Instead of lugging myself to Penn Station and trying to hog an Amtrak seat to myself, I rented a car and drove three hours southwest, an hour of which was spent between Houston Street and Watts Street on Seventh Avenue trying to wedge my way into the Holland Tunnel. Sitting alone and comfortable with a car seat all to myself in my Chevy Cobalt, I tried to hog a spot on the other side of a red light. Unfortunately, an officer on foot patrol, bloodthirsty with itchy fingers, caught me seconds before I was able to nudge myself out of the intersection and ticketed me.
Considering all the speed limits I've ignored, stop signs I've paused to admire, and hubcaps I've littered the road with, I had this one coming.
Once arriving into the greater QVC area, instead of escaping into the dark glow of Outback Steakhouse, spreading whipped butter on warm bread and licking salt from a green-rimmed glass, I squinted my way into a Friendly's for a grilled chicken sandwich with too much garlic sauce, fries, and some kind of "Hunka Chunka" peanut butter and fudge sundae, which will surely make my pants even tighter than they were a week and a half ago.
Instead of ducking out of the rain into the Sheraton Great Valley, where QVC presenters are treated like royalty and shuttled around at our every whim, I am holed up in the Holiday Inn Express, where my room smells kind of funny.
But there is free Wi-Fi and free breakfast and a recliner in my room!
The lack of familiarity will probably keep me awake again, on top of knowing I have to drive myself to QVC Studio Park at 3:30 in the morning.
But hopefully once I walk through their doors tomorrow, it'll all come back to me...
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