Hello, STUFF.
I have so, so much paperwork, reading material, business cards, swag and photos to comb through that I've decided I will write about the BlogHER conference in the exact order it happened, in as many parts as I imagine you can tolerate. Or I can tolerate.
When I am sick of the sound of my own voice (so to speak, as clearly, you're not listening to me out loud), I'll shutup.
But I may as well tell you, in case you had not caught it via tweet. I am the girl who showed up to BlogHER in a TOW TRUCK.
I was making fairly decent time down to San Diego. Mostly, I moved pretty well. And I was only a mile from getting off the freeway in San Diego when we came to a full stop. But so close to the exit, I could not be totally annoyed - this was the first stop I'd had to make.
And then I looked in my rear-view. A 4x4 did not see we were stopped. I could tell right away.
So it did not totally surprise me when he SLAMMED into my car.
Thanks, Nissan 4x4!
I sighed. Immediately, I was relieved to be okay. In fact, probably due to being stopped and rather relaxed in my seat, buckled in, I was perfectly fine. But I knew my car would be another story...
I was right:
(Later, they had to take my bumper off altogether lest is drag on the ground and make things worse.)
First call: my parents. Who immediately got into their car and started to drive down to San Diego. Second call: 911 to send a policeman and a tow truck. Finally: my insurance.
But as it was nearly 5pm, there weren't any auto shops open to tow it to. It was to go to the impound lot. My insurance said they would have it towed to a mechanic of my choosing in LA.
So that said... I mean, I was practically AT my destination, the CHP officer asked the tow truck to take me to the hotel. To BlogHER. Because, he said, "why miss it?"
Which is how I found myself climbing up three steps to sit in the biggest tow truck ever, pulling my sad car behind us, with my luggage inside, pulling up to the valet parking attendant, leaping down and asking "Anyone ever arrived in one of these before?"
"Not in 20 years," he told me.
It's nice to feel special.
So with my luggage - now including bags filled with the contents of my trunk (I keep a lot of random shit in my car, including, thankfully, reusable grocery bags), I disappeared into the San Diego Marriott Marquis, waving so long to my poor, banged up, bashed in, Camry.
My parents got about 30 minutes into their drive before I convinced them to turn around. I was at the event, my car was going to be taken care of, and I could hop on a train home. Why shouldn't I stay at BlogHER?
To be continued....
