Adventures with Kate, part nine

On Tuesday, August 17, Kate and I had just arrived outside the Greyhound station at Key West International Airport after a long, long bus ride. Kate called the woman we’d be CouchSurfing with to let her know we had arrived. She came right from work to drive us to her apartment, which wasn’t very far. (Nothing is very far away in Key West, I guess.) She said she had to go back to work and that she’d return in a few hours.

We were free to go out and explore the town if we wanted, but we stayed in the guest room, which had a bunkbed and its own bathroom. Kate spent the rest of the day getting some much-needed sleep while I surfed around on her netbook. I sank a good deal of time into my CouchSurfing profile, hoping that my roommates would allow CouchSurfers to stay with us.

A few hours later, our host came home. After she offered me a serving of the dinner she was making for herself, I woke up Kate to keep her from missing out on another night’s sleep. We talked to our host, who said she hadn’t lived in Key West very long but had CouchSurfers over all the time, about tourist attractions in the area. I had been to Key West five times (1999, 2000, 2003, 2005, and 2007) but never for very long, and I always sort of did the same things. After our host gave us some suggestions, we called it a night.

The next day, we set out for the historic part of the city by bus. I didn’t know Key West even had a bus system, to be honest, but sometime between hugging the ocean and zigzagging through neighborhoods, I could see why it was necessary. Yes, Key West is a relatively small island, but it seems like it would be pretty big if you’re walking. It’s not big enough that there are a lot of buses, though.

We got off near the famous Mile Marker 0, the end of mighty US 1, from which distances are measured in the Florida Keys. To Kate it was just a sign, but to me it more than that. To me it was the symbol of a lifestyle—a state of mind, even. Okay, not really. To me it was a sign, and I get a bang out of signs.

Next, we went to the Florida Keys Eco-Discovery Center. It was a sort of small museum with information about the ecology of the area as well as a few fish. There was also a theater, where Kate and I watched a short movie about eco-discovery or something like that, told from a first-person perspective. Clearly, it was very memorable. Maybe Kate remembers exactly what it was about.

After that, we went to Fort Zachary Taylor Historic State Park. Our host had told us that there was a good beach there, and was she right. It was gorgeous and not extremely crowded. Kate and I swam around for a little while before drying off and moving on. We hadn’t eaten lunch yet.

We walked up lively Duval Street to a restaurant that our host recommended: Caroline’s, appropriately located near Caroline Street. As soon as I got there I realized I had been there before, when I visited Key West with my family five years ago. We had eaten outside then, and I wondered if they had inside seating since it was pretty dang hot. Fortunately, they had a couple of tables inside, so we sat at one of them. At the other were seated some people about our age who were speaking a foreign language. Kate recognized it as Russian and said that they were talking about stupid things.

In a break from restaurant tradition, I didn’t order an enormous hamburger, but Kate did. Instead I got a pasta dish, but of course, we shared our food with each other. Even though we were stuffed, the dessert menu looked too good to pass up. Kate got what I believe was a giant cookie with ice cream on top of it, and I got a slice of the Florida Keys’ most famous dessert, Key lime pie. I’m not sure if anyone outside Florida has heard of it, hence the Wikipedia link.

Kate had mentioned that she wanted to go parasailing, so we found a place on the street that was offering parasailing… sessions?… and signed up there. Soon after, we walked to a nearby marina and found where we had to be. We signed something, handed over some money, and got onto the boat that was waiting there.

With us were a young couple and a mom and dad with a kid. Our captains were a couple of young dudes who coolly disregarded the “No Smoking” sign near the steering wheel, which made me wonder how much stock they put into the one that said “It Is Customary to Tip the Crew.” They put on some dude music and took us out west of the island. The young couple parasailed for a few minutes; next the mom and the kid went up.

Kate and I were last. I was sure I would have a problem with the harness or something since I always have problems with those kinds of things, but I ended up being secured pretty tight. The boat sped up, and up we went.

I was sure it was going to be really windy up there, but there was only a gentle breeze. Instead I felt like I was sitting on a cloud. Kate and I, sitting on a cloud, side by side. We were really high up, and we could see probably half of the city. Maybe all of the city, I don’t know. I was pretty psyched. Meanwhile, in the boat, one of the dudes was taking pictures and recording a video of us for our possible purchasing pleasure.

Finally, the boat slowed down, and we came back to earth. Kate had requested that we be skipped along the water like stones, so the driver dude obliged. That was when I kind of fell out of my harness and got a wedgie, the memory of which I can now enjoy forever on a mini CD that I paid $20 for. (It was $30, but they secretly knocked it down for me since I didn’t want to spend the money.)

After our parasailing adventure, we walked around the marina some more until I noticed that the sun was setting fast. I was determined for us to take part in the tradition (maybe it’s only a tourists’ tradition, I don’t know) of watching the sun set in Mallory Square. We made it just in time… as far as I could tell. I forgot that you can’t really see the sunset from Mallory Square. There’s an island in the way. An artificial island. Rich people live on it. It’s called Sunset Key. Kate was not amused.

Now it was getting dark and there wasn’t much else to do, so we took the bus back to our host’s place. It was around that time that I discovered that federal regulations prohibit making more than six withdrawals from a savings account in 30 days. I had been paying for bus tickets with my debit card, so I would regularly move money from my savings account to my checking account. Now, I was about to be out of money.

The next day, Kate wanted to go kayaking, so in the morning we walked to a marina on nearby Stock Island, where we rented a ‘yak for a few hours. They gave us life jackets, paddles, and a copy of a hand-drawn map showing the navigable waterways in the immediate area. With those, we set out, Kate in the front, me in the back.

Kate first wanted to a go to a salt pond that was only reachable from a canal. The canal wasn’t far away. On one side were houses, and on the other side were mangroves. The map showed an opening among the mangroves that would lead us to the salt pond. We found the opening and started to make our way through. The passage was barely navigable and seemed to be way too long. Eventually, it was clear that we had taken a wrong turn, but we couldn’t turn around. Finally, we got stuck and had to try. I don’t even know how we managed.

After paddling the whole way backwards, we made it out to the canal and looked again for the actual opening. This time, we found it, and before us was an enclosed area of very shallow water. It was a good place to relax after that ordeal.

Next, we decided to paddle out to the ocean. Along the way, we passed some anchored boats, some of which were clearly abandoned. Soon, the water was getting choppier, and we could say that we were pretty much out in the ocean, even though it was extremely shallow in places (we had to try not to run aground). Once we realized what time it was, we hurried back to the marina, hoping to catch a bus that would take us back downtown. I’d never paddled so hard in my life. During the home stretch, it started raining. We hung out at the marina for a few minutes until it stopped.

Next, we walked to the nearest bus stop. While we were waiting, I called my parents and asked if they could give me an advance of five weeks on my allowance and deposit it into my checking account. The bus didn’t show up, and it would be a long time before the next one, so I called for a taxi. The taxi didn’t show up either. Then the next bus didn’t show up. Finally, a couple of guys who were walking by said (in Spanish) that the bus didn’t stop there. That stop was on the bus schedule, but they had to be right.

Dejected, we walked back to the apartment and had lunch. If we wanted to go back downtown, we would only have about an hour before we’d have to be back to catch our bus out of Key West. We decided to go for it.

After getting off the bus, we walked down toward the Southernmost Point marker, passing the Ernest Hemingway House on the way. After getting our picture taken with the buoy-shaped monument, we had a few minutes to swim at a tiny beach called South Beach. At the beach was a sign that said:

Tennessee Williams, who swam at this beach every morning, said, “I work everywhere, but I work best here.”

After a brief swim, we had to hurry to catch our only bus back to the apartment. I thought we weren’t going to make it, but fortunately, we were a few minutes early. We were still wet when we got on the bus, but it was Key West, so I bet nobody cared. Actually, they were probably like, “Damn tourists.”

We headed back to the apartment and got our things together. Then, our host dropped us off at the Greyhound station at the airport, where she had picked us up two days before. We thanked her and exchanged goodbyes. Our bus was waiting. The final part of Kate’s visit was about to begin.

Actors read actual quotations from online Christian fundamentalist forums while somehow managing to keep a straight face: If Atheists Ruled the World (language NSFW).

Ain’t Bobby so cool

When I found out that Bob Dylan was going to be performing a concert at my own university, I knew I had to go. My friend Andrea had the same idea, so we got tickets together.

Okay, I’m not the biggest Bob Dylan fan in the world. I’ve listened to some of his albums, and obviously I think they’re good. But don’t treat this like a hardcore fan’s review. In fact, I wouldn’t even call this a review. I’ve hardly been to any concerts, so I don’t know how to review a concert. This is just a blog post, you guys.

Anyway, the concert was last night. Andrea and I got there pretty early, so we were sitting outside the O’Connell Center with a bunch of other people, most of whom were way older than us. Finally, we were allowed in and got to our seats. Andrea had been concerned because they were high up and off to the side, but I figured they would make pretty good seats. They weren’t really close, but they weren’t very far either; the O’Connell Center is rather cozy.

Of course, the concert didn’t start on time because nothing ever starts on time. In the meantime, concertgoers filed in, some of them checking out the overpriced Dylan merchandise on sale, and clips from Intolerance were projected above the stage.

Finally, the lights dimmed, and Bob Dylan and his band came out to thunderous applause. They launched right into “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35,” and then “Lay Lady Lay.” It was nice of them to start with songs that I knew. I didn’t know all of them, of course, but I was surprised by how many I did know.

A lot of them were from Modern Times (2006), the most recent album of his that I have. He and the band really rocked with “Thunder on the Mountain,” and people swayed their cell phones to “Workingman’s Blues #2.” In particular, I was happy to hear one of my personal favorites, “Spirit on the Water” (“I can’t go to paradise no more, I killed a man back there”).

Throughout the concert, I couldn’t help but notice that our seats were really good after all. Even though we were pretty far off to the side of the stage, Dylan played keyboards on a lot of the songs, and he actually faced us while tickling the fake ivories. (I liked the fancy footwork he employed while doing it, too.)

I had heard second- or third-hand that at one of his recent concerts, he “mumbled” the words to his songs, prompting fans to walk out en masse. I came mentally prepared not to expect singing like on the records. After all, when you sing a song you wrote 45 years ago 100 times a year for 20 years, are you really going to sing it the same every time? Plus, we are talking about Bob Dylan, a dude not quite known for his exactitude with the old pipes. In fact, Dylan practically spoke most of the words to the songs last night, but he did it in a Dylanesque way, so that was fine by me.

The musicians didn’t talk to the audience between songs; instead, the lights went out, some of the guys switched instruments, and they started the next song as soon as they could while the lights went back on. I was a little put off by it at first, but I wasn’t there for the jibba-jabba anyway.

After finishing “Ballad of a Thin Man,” Bob and the guys walked offstage, and the lights went out. I was like, This is it? That’s the end? You have to remember I don’t go to a lot of concerts. I guess it’s pretty much standard procedure for the performers to get the audience to demand an encore: “All right, twist my arm!” And twist it we did.

The crowd started making a bunch of noise for a few minutes, and finally, Bob and the band came back out for a few more songs. One of them was “Like a Rolling Stone,” which was another I had been looking forward to hearing. After the song, Dylan thanked the audience and named each of his bandmates; this was the only time any of the musicians actually spoke to the crowd. Then they played “All Along the Watchtower,” bowed, and left the stage.

I might be making it sound like I didn’t have a good time, but I really did. The music was great; it was the experience of a lifetime. When is Bob Dylan going to play a concert in my town again? He’s almost 70, after all. I’m really glad I got the chance to see him and hear his raspy, raspy voice.

In case you’re interested, here’s the set list from Bob Dylan’s official web site, and here’s Andrea’s blog post with illicit photos of the concert! And those will be your links of the day. I’ve got a football game to go to.

Adventures with Kate, part eight

Hey, that rhymes!

It was Monday, August 16, and we had just decided to go to Key West after all. We spent some time packing all of our things; the next time I would be back, it would be without Kate. The end of her visit was drawing near.

Conveniently, there was no city bus stop at the Greyhound bus station, and we wouldn’t have even had time to take the bus anyway, so we had to call a cab. Even though our Greyhound bus wouldn’t be setting off for Key West till 10:30 PM, we had to get to the station while it was still open so we could print our tickets.

The taxi was extremely late, and I made several calls to the cab agency to make sure it would be on its way soon. Finally, a van pulled up. The driver was a lively middle-aged man with an English accent. He knew we were in danger of being late and wasted no time helping us put our stuff (including Kate’s friend’s guitar) in the back. I told him there would be extra in it for him if he got us to our destination on time. (Besides a regular tip, I mean. Come on, I’m not that cheap.)

It was a long way to the bus station in spite of the rush, so pretty soon there was some chit-chat going on, mainly between the driver and me. He asked how we knew each other, and I explained it well enough to avoid further questions. He said he was from Scunthorpe, Lincolnshire, and I said I had heard of it. We talked about the guitar in its oddly-shaped case, and he revealed that he had been in a band for many years. He said he had also played guitar for the likes of Willie Nelson and Roger McGuinn.

He somehow managed to take us to the station with enough time to spare, so, true to my word, I tipped him generously. We got our tickets as the station closed and then needed to kill a few hours somewhere. I had looked up some restaurants in the immediate area, hoping to find one where we could linger and use Wi-Fi. We ended up at an inexpensive Italian restaurant where they said they might have Wi-Fi. Fortunately, they did. We were about the only people there, and we ordered from the buffet, each of us going up for a plate occasionally.

After what seemed like an eternity in the restaurant, they were getting ready to close, and it was almost time for our bus to arrive. It picked us up at the station, and we headed to Orlando and then to Miami. We also had a rest stop in the Treasure Coast area. Surprisingly, I actually seemed to sleep a little bit on the bus.

In the morning, we arrived at the Greyhound station in Miami. We had a few hours to kill and some shopping to do. Kate had collected money from family, friends, and acquaintances who wanted her to buy them stuff in the USA. Unfortunately, even though we were near the airport, there didn’t seem to be any buses going where we wanted to go. So we resolved to go shopping at the end of Kate’s trip and decided to eat breakfast.

We went inside a gas station where they actually had a small restaurant-type place that even had some tables with vases of flowers on them. It was a classy gas station restaurant. Besides having some food, we got coffee from one of those nifty Kreurig machines with the ground coffee beans in little cups. I also bought a map of the Florida Keys so I could see where we were on the long drive to Key West.

After a long wait at the bus station (which was very small for such a large city), the bus came, and we were headed to the Keys. Eventually, blue seas came into view on both sides, and endless fields of grass gave way to necessarily tiny communities with almost as many boats as people.

We had a very short lunch break at a Burger King in the Middle Keys. It seemed to be an official Greyhound stop since there was a Greyhound sign near the premises. Inside, a section of the seating area was designed to look like the inside of a boat. The bus driver chatted it up with the employees behind the counter, who knew him by name. Kate and I didn’t have a long time to eat, but we managed. It’s easier when you work as a team.

Not long after crossing the famous Seven-Mile Bridge, the bus dropped us off at Key West International Airport. We had made it. I was excited but tired. Kate was just tired. I took a picture of us that I’m not sure she’d let me post on Facebook. I’m grinning ear-to-ear, and she looks like she wants to kill me. We had just been on a bus for most of the last 17 hours. I would have killed me too if I were her.

Kate had already secured accommodations for us with CouchSurfing. Our host had said she would take a few minutes off work to pick us up and take us to her place, so we called her to say we had arrived. As we sat waiting outside the airport, I started thinking about how we could spend a precious few days in my favorite place in the world.

Here’s a video of a bunch of guys called the Fab Faux performing a fantastic cover of the medley from Abbey Road. (Via waxy.org)

Adventures with Kate, part seven

On Friday, August 13, Kate and I were at my family’s house. We didn’t do much that day; the five of us (my parents, my grandmother, Kate, and I) went out for a drive around the area that culminated in a trip to the bank. While the grown-ups were banking, Kate and I wandered up and down Main Street, taking pictures. As we were getting ready to leave, it started raining.

The next day, Kate wanted to go tubing on the Ichetucknee again, and this time, she wanted to go down more of the river. But despite our efforts to get there early, the upper entrances to the river had already closed, and we had to take the shortest route down the river, which was what we had done last time. There were also more people there. And it rained. But it was still fun.

Later, when we were back at the house, Kate and I took out a couple of bikes and rode down to the river to go swimming. Well, Kate swam for a few minutes, and that was it. We continued a little farther on our bikes, but there wasn’t much to see. I’m glad we did it, though. It was something she had wanted to do.

We went back to my apartment that night, and the next day, August 15, we decided to go to a concert on campus. Along the way, we checked out a fish store (taking pictures everywhere, of course) and then we each got a tiny carton of ice cream at the grocery store for us to eat during the concert.

We made it to campus, and it was empty, as I would expect it to be on a Sunday during the summer. We each got a copy of the program at the base of Century Tower, where the bells were. We sat on a bench nearby dug in to our ice cream during the opening number, “The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba“.

Right after that, it started to rain, so we headed for cover at Turlington Hall. We ended up sitting on a bench near a few other people. They were the only other people I saw who were there to listen to the concert. Poor carillonneur.

After about an hour, the concert was over. We returned home to make pancakes and more chicken salad. Actually, Kate made them, and she did a great job as usual.

The next day, August 16, started slowly. We had been planning to go to Key West, and we still weren’t sure if we wanted to go since our only real option would be to go by bus. Finally, we decided that a little bus ride shouldn’t get in the way of having some fun, and we bought tickets for the next bus to Key West. Then we started packing; we didn’t have much time.

Surprise? Playing classical music won’t make your baby smart! (Via mcgees.org)

Adventures with Kate, part six

On the evening of August 11, after Kate and I had gotten back from our visit to St. Augustine, we heard someone else in the apartment. Andy and I had been the only ones living there at the time, and Andy was out-of-state, so it wasn’t him. A month before, we had been told that our four-bedroom apartment would be getting two new roommates, both foreign grad students, immediately—but nothing had come of it. Finally, here was the first roommate.

I went over to the occupied room to say hello to the first new roommate. He had just come from Beijing, and he said that his friend, the other roommate, would be coming in a few days.

The next day, Thursday, August 12, I had to go in to work. Normally I would have the whole break off, but I’d had so much work that I couldn’t finish it all before the break, so I had chosen to go in on this day. I strolled in with Kate, both of us sunburned, and my boss commented on how I was clearly enjoying my break.

When I was done with work, my parents and grandmother picked us up; we would be spending a few days with them. The first thing we did was hit the post office. I had bought a guitar online for one of Kate’s friends, who had given me the money to buy it. Either they wouldn’t ship it to Russia or the Russian postal service isn’t trustworthy (or both), so Kate was going to take it back to Russia herself.

It was still pretty early once we had gotten the guitar, but we decided to have an early dinner at the one and only Satchel’s Pizza. Since it was so early, we didn’t have to wait for a table. We ordered two large pies, and after (mostly) finishing them, we walked around the junk shop/museum in the back. Kate enjoyed taking pictures (and a video) of the assortment of strange things.

After that, we went to the mall so Kate could buy some clothes. She had packed light, expecting to buy clothes stateside, but she was only getting around to it now. She headed right for Abercrombie & Fitch. I was pleased to see that they had made an improvement to the shopping experience by turning on the lights. All the better to see naked models with, my dear. I’m not holding out for them to cut the blaring music or annoying cologne smell, though.

We made a brief trip back to the apartment so we could pick up a chicken salad that Kate had made. She insisted that it was substandard because she had had to leave out or substitute some ingredients (including Andy’s vegan mayonnaise-like spread for actual mayonnaise), but we had eaten about half of it, and I found it to be delicious.

After that, we went home, and I was ready to spend a few days relaxing with Kate and my family.

Yesterday, The Consumerist posted an Updated List Of Airports With Full-Body Scanners. I saw one at Jacksonville International Airport in May, but fortunately, there were two security lines, and I picked the one that didn’t have one. I don’t fly much, but in the future I’ll avoid airports that use full-body scanners. And when all airports have them, it’ll be time for a judgment call. I’ll probably have to cave eventually, at which time I’ll feel (quite literally) like a whore.

Adventures with Kate, part five

We now return to Adventures with Kate. When we last left our heroes, they had spent a second day in historic St. Augustine.

The next day was Wednesday, August 11. Our host dropped us off at the Greyhound bus stop—St. Augustine doesn’t have an actual station—and, in keeping with his occupation in the home entertainment business, gave us some (solicited) parting advice on buying TVs. (Stick to names that you know, and don’t buy Vizio.)

Our original plan had been to spend the night in Jacksonville and return to Gainesville the next day, but since we couldn’t CouchSurfers to stay with in Jacksonville, we decided to go back to Gainesville that same day. (I apologize to my friends who live in the Jacksonville area, but I forgot about you because you had just moved there, and I bet you wouldn’t have had much time or space for us anyway, given your whole moving situation and all. We cool?)

Back at the Jacksonville Greyhound station, Kate and I were hungry, and we didn’t have much time to go and eat before our next bus. We found an Italian-type restaurant a few blocks away from the station, and as we waited for our food, Kate used some place’s Wi-Fi to check for last-second acceptances of our last-minute couch requests. No dice.

After a little while, we got back to the station, taking our food in case we had time to finish it. (Surprisingly, we were allowed to eat in the station.) Unfortunately, in order to get back to Gainesville that same day, we would have to suffer a layover of several hours in Lake City. Wondering what there was to do there (“nothing,” our host had told us), we had decided just to walk around and see what there was to do.

The Lake City bus station was near the center of town, which didn’t seem too implausible, since probably everything was near the center of town. We had passed some important-looking buildings on the way to the station, so it was in their direction that I suggested we walk. The main building turned out to be the Columbia County Courthouse (or, according to the building itself, the COLVMBIA COVNTY COVRT HOVSE, which is hard to pronounce—trust me, I tried). Kate and I, the shutterbugs that we are, started snapping away.

In front of the building was an obelisk, a memorial to the Confederate veterans of a particular battle that had happened in the area. Elsewhere were tombstone-like memorials commemorating later wars. There were five of them, arranged chronologically from left to right in an unfinished semicircle. I said, not entirely jokingly, that they were saving space for future wars. I failed to notice that there wasn’t yet a memorial for the wars we were currently in.

The sun was hot, and we were tired and thirsty, so we looked for a place to relax and have something to drink. We found a cafe and went inside. There were some tables and an empty stage, but no one was there except for a fat kid plunking around on an organ in the corner of the room. In the back was a doorway with beads hanging from it. We went through, and there were a few patrons nestled among wall-length bookshelves, which were filled with books, and random things like a knight’s suit of armor. Behind the bar, a man with a rebellious haircut told us that the cafe had just reopened and that they didn’t have much food. Kate wanted juice, and since they didn’t have any of that either, we moved on.

Nearby was an old-time pharmacy and soda fountain, so I saw an opportunity to give Kate a taste of old-fashioned America. We went inside. On one side was the pharmacy, which was open, and on the other side was the soda fountain, which had already closed. We sat down at a table anyway, and since no one came to us, I went over to the pharmacy side and bought a Pepsi out of the fridge. Kate got a Sierra Mist. Sitting at our table, we used Kate’s computer and the soda fountain’s Wi-Fi to get online. Kate sent a message to her mother, and I signed up for an account at CouchSurfing.

At our quiet table, we had a view of the spare traffic going hither and thither along Marion Avenue. At one point, while Kate was using the facilities, a man came up to the window and stopped. He silently asked for the time. I showed him my cell phone, and he seemed satisfied. But then he held up a note saying that he was deaf and that he needed 75 cents. I knew that like most beggars he was probably just collecting money for drugs, but as a result of my Catholic upbringing I felt obliged to give him a little bit just in case he really needed it. We each went to the entrance of the building, where I opened the door and dropped some spare change into his hand. As I got back into my seat, I saw him give a gesture of success to a woman driving pick-up truck slowly alongside him.

The next time someone asks me for money, I guess I should really just tell them to get help at their local homeless shelter, but I feel bad saying no to people who are (apparently) in need. I would be glad to give a little extra to them, but how do you know who really needs the money and who doesn’t? Fortunately I don’t have to make that decision every day, but if I ever live in a big city, I’d probably grapple with it often.

We didn’t have much time before our bus came, so we walked a couple of blocks to see one of Lake City’s famous lakes. It wasn’t very big, and it had a fountain in the middle, but there seemed to be actual life in and around it, such as the Muscovy ducks (Kate thought they were chickens at first and was amused when I told her their name) that a couple of people were feeding en masse. It started drizzling sporadically, so we took that as our cue to get back to the bus station.

We arrived back in Gainesville and started our long trek from the Greyhound bus station to my apartment. We went through the University of Florida campus, where we stopped for a while to admire a double rainbow that had appeared in the sky. As Kate and I talked about the double rainbow video that had been making rounds on the Internet, I overheard some other passersby gawking at the rainbows and talking about the video as well.

After a bus ride from campus, we were back at the apartment at last.

Here’s an interesting analysis of Americans’ evolving views of homosexuality: “Gay? Whatever, Dude.”

Intermission

Aaaand we’re back. I’ll continue talking about my adventures with Kate soon (probably interspersed with other posts), but it’s been a long time since I’ve talked about anything else, so I thought I’d fill you in. (Funny how that happens, isn’t it? I get lazy for a few days, and then I’m finally ready to write something but I’m just too dang busy to do it.)

The first day of classes was August 23. This semester has been pretty good so far. My classes aren’t too bad. I’m taking four classes, as usual, and my course load actually seems lighter than it was over the second half of the summer, when I took two classes.

As for socializing, I’ve been spending a lot of time with my friend Andrea, which is good because I didn’t see her very much for a while. I’ve also been getting to know my new roommates, whom I’ll talk about more later. And, of course, I’ve been hanging out with Andy, who’s still one of my roommates.

I entered the football ticket lottery this year, and I won, so I have tickets to all of the home games. I really should have entered the lottery in years past, but I just never felt like doing it. It’s a great way to make money: just go to the games you want to go to and sell the rest of your tickets to other people to make an overall profit.

I didn’t go to last week’s game, which was the season opener against Miami (Ohio) (I believe “Ohio” is supposed to be whispered; read it again and see if it sounds better.) I sold my ticket instead. But I plan to go to this week’s game against USF with my sister and a bunch of her friends. It should be fun. I haven’t been to any football games since I was a freshman (this was my last one), and since it’s my final year, I feel like I need to get some more of those experiences in.

Last week, I wrote a letter to the editor of the Alligator about a column titled “Christian Philosophies Shaped America.” They ran my letter yesterday, and you can read it online as well (but probably not for long since their links die after a certain amount of time.) This is my third letter that the Alligator has printed; the previous ones were from October and February.

One link today: Google Scribe, an apparently new toy that offers autocomplete suggestions for everything you type. (Via Andy Biao of waxy.org, who suggests, “for fun, try typing any word and hit enter repeatedly.”)

Adventures with Kate, part four

It was Tuesday, August 10, and Kate and I were in St. Augustine, America’s oldest city. The guy we were staying with lent us a couple of bikes for the day so we could get around by ourselves. I hadn’t ridden a bike in a while, but it was like riding a bike. They were both mountain bikes, and even though I thought I would have a problem with them (I’ve always preferred single-speed bikes), I didn’t really.

Our first stop was the lighthouse, a short ride away. This would be our second visit to a lighthouse; we had visited the Hillsboro Inlet lighthouse in January. I couldn’t help but compare the two lighthouses. Most notably, the Hillsboro lighthouse is only open to visitors a few days per year, while the St. Augustine lighthouse is only not open to visitors a few days per year. The former is still owned and operated by the US Coast Guard, while the latter is not.

The St. Augustine lighthouse is also more impressive overall. It’s taller, and it has that classic conical lighthouse shape. We spent a while at the top of the lighthouse even though there were a lot of other people there. It was a nice day, and the breeze was strong but refreshing. After going back down, we checked out the adjacent museum and, of course, signed the guestbook.

Kate had wanted to go to the beach, so the next stop on our bicycle journey was Anastasia State Park. At the park, we ate some overpriced hamburgers and then went to the beach. It was a very wide beach with shallow water. After briefly going into the water, we decided to lie in the sun. I had grabbed a couple of towels from for us our host’s bathroom (with his permission, of course), and I unraveled mine to find that half of it was labeled “FACE” and the other half was labeled “BUTT.” Kate thought it was hilarious.

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s putting on sunscreen. It’s greasy and smelly and makes a mess. So I didn’t put on any sunscreen, and neither did Kate. Instead, we just lay. After a while, we were incredibly sunburned, and we decided to go back to our host’s to relax. But a short stay turned into a long one, and by the time we went out on our bikes again it was getting dark.

I wanted to take Kate to see the scenic campus of Flagler College, so that’s where we went. We spent a lot of time taking photos of the buildings (especially Kate, with her new camera) and then just talking. We were tired, having had a long couple of days. And it was pretty quiet, with only the occasional horse and buggy going by with an annoying tour guide and some family inside.

After a while, I thought we should head back; I didn’t want to be out too late. At our host’s place, Kate and I had some frozen dinners that we had bought at the grocery store. Not long after, we laid our sore, sunburned selves down to sleep.

Read about The Origins of 10 Nicknames. (Via The Presurfer)

Really interesting: Top 10 Codes You Aren’t Meant To Know. I’ll never think of stores the same way again. (Via J-Walk Blog)

Adventures with Kate, part three

On the morning of Monday, August 9, Andy drove Kate and me to the Greyhound station. Kate and I would be taking a bus to St. Augustine; while we were there, Andy would be going to Albany and staying there for a couple of weeks. Since Kate and Andy wouldn’t see each other again, their goodbyes were especially poignant.

Kate was a seasoned Greyhound pro by this time, but I had never ridden with them before. In fact, I would venture to guess that not many people have. Besides that it’s inconvenient for a majority of Americans (i.e., the ones who have cars), I think there’s a sort of stigma attached to bus travel in this country. I was about to find out whether there was any reason for that.

Our bus pulled up, and we made our way on. The bus seemed decent enough—there was a good amount of leg room—but we changed seats to get away from some people who were talking. (There are no assigned seats, but you can’t sit in the very front. I don’t even know why they have the seats there if you can’t sit in them, but that turned out to be the rule in every Greyhound bus that I rode on. Maybe someone can enlighten me.)

The bus set off for Jacksonville, where we would have a brief layover. I had only made the trip from Gainesville to Jacksonville once, so it wasn’t really familiar to me. You pass by Gainesville’s cute little airport, and then for most of the trip you’re traveling through small towns in the middle (or, to be fair, probably closer to the edge) of nowhere. You also pass by the Florida State Prison.

It was near here that I happened to notice the bus driver talking on his cell phone. We were driving through a small city—I guess it was Starke—but that was no excuse for his behavior. Still, I was feeling more non-confrontational than concerned. I decided to complain to Greyhound later, but even then I forgot. I think Kate did it. The driver talked for about ten minutes, and when he wasn’t talking, he was singing. Why don’t more people ride Greyhound??

To pass the time and try to ignore the merry bus driver, I continued reading Of Human Bondage, which I was eager to finish by the end of Kate’s visit so we could talk about it. Kate was busy taking pictures with the new camera that I had bought for her. It was a Pentax K-x, a DSLR, and I agreed to give it to her as a gift to help offset the cost of her flying all the way here from Russia. She’s a photography nut just like me, although she’s more serious about it than I am. I don’t see myself wanting an SLR anytime soon.

It wasn’t long before we reached the Greyhound station in the metropolis of Jacksonville. It was a relatively large building with a number of “gates” that different buses could pull up to. (These were nothing more than a row of numbered doors, each of which corresponded to a bus-sized parking space outside.) We didn’t have long to wait, and in the meantime a poster imploring runaways to call a particular hotline for help tickled my fancy. Stigma, stigma, stigma.

Next, we hopped on the bus heading for St. Augustine. We were going to be late meeting with our host. Kate had made sleeping arrangements for us via the CouchSurfing hospitality network, and our host had volunteered to pick us up at the Greyhound station in St. Augustine. When we arrived, he and his roommate were waiting for us in their vehicle. They took us to a restaurant for a late lunch.

The restaurant was located on the water, but the water wasn’t the ocean. It was a marshy, tidal sort of thing with crabs and pink birds running around, and there was a marina nearby with lots of boats. The restaurant also had a pen with a couple of baby alligators in it, and Kate and I checked them out after lunch. Then we wandered around and checked out the boats. Our hosts gladly followed us around.

Then, they took us back to their place. They lived close to the historic part of Saint Augustine, near the possibly famous Bridge of Lions. Actually, the bridge seemed to be going extensive renovations, and the lion statues had been placed in storage. So for the moment it was the Bridge of No Lions.

Later, Kate and I started to explore historic downtown St. Augustine. Kate needed a certain filter for her lens, so our first stop was a camera store that our host had looked up for us. The place turned out to be pretty sketchalicious, selling nothing but the incongruous combination of electronics and beauty supplies. There were cameras and makeup everywhere. The guy at the store had the filter she needed, and he wanted an arm and a leg for it, but Kate managed to talk him down to a more reasonable price.

With Kate’s camera safe from the harmful rays of the sun, we were free to meander around some more. We made our way to Castillo de San Marcos, the historic fort that was built by the Spanish. We didn’t have much time to spend there before it closed, but I was determined to make every minute count. I had only been to the fort once before, and it had been undergoing renovations, so I didn’t get to see much of it. This time, we were free to walk around the courtyard and the various rooms that opened up into it. We spent a long time sitting in the old chapel. Soon after, the fort closed, and we had to leave.

From there, we walked down historic St. George St. (Saint George Street, that is), which I find charming, even if it is touristy. As Kate was taking tons of pictures of the oldest wooden schoolhouse in the United States, a disheveled-looking man started giving me unsolicited ideas for cheap dates, one of which involved watching some owls somewhere. I couldn’t help but stay and listen since Kate was busy taking photos. Little did I know that by this point she was just snapping unflattering pictures of me torturing myself to listen to this guy.

It was getting dark, and we called for a ride to get picked up. Our host took us to a store where Kate could buy some clothes; she hadn’t packed a lot because she had been counting on buying stuff in the US. She didn’t find anything she wanted at either of two stores, so our next stop was the grocery store to pick up some food for dinner (and, in our host’s case, for future meals).

Back at home—the place felt like home since we had our own room—we prepared dinner. Well, really, the host and Kate did most of the work. Kate cut up the chicken, the host made a sauce and got a salad together, and I was eventually tasked with helping to make some couscous. Our dinner consisted of the sauce on top of the chicken on top of the couscous with the salad on the side. And man, was it good, especially after such a big day. The conversation was good too. It turned out that the host had also been a student at UF a number of years ago, and we had even taken one of the same classes with the same professor.

By this time, it was getting to be late, so we went to bed. We would have another big day in store for us.

Here’s how fraudsters make fake credit cards. (Via The Consumerist)

This video is fun (if a little annoying) to watch, but the subject matter is interesting: The surprising truth about what motivates us. (Via Lifehacker)

Adventures with Kate, part two

Kate, Andy, and I got off to a slow start on Sunday, August 8. It was already the afternoon when we decided to go tubing. For those of you who don’t know, tubing is a popular pastime in the Gainesville area. Basically, you get yourself an inner tube; go to one of the slow, meandering rivers out in the country; and enjoy the ride.

If it sounds pretty dang halcyon (according to Google, no one has ever said that on the Internet), like the way you would imagine the young boys of yesteryear going down for a swim at the watering hole, it’s not really like that. People tend to go tubing down the Ichetucknee River at Ichetucknee Springs State Park, which may or may not be pretty crowded. And a whole cottage industry of tube rental companies has sprung up around the park so that you can stop at some little place on the side of the road, get a tube for $5, and, when you’re done, leave it at the park for Jimbo ‘n’ pals to pick up when you’re done. Not a bad setup.

The park contains several entrances to the river—on-ramps, if you will—that determine the length of time you’ll spend floating downstream (there being a single place for all tubers to get out). By the time we were all ready to go, only the entrance that was furthest downstream was still open, so our journey down the river would only last about an hour.

Aside: Do you know what makes rivers flow? Rivers are formed when water comes out of a hole in the ground—this is the source of the river—and then, thanks to gravity, all this water flows toward lower ground (downstream), like when water flows down the driveway when your dad is washing the car. The ground gets lower and lower till it reaches sea level, and, voila: the water enters the ocean. Fast rivers come from mountains and stuff because they’re high up, and slow, meandering rivers are found in flatter places. This is all extremely obvious, but most of it no one ever told me outright, and it only really hit me when I was in maybe high school. Because, you know, I don’t often sit around, thinking about rivers and stuff.

The drive to Ichetucknee Springs State Park was longer than I remembered, and we were even concerned about making it to the last river entrance on time. I realized that we’d be driving right by my parents’ new house. Kate and I had been planning to spend a few days there, so I decided to call the ‘rents and ask if the three of us could have dinner there on the way back from the river. Of course, they said it was fine.

We stopped at a place for some tubes. One of the good ol’ boys noted that I was wearing a Beatles shirt and said I looked like I could be one of them Beatles; he added that he just seen one of their movies the other day, great movie, the one where John Lennon has the ring stuck on his finger and the crazy Indian cult is after him tryin’ to kill him and all. Great band, they were.

There weren’t too many people at the park, and the three of us made our way to the entrance farthest downstream. I was the only one who had actually gone tubing before, so Kate and Andy probably didn’t know that getting in was the hardest part. We were standing a metal platform just above water level. The water was moving along pretty quickly, so it wouldn’t be too easy to lay down your tube and get yourself in. Andy went first. He slipped on the platform and fell into his tube. Kate got into hers awkwardly. I got into mine like a pro, but the water was really cold, so I wasn’t extremely pleased either.

Since the water was moving so swiftly, Andy hung on to a nearby tree branch to wait for me and Kate. After we all got together, he managed to help Kate reposition herself on the tube so that she would be more comfortable. And then we felt free to float along, enjoy the natural scenery, and relax.

In fact, you can’t spend too much time relaxing because you have to watch where you’re going. The river might not take you around turns so easily, and you can find yourself running into the edge where there are sticks and spider webs and who knows what. It helps a great deal to be able to steer yourself by rowing with your hands, even if it looks silly. So it was out of necessity that Andy and Kate picked up on the art and science of being a human rowboat.

After a while, we reached the end of the river. Well, not really, but we reached the point where we had to get off. The river was roped off and there was another platform off to the side where you had to go and get out. We left our tubes at the designated area and took a tram back to the section of the park where we had started. The trams came every few minutes, but they would be fairly full. Andy had the misfortune of sitting next to a chipper scout leader who was making jokes with everyone around him. Luckily, the ride didn’t last very long (although I’m sure for Andy it did).

Andy and Kate wanted to swim in the springs from which the river sprung, so we drove to the upstream part of the park. It was closed to tubing at this point, but the springs—halcyon swimming holes, if you will—would still be open for a while. I had never been to this part of the park, so it was new for me too. There were a few springs. The nearest one was filled with people, and Andy and Kate decided to swim for a minute or two before getting out. I didn’t go in because the water was too cold.

But Andy and Kate insisted that I swim, so we decided to go to the spring that was farther away. It was about a ten-minute walk through a wooded path, and only a few other people were there. We went into the water. It was extremely cold, and I swam around frantically, perhaps all the more frantically because I was still wearing my shoes. After a minute or two, I started to get used to it, but I still wanted out. So I got out, and I was afraid that I would be freezing since I didn’t have a towel. Surprisingly, I was just fine. I guess it was because there was no wind. It was always windy in South Florida, and I always dreaded getting out of the pool.

We dried off and headed toward my parents’ (and I guess also my) new house. I told Andy where to turn, but he missed the turn because he couldn’t see the driveway for the trees. Seriously, the entrance is pretty discreet. The mailbox by the side of the road is pretty much the only indication that anyone lives there. But Andy turned around and made his way down the dirt driveway that looks like it could be long but is actually pretty short. And then, standing amid the trees, the new house came into view.

I had only been there once, when my parents were still checking out the place. Now the place already looked like home even though they had just moved in. (The fact that we had most of the same furniture helped quite a bit.) I checked out my room, which had a new bed and was filled with boxes, most of which I didn’t have to pack (but I would have if I had had the time, honest). I felt at home pretty quickly. Andy and Kate chatted it up with my parents and grandmother.

Mindful of Andy’s vegetarianism, my parents made spaghetti for dinner, and everyone was pleased with how it came out. After dinner, we watched a little football on TV, it being the start of the preseason and all. But it was getting late, and we were all tired, so we decided to go back to the apartment.

But before we did that, we stopped at the Ben & Jerry’s on Archer Road to get a little ice cream. Andy had almost finished his ice cream before Kate decided what she wanted, and if you don’t know them, then you won’t be able to tell who I’m taking a jab at by mentioning that fact. After our dessert, Kate and Andy played a card game; apparently they just have decks of cards lying around for you to hang out and play. After that, we went home. Kate and I had a big day in store for us.

The Mohammed Image Archive is a collection of images of Mohammed, spanning the entire history of Islam, by Muslims and non-Muslims alike. (Via Atheist Revolution)

Have you ever heard the claim that the MMR vaccine causes autism? Here, in comic book form, is the story of the scientist whose bogus study set off a wave of fear, uncertainty, and doubt that has yet to die down. (Via waxy.org)