6/26/00

I'm slowly winning the battle against jet lag. I actually managed to go to bed at around 1 a.m. last night, and I got up at 10:30 this morning, which is not so bad considering that this is my second day of recovery from a red-eye flight spanning three time zones.

The trip itself was largely uneventful. I read about Martin Amis's entire life (it wasn't as interesting as I thought it would be...it mostly consisted of engaging in rivalry with his father and dating women who, like him, were related to famous people or enjoyed a moderate level of fame for some other reason: the grandddaughter of Winston Churchill, the daughter of British Poet Laureate Cecil Day Lewis and sister of Daniel Day Lewis, and Tina Brown, back when she was in college).

My time on the plane was the first time I'd really had all week to just sit there and think about things. Unfortunately, my first realizations were that I'd forgotten to tell a lot of old friends that I was coming home, and even worse, I'd left most of their phone numbers and e-mail addresses in San Francisco. I suppose this does give me a convenient excuse not to knock myself out seeing people, though, especially when I go to New York at the end of the week. I'll only be home for a week, and I'll be in New York for a couple of those days and there's just no way I can see everyone I want to. I should have made this trip two weeks, but I didn't know what my schedule would be like when I planned it.

I also managed to sleep a bit on the plane. I usually can't sleep sitting up, but I was lulled by the oddly pleasant turbulence on the first leg of my flight. Usually turbulence is jarring, but this felt like I was floating on calm ocean waves or something.

And then I was home.

I didn't do much on my first day--I took a nap. But then for dinner, I went with my parents and their dog to the Taste of Amherst. These "Taste of" festivals are practically everywhere now, so I probably don't need to tell you, but they're fairs where different restaurants set up booths and serve a few items from their menus.

My parents' dog is a 140-pound Newfoundland who looks much bigger than he is. I figured he'd get some attention at the fair, but I had no idea just how much. We were literally surrounded by a mob of people the whole time we were there. People wanted to know what breed he is, what his name is (Baxter), how old he is (just over a year), how much he weighs (and were always shocked by how small the number is--he looks like he weighs about 200), how much food he eats, and if they could pet him (yes).

"Does this happen every time you take him out?" I asked my parents. "Yeah, pretty much" they both shrugged. My sister told me on the phone last night that once my dad had been out walking the dog when a town bus passed by. The bus driver actually stopped the bus so he could ask my dad what kind of dog Baxter is.

The following day, I got talked into going car shopping with my mom. I really didn't want to go, especially when she told me what kind of car she wanted to buy--a Lexus. However, she then pointed out that I was considering buying a car myself and that this could be a valuable opportunity to observe the art of buying a car, so I relented.

We drove to the nearest Lexus dealership, which was in West Springfield, about 20 miles away. The dealership was apparently quite busy, even though it was a Sunday, so we had to wait 20 minutes or so before we even got to talk to a salesman. When we finally did get some attention, my mom had wandered outside to look at their new "sporty" car, the IS 300. I guess the dealer could tell that I'm not a typical Lexus customer, because he looked at me somewhat confusedly and asked me "so, are you interested in a pre-owned?" He looked relieved when I pointed to my more-distinguished-looking mother and indicated that she was the real customer and that she was looking for a new car.

I've always had a mixture of pity and revulsion for car salespeople, and the guy who helped us didn't really change my opinion. It seems that nearly everyone who sells cars is in some way duplicitous. If the customer can't see through it, it's devious, but if they can then it's just sad. This guy wasn't really horrible, but I couldn't help inwardly snickering when he pointed out features of the car such as "power windows that go up and down." As if there were power windows which only went in one direction...

In the end, my mother wasn't too impressed with the deal they were offering her, although she did seem to like the car.

After we returned from car-shopping, my mom and I joined my dad for dinner and then went over to Northampton to see "Chicken Run" which was very cute and enjoyable. In the car on the way home, we passed a luxurious-looking Volvo of some sort, leading my parents to engage in the following dialogue:

Dad: How about a Volvo?
Mom: What about them?
Dad: We could get one!
Mom: Nah
Dad: Why not?
Mom: (wrinkling her nose) I don't like the name...

After this there was a few seconds' pause followed by everybody in the car bursting into hysterical laughter. Then this conversation followed:

Dad: Jen, we have to tell your sisters about this one!
Jen: We won't have to, I'm putting it on my webpage!
Mom: You'd better not!

The forum: Buying cars.