I flew to Seattle this weekend for GRNW. The conference was fantastic. Got to hang out with some great people and had a lot of fun. I’m pretty sure that if she wanted to, Tracy Timmons-Gray could take over the world. I gave away a lot of unicorn ducks.
But first I had to get to Seattle, which meant driving to Sacramento and getting on a plane. it’s a short flight–only about 90 minutes. Perfect for reading the newest installment in Amy Lane’s serial novel, Beneath the Stain. But then these two ladies sat next to me and proceeded to chat nonstop with each other, very loudly, about Jesus. Then we landed and had to spend 30 minutes or so waiting for our gate to clear, at which point the ladies’ loud conversation turned to ex-husbands and their gardens, and how their pansies miss them but they don’t get along with their oleander. They did voices for the flowers. I wanted to open the emergency exit and boot them out, or at least read aloud from a particularly juicy part of Amy’s book. But I am a grown-up. So instead I complained about them on Facebook.
And then I got to Seattle and had a lovely time. Most of the conference was in the main branch of the public library, which is a really cool building. I had a view of it from my hotel too.
And it’s a nice hotel. You can borrow a goldfish to keep you company (I didn’t, but it’s nice to know there’s an option). But I am so annoyed when hotels pile on decorative throw pillows, which are unhygienic and will only require removal, and I will probably trip on them if I get up in the middle of the night.
But I recovered from my slight pillow-related trauma, in part because the lovely Andrea Speed discovered that the café across the street has margarita gelato. With tequila in it.
And the weather was gorgeous and I met all sorts of fun people, and I generally had a great time. On Sunday I even got to sleep in and then have a nice walk around downtown.
So then I headed back to the airport–congratulating myself for avoiding the people on their way to the Seahawks-Broncos game–and I checked in, and I had some lunch and walked some more, because I really do try to get 10,000 steps each day.
And it was time to get on the plane so I lined up. I was spacing out when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned and who did I see? The Jesus ladies. “Hey!” said one of them. “We shared a plane on the way here!”
Yes. Yes, we did.
Not only that, but they ended up sitting one row in front of me, where they talked Bible stories the entire way. Nonstop and loudly, although at least I couldn’t hear them as well this time. And I’m sure this wasn’t coincidence. It was my karma for complaining.
As we deplaned, I noticed that the lady who’d sat next to them on this trip was glaring at them. I wonder if she complained on Facebook. I wonder how karma will bite her on the ass if she did.
On the good side, the gate agent in Seattle for Virgin America looks like Robert Pattinson and, although he was in Washington state, he did not sparkle. At least, I don’t think so.
(PS–When I got home, I had news that Brute releases in French on October 7. Merveilleux! That means I have 5 releases within less than 30 days. It’s a Fieldingpalooza!)
2 thoughts on “It’s called karma”
Aiiiieee, the Jesus Ladies! I’m so pleased my flights were much less eventful, if much longer. 🙂
I’m glad to hear you did not experience traumatic travel. And it was so great to meet you!