lovehatethings

“It's no coincidence that in no known language does the phrase "As pretty as an airport" appear.” - Douglas Adams

Ensconced in the lovehatethings bunker in Hamilton, Ontario while Snowmageddon 2 (or Snowpocalypse 2) rages outside, I have at it in a multi-faceted diatribe.

The end to my multi-day saga of getting home FROM the holidays.

1:48pm, Wednesday, December 29th, 2010

Sitting patiently at the Greyhound Bus Terminal in Flagstaff, Arizona. The snow crept up over the past few hours and the 45 minutes travel time from Sedona took more like an hour and a half as we glazed around switchbacks while gaining altitude over the frosted pavement.

Having said goodbye to Mom and Dad, and officially reaching the culminating point of holiday family obligations, I find myself waiting for close to two hours wedged into a metal patio chair at a fibreglass table near the nascent glow of a post-nativity vending machine row.

A far-flung devolution perhaps from the Business Class flight back to Toronto (via Boston) that awaits late tomorrow night and definitely a damn sight short of the hipster deco that will become my cocoon post-ride tonight at the Golden Nugget in Las Vegas.

Any bus terminal always pulls me back to the hometown experience which was far more depressing than the current one. Bus Terminals tend to be small dingy places more suited to the wayward than the stalwart, which by itself isn't a bad thing, but often smacks of a sense of desperation and tense stares darting back and forth.

My hometown depot had the Terminal Restaurant, which always sounded ominous to me. I hardly wanted to associate food with the status of a dying hospital occupant. I can only assume that, at one time, the bus terminal restaurant was a welcome way station for travellers who could hardly afford a car much less a plane ticket. By the time I would start to travel by bus (with infrequency at that) the Terminal Restaurant was a grey envelope of kitsch besmirched by naugahyde booths, cigarette burns and ketchup-stained menus.

Their hamburgers were replusive.

I would've thought the growing preponderence of discount airlines throughout the 90's would have signalled the death knell of many bus stations, but I suppose air travel is really only the hallmark of the major city that can sustain the beast that is an airport. The remainder of long-range travel is divided by trains and buses. For a big guy, such as myself, I have a choice to make based on comfort alone: be cramped and wedged between the plastic arms of a seat for 5 hours of flight, 30 hours of rail or 40-50 hours deisel. Weighing all the options, I'd rather drive myself, but, when time is a parameter in any way whatsoever, I'm choosing flight.

Being the other side of 40, I'm also guessing that any residual romaticism that was attached to bus travel is completely tempered by age and intolerance. It's not enough to recall a Paul Simon travelogue where hitting the Greyhound with a companion meant "Laughing on the bus. Playing games with the faces. She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy. I said, 'Be careful. His bowtie is really a camera.'"

So Flagstaff is coated in powder. The rust tiled floor is spotted in snowmelt. The wayward are growing within the painted brick crypt that seems better suited for a time long past. And that its pulse still beats strong is either a testament to the frugality of our natures, the lenience of our timelines, or a simple statement that maybe my choices aren't necessarily shared.

* * *

[For the culmination of this observation, listen to lovehate podcast 235: Flagstaff. I Can't Believe I'm Still in Flagstaff.]

Three amazing examples of how the Canon 5D has helped to bring brilliant video, by creative minds, through a compelling website to my desktop and to my eyes. I remember, as a child, wondering in awe at travel magazines of exotic places. Now the web has taken its place, but not through grainy, jumpy, family shot video. Instead, it's become HD to me. And the attractions have never been greater.

Pic One - Night One: Valhalla Inn, Thunder Bay, ON

Pic Two - Nights Two and Three: Hilton Doubletree, Toronto Airport, ON 

Pic Three - Night Four: Courtyard Marriott, Toronto Airport, ON

Heading off on a semi-annual sojourn to Las Vegas at week's end, I'm excited at the prospect of two things:

1. Staying at a far higher class of establishment than I normally frequent, thanks to the recession and four comped nights at The Palazzo.
2. Trying to experiment in "trip report" podcasting during the days I'm there via my iPod Touch, the Voice Memo App, and any wi-fi connections I can find. LOVE that Posterous is going to make this process so simple!

In my 5th post to the lovehatethings blog over a year ago, I pondered the incredible waste that goes on in Las Vegas in an attempt to sound unsure about whether or not I could justify the gluttony... it was, mostly, tongue-in-cheek even though the over-the-top nature of the town is legendary.

In that post I opined:

They've got a lightbulb that planes can see from Los Angeles. They've killed thousands of trees a year to produce laminated cards that seedy characters whack on their leg, advertising silicon-laden escorts that'll do the macarena or the Dirty Sanchez. They've totally thrown scale to the wind by creating hotel/casinos that are measured in square miles and when the MGM Grand's 5000 rooms seemed insurmountable, the Venetian built a second tower (The Palazzo) to bring its total to a mere 7000!

So as I prepare to return back to Vegas for another summer excursion, I thought I'd do something different. If everything goes as planned you'll be able to follow my special "lovehatevegas" podcasts on at least a daily basis. Hope you like them. I'm guessing there may some short blog posts as well, or at least as long as the mini Touch keyboard will allow.

If you love Vegas, like I do, hopefully you'll find something in the updates that resonates and allows you to have some good memories. If you've never been to Sin City, maybe you'll find something in the podcasts or blog entries that spurs a desire to go. I don't mind being considered a shill for Vegas. Even if you're not a gambler, You've got to go there at least once.

Thanks to everyone who follows lovehatethings. Keep your eyes and ears open starting Sunday!