Long Island New York, Tuesday Jan 20

I wake up for my interview around 7 after falling asleep at 1am. I groggily head to the bathroom to jump in the shower, only to find the door to the bedroom adjacent to the bathroom (restroom is wedged between two bedrooms) propped open with a man passed out on the bed. I quickly shut the door and look for a lock, only to find that it is horrifyingly missing from the door knob. The entire shower is rushed as I can’t help but fear this guy walking in at any point.

I decide I’ve had enough of this place but shelf it for the time being so I can get to my interview without a glitch. As I am getting ready I accidentally bump a sword, and it threatens to fall on me from above. Yup, definitely done. I pack up all of my stuff and head out to interview from 10-2. Following the interview, I post up at a Starbucks frantically looking for a decent hotel in the area. I find one, but it takes about 3 hours of tense calls to my host, Air B&B, and driving to the place before I’m all settled in.

Sword on the right nearly took my life

My new hotel is lovely and includes a pool and a gym, both which sound perfect considering the experience I’ve had over the past 24 hours. I head down for a work out and a swim and by the end I’m pretty beat. I sleepily head out for food, and end up buying salads and beer at the local Trader Joe’s and heading home for some good old fashioned quiet time. I drink beer in the bath while watching the Bachelor, and it’s the perfect end to the day.

Long Island New York, Monday January 19

Poor Howard. It’s 4:30am and the guy is carting me to the airport again. It’s a good thing he loves me J I spent the weekend celebrating Kristen’s bachelorette party with her in Temecula on Saturday. The group wine tasted and ate lunch together, but much to my dismay I kept away from the wine so that I could drive home that night. The trek back to Oakland took about 7 hours, and I was knocking on Howard’s door by 10pm. We spent an awesome Sunday together eating breakfast out and hiking, and now here we are at the crack of dawn getting ready to say goodbye again for another week.

Kristen (3rd from left) bachelorette party

Hiking in Oakland 

 Now, I realize it may be hard to empathize with someone who is about to visit New York and Honolulu in one week. That’s cool. BUT this travel is starting to get to me. I have seen some incredible places, met up with friends all over the country, and networked professionally with some very on the ball folks. And still, at the end of the day, greasy breakfast at a dingy diner and a long hike in one of Oakland’s many beautiful parks calms my innards in a way that the excitement of traveling just doesn’t. I’ve never thought of myself as a homebody, but I’m learning a lot through this process and I’ve learned that I really do appreciate the grounding that only home provides. Oh man, I’m getting old.

So the airport…Long flight during which I pretty much just sleep. Wake up in JFK around 3:30pm and rent a car to travel to Centerport, New York, which is on Long Island. Prior to this trip, I had heard poor things about Long Island (“Guido culture,” or Jersey Shore-type horror stories). However, my experience driving the streets is different. Everything is here: stores, groceries, beach, and small towns. It’s basically a suburb of New York, and reminds me a bit of Oakland (with a lot less personality).

I arrive at the Air B&B around 6pm. My host Kay meets me after picking up Boey (yes, that is his name), another guest staying at the house this evening. By the way, the house is on Bittersweet Ct. So I’m staying at Bittersweet Ct. with Boey. This should have been my first clue. The Air B&B ad had admittedly been a bit quirky, and I figured I would just have a good story at the end of it. Kay’s rates were much lower than the surrounding area (probably another clue), and she had several great reviews. I knew the house would be shared, but figured that the housemates were simply roommates.

WRONG. Upon arrival, Kay (thick Long Island accent, painting attire, pressured speech), buzzes around and tells me about the Meetup group she runs (“I’m having a gathering tonight, kinda like the opposite of a support group”), the displaced children she takes in from Long Island (“we have a big problem with kids getting abandoned by their parents here”), and the men she is allowing to stay in the house in exchange for their construction services (“they are building a bed for the room you were going to be staying in, but I upgraded you to the best spot in the house”).

The “upgrade” is to the “Medieval Room,” one of the many fine features mentioned in the ad. Before I go into the room I should probably set the stage with a general description of the house: front door opens to a home-constructed, wooden library with Game of Thrones (is that a record? A book?) proudly displayed on the most prominent shelf. The smell of incense nearly chars my nostrils. Full-length curtains are drawn to invite guests into hallways (“I’ll close the curtain tonight, and that will signal the group to remain quiet and know you are here”). There’s an “artist room” with loud mural paintings, a fake tree with ornaments/glitter hanging in it, several hoola hoops, dim lighting, and a guitar (“there’s a stage there, where we do open mic once a month”).

And now, the Medieval Room. Sigh. Trellised wooden bed (“my ex boyfriend once split his head on these wooden beams and got 20 stitches- don’t run into it in the morning”), Egyptian pharaohs statues (medieval?), a rope hanging from the vanity, and SEVERAL WEAPONS (double edged swords, literally, and a vast array of other sword varietals). The weapons are proudly displayed and are hanging from strong magnets that are posted to the walls. Over everything, there is a thick layer of dust.

"Medieval" decor

The queen's bed

 I inquire about the unusual room, and which point Kay stops to pause for the first time in the 20 minutes I have been there. She tears up and explains that her 20-something year old son, who DIED IN SEPTEMBER, owned these things in this room WHERE I AM STAYING. She loved him. Now, I’m one to roll with the punches and find humor in bizarre situations. So, in no time I was texting my friends in California about this experience. But I also had the good sense to get the hell out of that house for a few hours.

I make my way to The Lark, a brewery Kay recommends that turns out to be surprisingly good. I eat an amazing burger and fries and taste some delicious craft beer. I run a couple errands and make my way back to the halfway house. I creep in as quietly as possible, and see the curtain to the hallway drawn back as promised. Through the curtain I hear “Megan, is that you?” and think, OMG it’s Kay’s dead son.  Luckily, it’s just Boey wanting some company. We chat for a bit, and I learn he’s an Army reservist from the Bay Area looking at medical school programs in Northport. We could end up working at the same VA one day. Weird. I find him a bit self-involved and dominating and decide my tolerance for him is short after about an hour. I head into the dark abyss that is my room for the evening, and fall asleep late (I wonder why?)

Los Angeles, Friday January 16

All I have is a phone interview at 2pm today, and I can’t wait to have a day off to relax. I already have plans for this sunny day. Kristen, a dear friend whom I met at UCSD, is engaged and she and her fiancé Mark both work, so they are gone by the time I wake up. Their place is awesomely located in walking distance to the beaches of Redondo Beach, a sweet Southern California coastal community.

Kristen informed me the night before that the beach near her place has a cement walkway down the coast, and I can’t wait to take my roller skates out for a spin. It’s been years since I have skated, but this was a regular activity while living in San Diego for five years. I loved gliding down the cement walkways jamming out to my Walkman (okay, just kidding- I probably had a Nokia phone, although I’m not remember at the moment). Today I have my iPhone and am ready to rock.

Within about 10 minutes of skating I realize I am no longer my 22 year old self. Skating is a hard workout! I’m huffing and puffing pretty early in, and it doesn’t help that the weather is a perfect 75 degrees. I can’t stop smiling though, this feels like an amazing break from planes and medical centers. I stop to sit on a bench near the Redondo Pier, a bustling touristy area full of fried food and ice cream. I’m flooded with positive memories of warm summers (eh, warm all the times) in San Diego, and am also reminded of Santa Cruz, one of my favorite places in California.

I change back into my tennis shoes and slurge on a seafood lunch at a place where I have a clear view of the bay and the sourdough bread is on point. Sourdough bread and blue cheese dressing are two signs of a quality seafood restaurant in my book. This day really couldn’t get much better.

I roll my eyes as I huff and puff back for my phone interview, which luckily only lasts an hour. I take off from there and travel North to meet some other friends from UCSD for dinner. It takes me nearly 3 hours to travel about, oh, 40 miles in LA. God bless the place. I pull off the freeway simply to get off the freeway and allow my GPS to recalibrate, and I randomly catch sunset over some fancy valley in a neighborhood where I’m pretty positive celebrities live. Sometimes detours are the best parts of drives.

Redondo Beach, CA

Pretending to be 22

Redondo Pier- ate lunch here

I end up in a diverse ethnic neighborhood full of Asian, Indian, and Latino cuisine, and have no idea where I’m going. I eventually meet Kim, who I haven’t seen since graduating nearly 10 years ago (whoa!), and Melissa, both friends who I was on staff with as an RA at UCSD. We catch up on life over amazingly authentic (and reasonable!) Thai food and then head to the Republic of Pie for some dessert. Yes, Republic of Pie truly is as ridiculous as it sounds. Kim orders the Chocolate Banana Bread Pie which looks more like a piece of art than pie. It tastes just as good.

Chocolate banana bread pie- tasted as good as it looks

Melissa and I head back to her house in Glendale, where we stay up chatting until the wee hours of the night. Being around old friends is good for my soul. I start to think about how important social support is. People truly do make a place. I also take a minute to appreciate the diverse array of experiences that LA has offered me over the course of one day. I begin to wonder if LA is slowly courting me with the charm that exists underneath the smog and traffic…

Dallas to Los Angeles, Thursday Jan 15

On my drive from the hotel to the interview, I pass a visibly contrasting difference in socioeconomic status among the Dallas residents. In some neighborhoods, I pass parks, gun ranges, schools- things that let me know the local economy is thriving J In other neighborhoods, I pass lots full of possibly vacant trailers, run-down fast food joints, and bars on windows. I also notice a diverse array of racial and ethnic backgrounds. Dallas is starting to intrigue me a bit. Plus, that burrito last night was really good, and burrito quality will be an important part of my decision-making process when it comes time to rank these places.  

Dallas skyline from a distance

The 8-hour interview in Dallas goes really well. What is with these Southern sites?!?! I swear the people are trying to lure to the Bible Belt, and they are succeeding. Southern hospitality is real, I will say that. I appreciate the chivalry (and the gas prices- $1.7!) that exists in this part of the country. I also recognize that if I looked different, I might not be received so openly.

I make it to the airport just in time to hop a plane back to LA, and arrive around 7pm. Kristen and her fiancé Mark are awake this time, and welcome me with warm brownies and a glass of red wine. I really do have amazing friends. We catch up on life (I haven’t seen Kristen in several years, and have never met Mark), and it feels amazing to sit on a couch with my feet up and visit with old friends. If there is one positive thing about this wild process, it’s been getting to visit and catch up with old friends all over the country. I’m sure there are more positive aspects, but I’m too tired to think of them all at that moment- and I’m too busy enjoying the brownie.

Los Angeles to Dallas, Wednesday Jan 14

I wake up early anticipating the drive in LA morning traffic. My GPS estimates that a 20 mile drive will take me 45 minutes; I double that and give myself nearly an hour and a half. It’s 65 degrees at 7:30, and the sun is shining bright. I can see the ocean in the distance now that there’s light, and drive through a sea of strip malls, chain restaurants, and sunglass-ed humans on my way to the freeway. I hit the freeway and immediately know that this commute could prove difficult; traffic is stop-and-go (mostly stop), and my GPS continues to add expected time onto my journey.

The interview starts at 9am, and at 8:45am I am calling the Training Director to let her know that I am a victim of LA motor vehicle sharkery. I leave a message and hope for the best. After parking in the paid garage, I arrive at the interview over 20 minutes late. The Training Director is gracious and jokes that they should warn interns to double their commute time.

After the interview, I travel back to LAX yet again to hop a plane to Dallas Texas. I’ve decided that I will be taking a break from changing in airports for a long while after this process. Still, I am happy to have my car this week to act as storage in between flights. I am able to condense my things down to a backpack and a garment bag for these tiny out-of-state excursions. I am also learning how to pack more efficiently than I ever have before.

I arrive in Dallas at nearly 10pm and again have rented a car. One car rental man warns me that Dallas is full of toll roads that do not accept cash or credit for fees (they operate on a Fastrak-like system, and if rentals run through they, the charge is absurd). He hands me a map a says “good luck.” The second car rental guy attempts to hit on me, but fails miserably.

I set out on the road and notice that Dallas looks like a mini Las Vegas at night from both the plane and the ground (is that a Trump tower?!? It looks like the Emerald City). Frankly, I am not so thrilled to be in Texas, but I try to remain open-minded and allow it to win me over. But when I get to the area where my hotel is, I am surrounded by several Gentlemen’s Clubs, “massage parlors,” and fast food restaurants. This place certainly isn’t winning me over.

In all of my travels, Dallas was the most expensive city for both hotels and car rentals (nearly double the price when compared to other major metropolises). I found a semi-reasonable hotel semi-close to the VA, but now I see why. I’m super hungry and find the one late night Mexican spot that looks acceptable enough to run into and out of, and I’m out of there in a flash.

The hotel parking lot includes several lifted trucks. I check in with the front desk woman, who looks like she’s seen better days. I wonder if she used to work in the industry around here; if so, I’m happy for her that she got out. She’s super sweet and invites me to use the pool if I’d like despite it being after hours. I regret not bringing my suit, but am also looking forward to watching bad reality TV in my room.

I take the elevator up to the third floor with a middle-aged cowboy who kindly lets me off first. It occurs to me that it’s late, we are on the same floor of the hotel, and there is no opening to the main hotel lobby (aka no one to hear me scream if he attacks me). I immediately turn and walk in the opposite direction of him until I hear him enter his room. I then travel back to my own room, which is next-ish to his.

This is the second night in a row I’ve eaten a burrito after 10pm, watched bad TV, and fallen hard asleep in something between a food coma and pure, delirious exhaustion. I’m fine with that.

LAX

This is my "I don't want to leave this weather" face

Dallas from above

Cool artwork in the Love Field airport