Week 30 - Crows

They circled as the wind blew at my back. "Caw! Caw!" The damn wind kept switching directions as I slipped through the patch on the sidewalk where crunchy ice disappeared into a smooth spot, clear as glass. (crunch) Again back on the better part, I could hear the flutter of wings in this desolate town. When I decided to leave the hotel and walk to the Irish Pub (the Royal Mile), I thought I would encounter some people, somewhere. Quieter than the freeway after a zombie apocalypse, and colder than my memories of Michigan, the town felt like it could be a Fargo-based horror, with me as the unsuspecting Truman, merely used to shoot "real" footage. Block after block, with shadows fluttering above and occasional, nerve-rattling cawing, this 0.8 miles from the Holiday Inn over the highway seemed like an eternity in my head. So many times I started to turn around, but I felt drawn to this pub, the only place I knew I could find some warmth, a smile and at least some liquid calories. Not only was this place short on people or social life, but food was a tough one to come by as well. I hope I never have to return to Des Moines.

Freemason Lodge in Des Moines

Church in center of Des Moines

More downtown church

Des Moines was totally dead

Crows hiding from me, everywhere.

As it turns out, the pub was nearly worth the trip. Nearly empty, except this "engaged" cougar who asked a lot of questions and never answered any of mine, the bartender loved his whiskey, knew his beers and was the first friendly face I'd seen since I entered Iowa. I wish I'd had more time to pursue the whiskey as this also had the best collection of single malts that I'd ever seen in one place. Truly magnificent. Sadly, I stuck to the stouts, which were heartwarming in their own right. And then I had to go back out into the cold, wake up my former boss at the hotel who had landed through the snowstorm in my absence, and sleep through nightmares of those damn birds. I've attached pictures and video of the town that night.

Panorama of the whiskey at The Royal Mile

Conference itself wasn't too bad, besides a catastrophic failure of a presentation. When I loaded up the ppt and the text was all missing, I should have thought to change the slide design and hope that the projector was displaying another color properly. Instead, when the woman apologized for what had been happening all morning, I took her at her word and just plowed through it. I listened to the online talk and it didn't sound nearly as bad as it felt in person, but it's tough to talk about data that isn't on the screen. I fear that my audience didn't gain much respect for me from the talk, but I really thought that I salvaged the situation as well as you can salvage a projector error on a 12-minute talk. Meanwhile, my old friend Gail introduced me to many of her colleagues and it was nice to meet some new faces. Introductions from someone make that so much easier and less awkward.

We made the long trek back to Columbus, and I finally was able to catch some sleep. I drove the whole trip in just 9.75 hours, so not too bad considering 2 snowstorms and 4 stops. And then I slept... for a long time. Work in the lab was pretty slow the next couple of days, as I recovered from the exhausting trip. And then come the weekend.

My friend Tony had been bugging me for a while about this new "rock" violinist, Lindsey Sterling, who was dropping in on C-bus during her tour. He drove down from Michigan and we crashed a fish fry en route to this ordeal at the Newport. Venue was shoddy, crowd was very nerd/unshowered/gamer/goth, and the beer was super expensive. But the concert was great and the closeness of the old converted theatre made it feel like a small gathering. Lindsey was really great, and I plan to pick up her music after hearing it in person. It's exactly what I'd like to hear more often on my drives in to work. No lyrics, but just lingering violin with an up beat and pure sound.

A view of the Newport as Lindsey came on stage.

Dueling violins, played solo.

Lindsey Sterling, best picture we could get.

Graveyard dance.

Saturday was supposed to be a Crew game in the evening after the Beef Expo, but my wife decided she didn't feel well enough to go to it. Instead, we stayed home on the couch and watched Big Ten basketball for the tournament. Sunday was a family birthday party, and I enjoyed a few beers over breakfast to celebrate informally my favorite holiday of the year. All in all, a pretty great week - and I'm still praying I never go back to Des Moines, Iowa.