Internet Sabbatical

Well, perhaps I didn’t give it a real try, because I spent most of the day working on a couple of manuscripts I needed to finish before our mini-trip. I woke up and started editing, and worked straight through until 5pm, without stop. When I finished that, I had a bunch of chores to do, in preparation for leaving: laundry, shopping, baking [brownies and cookies for my husband], house cleaning, etc. Even if we’re just gone for a couple of days, I know how wonderful it is to come home to a spotless place, so I always leave clean sheets on the bed, the bathroom shining, the kitchen cleaned, the trash taken out, the floors swept. So I had all that to get done, which meant I was so busy all day it didn’t really feel like a digital sabbatical. Did I go online? Once, to send the completed manuscripts to my two authors. I didn’t do anything else, didn’t “just check facebook,” didn’t “just take a run through my Google reader,” didn’t “glance at Ravelry.” Nothing. But I didn’t feel tempted, either. I’m going to do it again next Saturday. We drove yesterday and got to Atlantic City, and in the way these things go, expensive hotels charge a lot for the internet and cheaper ones give it away for free; even though our room is not expensive, the hotel is so the charge is outrageous for the Internet, which means I didn’t go online all day yesterday, either. So two days offline. It feels good, it feels less noisy in my head. I’m curious.

Sham

So, Atlantic City. It’s a very strange place, and sad — probably a little sadder-seeming than usual since it’s winter, and so many places are closed. The summery places — saltwater taffy shops, ice cream parlors, miniature golf — they’re all closed and what’s left are half-empty casinos, psychics, and malls. Each hotel is a large complex comprising casinos, showrooms, shopping malls, and restaurants, and they all merge together. Just behind the boardwalk are rundown-looking tattoo parlors, check cashing stores, pawnshops, and shuttered businesses.

When I was first married, when I was 21, my then-husband was working for CBS News doing election research. We traveled to 20 states, and in the states he worked, he had to gather data at every county seat. One of our states was Nevada, and we got stuck in Las Vegas for more than a week because their records were so poor (surprise!). It was my first time encountering gambling, and I learned that I should not do it. I spent my little bit of cash and found myself glitter-eyed staring at my wedding ring, wondering what I could get for it. I walked away having learned something about myself. So I came to Atlantic City knowing that I didn’t want to gamble, but I don’t even want to. Now I look at the casinos and see them as oh so sad. Sad people sitting in front of tables or machines, giving their money away, and being blitzed by flashing lights and ringing bells, to keep them doing it. Or to disguise what’s really going on. They feed their money, they keep reaching into pockets and bags and handing over more and more. For the most part they’re older and I don’t know if that’s a difference between Atlantic City and Las Vegas, or if it has to do with this time of year. Or something else. Anyway, I haven’t been tempted.

We went into one place which was set up with an old west theme. Inside there were fake oak trees with tables underneath, and saloons and taverns along the outer edge, complete with swinging doors. All kinds of ‘buildings.’ And then, if you happen to look up, you see the ceiling tiles painted black, and you see so clearly the constructedness of it, and you realize it’s a giant warehouse that could be stripped of the old west theme and turned into anything else. It’s such a strange place. People love to be fooled.

We ate dinner last night at a hamburger place, and it felt as sad as the rest. It had a 50s theme, and the other customers seemed tired and worn down. It was someone’s birthday, so the lights dimmed and a waiter shouted that it’s always a special day, but today is most special because it’s Annie’s birthday, let’s sing! The entire restaurant joined the song, which very quickly drifted into a minor key and stayed there. I swear it was the most forlorn version of that song I’ve ever heard, and it fit the vibe. Minor and sad.

Because we’re here Sunday and Monday nights, the room rates are quite low; ~$70/night as opposed to $300+ for Friday and Saturday. We’re on the 41st floor with an ocean view, and the view really is beautiful. I love the ocean. We’re so used to New York, though, that last night the utter quietness was disturbing. There was absolutely no sound, at all. Bizarre! So we’re here tonight and tomorrow we’ll head home, back to the other world.