Well, after telling people for so long that I have to go down and visit the locations I’m writing about, I’m finally in the airport, waiting for my plane to take me to the California desert.
I’ll be taking the Philippines airline. Yes. Philippines. First off, why that extra ‘p’ in Philippines? And, then, why do the people who live there call themselves Filipinos with an ‘F’ and no extra ‘P’ dangling around in the middle? It would be like use living in Canada and saying we’re Kanadianz.
When I get on the flight, I mean to ask them about their ‘p’ choices. I hope I don’t get air-marshaled off the flight.
Now, in typical fashion, I arrived early only to find out my flight is late. Honestly, it’ not a big deal. I park my butt in a chair, haul out my laptop and do a bit of writing or watch people wander by or snicker at someone trying to carry one too many bags on a baggage cart. It’s all good.
But I have to say, I’m a big nervous going on this trip. Oh, the location will be fine unless I decide to visit a hells angels bar and ask the biggest guy there why they don’t have more gay or black people (or gay black people.)
It’s actually hard to put my finger on. Maybe I’m just getting old and new things scare me. It could be that I used to travel with the most organized, most amazing woman ever and she tempered my innate need to panic about every little thing. It could be that I’ll be doing part of my tour by the seat of my pants, chaotically driving around the desert in search of neat locations, hidden gems and long, lost airfields. A lot of horror movies seem to start out that way.
However, I needed a break. At home, I couldn’t find a way back to my writing, to finishing off my latest novel. My hope, more than anything else, is to get inspired. To rekindle my love in writing by standing in 104 degree heat. To live and breathe and walk in the world my character lives in.
Thankfully, I have a great friend who is looking after my doggies who has made this all possible. I have another great friend who picked me up in Victoria and made sure I got the airport on time. I have friends back home who’ll shoot anyone breaking into my home.
I wish I could take them all with me. A great convoy of clueless Kanadianz driving around the desert looking for that motel with the chainsaw marks on the room doors or going off road to find that long abandoned gold mine or simply seeing how long they can stand in the heat before they pass out.
But no, I’ll have to do those things alone.