Even more Pumpkin

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My views and opinions can change, and those that are expressed in this post may not necessarily reflect the ones I hold today.
 

(This is part three of a series about Pumpkin, the Highland Fold. In the first part, I reveal that I’m moving and explain how I ended up with Pumpkin, and in the second part, I share more photos of Pumpkin from our time together.)

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

My future roommate came back to Las Vegas and completed her move in late November. Our two-bedroom unit wasn’t going to be ready until mid-December, so she be stayed with me in my studio until then. Pumpkin seemed very happy that his owner was back (at least, as excited as cats are able to get). He plopped himself on top of her luggage after she arrived.

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

Before Pumpkin arrived a few weeks ago, I prepared by getting some cat supplies, including a scratching arch. What I didn’t know is that Pumpkin ap­par­ently prefers flat scratching blocks over vertical ones, so he ended up not really using the one I got for him. After a while, he seemed to be more in­ter­ested in it, though, and it helped that I myself started scratching at it to demonstrate to Pumpkin how to use it.

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

Eventually, we got Pumpkin a flat scratching block, which he seemed to appreciate more. Pumpkin started jumping up on my desk and laying on my keyboard, so I put the scratching block beside my keyboard to convince him to lay on it instead of my keyboard… and it somehow worked.

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

Our landlords were kind enough to let us start moving some of our stuff in early, but yesterday was our official move-in day. Pumpkin decided to help pack, and by help pack, I mean lay on top of sealed air bags.

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

 

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More Pumpkin

This post is over 5 years old and may contain information that is incorrect, outdated, or no longer relevant.
My views and opinions can change, and those that are expressed in this post may not necessarily reflect the ones I hold today.
 

(If you’re confused, refer to my previous blog post where I explain how I am now a cat dad but this definitely isn’t a cat blog. … yet)

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

This is Pumpkin the guard cat. He discovered that my safe might not be secure enough, so he laid on top of it to provide an extra layer of protection to its contents.

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

Pumpkin discovered the shower curtain and seemed incredibly impressed, partially because apparently the outside ruffled portion of the shower curtain was incredibly soft, and partially because he found out that he can walk between the curtain and the vinyl protective sheet and enter a seemingly new dimension of existence.

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

Knock knock … ah yes henlo, how may I help you?

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

In this following photograph, I present something that I found on my kitchen countertop. I am unable to determine whether it is a pumpkin or a loaf of bread. … Or both?

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

In my previous blog post where I already posted a handful of Pumpkin photos, I explained how I ended up with Pumpkin already—his owner is going to be my new roommate, and she dropped him off early to avoid having to juggle three cats at once when she makes the final move. Of course, Pumpkin misses his owner, so I pulled her pajama pants out of the laundry hamper and laid it out for him on his favorite sleeping spot (on top of my gym bag back in a dark corner of the closet), and he seems very happy.

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

That is, very happy until I wake him up.

Pumpkin the Highland Fold

 

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I am now a cat dad

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My views and opinions can change, and those that are expressed in this post may not necessarily reflect the ones I hold today.
 

I’m moving again.

I moved to my current condo in March 2019 and vowed to actually stay long-term. Since leaving my hometown of the Chicagoland suburbs in late 2016, I’ve been constantly on the move, clocking in at seven relocations over the span of two and a half years.

I ended up staying at my current high-rise condominium for a bit over a year and eight months. Since leaving Illinois, that’s the longest I’ve spent in a single location. I originally planned on staying longer, but an opportunity came up that I didn’t want to pass on, so now I’m moving again.

Yes, of course I am staying in Las Vegas. I’m not moving too far away—I’m moving into a different high-rise condominium in a different area of the Strip with comparable luxurious amenities and a comparable high-floor view.

So why move then, if it’s basically going to be the same? Well, I’m moving from a studio to a two-bedroom unit with a roommate. And my roommate has three cats.

 
If you follow my blog religiously, you may remember that I went to visit New York City back in July and posted some cat photos of three different cats: Mochi the Scottish Fold, Pudding the Persian, and Pumpkin the Highland Fold. Well, as you may have guessed by now, the owner of those three cats is my new roommate, and she is moving in with me from New York City to Las Vegas.

She’s obviously made a few trips to Las Vegas to visit me prior to committing to the move. During her most recent trip, she brought Pumpkin with her and moved him into Las Vegas early so she wouldn’t have to juggle three cats at once when she makes the final move. So, not only am I going to be a cat dad to three cats in the near future, but I am actually already a cat dad to Pumpkin.

Pumpkin bundled in blankets

Pumpkin waging war against a lucky bamboo plant

Pumpkin laying down in the corner of the kitchen countertop

Pumpkin laying on top of my gun safe

Pumpkin looking at himself in the mirror

Pumpkin waking up after a good night's rest

I’m not saying that this is a cat blog now… but this might be a cat blog now.

I also took over Pumpkin’s Instagram account, @Pumpkin_owo_, so check that out for more photos.

 

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Did you know my name is Usain Bolt

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My views and opinions can change, and those that are expressed in this post may not necessarily reflect the ones I hold today.
 

My travel experiences lately have been great, but it wasn’t always like that. When I first started traveling, I took American Airlines a lot (instead of Delta Airlines), and because I had very limited “travel hacks” knowledge and no elite/loyalty status, I ended up not really enjoying travel. American Airlines also always tended to be unreliable, and I had flight delays or other kinds of flight-related problems basically every single flight that I took.

After I got more used to traveling, started getting regular complimentary upgrades due to elite/loyalty status, and changed my air carrier of choice to Delta, I stopped having issues. I had actually never had a problem with Delta, at all, whatsoever, apart from one single flight out of New York City where my flight was delayed by a bit due to inclement weather.

Today was the first time that I actually had a problem with Delta Airlines.

Turkish Airlines lounge at Dulles International Airport

My day started with waking up, showering, getting some work done, refueling and returning the rental Ram Rebel, and going to the Turkish Airlines lounge at Dulles International Airport, one of the only lounges still open due to COVID-19.

When it was time for my flight, I headed over to my gate and boarded the aircraft on time. However, once we were on board, we were informed that there was a minor issue—there was some extra paperwork that needed to be filled out, and that needed to be taken care of prior to departure.

Honestly, after some of the absurd reasons I’ve suffered from delays from American Airlines, ranging from “there is an overhead bin that will not close” to “the toilet will not flush” to “we ran out of planes so we have to fly one in from Mexico City” and “we ran out of pilots so we have to fly some in from Baltimore” (all of these reasons are 100% non-exaggerated situations that happened to me while flying American Airlines), a paperwork issue seemed negligible. I patiently stayed seated and waited for departure.

Then, a second piece of unfortunate news was delivered to us. Apparently the jet didn’t have enough fuel, and they had to wait for the fuel truck to come refuel the aircraft. They were unsure how long that would take, but said that they would get us in the air as soon as possible. I continued patiently wait­ing for departure.

Delta Airlines jet

As we approached the 30-minute mark of delays beyond our expected departure time, I started getting a bit concerned. I had an option to take a non-stop flight from IAD to LAS via United Airlines, but because of my hatred of United Airlines and my love and loyalty for Delta Airlines, I intentionally took a flight that had a layover at DTW. This was a fairly tight layover—we were expected to arrive in Detroit at 6:03 PM EST, I would have 22 minutes to deplane and get to my next gate before boarding began, and the flight out of DTW to LAS would depart at 6:55 PM EST.

Right as we hit the 35th minute of delays, the pilot announced that we were good to go and we would be taxiing to the runway shortly. They retracted the jet bridge and we started moving. At this time, I got a notification on my phone from my Delta Airlines app telling me that, due to the delay, I would not have sufficient time to make my connecting flight, and as such, they would be automatically rebooking me to the next DTW-to-LAS flight.

Of course, I was a bit disappointed, because the next available flight out wasn’t until tomorrow. I figured that I would just have to go to Delta customer service, collect a hotel and taxi voucher, and spend a night in Detroit before heading out tomorrow evening. I even considered just getting a rental car and using this opportunity to spend 24 hours in Detroit touring the city and exploring.

But there was an inkling in the back of my mind that told me that there was still an ever so tiny chance that I might still make my regularly scheduled connecting flight.

I sat back and relaxed for the one-and-a-half hour flight, as if biding my energy for what was to come.

Sunset

The 35-minute departure delay ended up translating to a 26-minute arrival delay. At 6:29 PM EST, the jet arrived at the gate. After doors to arrival, crosscheck, and deplaning, it was 6:34 PM EST. This was a Bombardier CRJ, which meant the overhead bin space isn’t large enough to accommodate normal carry-on luggage, so I had to pseudo-check my carry-on at the boarding gate. Waiting for my bag to come out from the ramp took another two minutes, and at 6:36 PM EST, I was zooming down the jet bridge.

I deplaned at Concourse C, and I needed to get more than halfway down the northeast wing of Concourse A, which involved going through an un­der­ground tunnel between the concourses by foot. Total distance to travel from gate to gate was right around 3,500 feet (0.66 mi, 1.07 km).

Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport

I made it in 6 minutes.

I arrived at the gate of my connecting flight at 6:43 PM, three minutes after boarding doors were supposed to be closed. The gate agent had received a no­ti­fi­ca­tion that my inbound flight had been delayed, and held the boarding door for me. I was the last one to waltz on the plane, apologizing to the flight crew and informing them that my connecting flight had been delayed—to which they replied, “we know.”

I’m back home in Las Vegas now.

I think my Delta mobile app is very confused as to what happened, because it seems like it still thinks I need a rebooked flight for tomorrow. Little does it know that I occasionally turn into Usain Bolt if it means I can avoid having to delay my return home by a night.

You know that I’m going to fill out that customer satisfaction survey for that gate agent who extended boarding for three minutes for me, and leave her a glowing review.

Adam Parkzer's travel map, last updated November 1, 2020

And with the conclusion of that trip, I add three more states—Virginia, West Virginia, and Maryland—to my travel map, bringing my total to 26 out of 50.

 

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Hello West Virginia and Maryland

This post is over 5 years old and may contain information that is incorrect, outdated, or no longer relevant.
My views and opinions can change, and those that are expressed in this post may not necessarily reflect the ones I hold today.
 

I thought yesterday’s decision to take a Ram Rebel as my rental car (and by car, I mean wide-body off-road pickup truck) would haunt me once I got to touring Washington, D.C., but boy, was I wrong. It started haunting me even before I left Virginia.

I recently made it my goal to visit as many states as possible in the United States, so whenever I go to a new cluster of states on the map, I like to drive around and visit the neighboring states so I can check them off my list. In today’s case, I wanted to visit West Virginia and Maryland, so I set my GPS to Charles Town, WV and started driving.

The GPS told me to keep going straight on Virginia State Route 7, but a little past halfway to my destination, there was a section where I had to tem­po­rar­i­ly exit State Route 7 and go to State Route 15 before re-entering State Route 7. I missed that part and kept going straight, landing me on East Mar­ket Street in Leesburg, Virginia.

It was fine at first, and I realized that if I keep going straight, I would eventually reconnect with State Route 7 and be on my way. What I didn’t realize is that East Market Street had a Y-shaped intersection with Loudoun Street. I’m sure you’ve guessed it by now—I accidentally turned onto Loudoun Street.

Trying to squeeze a Ram Rebel down Loudoun St SE in Leesburg, VA

Trying to squeeze a Ram Rebel down Loudoun St SE in Leesburg, VA

Long story short, I squeezed a Ram Rebel down a road that seemed like it was designed to be wide enough to support nothing more than horse carriages. How I managed to get out of this situation without scraping every single oncoming and street-parked vehicle, I’m not sure.

Eventually, I made it back onto State Route 7 and kept going until I needed to turn onto State Routes 751 and 719. At first, I was confused that they would make a one-way road like this… but then I realized that it wasn’t actually a one-way road. It was a bi-directional road narrow enough to be a one-lane road, but they didn’t paint the center of the road, so it just looks like a random strip of pavement in quite literally the middle of nowhere.

State Route 751 in Virginia

After a quick meal break in Charles Town, I drove over to Harpers Ferry to do some sightseeing. Needless to say at this point, the roads were incredibly narrow, and driving up northwestbound on High Street, I felt like my right side-view mirror would knock out pedestrians because I had to drive so close to the sidewalk as to not ram into oncoming traffic head-on.

Harpers Ferry looked interesting, though, so I decided I would park and walk around a bit. Miraculously, I actually found a parking spot in a lot that fit the truck, so I backed in and got out. But of course, this kind of good luck can’t happen to me. I saw a parking attendant walking towards me. Parking cost $20, and they only accepted cash. I don’t carry cash. I pulled out of the parking spot and went on my merry way.

After being thoroughly outplayed by the Virginias, I drove a bit northeast to Maryland to check that state off my travel map as well. After crossing the state line via U.S. Route 340, I exited onto Keep Tryst Road. While driving eastbound, I noticed a sign that said “scenic byway” and had an arrow pointing south. That was precisely what I was looking for, so I turned right onto Sandy Hook Road.

From here ensued basically a repeat of my experience of the Virginias. For two and a half miles, I drove on roads so narrow that if I was driving a TRX already instead of a Rebel, I would’ve guaranteed scraped things to the vehicle’s right. The worst part about this was that it was actually literally func­tion­al­ly impossible for me to turn around, even if I wanted to—the length of the truck would’ve made it impossible to fit sideways across both lanes during the turn-around process.

To give you a better idea of what I was working with, here is a screenshot from Google Maps where you can see a compact sedan approaching from head on:

Sandy Hook Road in Maryland

Ram Rebels are approximately a foot wider than compact sedans.

I was committed to this road until there was a turn. For about two and a half miles, I drove on a road designed for vehicles literally half my weight. When I was about to lose all hope, I saw a turn coming up on my GPS—Sandy Hook Road, which had at this point renamed itself to Harpers Ferry Road, had a turn onto Hoffmaster Road. From there, I could do a big one-and-a-half-mile loop around onto Morgan Pine Road and then drive back onto Harpers Ferry Road… to then proceed to do the two-and-a-half-mile drive down Sandy Hook Road again, but this time in the other direction.

And of course, throughout this whole time, I saw occasional signs warning me of falling rocks.

 
I’m still here, though. Everything is fine, and I survived.

…

I never want to visit the Washington, D.C. Metropolitan Area ever again.

 

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