My Kinky Texas Adventure - Part 2

Tuesday dawned very early for Mistress and I. After the nerve-wracking events of the night before, we had gotten very little sleep. Still we were both wide awake and ready to head out for Austin. We had two planes to catch and no doubt a lot of acreage to walk in the process, but the first challenge was getting from the house to the train station about a mile away. They don't allow overnight parking there, and R doesn't drive. That meant walking with a lot of luggage. Somewhere in the mists of time, some genius added wheels to suitcases and now that seems to be the standard. I am grateful for that.

November is typically cold in New England, and although it was a little nippy out, it wasn't uncomfortable. It was dark, of course, being only about five in the morning. The first train for Logan airport left the station in Malden at 5:15 a.m. and we intended to be on it. Life can throw miracles at you just as easily as it can obstructions, and I had to recognize such an event when I made it through the turnstiles at the train station without anything catastrophic happening. After all, I hadn't had any coffee yet and the walls were looking a little shaky to me at just that moment. But the card swiped through the little slot and I passed through that revolving mechanism that I so often see as a castration machine. I have never been able to just run at those things for fear of what would result if it didn't move properly.

But move it did, and we soon took up seats on the train. It seemed forever before the doors closed and we pulled out of the station, but finally, we were officially launched. We arrived at Logan not long after and proceeded to check in.

I've said it before and I'll repeat it here. Ponies and their trainers do not travel light. Beyond clothing and toiletries (all properly stashed in their little bottles and plastic bags - oh how I hate those rules), there are grooming supplies, reins, extra bits, signs for the stalls, double-ended snap hooks and, yes, the twitch. None of that stuff would make it in if we tried to carry it on, so it all had to go into the checked bags. There was a time not long ago when that wouldn't have been a problem, but these days, airlines are charging nothing short of your eternal soul if you want to check a second bag or if the bag you have is over the weight limit. In this case, nothing could weigh more than 50 pounds.

Mistress is a very fashionable dresser at events, and she was carrying all of that extra pony stuff in her suitcase, so she ended up going over the limit by 10 pounds. We didn't know how much my case weighed, but when we were told she would have to pay an extra $80 for that ten pounds, I began to sweat. I mean, ouch! But as it turned out, my case was well under the limit. By that time, Mistress' suitcase was long gone, so there was nothing we could do about it other than make a mental note to change things around for the trip back. Not that we were scheduled to travel on the same flights or anything, but it would all end up in the same place.

Once inside the secure zone, we had a chance to grab some coffee and a bite to eat. This is where I always fail to learn life's lessons. If you're traveling through airports and are anything like me at all, you keep telling yourself that you can get something to eat once you are through security. No matter how many times you do this, you never seem to recall just how horrid an airport food court can be. Somehow, your inner optimist - the one you keep saying you are going to strangle one day - tells you over and over that this airport can't possibly be as bad as the last one you were in. Every time you listen to that guy. And every time, you come the raw prawn.

Mistress needs to eat before she can put coffee into her stomach. I can put most anything into mine without trouble. So we sat across from the Dunkin Donuts eating out breakfast. I don't remember what she got, but I clearly remember eating my crunchy egg sandwich on a croissant. Someone should tell these people that croissant are not supposed to be crunchy. And yes, they should be flaky, but not in such a manner that the flakes end up all over you.

Ohh well, that was breakfast in Boston. I'll spare you the gory details of lunch in Atlanta. We tried. Really we did. But airport food is...well, I'm surprised Rod Serling never made a Twighligh Zone episode about it.

Wow. I'm glad I didn't think of that during the trip. The last episode of Twilight Zone that I saw was the one starring William Shatner as the airplane passenger who kept seeing a gorilla on the wing.

In fact, both flights were uneventful. We found out seats (Mistress got the window) and settled in on both flights. They were tastefully boring and I spent most of my time either reading the in-flight magazine, staring out the window - as is my wont on plane flights - or eating the pony treats that airline feed passengers these days. Remember when you used to get an actual meal if your flight went over a standard mealtime? Those days passed a long time ago and I can't help wondering what a five hour flight across the country would be like today. In any case, I should remind myself that if airport food is nasty, the food they cooked on the flight itself was equally bad. So I guess I didn't miss anything.

We landed in Austin pretty much on time. Stormy would not come in until the next day, so Mistress and I gathered up our luggage and went outside to await our ride. We were to be picked up by Miss Indigo, but there was a small confusion on our arrival time. Miss Indigo arrived ahead of schedule and when we weren't there, went out to do some errands. A call from Mistress on her cell phone, and Indigo headed back to the airport. Shortly thereafter, we were in the car and headed out to the suburbs.

I'm a homebody. I don't have to go very far away before I start missing my cat and feeling somewhat out of place. That is particularly true when I visit places far away from home. My parents moved eight states away a few years ago, and when I visit them I step into a completely different climate and culture. I can never seem to get used to the sight of palm trees, and although I do like warmer temperatures they are weird in November.

Texas was something else entirely. I always knew it was big, but I had no idea. They were just coming out of a long drought at the time, and although things were reported to be on the rebound, the landscape was pretty brown and featureless. The highway went on for mile after mile without a lot to look at. I found out later on that the state has a small number of high population centers like Dallas, Austin, and Fort Worth and a whole lot of empty space between them. Texans think nothing of traveling five hours to attend a meeting or other function and then traveling five hours to get home. It's just the way it is in such a large state. Not a good place for someone with ADD.

Still, Miss Indigo has a talent for conversation that kept the atmosphere in the car fun and entertaining. Before long, we arrived at her utterly spotless home. She apologized for the mess. To this day, I'm still trying to figure out what she was talking about. Mistress and I found our rooms and put our luggage away for the day. We would spend the night here and then go to the CTK Ranch the next day.

I no sooner got my suitcase stowed when I began to realize how tired I was. Mistress and Miss Indigo were planning to do some shopping before Mistress fell on her nose for a while, so it seemed like a good time for this pony to hit the hay. I was out like a light in no time and slept for quite a while. At one point, I remember feeling someone putting a blanket over my feet. Somehow, it ended up covering my whole body before I woke up.

Later that evening, Miss Indigo took Mistress and I out for dinner at a local Tex-Mex restaurant. I guess there's something about Texas in that they take their Tex-Mex very seriously. This place was fantastic and unlike any I had ever been to before. We were well-stuffed by the time the meal was finished and still had plenty of food to take home with us.

A stop at the local video rental store, and we headed home again. We picked up two DVDs to watch that evening; Disney's Enchanted and Hellboy II.

That about caught both ends of the spectrum. We watched both movies, had a bit of nosh and then headed to bed.

I don't remember what hour we awoke the next morning, but we showered, had breakfast and hung out for a while. Soon we would head over to join up with some friends, pick Stormy up at the airport and then get some lunch before heading out to the Ranch.

Lots of restaurants refer to the food they serve as Texas barbecue, but I'm here to tell you that it isn't Texas barbecue unless you are in Texas. I have had barbecue plenty of times in my life and this tasted very similar. The differences were the side dishes and the atmosphere. Again, it's a different culture altogether and taken in context, it was a real treat that I hope to relish again some day. This place was a favorite of our hosts and was well chosen.

Once sated, we split up into two vehicles and headed over to the CTK Ranch. We took the scenic route through Austin proper and took the time to get a gook look at the nation's largest capital dome. Everything is bigger in Texas.

Once out of the city, we were on our way to CTK and a weekend of fun, competition and new friendships. More on that in the next installment.

I promise I won't make you wait as long for that as you did for this.

My Kinky Texas Adventure - Part 1

When Mistress says that this herd travels, she isn't kidding. It isn't necessary to travel long distances to play pony, but it certainly can be a lot of fun.

And a challenge at odd moments.

So it was with a great sense of adventure that the Proprietor and ponies of Aphrodite's Meadow traveled to the CTK Ranch just outside of Austin, TX for a weekend of games, competition and general nuzzling. Mistress, Stormy and I had been talking about doing this all year. We had all purchased our plane tickets in the late spring just after Camp and had spent some time figuring out those logistics. It's not easy traveling together when you make your reservations separately, but through the miracle of modern chutzpah, we managed it pretty well. Sort of.

Itinerary change, anyone?

Stormy and I chose not to trust the airlines with our tack. We both have heard horror stories about people checking their tack at the counter, never to see it again. We both have some serious investment in time, emotion, thought and money in the tack that we wear and it's too meaningful to lose. So we shipped our tack to the ranch about a week ahead of the event. Besides, a tack bag would have constituted a second bag and airlines are charging nothing short of your first born child for extra bags these days. Shipping wasn't cheap - about the same as checking a second bag - but at least we knew things would make it to their destination.

Stormy was traveling out of Hartford while Mistress and I departed from Boston. In addition, Stormy had to head out a day later than us because of a work commitment. It's not easy being self-employed, especially in a down economy. So opportunities have to be grabbed when they present themselves. I arrived at Mistress' house the day before we were to fly out, parking my car in front of her house in mid-afternoon.

Now if you've been following my story, you know my back tends to cause me pain now and then. It's down to an annoying background issue from the flaming, summer-ruining tribulation that it was, so it was odd to me that it should hurt more than usual that afternoon. And on the wrong side. I figured that the ride in the car had bothered me a little and brushed the pain off, thinking it would go away once I had a chance to walk around and stretch.

I thought wrong.

Now look. I was taking a week's vacation, traveling to Texas to play pony, and I'd been looking forward to this for months. Quality time with Mistress and Stormy is precious to me and nothing - repeat nothing - was going to ruin it. Period. I hit the denial button as hard as I could and forged ahead, giving Mistress a hug and jumping into her van to go shopping with her for some last-minute items.

Trouble is, my denial gear wasn't working very well. I knew there was conversation in the van as we traveled around and did errands, but my half of it consisted almost entirely of monosyllabic grunts acknowledging that someone was talking and little else. I just couldn't get my mind off the pain in my back and the anxiety it was causing. I don't do canceled plans or ruined vacations with any sort of grace, and I had no intention of changing my plans. Attempts to compensate by sitting or standing differently failed and Mistress was starting to notice. She already knew about the pain, but its extent was something I had tried to cover up.

By the time we got home from shopping, the pain had subsided a little and I thought it was over. Mistress' partner R had made her way home and the three of us decided to go out for dinner. We went to an Irish pub in my car and had no sooner arrived and been seated when someone hit me in the back with a mace. Or at least, that's how it felt. We ordered, talked a bit and then I went silent again. This time, I couldn't hide anything. The white knuckles gave it away. That and my inability to sit still. Just as our food arrived, I had to confess that my appetite had vaporized. We got up from the table and asked the waitress to box up our meals. Mistress retrieved my car and drove me to the closest emergency room while R walked home with the food. Luckily, things were all close at hand.

By this time, I knew what was going on. When asked what I suspected by the triage nurse, I told her it was a kidney stone. This would be the second one of these buggers I had dealt with in eight years, which doesn't make me a prolific stone mason, but what timing! The triage nurse took the information and told me to have a seat in the waiting room. I chose a spot in a corner behind a screen that was reasonably private and Mistress and I sat.

And sat, and sat, and sat.

After thirty minutes, the pain in my back suddenly vanished. I mean, it went away completely and something left me with the ontological certitude that it wasn't going to come back. At about the same time, I realized that I had to pee like the race horse that I try to be. Knowing that hospital emergency departments only tend to ask for a urine sample right after you have relieved yourself, I walked over to the triage desk and requested a specimen cup, "Just in case." I went to the bathroom and, while doing what I was in there to do, I had the unbelievable good fortune to pass the stone while aiming for the cup. Proud as a peacock - not to mention relieved as hell - I emerged from the bathroom crowing and waving the specimen cup around for all to see. I had accomplished something!

And still we sat. Two more hours crept by while I continued to marvel at my sample with it's tiny little boulder knocking around like so much gravel in a little stream. The population of the entire waiting room had turned over twice, but still my name had not been called. Mistress was annoyed and suggested that I go and ask what was going on. I work in health care and know about long waits in emergency departments, so I was inclined to wait just a bit longer. Besides, I hate confrontation. I would probably still be sitting there today, but Mistress decided that enough was enough. She walked into the registration office to ask what was going on. I could see her standing there, back to me, no doubt asking very pointed questions of the staff that seemed to be getting just a little agitated.

A few moments later, a nurse came out and called my name. It seems that triage at this ED is a two-stage process and triage nurse number one had not handed me off to triage nurse number two. As a result, my information was not in the computer and nobody knew I was there.

Nice.

I went in to speak to triage nurse number two, giving her all of my information and hugging my specimen close to me. I had gotten somewhat attached to it and didn't really want to let it go. In the end, though, I had to turn it over, and it disappeared. I was ushered into a treatment room and awaited the physician.

The doctor was an affable, friendly man who also suffered from kidney stones, so we hit it off quite nicely. After his consult and an analysis of the stone, he suggested a CT scan. By this point, however, it was after ten o'clock at night. Mistress and I were ravenously hungry, my pain was gone, the trip was saved, and all we wanted to do was eat and sleep. Still, I welcomed a prescription for Percocet just in case something went haywire while 30,000 feet over Virginia. I declined the CT scan - having had one in August, after all - and the two of us headed home by way of the local pharmacy.

Once home, Mistress and I had our dinner from the restaurant - which was fabulous - and spoke briefly with R. Apparently Stormy had called while we were out and R had very nonchalantly informed him that we were both at the emergency room but would probably be back before long. By that time, R had heard from Mistress that I was fine and the crisis had ebbed, so R could reassure Stormy. Still, I wish I could have listened in on that one.

Very quickly, it was bedtime. After all, Mistress and I had to get up at 4:45 the next morning for the walk to the train station complete with luggage. This was going to be very exciting.