a day of driving to find one. You disappoint me, America. Boo. :|
Much of the two weeks we spent in California was spent at factory outlet stores (where my aunt bought me two fabulously tiny skirts, one of which I mistakenly thought to wear in Times Square--the real one,
jaig ;P--on a windy day), two malls, and nearly every theme park God allowed be built along the California fault line.Fun Fact #1: We lived a couple of blocks away from Knotts' Berry Farm, and I never even stepped foot in it.
We did go to Universal, California Adventure Park and Disneysomething, and Las Vegas, which counts. Duh.
Pride be damned, it was SPIDERMAN! *facepalm* Shut up, my legs aren't short and pudgy, my pants were just exceptionally long. In a skirt, they're beautiful. Apparently. According to a New Yorker. Who stopped me on the street. Probably on a dare. :|
It's fascinating how, on the trip, there were so many illusions.
Oh, Vegas. My father and brother made me walk the whole length of the Strip. If my mother were with us she'd never have let them speak of such a vile, evil deed.
A sign in Hollywood, go figure. How difficult would it be to figure out where the upper floors were? :|
At the Universal Studios tour. Welcome to Whatever Drive. Props to whoever guesses where this house comes from, and no, looking at the filename does not count. :P
There was also a three-day bus tour that my aunt and cousin signed us up for, so we could go to San Francisco, Gay City.
Fun Fact #2: To explore Gay City, do not go on a tour bus owned by a Chinese company, because you'll only end up in Chinatown for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
The best I got out of SF being a gay area was when our nice tour guide, Charles, told us that Castro Street was the "HOOOOMOsexual area". *cries*
But hurrah for the Golden Gate Bridge! We took a ferry to come see it closer as part of the tour, and that was when, after days of successfully coming out of Universal's and Disney's water rides as dry as the Sahara, karma tapped me on the shoulder and drenched me in seawater when I turned to look.
It's a city something. :| I forget what, but my dad forced me and my brother out of the bus into the cold San Francisco morning to take plenty of pictures.
It's funnier out of context, so I won't give you the context.
(It was also here in California, at the earlier leg of our trip, when I figured out that I HAD to STOP EATING FRIES.
I mean, seriously. Greasy, thick fries with every serving of food? If it isn't fries, it's mashed potatoes or baked potatoes, and, nooooo. I love fries, but face it: they're bad in excess. Eventually I ended up looking at the menus for something that DIDN'T serve a side of potatoes, something that didn't leave me a lot of options :|, but trust me on this one: Stay AWAY from the fries.)
New York
I'll not lie, but New York was definitely the part of the trip that I'd been looking forward to most of all, primarily because I'd been planning on watching Rent in Broadway, even THOUGH we missed the 10th anniversary original cast performance by two days. We, of course, had to visit the mandatory tourist spots first, so for the first few days we stood in line for the Empire State Building (longer than usual, because we'd arrived at the queue JUST AS DRAMA WAS APPARENTLY UNFOLDING WAAAAY above the observation deck--I cannot believe we missed this by an hour.), the Statue of Liberty (which, as a well-meaning friend of my dad pointed out, is "a popular landmark in New York". :| Thank you. We're tourists, not idiots.), and Atlantic City, New Jersey. Haha.
Unlike California, we weren't dependent on cars: my godfather took us around by subway. LIKE California, we were dependent on our resident tour guide: the subway lines are so complex that we HAD to always stick with him wherever we went. :|
It didn't matter much, as I almost squealed when I saw the subway. RENNNNNT.
The godfather also took us to Times Square on our first night for a teaser. What girl wouldn't get excited
We were in New York from Thursday to Thursday, exactly a week. I waited patiently for Broadway musicals until finally, after Lady Liberty and the Empire State and a sudden two-day trip to the East Coast's Las Vegas, my godfather went to buy discounted tickets for Rent on Tuesday morning, while my family and I were coming home from New Jersey.
The phone rings!
AND my godfather, who is sadly not as cool as Sirius, informs me that despite what was written in the Broadway schedule, Rent was not going to have a Tuesday performance, and the Wednesday performance--our last day in the city--was sold out because it was for a benefit.
"Oh. Does Avenue Q still have available tickets?"
This is the good thing about back-ups. :| Yes, Avenue Q had tickets, and while my dad and brother went on to watch Hairspray, which apparently had Diana Degarmo in it, I waited for an hour until they let people into the theater for my puppet musical, though I did not wait unproductively.
I asked my godfather if we could go to the Gershwin Theater, which was where Wicked was showing, so I could spend at least a few minutes tormenting myself and looking longingly at the people who'd managed to book their tickets early enough to sell out the whole Broadway run of Wicked. (Bitter? Who, me?) He agreed, and the theater was gorgeous and I asked some personnel where I could ask for tickets.
He says "Over there, ma'am, but I doubt you'll find any more tickets."
I might have pouted, but I went anyway and asked, just to be certain, because I have that insane habit of needing to be sure before assuming anything, which was, as it turned out, a fantastic thing, because hey guess what?
They had good seats for the Wednesday performances of Wicked.
That was the happiest $110 I ever spent on anything. :|
Avenue Q was even more hilarious than just its soundtrack, and because I sat at the aisle, Nicky managed to give me a big warm puppet hug during The Money Song, which is just the icing on top of my happy New York Cake, really. I come out of the theater in fantastic spirits and wait for my dad and brother to come pick me up so we could go home.
Dad had a different idea, though. The theater beside mine was running Three Days of Rain, which is Julia Roberts' Broadway debut, and my dad insisted that we be part of the crowd forming across the street, waiting to catch a glimpse of her leave the theater.
It was a story, I figured, so I readied my camera along with fifty other people and my dad and we waited for Julia Roberts to come out. It took her forty-five minutes, but finally, the door opened and she stepped out, and waiting in the cold was SO worth this:
Because two seconds after she opened the door and her head popped into view, a big yellow bus rolls into the street and STOPS RIGHT THERE. Oh, sweet irony.
Everyone on the other side of the street was visibly upset, but my dad the hero braved late-night New York traffic and tried valiantly to get unblocked shots, so I could stay in my corner and laugh at the irony. :|
The next day, Wednesday, my dad and godfather decided to go to New Jersey for boring business, so they left me and my brother in Times Square to fend for ourselves. :| This was about the time my brother and I decided to split up (because they were going to watch Lestat and I had Wicked for the matinee showings) and I was accosted before I crossed a street by this man who stopped me to tell me I had great legs. Hah.
Oh, and Wicked was awesome. Different from the book, and they took plenty of liberties rearranging bits and pieces to make it flow into a musical, but I liked how they redid it, and the set was amazing and Glinda was so blonde and Eden Espinosa was a pretty decent Elphaba, so I really couldn't complain that I had to pay for that show myself.
I met up my dad, brother, and godfather after their show (Lestat included the bits with Nicholas, apparently, whee) and they proceeded to inform me that we were going to head over to the Lincoln Center to see David Blaine.
What?
David Blaine. Prior to his drowning act thing.
I hadn't even heard of that, but apprently we got there in time for his seven-day endurance period thing. Huh. Crazy man.
After Lincoln Center, I dragged everyone else to the Borders store (Have I mentioned I became a Borders Rewards member in NYC? Well, I did.) in the Time Warner Building (no proper names for now, lol) because I'd found out that very day, through a quick check in my flist when my brother and I went to a net cafe in Times Square, that there was a PostSecret discussion and signing at 7pm.
Yeah, I could hardly believe it too.
Fun Fact #3: Yes, everything happens in New York. No, you do not see everything that happens in New York. On this eventful Wednesday, apparently, Tom Cruise showed up for the MI3 premiere in 54th Street. While we were in 51st.
I sat front row and almost-center, beside this nice girl named Jenny, who taught kinder and was from Alberta, Canada, and I had to buy a thirty-dollar book but I got a photo with Frank Warren and he read us his secret, which is in the book, and when I got home, I decided really couldn't have had more fun in New York.
Chicago
My cousin didn't really live in Chicago. He lived in Woodstock, which is one Illinois town away from Wisconsin, so when we came to Illinois we only actually intentionally went to the city once for nearly a day, to see the Sears Tower (which I'd never actually heard of, pardon my ignorance) and the Millenium Park and also to meet up with my friend, who'd been staying in the city with his sister since before I even got to the US, and twice for convenience: once after we'd dropped my other cousin off at the airport and we decided to drive through the city to see the fog-covered skyling, and once more to wait for godmothers who got lost for two hours and a half before they could take us away from the cold cold windy city to warm food and warmer houses.
The Millenium Park had this bean-shaped thing in the middle. It was weird and funky and clearly very random.
It also made for a kick-ass mirror. ;)
In one of our incidental trips to Chicago, we also happened to pass by the Navy Pier, and we walked around trying to find the nice sparkly shiny ferris wheel that had caught everyone's attention, though once again, as a lesson in irony, we arrived at 8:00pm, right after they closed the ferris wheel for the night.
My nephews were happier before they found this out. (That's my dad in the background, trying to take pictures with his kick-ass new 6.0 megapixel, 3x optical zoom Canon digital camera, which ALL OF US (brother, me, and cousin) all insisted he'd never use because he happens to like his pictures developed. Inexpensively.)
The little boys got tired after a while and had to be carried back to the car by their daddy.
On the second incidental trip to the city, I rode the Woodstock-Chicago train with just my dad and my brother, who was very, very tired.
This is my dad's fault, though. HE started taking pictures, and we, evil beings that we were, carried on for thirty more minutes taking even MORE pictures while my brother snored peacefully on, blissfully unaware. My dad and I, see, we're really the mature ones in the family. :|
My brother wasn't as amused as I was that we ended up riding Cab No. 1337 either. :|
My dad made it a point to take a photo of me and my brother standing in front of the Wisconsin state sign.
I grumbled and protested and froze in the cold, but this is apparently Gaiman Country, so now it's better.
We visited this place called Holy Hill twice because the first time we went there, my dad hadn't been able to come along. Old classmates who now lived in the Chicago area abducted him from us, you see. On the first visit we rode on my cousin's sports car, and on the second we brought along practically the whole family, so no sports cars for us, which is just as well.
Fun Fact #4: Riding down the road with the top down is only glamorous in the movies. The wind totally messes up your hair, ponytailed or not, and it hurts the eyes. :|
One of the boys got pretty sick, though, and as soon as the mini-van stopped moving he threw up his breakfast. My cousin cleaned him up in the bathroom of the sacred place, took off his clothes (he vomited everywhere), and made him wear his daddy's extra jacket.
No, Ethan, Luke Skywalker is taller than you. I'd say you're more Yoda-ish. Yes, Ethan, Yoda is a Jedi too. Now pose for your Auntie.
We took dad up to the chapel and down to the original cross that they had on the Church, and right before we left the place, Ethan's younger brother put to plan his devious scheme and promptly wet himself.
My poor, poor cousin. He took Ezau to the bathroom, removed his clothes, and made him wear mommy's extra jacket.
Okay, Darth Maul, give me your best scary face and no, no. Don't kill Yoda just yet.
Randomly: My nephew is so adorable. And tiny. But adorable.
Anyway, the rest of the days, after we'd gone to Wisconsin (and the Holy Hill) and Minnesota (and the Mall of America), we pretty much settled into a routine of waking up late in the day, playing Batman with the nephews (they had a little less-than-a-year-old sister too, but she's too small to play), going to Borders (which showered me with coupons, GOD I love America :|), renting a movie for the night, and sleeping late, until eventually we had to go home.
I tried to imagine what kind of person would have this kind of luggage at the airport, after I tried to imagine what kind of airport thought it clever to use that bag as a friendly public service announcement.
