On the plane to O’Hare. We got to the airport early, just in case, but there was no one in the check-in line. They’re going over every checked bag, which involved testing for bomb residue and running a wand scanner over my suitcase. There was a man walking around giving out flag pins and thanking us for being there. Then we sat for about an hour and a half and pointed out to each other who in the airport was an alien. (It’s a tradition, you see. It all started in the DC airport six years ago when we saw the salt-sucking alien…oh, never mind.) I bought an US magazine and finished it a few minutes into the flight. Argh. I don’t want to read a romance or trade magazines. I want to watch Gowan videos with my best friend.

Hmm…let’s see if I can get through this flight without crying. There’s an admirable goal.

Ooh! Turbulence! Fun!

So, FWIW, I’m not at all concerned about flying today. In fact, I’m happy I am. If I were scared of flying today, it means that the terrorists won, that they did what they set out to do. I won’t let them have that power over me.

In Chicago now, hopefully recharging the laptop at the only plug I can find, which is in the check-in desk. When check-in people arrive, I’ll no doubt have to unplug so nobody trips. But here’s hoping I can get it up to full power before then.

They’re playing patriotic music over the loudspeakers. Some of it’s a little too loud. I’m not bothered by patriotic music per se, but I’m feeling a little, I don’t know, brainwashed.

Ooh, the nice check-in people are letting me stay plugged in. Computer indicates that it’ll be full in 29 minutes, which should be just about the time they start boarding.

Meanwhile, I called Sarah…

I’m rambling. It’s a product of too little sleep and too much sadness. I finished the book I was reading, bought a magazine, ate overpriced but very tasty Wolfgang Puck four-cheese pizza (which includes goat cheese! Yum!). Blah.

<>-<>-<>

I suppose I should catch on what we did last week, when I was too busy/distracted to update. I don’t seem to remember much of Friday. I know we went shopping because I needed a white bra to wear with my size-medium Grand Decathalon tour shirt signed by some of the band (with the autographs embroidered over). Much to my delight, I found one in Lane Bryant—they’re finally carrying my cup size—and I also bought one with blue flowers on it, and matching panties.

That night was the first concert. Wow. I mean, totally wow. We had second-row seats, on Larry’s side. (Er, Larry being Gowan. His name’s Lawrence Gowan, and when Sarah and I discovered him in the early 80s, he was going by Gowan. But now they call him Larry. He even has a solo album called “…but you can call me Larry”.) Which made us very, very happy indeed. Larry has a keyboard that spins, and sometimes he plays it backwards, because he’s very, very talented. And he’s very, very cute. And when he took off his frock coat to reveal a very, very tight black sleeveless t-shirt and very, very tight jeans…well, ya’ll can just add all the verys in that you want. Unggggh. Glen did his usual run through the audience during “Love is the Ritual” (one of the bestest live songs ever), and as we were at the end of the row (there was an empty chair at the very end) he pretty much went right by Sarah. About four or five songs from the end, they let the first row stand up and go up to the stage. We started to get up, but a security guard indicated no. We pouted. But then he sort of indicated no to other people who went up anyway. So I pushed my way between two chairs and went up. I ended up behind a large, lumpish fellow wearing a Journey t-shirt (hmph!). I shook JY’s hand at the end, and Larry took my Sharpie marker to sign my shirt, but I couldn’t get past the lumpish guy quickly enough. I saw Larry apologise because he had to go join the final bow, and he tossed the Sharpie back. Several hands shot out to catch it, and it went flying, and I never saw it again. Sheez. Rabid fans stole my Sharpie, for crying out loud. Just because Larry touched it. (Yeah, I know. This from the woman who shook hands with Larry in Germany and then wandered around the next day breathing, “I have Larry sweat between my fingers!”) Afterwards, we came home and had some good stiff drinks and watched videos. Man oh man.

On Saturday we were going to go to Bay Days, but Fiona had a lot of energy and Sarah didn’t think she’d handle crowds well, so we went to a big mall so Fiona could run around the play area. We got stuck in traffic, which didn’t really suck as far as I was concerned—I was with my best friend, singing Styx songs, in an air-conditioned car. Fiona drew a picture of me that makes me look like Mr Hanky the Christmas Poo with hair and eyelashes. She played, we ate a late lunch, Then we stayed up too late again. Of course. It’s traditional.

Which meant that getting up on Sunday was pretty tough. We finally managed to organise ourselves and get out of the house to drive to King’s Dominion near Richmond. We hit more traffic, which was annoying, but eventually arrived at about 3 p.m. We scoped out where the concert was going to be, and were pretty sure we heard a soundcheck, but couldn’t get too close.

Now, Sarah doesn’t like roller coasters, or, more specifically, she doesn’t like long drops. But she suggested we go on the Anaconda, and we had so much fun that we promptly went on it again. The park was reasonably quiet and lines were short. While we were cranking up to the top of the first drop (not too high—this was more of a loop and corkscrew coaster), we saw a building that said “Department of Paranormal Investigation”. Well, c’mon, we had to investigate! It turned out to be a ride called Flight of Fear, entirely inside. While waiting in line you walk through a flying saucer, and watch TV screens showing the scientists and politicians discussing and arguing about it, &tc. We finally got up to the ride (not a huge line, but not a short one)…and it broke. They got it working but kept running test cars with nobody in them. Finally we gave up and left.

Next coaster was Rebel Yell, a wooden roller coaster with lots of ups and downs, but not big ones. Sarah didn’t like that one too much. We also went on the Grizzly, a wooden one with more loops, which was fun. We grabbed dinner at Subway, then decided we had time for one more coaster, and to try Flight of Fear again. And a good thing we did, too. It totally rocked! It starts you out at full speed, hurtling you into a dark tunnel with strobe lights (the cameras), and then immediately into a tight upside-down loop. The whole ride is loops and spirals in a really small space. It wasn’t pitch black, so when we opened our eyes we could sort of see where we were going. But you couldn’t necessarily tell which track was ours—they all looped and spiralled next to each other. Surreal. And fabulous!