No, I did not set it ablaze, but after my recent experiences I would not blame anyone who did. As with most disaster victims, I had no idea what was going on until it was over. I was confused when the Megabus driver pulled over to the Kankakee rest area on northbound I-65, because there were no scheduled stops between Indianapolis and Chicago. Yes, the construction had forced us into one lane and an accident in that one lane had turned the freeway into a linear parking lot for an hour, but we’d finally gotten past the congestion. Why were we still traveling at 25mph?

When we pulled into the parking lot and the driver dove for the fire extinguisher under the front seat, I began to realize something was wrong. Then he opened the door and white smoke started to billow in, at which time I almost pissed myself and decided I needed that rest stop after all. I grabbed my backpack and hustled down the narrow aisle into a cloud of white smoke.

During the stop and go traffic, our bus had decided it would rather stop and go at the same time. The brakes had locked up and we’d been smokin’ down the highway for I do not know how long. We had to wait almost three hours for a replacement bus to be sent through the mess of construction from Chicago, which according to the maps at the Kankakee rest area was 65 miles away. This is why I had Chex Mix, Junior Mints, and a Fiber One Peanut and Oats bar for dinner Thursday evening. It is also why I finished the book I’d thought would last the whole trip to and from Chi-town. This left me plenty of time to mentally inventory the items in my suitcase and decide whether I would miss anything that might have been charred to a crisp in the luggage compartment.

Thankfully, I did not have to be in Chicago at a certain time, however one of my fellow travelers was supposed to catch a charter bus to New York for the weekend, which I’m pretty sure didn’t happen. The replacement bus finally came, we transferred all our luggage (which thankfully hadn’t been barbecued), and we were off to Chicago with an overall 4 hour delay. I had been planning on taking the Chicago bus to my hotel, but decided not to risk another bus incident, and took a cab instead.

At this point, I was willing to forgive the Megabus corporation for the trouble. Busses break. That can’t be avoided, and they’d sent a replacement within a reasonable amount of time given the traffic circumstances. Also, the bus driver had gotten us to a safe place with water, food, restrooms and shelter. It had been annoying yes, but you can’t control what happens to you in life, only how you react to it, and all in all everyone had reacted well.

Then came Sunday.

I sat on the sidewalk near Chicago’s Union Station for the 11 o’clock Megabus to Chicago. A pair of hairy legs in green shorts stood next to me as I read a magazine, and if this had been an episode of Lost, this is where the camera would have zoomed in on the man attached to these legs in a flashback because he was going to play a large part in the upcoming events.

The bus was about 15 minutes late, but this is the Megabus, and I did not expect it to be on time. We loaded up onto the muggy and somewhat warm bus and the bus driver told us that although it was hot right now, once we got on the road the air would kick in and it would get cooler.

We got on the road, but the air did not kick in and it did not get cooler.

About 10 minutes into the trip, a man from back walked down the aisle and complained to the bus driver that it was still hot. “Get behind the line,” she told him. There is a white line painted on the aisle floor that passengers are not supposed to cross. This line seemed very important to our bus driver of Megabus 64184 from Chicago to Indianapolis departing at 11:00am on Sunday, July 26, 2009. The driver then fiddled with the knobs and got on the line with dispatch who told her to fiddle more knobs, and still the air did not kick in and it did not get cooler.

The driver got through the first toll both of the Chicago skyway and then pulled over to the side of the road, across from a McDonald’s oasis that sat in the middle of the highway. She got up and told us that because the air conditioning wasn’t working, they were going to send another bus for us. This announcement was met with groans, and after 10 minutes of waiting the passengers started to get unruly. People started yelling, “Let’s just go!” and several people started complaining to each other about the man who had whined about the heat. I sat quietly in my seat, trying not to attract attention.

I had to ride a school bus for all of middle school and high school. It did not have air conditioning. You opened the windows and you did not bitch about it. Yes, it was hot. Yes, it was uncomfortable. Yes, your sweaty thighs became glued to the vinyl seats and ripped at your skin when you got up. You lived with it because that was just the way it was. Yes, the Megabus was warm, but it was tolerable, and if they had designed the bus so we could actually open the windows, there wouldn’t have been a problem. I can only imagine that people who ride beat-up busses with their chickens in the seat next to them as they descend narrow mountain roads in Peru would have laughed at what spoiled Americans we were.

The man in green shorts got up to talk to the bus driver, to which she replied, “Get behind the line please.” I’m not sure what else they said, but then Green Shorts not only stepped past the line, he sat on the steps next to the driver. All of this behavior was non-threatening, but he had literally just crossed the line which the driver seemed rather fixated on. After their conversation the bus driver got up and made a speech against us mutineers telling us she was not driving anywhere in a hot bus and no one was going to tell her how to run her bus.

Green Shorts then asked if anyone on the bus wanted drinks from McDonalds. Another guy told Green Shorts he was crazy to go across four lanes of traffic accelerating to 70mph, but I just handed the guy my water bottle and asked for a refill. If he wanted to risk his life, I was happy to get rehydrated at the same time. I was growing increasingly worried that the stuffiness, stress and dehydration were going to escalate my constant tension headache to a full-blown migraine.

Our savior managed to cross the traffic and return with two caddies filled with ice cold water and let us know it was much cooler outside the bus in the fresh air. The bus driver had gotten off the bus at this point and I was surprised no one leaped into the driver’s seat to hijack the bus to Indy. Everyone was rather pissed at this point, particularly me and one other woman who’d been on the doomed bus trip up to Chicago on Thursday. I’m sure sociologists would have been fascinated to study the changing group dynamics and the bond we all felt by hating the bus driver’s attitude.

I got off the bus and cut my arm crawling over a guard rail, after which I had to keep telling myself I would not get tetanus from it. I sat in the grass and my thoughts oscillated back and forth between, “I cannot believe this is happening again,” and “I hope this isn’t the part of the story where a car collides with the back of the bus and I am beheaded by flying shrapnel.” While I was trying to decide whether I would become more quickly dehydrated in the warm, stuffy bus or in the cooler outdoors in direct sunlight, Green Shorts was making a phone call. He snapped his phone closed and then said, “We’ll see what the police have to say about this.”

After about an hour and a half waiting on the side of the road, a replacement bus finally arrived. It wasn’t even a Megabus, just a white coach bus that came from God knows where. The men on the new bus started transferring our luggage, when the bus driver walked up to Green Shorts and told him he could not get on the new bus.

I know!

Again, if this were an episode of Lost, Green Shorts would have been one of the lead players who might be killed by the smoke monster by episode nine. I was playing the part of one of the nameless extras who kept their heads down and their names out of the credits. Green Shorts was not allowed onto the new bus, and although I did not actually see the cop cars, people on the bus said they had arrived. I’m sure the Chicago police had nothing better to do than moderate a power fight between a Megabus driver and a Good Samaritan passenger on their Sunday afternoon.

I know not what happened to Green Shorts, but eventually the driver got onto the new bus and we headed back to Indy. Halfway there…THE BUS BEGAN TO GET HOT. My new seatmate and I mumbled something about it to each other and made a pact to murder the first passenger who said anything about the temperature. I also tweeted the events as they happened on Twitter, and only later did I discover that not only had katydid6, another BlogHer attendee, been doing the same, I had been sitting next to her on the first bus! Yet, because I don’t have a Twitter app on my mobile phone, I was unaware of this until I checked my replies on my home Internet.

I spent the rest of the trip completely dehydrated, despite drinking two bottles of water. Once I got off the bus at Indy, I immediately walked two blocks and bought water from the closest available source, a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant. Before I’d gotten more than a block away, I watched the Megabus roll off for its next destination, Columbus, or hell, I know not which.

So, take this as a warning, DO NOT RIDE THE MEGABUS!!! I have ridden the service roundtrip from Chicago two other times before and did not have problems, but after this trip they’ve scored a 33% failure rate with me. I was willing to blame the brake failure on the first trip to bad luck, but after the air conditioning fiasco it became clear to me that Megabus does not take care of their busses. The first bus driver had been complaining about the brakes for days to dispatch, and the second bus driver was aware the air was broken, yet nothing was done until the situations had escalated too far. In addition, the second driver’s poor communication skills escalated the situation to a place it did not need to go, further delaying and complicating our trip. I do not expect much from the Megabus. Their fares are insanely cheap, so much so that I don’t feel it’s even worth it to demand a refund. I expect them to be late. I expect the bus to be somewhat uncomfortable. However, I do not expect to be stranded on the side of the road for a grand total of 5 hours on a round trip that takes 6 hours.

If you decide not to heed my advice and do ride the Megabus, expect the bus to be 2-3 hours late picking you up and dropping you off. Be sure to bring at least two large bottles of water (or preferably three to engender good will with thirsty passengers), enough food for two meals, and lots of reading materials. Preferably, you should also bring an extra bus.

****

UPDATED at 5:45pm on July 27, 2009 – As is the way of the Internet, someone from Megabus found my entry or my Twitters. I received an email from the Operations Manager today at 2:11pm apologizing for the poor service I experienced. They’ve refunded my ticket and offered a free roundtrip ticket on Megabus to make amends. I’m glad their customer service people are attuned to the Internet and that they’re at least aware of the problems I experienced. I accepted the free ticket because I have friends in Chicago I wouldn’t mind visiting as long as I’m not glued to a strict timetable. Megabus is not the most reliable means of public transit you will find, but I appreciate the fact that they listened and have done their best to make up for the problems I experienced.

We sowed some oats together this weekend in Chicago. Is it weird that he never took off his hat? (Oat-kay, I might be exaggerating, but he is actually nicknamed Larry by the Quaker Oats staff.)

This weekend I had a fantastic time meeting many lovely and lively health and fitness bloggers at the Quaker Oats Living Proof weekend. But let’s speak the truth here: ultimately this weekend came about because Quaker Oats wants to see what the blogosphere and social media can do for them. It’s about commerce. I know it, you know it, Quaker knows it, and now it’s officially out there. I did not go away for the weekend just because Quaker Oats is nice, though they were definitely nice. I got some free swag, free meals, and a free trip and Quaker got people talking about their products and started some relationships that will be to their advantage in the future.

That being said, just because there’s something in it for both of us doesn’t mean we can’t all have fun fooling around together. Ogilvy (the public relations company for Quaker) did a stand out job arranging the event, keeping it low-pressure and genuinely listening to our suggestions for the weekend. I think they genuinely care about having a good relationship with their customers and I’m glad companies like Quaker are trying to engage us in real conversations. More companies should do that.

So, with the motivations of all those involved kept in mind, let me fill you in on all the silly stuff I did this weekend. I was the first blogger to arrive, which left me plenty of time to do stupid stuff like leap in front of the mirrored wardrobe in my hotel room and snap a picture of myself in mid-air.

Please note the $7.00 bottle of Fiji water in the bottom right corner. I let it sit on my nightstand in favor of using a new invention called “the faucet.” David Bowie was lurking in the bathroom, but he was a gentleman and kept his eyes closed as I did my business.

Even when I turned on all the lights, the room was very dimly lit, but it let me better appreciate the gorgeous view.

The bed was amazingly soft and the wi-fi was free, so by the second night I wanted to move into my hotel room, even if it had a weird imitation snakeskin chair.

There was a meet and greet in the bar that night and then a dinner which included chocolate sushi. The next day we had breakfast at the Quaker Oats headquarters, where they serve free oatmeal to their employees every morning. (I would save dozens of dollars on groceries if I worked for the Quaker Oats corporation.) I truly wish I woke up to a spread like this in my kitchen every morning.

Then we went through a day of, with few exceptions, boring seminars. It was like being in college again, but when I went to college we didn’t have the technology to instant message our friends to make bad oat puns or speaker-related drinking games. Basically, oatmeal is good for your heart. Oat-kay?

I am frightened to even discuss the contr-oat-versy that erupted over whether steel cut oats are better for you than quick oats or rolled oats. And Oat My God, please don’t even talk about it in the comments because I honestly do not give a damn. I eat instant oatmeal in the mornings because I’m a lazy-ass mutha’ and I like a warm, tasty meal I can cook in 99 seconds. No, I’m not going to make a batch of steel cut oats on the weekend and eat it during the week. No, I’m not going to do the other weird thing you’re going to suggest either. Seriously, don’t even start! Stop it! STOP IT!!

Um, I have obviously been blogging too long. I am now getting into flame wars with myself.

We also saw a cooking demonstration by the winner of season four of Top Chef, which would have impressed me more if I had cable. Instead, she seemed as famous to me as we must have seemed to her. Then we were off to another dinner I would never have been able to afford otherwise, a bar meetup, and then a brunch meetup the next day where I got to meet a lot of lovely readers. Thank you for coming out, especially to the one reader who tasked her spouse to brave the Chicago cold to buy a copy of my book.

I ate more oats this weekend than I have ever eaten before in my life. I am going to be really regular this week and my heart will never be healthier. I also stuffed as much oatmeal into my bag as possible, but stopped short of stuffing my panties with packets of sweet roasted pecan because I didn’t want nuts in my butt crack. I do not apologize. There is a recession on and I need all the free food I can get if I don’t survive the company layoffs next month.

But far better than the free swag was meeting everyone who attended, from those bloggers I’ve read for ages to those I just met. Sweet, sappy, but true. It truly was a great group of people. Thank you to Quaker Oats for hosting the event. Thank you also for giving me a packet of the limited edition pumpkin spice oatmeal that is available only at Wal-Mart. It was truly tasty, but I find Wal-Mart far too depressing to shop at, so I doubt I will be enjoying anymore. (Unless I find an extra pack in my panties.)

However, I probably wouldn’t have met Rod, the homeless tour guide either. As I was walking on the cold, gloomy streets of Chicago, I ducked between two columns of a bank building to look at my map I’d hastily purchased at Borders on the way out of town. Rod asked if he could help me and then walked me 6 blocks to my hotel. I did not immediately “make” him as a homeless man. He was dressed in jeans, a blue jacket, and a hat. He was well-groomed, freshly shaved, and looked like any other Chicago citizen. He said the advertising company that he was the janitor at moved to Europe two months ago and he’s been living at the YMCA for $30 a night since then. I don’t know if any of that is true, but he seemed sincere enough. Of course, I am highly gullible and a tourist to boot, so he might have been spinning this tale for years before the current economic crisis made layoffs so widespread and his story more likely.

I didn’t feel threatened by him, nor did I feel overly pressured to pay him, but I decided to give him a $20 and I’m 95% sure that money will not go to a local neighborhood drug dealer. I probably would have only given him a $5 if I had one on me, alas I’d just gotten some $20′s from the ATM before leaving and I doubt Rod was going to make change.

Now I’m at the Hard Rock Hotel. I went to the bathroom as soon as I got in and I was halfway through a tinkle when I looked out the huge window in the shower on my right and realized any businessman in the building across Michigan Street could take a gander at my fleshy white thighs. I hastily pulled the shower curtain shut. Now I’ve made a cup of coffee and I’m settling in nicely, hoping the coffee I just brewed is as free as the Wi-Fi.

ETA: @Kari – That’s right, a window, in the shower.

Saturday, November 8th

10pm

Hard Rock Hotel Rocks Lounge

230 N. Michigan Ave

Chicago, IL 60601

Sunday, November 9th

9:30am

Panera Bread

635 N. Fairbanks Court

Chicago, IL 60611

Feel free to bring a book if you want it signed. Or just bring yourself. Hope to see you there! I doubt we’ll draw as big of a crowd as Barack Obama did last night, but it should be fun anyway!

Which is why I’m glad we’re planning a reader meetup during the weekend. So you all can come by and get some free food too! Yay! Everybody wins. (Except those of you not in the Chicago area. Oops!) So, the questions are:

1) Would you be able to come to a meetup in downtown Chicago either around 9:30pm or 10pm on Saturday, November 8th at a bar or for a brunch on Sunday, November 9th?

2) If so, which time would you prefer? (Please say brunch because I am an old woman who likes to be in bed by 11pm.)

The comments are awaiting your answers. Here is a list of the other bloggers attending.

• Stephanie of Back in Skinny Jeans
• Carla of MizFit Online
• Roni of Roni’s Weigh
• Tanya of I Ate Pie
• Lisa of Workout Mommy
• Monique of Big Fat Deal
• Leslie of Weighting Game (maybe, hasn’t confirmed yet)
• Jason of Twit2Fit
• Anne Marie of This Mama Cooks
• Amy of Super Healthy Kids
• Jenna of Eat Live Run
• Kath of Kath Eats Real Food
• Lyn of Escape from Obesity
• Alanna of A Veggie Venture
• Anne of Elastic Waist

This weight loss business never ceases to confuse me. Sure, I did go on a 7-mile bicycle trip. And I walked a mile from the hostel to Union Station dragging my 40 pound suitcase behind me because I couldn’t find the right bus stop. And I walked another mile or two when circling in on the W hotel (which is not the Westin, as the desk clerk was happy to tell us). But really, I should have gained weight and it feels rather ridiculous that I didn’t. I’ve heard theories that if you’ve been losing weight by slightly lowering your calorie intake and then you go pig out it signals your body that food is plentiful and that it’s okay to let go of some of your fat. Highly adaptable, the body is. Maybe I’ll gain it back later in the week, but as of today the scale read 174.8.

So that means I’m down another 3 pounds for July. This month was spent mostly just doing weights, Pilates, and some biking since I was laying off my injured leg. I didn’t have any problems in my many treks around the Windy City though, so I’m going to start easing back into my running program. Hopefully I’ll be in good enough shape to run my first 5K in the fall! Woo-hoo, free t-shirt!

I went to my second tennis lesson Monday night, even though I was completely exhausted from traveling. But there was no way I was going to waste my registration fee. I came back feeling unexpectedly refreshed. I am by far the worst tennis player in our class. It is somewhat comical. Everyone else is trying to adjust the angle of their rackets to hit the ball where they want to whereas I do a little victory dance every time I just hit the ball and don’t swat at carbon dioxide molecules. Evidently, like piano lessons, I’m supposed to be practicing in between my professional lessons. No one told me that when I signed up. I might have to actually buy a racket and some tennis balls so I do not fall so far behind my classmates that no one wants to rally with me. I don’t have to be the best, but it’d be nice if no one sighs exasperatingly when they’re paired with me. It’s funny, but I don’t even care that I suck at tennis. I’m just happy to be bouncing around the court without collapsing. I don’t think it’s something I’m going to pick up after my lessons are over though. I’m eyeballing martial arts next, or maybe salsa dancing. I’ll let you know.

Kathleen was the homicidal bicycle I was assigned on Bobby’s Bike Hike, an otherwise awesome bike tour through Chicago. I thought about the boat tour or the highly recommended architectural tour, but when I saw an ad on the hostel’s bulletin board for a bike tour, I knew that’s how I’d be spending Sunday afternoon before my bus ride home. Back when I weighed 372 pounds, I could have handled floating around on a boat and my feet probably would have survived a walk around Chicago with only a few blisters, but there was no way I would have mounted my huge butt on an itty, bitty, bicycle seat. My butt rarely even fit into regular-sized chairs. So I decided I needed to bike around Chicago simply because now I can. And of course, I had a coupon. (When don’t I?) I also loved ringing my bicycle bell! I just wish there had been streamers on the handle bars too and a big wicker basket with a huge plastic flower super-glued on top.

There were three tours to choose from. I signed up for the afternoon tour through Chicago’s lakefront neighborhoods because it fit my schedule. Before we left, our guide went over safety procedures with the two dozen people in our group. We were going to be a school of fish, a gaggle of geese, a force of nature flocking through Chicago’s streets that no man or Hummer could conquer. As long as we stuck together, we would all survive. It was like that scene in Gladiator where Russell Crowe tells everyone to stick together in a box so they don’t get speared by the dudes in the chariots. We also learned hand signals, some of which resembled 90′s dance moves. Everyone remember how to “raise the roof?” Well, in bicycle speak that means “pedal harder slow-poke because the light’s about to change red.” We were informed that the most important piece of information was to remember to grip your hand brakes together, but always grip the right one because it controls the back wheel. The only time there had been incidents on the tour was when someone gripped their front brake first and launched themselves over the handlebars.

So, we get onto the street and start to stop at a red light. I dutifully grip my back break first and…keep on sailing. Kathleen’s back brake was broken! I quickly called out to Andy, the tour guide, “Andy! Andy! My brake is broken!” At the next two red lights, Andy tried to fix the brake, but he was studying to be a lawyer, not a bike mechanic, and Kathleen was being a stubborn little bitch of a bicycle and wouldn’t cooperate. So I switched bikes with Andy and got to ride the lead bike with the flag on the back! It was awesome. I could have completely hijacked the tour and taken us all to Dunkin’ Donuts for carb loading. But I was good and just followed Andy to the Museum of Contemporary Art where a bike tour employee met us with my new bike, Sam.

Sam was much more cooperative, though his bell was broken. He’s just the quiet type, like me, so I was empathetic. I had gotten a few good rings in on Kathleen, and if I had to choose between broken brakes and a broken bell, I was going with the aurally challenged bike.

The rest of the tour was fantastic. I am too scared to ride my bike in the streets in Indianapolis because I know someone would probably plow me down and keep on driving. But no one tried to run us over, and even if they did there was only a 1/24 chance they would have hit me. However, there was a horse that had an unusual reaction when we passed him:

I guess if you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go. But if you ever drop a Chicago-style hot dog on the street, I suggest that you just leave it there.

We went through Streeterville and saw a Rolls Royce and a Jaguar in the Gold Coast (aka the “Viagra Triangle” thus named for the all the old, rich men who hang out there with their young trophy wives). We headed through Lincoln Park and then stopped in Old Town where we went into St. Michael’s Church. There are 89 angels carved into the alter in case you want the secret answer to the tour question that supposedly wins you a prize. Then we headed past the zoo, over a bridge and up the crazily, crowded bike path to the North Shore Beach, where you apparently must be under 25 to enter. I was glad I’d done riding on my local trail because that path was packed with people and scattered with sand in some places. There was nothing separating the concrete path from the edge of the lake, and I knew if I was still riding Kathleen I would have invented the new sport of bicycle diving. Coming to the Xtreme Sports Games in 2008! Then we headed back to the Navy Pier area and the tour ended.

If you are comfortable riding a bike, I would highly recommend the tour. It was only about 7 miles round trip, all of it as flat as my chest, with several breaks. There were one or two slight slopes in the park, but otherwise it was easy riding. Remember to bring your sunscreen though, because I got slightly burned. And check your brakes before you leave the store!

I was not sold into slavery by the MegaBus corporation, though the CTA bus I was riding Friday night sideswiped a taxi and confirmed all the justifications I had for not driving in Chicago traffic. But basically, yes, it was as fun and cool as you think it would be, which was refreshing because I always have a secret fear that I will go to fun places and not have as much fun as other people. As if “having fun” is a competition and the drunkest person who sings an off-key Kelly Clarkson song while wearing a glow-in-the-dark martini glass on their head wins. There was no drunken karaoke (at least in my room), but there was amazing food, even more amazing people, and yes, lots of fun. It’s also something that would have been physically impossible for me to handle three years and 196 pounds ago. Though it’s probably closer to 190 pounds ago if the cheesecake and cannoli have anything to say about it.

To tide you over until I can download my pictures, here is a picture of the weight-loss/body/people-who-talk-about-the-size-of-their-ass bloggers that I shamelessly stole from Shauna’s site:

From left to right:

Corinna from A Celebration of Curves who is a nice Greek girl with hair curlier than mine.

Jen from Angry Fat Girlz and Yet Another Weight Watchers Blog. So easy to talk to and exudes kindness and thoughtfulness. Plus she tipped me off to the MegaBus!

Shauna, the DietGirl (although she’s not on a diet) who is bubbly and exuberant and so full of life that some of it spills over the top and gets all over you making you full of life and happy too.

Me! Wow, check out my collarbones. And look, I’m smiling with my teeth, so you know I’m not faking it.

Wendy from Pound! Who has written books (like, plural) and who I would easily consider way cooler than me, but was so gracious with her time and knowledge and such a real, witty person to hang out with.

I also met Weetabix and Sarah from Elastic Waist. It is my duty to warn you to never to get in front of Weetabix’s SUV because she will run you down like a dog and then laugh about it with Sarah as they snack on gourmet food.

ETA: Oh! And I met Tanya from I Ate a Pie who is so poised and friendly that I would eat a pie with her any time. I also very briefly met Kate Harding, but barely got to chat before running off to another session.

I also made friends with some fellow refugees from the hostel, which was a much better sleeping experience than I expected. Of course, I expected to see cockroaches organizing 5K runs along the baseboards and rats scurrying across the ceiling pipes as part of the rodent circus. Instead, it was like staying at a college dorm, complete with possibly drunken strangers knocking over bunk bed ladders at 1:00 in the morning. I was impressed with the huge lockers that held my luggage, backpack, shoes and all the swag I accumulated from vendors. I’d definitely recommend it to a traveler on a budget who doesn’t mind showering with flip-flops.

I had a delicious dinner at Giordanos with my new hostel buddies, Adrienne from Baby Toolkit (who doesn’t live too far away and I think is going to become my eating buddy since she knows all the good places to chow down in Indy. She also kept mentioning my book to people since I was too shy to do it myself.) and Jennifer from The Imperfect Mom (who taught me a lot about Malaysian politics and culture and sells a cool t-shirt that says “Fabulously flawed and loving it.”). There’s a saying, “Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.” Whoever said that needs to go to Giordanos and break out the strike-through tags for their HTML, because I think I’d actually kill a small, furry creature for a slice of their pizza. I also met Shonnie and Cassie at the hostel, though I didn’t get to hang with them as much.

I also met Pamela and My Momtra and about a zillion other people who’s blogs I now have to read and thus will never have free time ever again. The great tragedy was that I didn’t run into Kalyn of Kalyn’s Kitchen who helped me get a book deal and taught me to roast radishes. Kalyn, where were you?! I guess I’ll just have to go to BlogHer next year to meet up.

Now I’m at a point where I’m looking back at the conference and hoping I didn’t say anything stupid to anyone and hoping no one was disappointed by meeting me in person. I hope I was witty and smart and didn’t ramble on too much or annoy anyone with my lack of eye contact. Sometimes I think I come across best in blog format. I’m also wondering why I didn’t ask people more questions about their non-blogging lives, but honestly, going to a conference and chatting with people and making new friends like I did was something that was completely unthinkable for me several years ago when I would have preferred to hide under the tables. I feel a lot more willing to be part of the world these days. Part of that is the weight that I’ve lost, but part of it’s something else, maybe just growing up? I have lost a lot of weight, but not all of it was measured in fat.