Story time from the Road

Handwriting a blog post is difficult for many reasons. For one, it's counter-intuitive. I mean, a blog by definition requires a computer and the Internet. But, much like Sarah Palin, I'm a maverick. Our similarities end there. Well, we also share a taste for expensive clothes, but that's it, I swear! I can't even wink! Now I'm sure you're thinking "Carly, I'm reading this post on the Internet and it was clearly written by computer. You are a liar." but here's where semantics come into play friends. This post was merely transcribed by computer, but I promise every word you are reading on your screen was first written in my borderline-illegible handwriting in the Moleskine notebook that my husband gave me for Valentine's Day after I told him I was going to start writing again. (How freaking cute is he? Such a sweet present.)

So back to how posts by hand are challenging. In this specific instance, my obstacles to successful post composition include: 1) a lack of stable writing surface because I am on a bus to New York this Saturday morning, 2) a lack of caffeine as 1 small cup of coffee after waking up at 5:30 a.m. to catch said bus is not doing it for me and 3) a lack of patience because the aforementioned bus was stopped for 20-30 minutes twice, on either side of Baltimore. Apparently there is some giant motorcycle brigade traveling up I-95 North to NYC this morning and we had to stop and wait for all 18 MILES of motorcycles to pass us and then our driver thought he'd take an alternate route only to be stopped to wait for all 18 MILES of them to pass us again. Yes, 18 MILES.  I mean, this obviously happened because I thought I was being so smart taking the early bus from DC2NY (that's funny because it works in the sentence and it's the name of my bus company! Oh bus trip humor!) because there'd be less traffic! No one gets out of bed at 5:30 or 6 to drive to New York on a Saturday morning EXCEPT 18 MILES OF MOTORCYCLES!!!

My favorite part was as they were passing us, some would wave like we were spectators in a parade who were EXCITED to see them. I may be a small-ish blonde girl listening to Glee songs on my pink iPod shuffle but I swear I had enough rage in me to take down one of those burly waving bikers. If I wasn't stuck on a bus.

So here I sit, next to a woman with 3 bags shoved under the seat in front of her (one wonders how many she stowed under the bus) and I push through my lack of writing surface, caffeine and patience as well as a borderline crippling pain in my wrist that I'm pretty sure is a sign that I injured myself in the adventure I'm about to impart to you. Prepare yourself for a complete and total shift in focus for the next post because I'm about to drop quite the tale on you.