Ready to leave... almost

Well.

In a little over a day I'll be headed back to good ol' Washington state. It's been a ride for sure. I've worked really hard at my internship (some of my stuff is going to show up in these next few issues) and I've been incredibly independent and dealt with everything pretty well.

This last Thursday through Sunday I took a press trip to Reno to cover their Lake Tahoe Forum and Renewable Energy Summit. I saw Bill Clinton speak, which was pretty rad. I don't think I've ever been so captivated by someone on stage. He looked so thin, almost gaunt, and aged but as he stood up there in his navy blue blazer and red polo shirt, my breath was taken away by his humor and speech.

This trip was jam packed. You have no idea how exhausting it is to get dragged around by people who want you to write a story in their favor so badly that they act like their job depends on it. Or maybe you do. But now I do too. Apparently Reno alone has like seven geothermal power plants and the most solar power per capita in the country. Who would've thunk? I thought Reno was where my grandpa, the one who has a hula lady tattooed on his forearm and a head that has been bald since his mid-twenties hangs out. The one who turns down his hearing aids so he doesn't have to listen to any of us talk. Yeah Reno with all its neon lights, smoking and gambling seems like a place to meet old ladies named Ethel with blue hair and a cup full of quarters. I actually rode the elevator with two prostitutes upon arrival. But who knew that it would also be such a renewable energy hub!

They had a wrangler for me. Her name was Erin, and they flew her out from Denver for the sole purpose of hanging out with me and paying for everything. How do people get these kind of jobs? She was blonde and polite... An ACL injury caused her to walk a bit slower than the rest of us. Her husband's name is Fran which I find absolutely charming. Not Francis. Not Frank, but Fran. Okay. She was charming, his name was charming, and she put up with me for a couple of days, so God bless her.

I talked to the geothermal man, a biodiesel expert, an algae enthusiast, a man who makes battery technology for electric cars and a big wig named Chuck who ran the whole show and bought me breakfast. Jam packed!

The whole conference made me feel like a businesswoman, like I needed a blackberry to keep up on all my emails and phone calls, like I was actually working for once. It was a good trip. I made some friends in the PR sector even though I really resent what they do. I ate a whole bite of chopped walnuts (I thought they were almonds) and my throat, lips and tongue proceeded to swell up to the point where I thought I might have to go to the ER (Woo!).

The way home was even better. I started out at 6 a.m., just missing the airport shuttle and desperate to get to the airport on time I took a cab. We followed the airport shuttle the whole way there and I felt like an idiot. If only I hadn't gone back to turn off that lamp that stayed on, maybe I would've made it. Damn my energy conservationist mind. I started at 6 that day. My flight to Denver was on time, but my flight out of Denver to NY was three and a half hours late. This was on top of a two hour layover as it was. What does one do to entertain themselves during this time? I felt like Tom Hanks in "Terminal," walking up and down the newly shampooed carpet trying to think of what I could do to occupy my time that wouldn't involve additional calories or sitting on the floor. I bought an issue of Scientific American about food consumption in America. Quite interesting but only held my interest long enough to notice my gate had been changed and the flight was even more delayed. What is someone such as myself supposed to do when all of her intellectual entertainment hasn't sustained her? Time for beer. Ah yes, the Colorado sports bar. Thank goodness. I had a couple of New Castles and by that time it was about time to board the plane.

We got on. The explanation for the delay was thunderstorms in NY, though I was informed later that it was a mere drizzle. Flew over, got in at about 10:30 and turns out my roommate, who said she would pick me up, is unable to come get me. AWESOME! NY transportation, here I come.

Took a bus they told me would go to Grand Central, where I could catch a train home. Turns out it didn't, and I got off at the last stop, somewhere in the middle of Harlem. I caught a cab. He looked like he was new, by the way he was looking at the guide to NY he pulled out after I asked him to bring me to the nearest train. He dropped me off at the 6, which i do believe does NOT go to Grand Central. I sat there clutching my bag, watching a very large rat sniff around the tracks. The handle on my bag had just broken and my thumb ring was bent from carrying my suitcase all around. The 6 finally came and I got on and headed to the Harlem train station. In tears, I waited on the platform for the New Haven train to come and I finally got on and settled in for the 45 minute ride home. It was not even five minutes into my ride when the man sitting across the aisle from me vomited on the floor. He emptied the entire contents of his stomach, and I took my ticket and moved to the next car.

Can you think of a worse travel day? Because I honestly can't. And in a little over a day I will be doing it all over again, coming in to Seattle.

What a ride it has been, here in Connecticut. If you asked someone when they were younger where they would like to end up, I bet no one would ever say CT. But now that I'm taking this Audubon internship, I may be here for longer than I expected.

Two and a half weeks left

So I know my adoring fans have been waiting for a new blog for a couple of weeks. Funny how busy I get being out here. One of the other interns, Jess, is going to be the editor and chief of the magazine called EJ at Michigan State, one of the only places they have a masters program in environmental journalism. We decided to go to Brooklyn for a day. After going the wrong way coming off the subway trying to find the museum and getting into what may have been a bad part of town and getting some Greek food, we finally asked some exuberant women with awesome accents where the hell we were going. They directed us to the Brooklyn Museum down the street. It has the biggest collection of Egyptian art anywhere, I guess. It's amazing to look at something you know is basically older than time as you know it.


Beautiful museum.

Then we decided to go to the Botanical Gardens, right near by:

Very pretty although I think we missed the prime of most of the flowers there.

After walking around outside and sweating beyond belief, we decided we needed beer. Jess had looked up this brewery called the Brooklyn Brewery. We weren't really sure how to get there, so we asked a cop at the subway. Trying to be so very helpful (I'm constantly surprised at how helpful and nice New Yorkers are), he gave us directions and we hopped on the train. We got off at the stop we were instructed to, and walked 9 blocks or so. We were expecting to find this glowing spectacle of wonderful beer and greasy food right around the corner, but instead, we were in the middle of Italian suburbia. Old women who look like my Great Aunt Bea were hanging out on their porches, Italian flags were flying and fake flowers adorned cute little patios. We asked a very tan, loud black-haired woman where we could find the place we were looking for and she looked at us like we were crazy. Defeated, we headed back to an Italian restaurant we saw on the way down that lonely road. We scoped out the menu outside and an older man with gray hair and leathery skin said, "It's delicious, you'll love it, come on in." So we followed him in, where he promptly kissed one of the managers who looked like he should be named Antony or Mario on the cheek. The tables, which we couldn't see from outside, were adorned with white tablecloths and linen napkins. We could tell our sweaty selves were under-dressed but we just didn't care. Our waitress (who was probably a co-owner, the way she talked) Marie gave us the run down of the specials. She ran down the veal, pork, pasta and then she said, "Or whateva you want, ya know? If you think of something, run it by me and we'll see what we can do." Her accent was entrancing, almost. I felt like she should be my mom's best friend or something. They would definitely get along. I got the gnocchi in a great red sauce and Jess got the standard fettucine alfredo. She's an Olive Garden fan. Nuff said.

Good pasta and a few gin and tonics/rum and cokes later, we were ready to get on the subway and get back home. Only thing was the platform going the other way was closed. Good thing there was an Asian guy there, just standing by terminal to tell us we needed to take the stairs and get on a different train. We ran up the stairs just in time to see the train we needed drive off. So we waited and took pictures and laughed while we waited for the next one.

On the train back to Grand Central I watched a couple across from us. She was reading Bridget Jones' Diary, he was listening to his ipod, but they both kept sneaking loving glances at each other and it was just too cute.

We got to Grand Central, had another drink for the rail and headed home. Mike and John called us so we decided to dupe the conductor and get off at Milford instead of Norwalk (we would've had to pay a bigger fare). Good times indeed.

This week, I am trying to finish up this huge story I'm working on that is on plastic bag bans. It should be the best piece I've done so far while being here. I'm going to Reno the 16th to 18th to cover a renewable energy summit for E and I'm super excited. I spent the last weekend with Mike, his sister and her boyfriend in the city. It was the most enjoyable of all my visits there. We went to Mesa Grill (Bobby Flay's NY restaurant for food network/bravo fans) for brunch. We saw a bum with dreadlocks riding a pink bike... and we got some Thai iced tea, and we took a boat tour from Fulton street around the river, past the statue of liberty and the Brooklyn Bridge with the tour guide's monotone voice narrating it all. It reminded me of Pike Place and it almost got me a little teary-eyed. We had some nachos and beers at a place called Heartland Brewery and I swear to you, it was the closest to Boundary Bay I've had since being here. What a great weekend. It's always so hard to go back on Mondays. Especially when people are intent on running you over, like they were today.

I've got 2.5 weeks until I get to come home. And after that, I get to move in with my parents because I don't have a job. How does someone who did so well in school end up without a job? I can't afford to go to grad school, and I bet that wouldn't even help me. It sucks when you expect it all to culminate into this amazing career and you just end up bumming off your parents like everybody else. I worked hard. I deserve more than this.

That said, I am finishing up my internship here strong, and heading to the Society of Environmental Journalists conference in September, where I hope to find a job. Meanwhile I am soooo ready to come home and be with my friends.

That week will be a lot of flying but I'll be alright and ready to celebrate. Hope you all are well. See you soon.

-Shawno