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Last weekend I went to the Lori Foster event where I hooked up with old
friends and made some new ones. This year the event was bigger than
ever with almost 300 authors and readers in attendance. As always,
there just wasn’t enough time to spend with everyone. Of course, things
could have been easier about actually getting to the event.
For
example, I decided to break up the driving this year and stay in
Beckley, WV. Now to get to Beckley, you have to take I-64 from Richmond
to I-77. Since a couple of siblings live in Roanoke, I decided to call
and meet up with them for dinner. Sounds good, right? Well it would
have if I’d bothered to look at a map BEFORE I called my sister.
Blonde Moment
I
knew that I-64 runs concurrent with I-81, but what I didn’t remember
was that I-64 breaks away to the west from I-81 about an HOUR north of
Roanoke. (Note to self - look at the frigging map before traveling,
Monica) There I am southbound on I-81 and I see the signs for I-64
west. I frown and begin to wonder if I’ve made a mistake. (Okay, so I
make a lot of those, but this past weekend was FILLED with mistakes.)
Did I get my signals crossed? Roanoke can’t be too far out of the way.
Nope, it’s only an hour away. Hooray, seeing the siblings isn’t that
far out of the way.
As I breeze past the I-64 west exit, I
suddenly have one of those Uh-oh moments. “Damn it! I have to come back
up I-81 to get to I-64.” Can we say Dumb Blonde moment here? Now the
brain starts churning, and I wonder if it’s worth the pain of annoying
my family by calling to say, “um hey sis, I made a slight
miscalculation in my directions.” I decide not to go that route.
Besides, I’ve not seen them in about eight months, so if I’m that close
I should stop.
Second Blonde Moment
I
figure since the traffic’s light, an oddity for I-81! I can reach for
the Lori Foster Event folder I made months ago to check drive times to
Beckley. Have to adjust for side trip to Roanoke. OMG, where is it!
Damn, damn, damn, I left the bloody thing on my desk. Now I have to
contact the DH who isn’t happy with my less than usual organized self.
So I get the exit number and phone number of the hotel in Beckley.
Onward
to Roanoke and a quick dinner before I head back the way I came to
catch I-64 west. Now I have to tell you that I thoroughly enjoyed my
ride from Roanoke to Beckley. I had the windows down and the music
blaring. My Escape was sooooo rawking. It could have been one of those
boom box cars you see in movies where the car is bouncing off it’s rear
end. About dusk I hit the West Virginia line, and as usual, I yell,
“God, I LOVE those West Virginians.” Why you ask? Well in West Virginia
the speed limit is 70mph, which really means you can drive up to 77mph
without too much risk of a ticket. In Virginia, I’d be handcuffed for
going that fast. We’re SOOOO backward!
I arrive at the Fairfield
Inn in Beckley around 11pm. Three young cuties are working the front
desk and one of them says “Hey you need to call home; the DH wants to
know where you are.” When I call home, the DH is not a happy camper.
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve called you half a dozen times. Why
didn’t you answer your phone?” Umm, did I mention I had the music
blaring? It tends to drown out my Indiana Jones themed ring tone.
Third Blonde Moment
Now
because I’m staying over in West Virginia, I’m guessing my trip to
Cincinnati will only take me about 4.5 hours. So I stay up late doing
some marketing and writing. Get to bed around 1am. I get up around nine
and take my time getting my act together; after all, it’s only 8am in
Cincinnati, right? That means I’ll still be there in plenty of time for
the event. Finally I’m on the road and I’m booking along at 77mph when
my phone goes off. It’s my uncle who lives in the area with a traffic
update. He says to avoid I-275 because there’s a huge backup. So I
suddenly think, I’ll just use my GPS device to navigate around…Oh for
Pete’s Sake! I left the frigging thing at home! Where the hell is