My trip to Guatemala - Day 1

From September 12 - October 5, 2010, I went to Antigua, Guatemala. I went mostly to study Spanish and to take an extended vacation...and because I got the ticket for free on Spirit Airlines. No, they're not paying me to say this, but if you haven't flown Spirit, DO IT! They are super cheap (So cheap that they don't have Sky Mall magazine on their flights; instead they have Sky Dollar Store magazine. Hey-o!), and they have an excellent frequent flier program that enables you to get free air travel.

I kept a daily journal in a notebook while I was traveling, and I decided to type some of it and include it in this blog.

I've also included some photos that I took, and I posted an entire set (minus some embarrassing shots) over on facebook.

So, without further adieu:

September 12, 2010

As I was exiting my flight from Detroit to Fort Lauderdale, a woman, who reminded me of my mother, saw me reading my traveler's guidebook about Guatemala and asked, “Oh, are you going to Guatemala? I am, too.” We then had a two hour discussion about social justice while we waited for our flight to Guatemala City. She told me about building houses in Tijuana, Mexico, helping families plan funerals after their loved ones pass away and having a daughter who works on Microcredit in developing countries.

She told me she thinks of social justice as having two feet: one foot that provides immediate assistance/charity and the other that examines the root cause(s) of the problem. Only when you have both feet can you stand, and also move forward. I told her I hadn’t heard it described that way before but that I appreciated her sharing the analogy with me.

We critiqued the IMF and factory farming and pondered about remedies for Detroit’s poverty. We went on to speak about the demonization of immigrants and the cluelessness of gigantic SUV-drivers. I had originally intended to spend the time during my lay-over calling friends and family and letting them know I was safe, but I found it much more enjoyable to speak to a stranger, whose name I never did get, about hope and change.

I was nervous the entire flight to Guatemala, but I was calmed by a Canadian couple who now make their home outside of Guatemala City, where they go door-to-door trying to convert people to become Jehovah’s Witnesses (wonder how you say “watchtower” in Spanish?). They warned me that I would frequently see dogs on the street being mistreated (stones thrown at them, etc.) and it wasn’t long before I spotted neglected dogs for myself. When I exited the airport, there was one roaming the sidewalks nearby.

When I first left the airport’s main door, I didn’t see a sign with my name on it (as I was promised by the school). There seemed to be an endless sea of faces and signs with other names on them. Finally, after five minutes and turning down multiple offers for cabs, I spotted my name. I hopped in the shuttle bus and immediately began using Spanish. The driver and I spoke about basic things - where I was from, how long I was planning to stay, etc. We even managed to make each other laugh a few times.

After 45 minutes, he dropped me off and showed me to my room in the student guesthouse that I would call home for the next month. I was struck by the difference in architecture I saw (compared with the Midwestern structures I was used to). The house featured tin roofs, two terraces and areas with open ceilings.

Once in the house, I met Miranda, one of my housemates. She's originally from Texas and moved to Guatemala to lead eco-tours. She and I share a love for travel and need for movement and change, although I have a feeling she's more adventurous than I am.

I slept most of my first day as I was so exhausted from weeks of sleep deprivation. To my surprise and delight, I was able to sleep like a baby. I suppose that happens when you temporarily leave your daily life behind and your biggest worry is learning to conjugate irregular verbs like "poner."

Some shots of the guesthouse:




And the view from outside our front door:

Unlucky in the UP

In September, I had the pleasure of working at two Kewadin casinos in Michigan's Upper Peninsula with my good friend, Dobie Maxwell. I met Dobie during one of my first paying gigs at a club that's now closed, an old Italian restaurant that hosted comedy shows on the weekend. We've remained friends ever since we first bonded over how hard shows can be when audience members are too busy stuffing their faces with bruschetta to laugh. Oh yeah, and his last name is also my middle name. Although we've been friends for several years, we rarely work together, so it was nice to be able to share the drive and the stage with him (and to commiserate over our harsh slot machine losses).

A shot from the drive there:

This was taken at a rest area, right before we saw a man dressed in head-to-toe hunting attire (complete with gun), trolling for deer along the freeway. We're not talking some little two-laner road either. No, I mean, he was hunting along the interstate! I wanted to take a picture, but feared he might get mad and try to shoot me. After all, I doubt the thin glass windows on Dobie's Camry would be any match for a rifle.

After we arrived, we took advantage of the buffet, performed some shows and got unlucky on the slots (think walking under a ladder while shattering a mirror sort of unlucky). An example of our misfortune:

Look where the line hit. Are you kidding me?!

Unfortunately, I didn't get any shots of Dobie and me, but I took plenty o' pictures of the Kewadin signs. Here's a couple for your viewing pleasure.




And some views of Lake Michigan from inside the casino:




It was a quick two-day trip, but it was nice to be able to catch up with Dobie, perform at new rooms and eat the crap out of the buffet's salad bar!

Thoughts on The Social Network (and social networking in general)

This was originally posted on ZoiksOnline.com (and if you're not a regular visitor over there, by golly, what are you waiting for?).

Like thousands of other movie-goers who are suckers for flicks about friends stabbing each other in the back, I saw The Social Network this weekend. I enjoyed the film very much, and I encourage you to see it if you haven't.

In addition to creating a desire in me to Google image search pictures of the real characters in the film, it also made me start thinking about life pre-Facebook (which, for some people, is a bit like thinking about life pre-electricity).

I remember the days when you had to walk three miles, uphill, barefoot in the snow to stalk somebody. You couldn't just find out someone's relationship status in an instant; you had to ask around. You had to do some homework. And finding out if your ex is married or if s/he got ugly post-break-up was way harder than just clicking your mouse three times. You actually had to spend some time in the bushes or follow them home from the grocery store to establish that.

And what about the days when we wanted to pass time at work? There were no status updates to check; we were relegated to playing solitaire or taking trips to the vending machine to relieve our heads from mundane tasks or nagging bosses. Of course, there was also always the ever-so-popular activity of looking for other jobs.

Or remember when we just took pictures to show family and friends? Now it seems we take them solely to prove to fellow Facebook users (AKA strangers) that we have an abundance of friends, get invited to parties and that we're young, fun, happenin' people. After all, nothing says "life of the party" like taking breaks from keg-stands to hop on a laptop to create online photo albums.

So what can we learn from The Social Network (other than that people who use Live Journal are not to be trusted)? I think it serves as a nice reminder about what life was like before it centered on virtual connections with people. Pre-2003, we actually had to request to be someone's friend (gasp!) in person. And if we wanted to find out what someone was interested in or information about their political beliefs, we had to (again gasp!) ask them. So for a nice trip down memory lane, why not start talking to people face-to-face again?

And if we really want to live out old times, we can always hide and stalk people in the bushes. Just be careful though as branches are scratchy and can cause way more real-life injuries than they do in FarmVille.

Off to Guatemala

I'm off to Guatemala for nearly a month. Since I've been asked several times, no, I'm not going there to do comedy. Although, if Guatemala turns out to be the Hollywood of Latin America, perhaps I will. First, I think I should learn the Spanish words for "comedian" and "funny." I know how to say "just kidding/I'm joking," but my ability to speak about my profession stops there.

I'm actually going there to take Spanish lessons and to experience another country. My love for travel knows no end, and I'm excited to go to a destination I haven't been before.

Also, I realized that I forgot how to conjugate verbs for the past and future tense, so I can only speak in the present. But as I was reminded yesterday, the present is a good place to be.

I look forward to posting pictures, writing about my adventures and sharing funny stories that are bound to happen as I will surely butcher the heck out of the language. But for now I'm going to relish my travels, the experience and the moment.   

Hanging with the Hurricane

I spent the week before Labor Day in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Despite a hurricane threatening to come into town, my sunglasses getting stolen by waves (Apparently, the Atlantic Ocean has an affinity for ginormous sunglasses that make her look like a sorority girl or Jackie O.) and some shows getting canceled, I had a lovely time.


Some pictures from around town:






The Outer Banks (or OBX, if you’re nasty) features New England-style homes with huge decks and elaborate stilts. If you’re a Nicholas Sparks fan (and you might not want to admit it if you are), and you’ve seen Nights in Rodanthe, well, the entire area pretty much looks like the set of the movie. It’s quite beautiful.

Ed and Leslie own the comedy club, and when you work there, you stay at their house, which features this view:


They also have two awesome dogs named Girl and Buddy.

That’s Girl, who is fixated on some Harris Teeter hummus and praying for an unfortunate accident involving it meeting certain death on the floor.

I worked with Rob Brackenridge and Chris Coccia, and Rob and I took advantage of the Jacuzzi and kayaks.

The water we kayaked in was so still and calm, and as I approached hour seven (okay, hour two) in the hot tub (pictured on the left), I realized that I could definitely get used to boating and relaxing by day and telling jokes by night.

However, Hurricane Earl had other plans.

He threatened to come in on Thursday, which prompted a mandatory evacuation for all visitors.

Every major news network was in town (and staying at the hotel where the comedy club is located) to cover the storm. Al Roker was even there!



Before our last show of the week, Rob and I concocted a plan to get on camera (After all, if you can’t be on Comedy Central, you might as well try to get on the Weather Channel as a tv credit is still a tv credit). We decided that we would both put on our best Midwestern voices (he’s originally from Wisconsin, and I can do a fairly bang-up North Dakota accent, if I do say so myself) and run behind the camera while screaming that the apocalypse is coming. We were going for something along the lines of miming pulling our hair out while saying, “You betcha we’ve never seen storms like this! Cheese-n-rice, this is even scarier than the snow in Fargo!” However, right as we were about to execute said plan, some little kids ran in front of the cameras and did the exact same thing! Those little mofos stole our thunder! Bah!





Eventually, I had to flee with the masses.

Before I left, I got to perform at two shows, which were great fun. After Tuesday’s show, one of the audience members even bought me a drink, which she promptly drank herself after proclaiming me a lightweight and telling me I didn't drink it quickly enough. That’s definitely the first time I’ve been shown up in drinking by a sixty-something-year-old. I guess I need to practice.

I’ll close this entry with a portrait of me that Rob did during the week.

I’m contemplating using it as my new headshot. What do you think?

Merry in Merrillville

In July, I had the chance to perform at Wisecrackers in Merrillville, Indiana for the first time. And I had a royal blast-o-roony!

The club is located in a Radisson Hotel, which is one of the fanciest hotels I’ve stayed in. It definitely beat the hell out of some of the “classier” joints I’ve been to that featured bathroom door-style locks, torn blankets and blood-stained pillow cases. Imagine my delight when I discovered my room actually contained a hair dryer!

My room also had a fancy tv.

I was even more excited when I turned it on and realized it actually worked. Can I get a “hellz yeah!” for free cable?

And a fancy bed.


My room even had a telephone in the bathroom.

Definitely a nice feature after a night of heavy drinking. Note to self: install phone in own bathroom.

The crowds were extremely energetic, and I had so much fun! I did get heckled though. A few times. And I can’t decide if it’s wrong that I was more offended by a heckler telling me I don’t look like I’m in my twenties than a drunken bachelor party attendee screaming “show me your tits.”

That’s the super hilarious (and very nice) Jef Brannan performing on stage.


When I wasn’t performing at the shows, I checked out some nature trails and sand dunes. P.S. I had no idea Indiana had any sand dunes; I thought it was mostly just home to conservatism and Walmarts. But, alas, it does, and I’m so glad I took extra time to explore them.




These pictures don’t do much justice to how pretty the beaches actually are. And, as you can tell, they featured trash cans o’ plenty! Nothing says beauty like gigantic blue barrels every 10 feet.




Between the fun crowds, awesome hotel and pretty scenery, I can’t wait to go back!

Williamsburgs

At the end of June/beginning of July, I took a trip to the east coast. My travels took me to Virginia and New York (with some lovely bathroom breaks in Delaware and New Jersey).

Despite having lived 45 minutes away from it for a year, I had never traveled to Williamsburg, Virginia. So why not take an impromptu trip?

For those of you who haven’t been, Colonial Williamsburg is a revolutionary war-themed town complete with people dressed in period costumes, and bars, restaurants and shops that resemble those from the 1700’s. Although I highly doubt actual 1700’s stores would accept MasterCard. But, alas, who can turn down getting cash back while purchasing a toy musket?

What trip would be complete without a cheesy picture in the center of town?

You mean you’re not supposed to grin like you’re getting your senior pictures taken while being restrained in a stockade? Apparently, torture devices make some people happier than others. This was taken seconds before a kid yelled, “um, I don’t think you’re supposed to be happy in there. Quit smiling!” at me. Clearly, he’s not into bondage.


Me thinks the sign might be referring to a different kind of revolution. But, who doesn't like an excuse to raise their fist in the air and fight the power?


One of the overly priced drinks from Saturday night. Again, I question the authenticity of the drink. Not sure that dyed sugar cubes, champagne and maraschino cherries were common beverage fare in the 18th century, but after a couple of them, I was more concerned with the merry feeling in my head than I was about period accuracy.

In addition to people running around saying “The British are coming! The British are coming!,” Williamsburg also features scenic roads and hiking trails.

A view from one.



I'm not quite sure what was supposed to be interpreted. I was expecting to see some avant-garde statues in the middle of the hiking trail, but alas, all that we interpreted was the amount of sweat we were excreting due to the extreme heat.

The College of William and Mary also makes its home in Williamsburg. The campus was very pretty and scenic (complete with lush trees and old buildings). Did I capture any pictures of that? Um, no. But, I did manage to snap this extremely juvenile picture.

If that ain’t maturity, folks, I don’t know what is.

After leaving Williamsburg, Virginia, I headed up to Williamsburg, Brooklyn (notice a theme?). During the trip, my phone (which contains a GPS and written directions for my destination in Brooklyn) crapped out and was unable to hold a charge. So I had to get there the old-fashioned way: with an Atlas, many prayers and a few tears. It was 103 degrees when I drove to New York City, and my car has no air conditioning. But, the good part about sweating so much is, you don’t have to hit the john nearly as much. So I made quite good time!

My parking spot in Brooklyn.

This Hyundai was getting a bit frisky with my Civic, so I did what any good parent would do and told him to back the eff off! I also instructed some birds to crap on him, but, as you can see, they missed their mark and pooped on my car instead.

While in New York, I went to Food Swings (an amazing vegan restaurant in Williamsburg), had some delicious sushi, drank a lot and probably gained 15 pounds.

The aftermath of one of my nights there.

Nothing says class like vodka and Pepsi.


One of the many reasons I love New York - it's possible to get these at nearly every deli (way necessary after a night of drinking the worst vodka in the world).

After two weeks of being in states that touch the ocean, I headed back to good ol’ Michigan. Luckily, the trip home was cooler than the one there and I didn't sweat nearly as much.