The Flight to Vegas (Or: How Robyn Scored a Free Beer)

I love Southwest Airlines - they are friendly, accommodating, timely and best of all, cheap.

I left San Jose on one of the most beautiful days we've had in a while -- warm, sunny, perfect. I packed, I cleaned my apartment (seriously - spotless perfection! was so nice to come home to that!), I met my mom downstairs and she drove me to the airport.

Given the warm weather in San Jose, I chose not to pack my heavy wool coat. I figured my Fresno State Alumni sweatshirt would be A-okay in case of cooler temperatures in Vegas. Walking through the airport security, of course it meant I got a quick pat down from the security officer, but whatever -- I was comfy, warm and good to go.

Southwest has open boarding, meaning I got to sit wherever I wanted. Naturally, I chose the front row, aisle -- all the leg room in the world. (Well, as far as planes go that is.) As I'm settling in, I buckled my seat belt and opened my book.

"Hey! Fresno State!"

I look up and the captain of the plane is staring and pointing at me.

"Yeah?" I said.

"I went to Fresno State! Do you live in Fresno?"

"No," I said, "Not anymore. Just when I was in college. But that's so awesome that you are a Bulldog too!"

"Wow. Small world. Yeah, I went to Fresno State a long time ago. I liked it there."

I smiled and chatted with the captain politely, but he soon ducked into the cockpit to fly the plane -- as all good plane captains should. I saluted him with a friendly, "Go Bulldogs!" a wave and a smile.

About twenty minutes into the air, the flight attendants begin taking soda orders. One approaches me, leans down and says, "The captain would like to buy you a drink. What would you like?"

Oh yes.

"Um, I'll have a beer, thanks," I said.

The beer tasted awesome at 30,000 feet and I was grinning the whole ride. How cool was that??? As I got up to grab my notebook and pen from my purse in the overhead bin, I heard, "Hey! Fresno State!"

I looked back a few rows and a young guy in slacks and a shirt with a neatly trimmed goatee is pointing at me and smiling at my sweatshirt.

"Yeah?"

"I went to Fresno State!!" he said enthusiastically.

Wow. Small . . . freaking . . . world. I guess it's not too shocking -- Fresno and San Jose are three hours apart, but still . . . two Bulldog alumni in one night??? That was a "Whoa!" moment.

I told my fellow Bulldog about our good captain and sat back down to write him a thank you note. I didn't see Captain Jeff (the flight attendant wasn't sure of his last name) after we landed, but that was okay. Leaving the note with the flight attendant, I stepped off the plane and into the Vegas airport.

A good start to the trip . . .

My note:

Captain Jeff, Thank you so much for my drink and more importantly, for flying me safely from San Jose to Las Vegas. :o) As it turns out, a gentleman a few seats behind me is also a Fresno State alum! I guess the Bulldogs were in good company this evening. Thanks again! Take care, safe travels and best of luck to you. Go Dogs!!! :o) Sincerely, Robyn Horn, Class of 2008.

Wear Red Day 2010 (or, How I Learned to Write Myself a Note)

Soooooooooo . . . Today is National Go Red Day, to promote women’s heart health awareness, and our hospital’s clinic is participating and we’ve really been pushing it from our office. Well, Gary took us out for breakfast this morning and we just met him at Hobee’s but guess who showed up NOT wearing red? Yup. I forgot. Completely spaced.

So after catching some good-natured grief from everyone else, I get in my car to drive back and grab my badge (on a red lanyard), my nametag holder that Hayley made me (with some red beads) and looked in the backseat for anything else I could pass off as intentional red. I found . . . my rock climbing shoes. Yes, brick red rock climbing shoes. I’m sporting them with jeans and a navy cardigan and they totally look out of place, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

My feet look like this:


I feel so fashionable. LOL. Just more subject matter for that book I end up writing, right?

Robyn vs. The Library

I have a problem -- a serious, crippling condition and it revolves around library books. I can walk into a library for one book and leave with seven. The problem really hits hard when it comes time for these books to be turned in. I don't know why, but I never seem to be able to finish them in an appropriate amount of time. So I end up renewing them. Again . . . and again . . . and again.

Before I know it, I've maxed-out in the number of times I can renew a book before it's required back at the library. And that's when I feel panicky, sad and resentful.

And so it came to pass that last week, a book that I really, truly have been meaning to read was due. And of course, in true Robyn form, I had renewed it the maximum number of times.

Realizing that I would have to turn the book in the following day or face an accumulation of fines until I did, I got clever. I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands and thwart the library.

The San Jose Public Library has close to a dozen branches. You can borrow books from any of them and if your particular branch doesn't have the book you're looking for, it's absolutely possible to request and receive it at your branch from another. Their library website also allows you to search for your book and see which location you can check it out. So, channeling my inner detective, I searched the library for the book I was going to face relinquishing.

And I found it! In the Almaden branch across the city (about 30 minutes from my apartment), there it was! I confirmed this around 2:00, waited anxiously for the clock to hit 5:00 to leave work, and I was off.

I raced traffic from Palo Alto to San Jose and found the library. I parked, pulled up the book info that I'd saved on my phone and set off in search of the shelf containing my book. I walked in, found the shelf . . . and searched.

Scanning numbers, scanning titles, I couldn't find it! I scoured the entire bookcase thinking perhaps it had been tucked away in the wrong spot, but no. After several minutes of feeling like a moron, I finally walked over to the library catalogue computer. Lo and behold, I had JUST missed it -- it had already been checked out! Never one to forget the lesson about lemons and lemonade, I looked around and found a couple of other books to peruse . . .

I looked up the main library page and raced off to the nearest branch that had the book -- a mere five miles away. Thankfully, I made it in time. I had my book! And the following day, I turned in the other copy, smugly smiling at my success in fighting the system.

Quirks.

I have . . . quirks. I'm not sure if that's the best word for them, but yes, that's pretty much what they are. Sometimes they're my Achilles' heel, but most of the time, they just make others chuckle at my own uniqueness.

I got caught yesterday singing and (sort of) dancing in my car. I drive with the windows down and the music up -- at times, regardless of temperature. Last night, I was in a turn lane going home from work and a van was in the turn lane next to me. As I was nodding my head and singing along to my favorite Steve Miller Band song ("Jet Airliner," if you must know), I glance over and notice the guy in the van with his window down, giving me a thumbs up. Apparently I passed muster with the electrician -- my musical tastes are acceptable. Embarrassed, I smiled and gave a little wave. Thankfully, at that moment, the light turned green.

Welcome to my life.