For those interested in my unscientific survey, I passed 71 cars between Bismarck and Fargo (exit 346). Rules established for counting: (1) cars parked on the side of the highway, including police and the car pulled over, count. (2) cars that pass me don’t count.
It was Friday afternoon, 1 pm local time when I started. Man, that weekend traffic is a killer.
(P.S. Earlier in the morning before I left, I met the governor.)
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Blind Date in Bismarck (Follow-Up)
CC called the day after the mediocre date, though my sucktacular phone service just went straight to voicemail. CC then called the next day and also texted to make sure that I got the voicemail. I called him back and we chatted for a bit, and he asked if I’d like to have dinner the next night because it was the only night he had free before I left to go back to Michigan for Christmas. I said sure… again, a girl’s gotta’ eat.
The next day when we made plans, the two options he gave me for dinner were a diner or a pizza place. After consulting with my co-workers about the quality of the pizza and receiving the response that the pizza was pretty good but the atmosphere was “less than romantic”, I texted back that pizza sounded great.
The pizza place was one where you place your order at the counter and then go sit down and they bring the pizza out to you. CC and I discussed which toppings we liked on pizza and decided to go with the house special.
CC: “We’ll take a small house special.”
CC: Turning to me, “Wait, do you think that will be enough?”
Jen: Incredulously and out loud, “Um, no.”
CC: “You’re right. Ok, we’ll take a medium house special.”
Jen: Silently in head - “WHAT??? The large!!! The large is like $1 more than the medium. Who doesn’t order the large pizza??? If I was ordering a pizza for just myself I would order the large. Pizza leftovers are hardly leftovers at all, they practically taste just the same as the original meal. WHO DOESN’T ORDER THE LARGE????!!!!”
Middle of date: insert random and mundane mediocrity here.
End of date: Jen has eaten her half of the medium pizza. CC has eaten all but one piece. CC gets up to leave.
Jen: “Aren’t you going to take that.”
CC: Without even a moment of hesitation, “I don’t have a dog.”
Jen: “Um, what?”
CC: “I don’t have a dog.”
Jen: “I have no idea what that means.”
CC: “A dog. I don’t have a dog, so there is no reason to take home one piece of pizza.”
Jen: “First, I don’t have a dog either, but I’m pretty sure that dogs don’t and/or shouldn’t be eating pizza, so I still don’t understand how not having a dog is relevant. Second, I don’t understand why YOU wouldn’t eat the pizza.”
CC: “It’s not worth the effort for one piece, but you can take it if you want.”
Jen: “Ok, I will.” And I did. And it was totally worth the effort in that I had that and a salad for dinner the next night.
Conclusion: WTF is wrong with this guy and food? He barely orders anything, and then he never finishes the meal. He clearly misunderstands the concept of a “doggie bag”. I’m beginning to wonder if he also misunderstands the concept of sarcasm.
Follow-up: He clearly likes me, and I may go on a third mediocre date because, 1: I’m new in town and don’t know many people, 2: I want to see if the third time is a charm or whether the freakish food ordering continues, and 3: a girl’s gotta’ eat.
The next day when we made plans, the two options he gave me for dinner were a diner or a pizza place. After consulting with my co-workers about the quality of the pizza and receiving the response that the pizza was pretty good but the atmosphere was “less than romantic”, I texted back that pizza sounded great.
The pizza place was one where you place your order at the counter and then go sit down and they bring the pizza out to you. CC and I discussed which toppings we liked on pizza and decided to go with the house special.
CC: “We’ll take a small house special.”
CC: Turning to me, “Wait, do you think that will be enough?”
Jen: Incredulously and out loud, “Um, no.”
CC: “You’re right. Ok, we’ll take a medium house special.”
Jen: Silently in head - “WHAT??? The large!!! The large is like $1 more than the medium. Who doesn’t order the large pizza??? If I was ordering a pizza for just myself I would order the large. Pizza leftovers are hardly leftovers at all, they practically taste just the same as the original meal. WHO DOESN’T ORDER THE LARGE????!!!!”
Middle of date: insert random and mundane mediocrity here.
End of date: Jen has eaten her half of the medium pizza. CC has eaten all but one piece. CC gets up to leave.
Jen: “Aren’t you going to take that.”
CC: Without even a moment of hesitation, “I don’t have a dog.”
Jen: “Um, what?”
CC: “I don’t have a dog.”
Jen: “I have no idea what that means.”
CC: “A dog. I don’t have a dog, so there is no reason to take home one piece of pizza.”
Jen: “First, I don’t have a dog either, but I’m pretty sure that dogs don’t and/or shouldn’t be eating pizza, so I still don’t understand how not having a dog is relevant. Second, I don’t understand why YOU wouldn’t eat the pizza.”
CC: “It’s not worth the effort for one piece, but you can take it if you want.”
Jen: “Ok, I will.” And I did. And it was totally worth the effort in that I had that and a salad for dinner the next night.
Conclusion: WTF is wrong with this guy and food? He barely orders anything, and then he never finishes the meal. He clearly misunderstands the concept of a “doggie bag”. I’m beginning to wonder if he also misunderstands the concept of sarcasm.
Follow-up: He clearly likes me, and I may go on a third mediocre date because, 1: I’m new in town and don’t know many people, 2: I want to see if the third time is a charm or whether the freakish food ordering continues, and 3: a girl’s gotta’ eat.
Blind Date in Bismarck
Sorry for the delay, my fans, but finally, the much anticipated blog posting… So, before I moved to North Dakota, I filled out an e-Harmony profile to investigate the quantity and quality of my dating possibilities. Since I thus far refuse to pay for a real account, during a free communication weekend, I began communicating with Courteous Cody. Also since I refuse to pay for service, I can not see pictures of my matches, making the first meeting a truly blind date.
Courteous Cody started out strong in that since he knew that I was new in town, he made all the plans and then sent me an email with the time, directions, address, and two attached pdf maps (one zoomed in, one zoomed out) so that I would be able to find my way to the designated location. He then sent a follow-up email stating, “One more thing I forgot to mention yesterday, tomorrow is all my treat!” While I appreciate the sentiment, OF COURSE it is your treat. There is no need to clarify. It is a first date, and if you aren’t willing to pay now, then what hope do we have. In fact, the main reason I continue to date in the first place is because a girl’s gotta’ eat.
Anyway, said date was to the Majestica Theater, which incidentally my co-workers had been discussing the night before. The Majestica is apparently fairly new in the area, and it is a dinner club that does comedy, magic, and hypnotist shows, depending on the night. I was hoping for the hypnotist, but it was magic night. (Maybe for Bismarck it was a good show, though I didn’t find it all that impressive. It was mildly entertaining, but nothing to write home (i.e. blog) about.) Anyhow, C.C. warned me to come hungry because he heard the food at the place was really good, though he had not yet been there himself.
Despite the maps and directions, I managed to get twisted around on the way because I was coming from a different direction that originally planned. I texted C.C. to say that I might be a few minutes late, but thought that I was back on track. He texted back to tell me not to worry about it, just to drive safely. I finally made it, and he was waiting for me in the lobby. For a totally blind date, he could have been worse. He wasn’t horribly hideous, disfigured, or notably abnormal looking. Just a regular guy, glasses, not too fat, but not skinny, normal hair, regular height, etc.
We sat, ordered drinks, and he ordered an appetizer (mozzarella sticks). They arrived, six of them. I ate my three, he ate two and then let the waitress take the other one away. After looking at the menu for a bit, which I thought was slightly overpriced, I asked him what he was going to get. To my secret relief, he said that he thought he would get the sirloin, which was what I wanted to get. The waitress came back, and for some reason he ordered first.
CC: “I’ll have the sirloin.”
Waitress: “The 6 or the 10 ounce?”
CC: “O^2, the 6 ounce will be fine.”
Waitress: “And for you?”
Jen: Silently in head - WHAT? The 6 ounce? Are you kidding me? Small children order the 6 ounce steak. The 10 ounce steak is only three more dollars. You told me to come to this date hungry, and now I’m hungry, and you have the audacity to order only the six ounce steak, which means that I have to only order the six ounce steak so that I don’t look like a gigantic pig. What kind of man orders a six ounce steak???
Jen: Out loud - “I’ll have the six ounce sirloin, as well.”
Commence generic conversation with Courteous Cody for the next hour during dinner. The only notable highlight of this conversation included the following exchange toward the beginning of conversation (you know, before we had really talked about anything at all):
CC: “So, I had a misconception about you. I thought based on your profile that you were going to be really into politics and that it was going to be something really important to you.”
Jen: “Um, I don’t understand what the misconception is.”
CC: “That I thought you would enjoy talking about politics.”
Jen: “Um, yeah, I don’t understand what the misconception is.”
Somehow we managed to make it out of this cyclical chat, though somehow the misunderstanding remains.
Towards the end of the otherwise unremarkable dinner and conversation, the waitress came back over to see if we wanted dessert during the magic show.
Jen: Silently in head - “Hmm, maybe this is why he only wanted the 6 ounce steak and didn’t eat his vegetables or half the potatoes, because he is saving room for dessert.”
CC: Immediately before Jen has a change to speak out loud - “No thanks, we’re all set.”
Jen: Silently in head - “I wonder if I’ll be able to find a McDonald’s on the way home so my growling stomach doesn’t keep me awake tonight. I hope I make it through the show without passing out.”
Ok, so I do exaggerate a bit for entertainment value, and I did get enough to eat, but I wouldn’t say that I was overly stuffed or that I couldn’t have enjoyed some dessert, especially since they had crème brulee, my favorite.
On the Jen scale of dating, the best date would obviously be the kind where I meet the love of my life and we live happily ever after. The second best kind of date is the kind that goes so horribly awry that it could be used as a sitcom plot. And the worst kind of date is the kind that is neither amazing or horrible, just utterly awash in mundane mediocrity.
Let me repeat again that the remainder of the evening was the worst kind of date…
Courteous Cody started out strong in that since he knew that I was new in town, he made all the plans and then sent me an email with the time, directions, address, and two attached pdf maps (one zoomed in, one zoomed out) so that I would be able to find my way to the designated location. He then sent a follow-up email stating, “One more thing I forgot to mention yesterday, tomorrow is all my treat!” While I appreciate the sentiment, OF COURSE it is your treat. There is no need to clarify. It is a first date, and if you aren’t willing to pay now, then what hope do we have. In fact, the main reason I continue to date in the first place is because a girl’s gotta’ eat.
Anyway, said date was to the Majestica Theater, which incidentally my co-workers had been discussing the night before. The Majestica is apparently fairly new in the area, and it is a dinner club that does comedy, magic, and hypnotist shows, depending on the night. I was hoping for the hypnotist, but it was magic night. (Maybe for Bismarck it was a good show, though I didn’t find it all that impressive. It was mildly entertaining, but nothing to write home (i.e. blog) about.) Anyhow, C.C. warned me to come hungry because he heard the food at the place was really good, though he had not yet been there himself.
Despite the maps and directions, I managed to get twisted around on the way because I was coming from a different direction that originally planned. I texted C.C. to say that I might be a few minutes late, but thought that I was back on track. He texted back to tell me not to worry about it, just to drive safely. I finally made it, and he was waiting for me in the lobby. For a totally blind date, he could have been worse. He wasn’t horribly hideous, disfigured, or notably abnormal looking. Just a regular guy, glasses, not too fat, but not skinny, normal hair, regular height, etc.
We sat, ordered drinks, and he ordered an appetizer (mozzarella sticks). They arrived, six of them. I ate my three, he ate two and then let the waitress take the other one away. After looking at the menu for a bit, which I thought was slightly overpriced, I asked him what he was going to get. To my secret relief, he said that he thought he would get the sirloin, which was what I wanted to get. The waitress came back, and for some reason he ordered first.
CC: “I’ll have the sirloin.”
Waitress: “The 6 or the 10 ounce?”
CC: “O^2, the 6 ounce will be fine.”
Waitress: “And for you?”
Jen: Silently in head - WHAT? The 6 ounce? Are you kidding me? Small children order the 6 ounce steak. The 10 ounce steak is only three more dollars. You told me to come to this date hungry, and now I’m hungry, and you have the audacity to order only the six ounce steak, which means that I have to only order the six ounce steak so that I don’t look like a gigantic pig. What kind of man orders a six ounce steak???
Jen: Out loud - “I’ll have the six ounce sirloin, as well.”
Commence generic conversation with Courteous Cody for the next hour during dinner. The only notable highlight of this conversation included the following exchange toward the beginning of conversation (you know, before we had really talked about anything at all):
CC: “So, I had a misconception about you. I thought based on your profile that you were going to be really into politics and that it was going to be something really important to you.”
Jen: “Um, I don’t understand what the misconception is.”
CC: “That I thought you would enjoy talking about politics.”
Jen: “Um, yeah, I don’t understand what the misconception is.”
Somehow we managed to make it out of this cyclical chat, though somehow the misunderstanding remains.
Towards the end of the otherwise unremarkable dinner and conversation, the waitress came back over to see if we wanted dessert during the magic show.
Jen: Silently in head - “Hmm, maybe this is why he only wanted the 6 ounce steak and didn’t eat his vegetables or half the potatoes, because he is saving room for dessert.”
CC: Immediately before Jen has a change to speak out loud - “No thanks, we’re all set.”
Jen: Silently in head - “I wonder if I’ll be able to find a McDonald’s on the way home so my growling stomach doesn’t keep me awake tonight. I hope I make it through the show without passing out.”
Ok, so I do exaggerate a bit for entertainment value, and I did get enough to eat, but I wouldn’t say that I was overly stuffed or that I couldn’t have enjoyed some dessert, especially since they had crème brulee, my favorite.
On the Jen scale of dating, the best date would obviously be the kind where I meet the love of my life and we live happily ever after. The second best kind of date is the kind that goes so horribly awry that it could be used as a sitcom plot. And the worst kind of date is the kind that is neither amazing or horrible, just utterly awash in mundane mediocrity.
Let me repeat again that the remainder of the evening was the worst kind of date…
Brogue of Bismarck
As we all know from watching the movie Fargo, the North Dakotans have themselves a tendency to draw out their long O and pronounce some of their words as if they are living in South Canada. Because this is difficult to replicate in written word, consider this posting (O^2)fficial notice that the symbol O^2 - that’s O squared for you non-engineers - is intended to replicate the accent.
Additional lingual idiosyncrasies identified so far include the substitution of “for” for “that’s” or “you’re”.
Example 1: Oh, that’s funny = Oh, you’re funny = O^2, for funny.
Example 2: Oh, that’s cute = Oh, you’re cute = O^2, for cute.
O^2, for whack!
Additional lingual idiosyncrasies identified so far include the substitution of “for” for “that’s” or “you’re”.
Example 1: Oh, that’s funny = Oh, you’re funny = O^2, for funny.
Example 2: Oh, that’s cute = Oh, you’re cute = O^2, for cute.
O^2, for whack!
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Barnes & Noble in Bismarck
Sitting here in the Barnes and Noble... it's somewhat loud, very pedestrian, but does have free internet. I also have free internet at my apartment, but only if I go lurk in the middle of the hall near the boiler room and "Millertime" has his router turned on. Sometimes it will work intermittently from my living room, as well, but not reliably enough or quickly enough to actually do anything.
I survived my first week of work and plan to go back Monday. The first two days were mostly running around doing paperwork and orientation things, which wasn't too exciting other than in an abstract "Yay, health insurance" sort of way. The rest of the week I pretty much read and read and read... since it is the only "legal skill" that I currently possess, I did awesome at it. Frankly, I have no idea how I ever made it through law school because reading sucks and makes me very sleepy. But, I persevered and made it through a lot of really helpful information on the state, its water issues, how the water issues are funded, etc. See, you're bored already, imagine 100 or so pages of it. Upcoming this week (assuming that time permits and I don't get any real work) is Title 61 or the North Dakota Century Code. For those of you who aren't interested enough to look and see what that is, it's pretty much all the water statutes for the state. I figure the information will flow out of my head faster than water through the Devil's Lake Outlet (a controversial water related project, see what I've learned already!), but figure if I can at least read/skim the statute and know what it generally says, that's probably going to be helpful since it's pretty much the guidebook for my entire job. I also did a few small little research projects amongst the reading, and I think I kind of sucked at them, but then again, I'm also probably being too hard on myself. Either way, I know that I am learning a ton already, so I guess that's important.
As for my co-workers, there are only a few attorneys in my little group, but there are about 20 people in the building that I'm in. My boss is named Charles, and he seems like a really nice guy. Everyone who I'm meeting who knows him has been raving about how nice he is and how he is a brilliant legal thinker and how lucky I am to work for him. So, that makes me feel good... definitely better than a lot of responses people could give.
I have a secretary, Jolene, and she is lovely. Very bubbly and welcoming and pretty much the polar opposite my experiences with Diane. In fact, I'm absolutely positive that Jolene has spoken more to me already than Diane ever talked to me in the three years of working with her.
I have not one, but two paralegals. I choose to think this is because I am just that awesome... though probably more likely that I need twice as much help. :) Actually it's just a function of the fact that my client (the State Water Commission and State Engineer) has their own paralegal. Her name is Rosemary, though I've only met with her briefly, but she seemed really nice. And then there is Carolyn, and she is also awesome and super helpful. I don't even really know what a paralegal does, but she said she'll help me figure it out. So far what she does is answer my inane questions about how to fill out my timesheet. (Yes, I have timesheets still! The BANE of my existence!!! But at least I don't really have a chargability goal.)
Other notable characters of significance for the week include Kirsten (which is pronounced Shirsten), Maggie, and Jen. Jen has the office next to me and has been a paralegal for like 20 years, but she is only about 6 months in to this position. Kirsten does employment law, and she is super fun, nice, and has been awesome about showing me around and introducing me to people. She kind of reminds me of Arwynn a bit, though not sure why. And Maggie does environmental law in my department. Kirsten and Maggie are my age and are my new Bismarck BFFs (whether they like it or not!) Lastly there is Todd, who is the guy who did my job before I got here. He moved to Oil and Gas, but is being SO HELPFUL to me on the actual job related aspects of learning the ropes.
So, that's the run-down so far. Everyone here seems nice, sincerely and genuinely nice. They are all friendly, pretty outgoing, and very inclusive. I've even had little Christmas presents on my desk twice this week... a cute little metal snowflake note holder and some candy. If things continue like this, I'm going to love it here. And last but not least, I have not yet met the love of my life, but I do have a blind date tonight...
(That's just to get you coming back for more, especially you, KSPB!)
I survived my first week of work and plan to go back Monday. The first two days were mostly running around doing paperwork and orientation things, which wasn't too exciting other than in an abstract "Yay, health insurance" sort of way. The rest of the week I pretty much read and read and read... since it is the only "legal skill" that I currently possess, I did awesome at it. Frankly, I have no idea how I ever made it through law school because reading sucks and makes me very sleepy. But, I persevered and made it through a lot of really helpful information on the state, its water issues, how the water issues are funded, etc. See, you're bored already, imagine 100 or so pages of it. Upcoming this week (assuming that time permits and I don't get any real work) is Title 61 or the North Dakota Century Code. For those of you who aren't interested enough to look and see what that is, it's pretty much all the water statutes for the state. I figure the information will flow out of my head faster than water through the Devil's Lake Outlet (a controversial water related project, see what I've learned already!), but figure if I can at least read/skim the statute and know what it generally says, that's probably going to be helpful since it's pretty much the guidebook for my entire job. I also did a few small little research projects amongst the reading, and I think I kind of sucked at them, but then again, I'm also probably being too hard on myself. Either way, I know that I am learning a ton already, so I guess that's important.
As for my co-workers, there are only a few attorneys in my little group, but there are about 20 people in the building that I'm in. My boss is named Charles, and he seems like a really nice guy. Everyone who I'm meeting who knows him has been raving about how nice he is and how he is a brilliant legal thinker and how lucky I am to work for him. So, that makes me feel good... definitely better than a lot of responses people could give.
I have a secretary, Jolene, and she is lovely. Very bubbly and welcoming and pretty much the polar opposite my experiences with Diane. In fact, I'm absolutely positive that Jolene has spoken more to me already than Diane ever talked to me in the three years of working with her.
I have not one, but two paralegals. I choose to think this is because I am just that awesome... though probably more likely that I need twice as much help. :) Actually it's just a function of the fact that my client (the State Water Commission and State Engineer) has their own paralegal. Her name is Rosemary, though I've only met with her briefly, but she seemed really nice. And then there is Carolyn, and she is also awesome and super helpful. I don't even really know what a paralegal does, but she said she'll help me figure it out. So far what she does is answer my inane questions about how to fill out my timesheet. (Yes, I have timesheets still! The BANE of my existence!!! But at least I don't really have a chargability goal.)
Other notable characters of significance for the week include Kirsten (which is pronounced Shirsten), Maggie, and Jen. Jen has the office next to me and has been a paralegal for like 20 years, but she is only about 6 months in to this position. Kirsten does employment law, and she is super fun, nice, and has been awesome about showing me around and introducing me to people. She kind of reminds me of Arwynn a bit, though not sure why. And Maggie does environmental law in my department. Kirsten and Maggie are my age and are my new Bismarck BFFs (whether they like it or not!) Lastly there is Todd, who is the guy who did my job before I got here. He moved to Oil and Gas, but is being SO HELPFUL to me on the actual job related aspects of learning the ropes.
So, that's the run-down so far. Everyone here seems nice, sincerely and genuinely nice. They are all friendly, pretty outgoing, and very inclusive. I've even had little Christmas presents on my desk twice this week... a cute little metal snowflake note holder and some candy. If things continue like this, I'm going to love it here. And last but not least, I have not yet met the love of my life, but I do have a blind date tonight...
(That's just to get you coming back for more, especially you, KSPB!)
Monday, November 30, 2009
Beginnings in Bismarck
So, I’m finally in Bismarck, all “settled in”. Signed the lease on my apartment, did some obligatory grocery shopping, put away as much of the one carload of stuff as I was able, all pretty mundane. However, in my travels between car and apartment, I did manage to meet a neighbor. Well, actually, my landlord introduced me to him and asked him if he would help me move my futon when I was ready. He did. I asked his name, and due to his extremely thick German accent, I asked again. After asking for a third time, I attempted with “Swan?”, which was met with an enthusiastic grin and “yes, yes”, though I remain skeptical. I thanked “Swan” for his help and began putting things away. About 5 minutes later, Swan knocked on my slider and asked if I needed any help. I informed him that I didn’t, but he didn’t leave, just started asking questions. Questions like, “Do you have a family? How old are you? Do you have a job? You are from Michigan? You live here alone.” That last one was not a question, and given that I had needed his help to move in, it was fairly obvious. Swan went back to work hanging up Christmas lights on the trees outside my apartment. Five more minutes later, Swan returns with a package of Christmas lights for me (and immediately my first thought after “Ok, creepy guy, enough is enough” was “Oh Great! I’m trying to RID my life of possessions, not collect more stupid shit that I don’t need.”) Swan offers to come inside and hang the Christmas lights around for me, but I tell him I have too much unpacking to do. Swan returns to the Christmas lights. 15 minutes later… knock, knock, knock… “Do you know how to clean?” (Wait, how has my reputation preceded me all the way out here?) Apparently Swan thought that maybe he could get me a job cleaning apartments at night and knock money off my monthly rent. I have absolutely no idea what precipitated this, and by this time he was really creeping me out. Finally on the last “visit”, Swan asked if I liked bars. “On my windows,” I replied in a deadpan. That’s the amusing thing to me about foreigners, they totally miss the concept of sarcasm. “No, no, not on windows. To drink. I take you for drinks, I pay, you not worry about anything. We go to bar for drinking.” I tell Swan thanks, but no thanks, lots of unpacking to do and I’m starting my new job and really quite busy with an inability to socialize. Swan finally left me with his phone number and told me to call if I need anything… He “want to give me help.”
Stalker Swan visited me twice today. The first time I was hidden and he went away. The second time I was in the living room. My ceiling fan is running to help dry my carpet that was shampooed today, and so my blinds are blowing back and forth and he could see me sitting there. I answered, he asked how my first day of work was, I told him I start tomorrow, and then he mercifully got a phone call and walked away and hasn’t been back tonight.
I wonder what’s German for, “You have the most beautiful blonde hair I’ve ever seen.”
I also wonder what’s German for, “Glock.”
Stalker Swan visited me twice today. The first time I was hidden and he went away. The second time I was in the living room. My ceiling fan is running to help dry my carpet that was shampooed today, and so my blinds are blowing back and forth and he could see me sitting there. I answered, he asked how my first day of work was, I told him I start tomorrow, and then he mercifully got a phone call and walked away and hasn’t been back tonight.
I wonder what’s German for, “You have the most beautiful blonde hair I’ve ever seen.”
I also wonder what’s German for, “Glock.”
Bouncing Toward Bismarck
This morning when I woke up in Fargo and checked the weather, it was only 17 in Bismarck. But alas, instead of turning around and fleeing for home (which I guess isn’t really home anymore), I continued west. It is approximately 190 miles of nothingness between these two great meccas, and I decided to amuse myself by counting the number of cars I passed along the way. The speed limit in North Dakota is 75 once you get outside the city limits, so I set the cruise control at 83 and counted cars between the two speed limit signs. Granted it was Sunday morning, approximately 9 AM when I left Fargo, but it was also the final day of the busiest travel weekend of the year. I passed 53 vehicles. I didn’t count the vehicle being hauled on a trailer by another vehicle. I did count the semi I was in the process of passing at the finish line even though I had not yet completed the pass. Frankly, I was surprised that the result was so high, though the highway did seem busier than the last time… like I said, busiest travel weekend of the year. For comparison purposes, when I get back to Howell in a couple weeks, I’m going to see how far I have to drive to pass so much traffic on 96. I’m guessing I can do it before I get halfway to Novi, though it may be hard to keep count and I don’t know if I should subtract one if a car passes me…
Also of interest, I did see a cop that had someone pulled over headed east bound. I wonder exactly how fast you have to drive to get pulled over when the speed limit is already 75.
Also of interest, I did see a cop that had someone pulled over headed east bound. I wonder exactly how fast you have to drive to get pulled over when the speed limit is already 75.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Finally in Fargo
And so starts my exciting new adventure… I spent the entire day driving, which was rather uneventful. I listened to The Associate by John Grisham, whose books I’ve never really gotten into, but it was the best of the available alternatives. It seemed to pretty accurately describe the horrors of Big Law (at least according to the rumors), which made me happy that I am nowhere near “qualified” for the option of subjecting myself to such torture.
Just like everything associated with this transition, things have been thrown together haphazardly and everything seems to be occurring at warp speed. I finally received word from New Boss on Wednesday that my background check was complete and I would be allowed to start my new job the following Tuesday. This news would have been more well received if it hadn’t been for the fact that I was within an hour of leaving for Thanksgiving with the fam and had not yet packed more than a couple haphazard boxes. So, I left anyway and drove two hours west for Thanksgiving, turned around Thursday night and drove two hours back home (east), spent until 6 p.m. Friday packing and loading the car, and then turned back around and drove the same two hours west back to my dad’s. I “slept in” this morning until 8 when my dad came in to give me the “tickly toes”. Since I was a kid, his method of waking me up has been to come in the room and tickle my feet and loudly say, “tickly toes, tickly toes, time to get up, tickly toes”. It worked a lot better when I was a kid and more ticklish. Now I pretty much just laugh at the silliness and am thankful to have such a great dad. I finally got on the road about 9:45 and spent the next 12 uneventful hours in the car.
I’ve already started picking out my “landmarks” for the trip. Besides crossing the state lines, the first landmark is the
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