In the time honored tradition of starting at the end and working back, I’m going to tell you bitch about my trip home. Just so you’re not totally in the dark, I will tell you that I went to visit my sister and brother-in-law in Connecticut and to NYC for DaveCon, to see The Late Show with David Letterman.
OK… so, I was supposed to fly out of White Plains, NY at 5:29 PM yesterday (Monday), change planes at Washington Reagan Airport, and arrive home at 8:49.
5:29 came and went. They kept coming on the PA and reassuring us that the plane was on its way and had just been delayed by weather. The plane finally lands and they promptly herd us out onto the tarmac, across a couple of hundred yards of said tarmac, and onto our plane. Everyone gets seated, the flight attendant does her little safety puppet show, then the captain comes on. The plane’s weather radar system is broken. They had hoped to fix it while on the ground but couldn’t, so we will all need to exit the plane, head back to the terminal, and make other arrangements. Melon Fever!
We are directed back to the ticket counter, where they have two people working; frantically trying to find all of us alternate flights while also taking care of everyone else who’s checking in and what-not. After many very tense minutes, they find me a flight connecting in Philadelphia which is boarding… right fucking now. So, I’m off to security, where, thanks to the fact that I’ve been outside on the tarmac, I now have to go through not just regular security, but the whole everything-but-the-cavity-search-shebangabang. I keep setting off the metal detector, in my haste I’ve forgotten the various items I moved from my bag to my pockets after I went through security the last time.
I gather up my crap, not even taking the time to put my laptop back into the bag, and run for my plane. I make it, they pull the steps away and close the door as I’m settling into my seat.
And then we wait, and wait… then wait some more. Finally we’re airborne for the short hop to Philadelphia.
In Philadelphia my flight to Dayton was (predictably) delayed as well. Late boarding and delayed enough on takeoff that they actually served us beverages while we waited to take off.
Anyway… by the time I arrived in Dayton it was nearly midnight. The good news (apart from making it at all, in one piece) was that they did manage to get my bag off of the broken plane and onto the correct plane, so my bag did arrive when and where I did.
All in all, a perfectly crappy way to punctuate what was, otherwise, a fantastic trip. More on that later.
As of right now, I’m on vacation (it’s actually the first time off I’ve had this year and not been sick). Tomorrow it’s off to the airport where I’ll catch a flight to an undisclosed location. I’ll be back in a week with tales to tell and photos to share. Stay tuned!
The other night I found myself watching ‘Jackie Brown’ on TV. As this was regular-ass (commercial) TV, all of the profanity was dubbed over, with predictably hilarious results. One scene in particular grabbed my attention. Briefly, Samuel L. Jackson’s character, ‘Ordell Robbie’ angrily says; “Oh, I know who my friends are, melon fever.”
He called the man “Melon fever“! I’m going to start using that!
“Hey, melon fever, watch where you’re going!”
“What are you honkin’ at, melon fever?”
It just has so many practical applications.
This is something I’ve mentioned doing in the past and at long last I’ve received a comment which I felt was worthy of this illustrious award. Here’s May’s award-winning comment from Sally:
Dear Greg,
Do you give advice on this website, too? This is one of the best sites I’ve ever seen, and you’re obviously a wise person with a great sense of humor, but I really could use advice with various problems in my life. You could call yourself, “Dear Greg,” like Dear Abby. Just an idea.
I hope I haven’t overlooked your advice column. Have I?
Sally
Sally Dr…, on 5-8-2008 @ 10:38 pm
Sally wrote this amazingly insightful comment in response to my post “Every Silver Lining Has a Touch of Gray“. For her contribution to the betterment of this blog, Sally will receive a valuable and much-coveted prize (seriously!)
Those of you who didn’t win; don’t despair. Study Sally’s comment and get to work crafting award-winning comments of your own. Also, bear in mind that this is actually more like a “Commenter of the indeterminate time period award”, it really depends on the quantity of quality comments.
You may recall me doing some bitching the last time my basement flooded. Well, with the practically non-stop thunderstorms this week, it happened again.
Anyway… I headed out for a ride this evening and kept coming across roads that were closed due to flooding. I took a chance that I could get through on Valley Road (which was “closed”), after all, it hasn’t been raining today. I climb the hill by the airport, speed down the other side and there, up ahead, is the water. As I draw closer I see that there’s a narrow strip down the other side of the road that’s above the water and only a bit wet in places. Onward! I cross 35 and head to Hilltop Road, which also has signs up that it’s closed (flooded). Emboldened by my previous success, I press on. I come to one area which was obviously underwater, but is now completely dry, so my decision is looking better. Then I come to another Road Closed sign. “Uh-oh, this doesn’t bode well.” Then I see that the entire low-lying part of the road which is adjacent to the river is very much underwater.
Dejected, I turn around to seek another way home.
Here’s the thing that ties the two flooded basement incidents together. The last time it happened I had lost my key, but had a spare hidden away. Today I realized early in my ride that I had forgotten my key, which was hanging right where it belongs, right next to the spare, which I hadn’t bothered to return to where it belongs.
I ended up calling a locksmith, who couldn’t pick the lock and had to drill it out. A rather costly lesson for me. Between the service call, and the new lock (re-keyed to match the deadbolt); not returning my ‘emergency key’ to its hiding place cost me $96.30.
Perhaps you’ve seen Stan Romanek, the delusional idiot guy with the video of an “extra-terrestrial” peering in his bedroom window.
I have, and I fail to see what’s so special. You can’t look out my window at night and not catch an extra-terrestrial looking back. Goddamned interstellar-illegal-alien-peeping-tom-pervert-sons-of-bitches!
I really don’t get why they’d travel millions of miles just to look at me in my underwear, but whatever….
On a side-note, am I alone in thinking that at one time Larry King was actually a respected journalist, or has he always been an opportunistic crackpot?
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