Speaking of Bob

Bob's Steamiest Post Ever

2011-12-17T18:33:00.001-05:00

Not pictured: Me

Most of you know that I'm not the most coordinated person in the world. Today, though, I reached new heights....or perhaps I should say new lows...for being accident prone.

I worked out this afternoon at the gym, then decided to go visit the steam room to work the kinks out of a tight shoulder muscle. The door to the steam room is heavy and spring loaded, it's designed that way to close quickly and tightly when someone enters.

I opened the door and stepped into the steam room, which was for some reason much more crowded then normal. Unfortunately, the door snapped back and caught the heel of my flip-flop/shower shoe.

I hadn't realized it had caught so when I took a step forward, my shoe's thong snapped and I pitched forward like a cannonball into steam oblivion.

If I was a bowling ball and everyone else standing around were bowling pins, I'd have had a perfect strike. Pins....I mean, bodies....went flying everywhere. I honestly don't know how many people I knocked down, but by the time I hit the floor there was no one else left standing.

So there is a tangle of people on the hot 'n sweaty floor of the steam room, and guys are trying to assist people to their feet (in a manly, heterosexual way, of course!).

Another fellow outside heard the commotion, and opened and propped open the door to see if anyone needed assistance....bad idea. The steam jets on the side floor of the room start firing like crazy and those of us who had yet to get to their feet got a faceful of live steam. Not pleasant.

The topper, though, was the Good Samaritan who thought he was helping us by opening the door...a few minutes later, he told me, "I opened that door and for a second there I thought I was looking at live action gay porno from Hell!"

Fun at the DMV

2011-10-18T21:30:00.003-04:00

Spent entirely too long at the Texas DMV today, getting my brand new Texas driver's license. $245 spent today on tax, tags and titles.

Sitting next to me today was an ancient Vietnamese lady. She had a great story....

"I come from Vietnam in 1972. I arrive this country, I always work. Work for cash. I pay no taxes. I have no social security card. I do this for years, many years. I never ask any help from government. Government no good. Almost forty years, today is first time I get identification card".

Wow, I say, what made you change your mind?

She starts laughing. People turn and start looking at her.

She reaches into her purse, pulls out a piece of paper very dramatically...and waves it.

Because.......I WIN LOTTERY....and Texas not cash big winning tickets without ID!

The rest of the time I was there was a steady stream of people coming up to her and asking if they could just touch her winning lottery ticket.

Rogue Cat

2011-01-18T10:51:00.002-05:00

I have a cat. She is a rather ordinary housecat, with one striking peculiarity. She hackles when she hears mere humans breathing heavily.

I was doing a heavy kettlebell workout at home yesterday, swinging a 35 pounder and working up quite a sweat.

In my peripheral vision I noticed the cat atop a shelf, watching me swing the kettlebell back and forth.

On my last set of double armed swings, I was trying to get through my last 30 repetitions. I was seriously gassed and my heart felt as if it were going to explode through my chest....

It was then that the cat, having had quite enough of my heavy breathing, decided to pounce.

Tooth, Fang and Claw sunk into my right wrist, shredding skin everywhere.

Did I mention I was swinging a kettlebell at the time?

Kettlebells are very dangerous missles when you lose control.

The cat was hanging on for dear life and I was off balance. I somehow managed to right myself with just my left hand on the bell, the bell's momentum swung down through my leg and I did an interesting pirouette trying to simultaneously drop the bell and scrape the cat off my arm.

The cat got a serious lecture about interrupting my exercise time afterwards. I don't think she listened.

Things that go "BOOM" in the night...

2011-01-05T22:41:00.002-05:00

Tremendous explosion in the main floor bathroom at 10:30 tonight. Scared the hell out of me!

My cat had had an accident in the bathroom earlier that evening (try as she might, she never seems to be able to poop inside the toilet).

I cleaned up the mess and sprayed the room top-to-bottom with Lysol. While I was straightening stuff up, I inadvertently left the can of Lysol touching a heating element on the baseboard in the bathroom.

Did I mention it was rather cold here in Georgia tonight?

The heat caused the side of the Lysol can to tear a one inch rupture, creating a tremendous missile that detonated against the door of the bathroom. Evidently the Lysol can spent it's dying moment swirling around in a circle, spewing about a pound of concentrated Lysol all over the walls and floor.

The whole house smells like Lysol now.

The cat is hiding under the sofa.

Things that go "blink" in the night...

2011-01-03T12:55:00.003-05:00

This morning, I awoke to a rather surrealistic scene.... flashing yellow, red and blue lights on my bedroom walls.

Since my disco days were long since past, I naturally assumed I was having some sort of bizzare LSD flashback.

Upon remembering that I'd never actually done LSD, I got out of be and looked out my bedroom window.

I live on a corner lot at the entrance to my subdivision. On my side yard there was a broken down fire engine (flashing red brake lights). There was a police cruiser (flashing blue lights) directing cars around the engine, and one of the monstrous truck towing trucks (flashing yellow lights) attempting to position itself so it would be able to tow the disabled fire engine.

I never did get back to sleep....

Almost drowned

2010-06-01T23:50:00.003-04:00

I almost drowned once. The circumstances of my almost-demise were bizarre enough that I would have certainly made the "New of the Weird" column in the newspaper had I not survived.

Last June, I was wheeling my 55 gallon trash can back from the curb in front of my house. It was trash day and the garbagemen had just left. Unfortunately, a bag of used cat litter had broken inside the trash can and the smell of the trash can...even though it was now empty...was pretty horrific.

I decided to clean out the trash can...I couldn't envision it smelling that way for another week in the hot garage. I dumped an entire bottle of bleach into the bottom of the can, then filled it up about one third of the way full with a garden hose. I got an old broom and scrubbed the sides and bottom of the can.

So far, so good.

I then faced a dilemma as to where to dump my now-toxic suds. I ultimately decided to wheel the can around to my back yard and dump the trash can out back in the woods.

In order to do this, however, I had to negotiate a rather steep hill on the right side of my house. I gingerly eased the trash can down the fifty-degree incline, angling it downward. The top flap of the can flopped open...and I accidently stepped on it.

Things happened very quickly after that. When I stepped on the lid, the can immediately stopped rolling...but I didn't stop moving. I pitched forward and fell face first into the soapy bleachy cat-crappy water. My forward momentum caused the trash can to slide very fast down the hill, my face and chest underwater, my legs thrashing wildly near the top of the can.

I desperately tried to roll upward within the sliding can but the trash can rolled as well, keeping my head underwater. I could not catch my breath and was panicking...I kept thinking, I am going to die in this catshit swamp.

Eventually, though, we reached the bottom of the hill and the can slowed to a halt. I managed to force my head above the water, but I was still essentially upside down inside the trash can. My predicament was so ludicrous I couldn't help but laugh...

then...the coup de grace....my cell phone popped out of my jeans pocket and hit me in the face. It bounced off me and fell into the water next to my ear. I heard it make a soft buzzing sound right before it died in its watery grave.

I eventually managed to crawl out of my reinforced plastic tomb, and couldn't hit the showers fast enough. I scrubbed every inch of my body for what seemed like a half an hour...and when I got out of the shower I noticed my dark brown hair had been turned into a completely unappealing shade of dark orange, requiring me to get a crew cut that day for the first time since I'd left the Army.

When I tell this story, sometimes people laugh....other times, they tell me I'm full of garbage.

Two Nights (Part one)

2010-04-30T11:06:00.001-04:00

My youngest daughter just received an “A” in her college folklore class. Her semester final exam was a project entitled “Tales of My Father: an Oral Tradition”. She told her class my “Two Nights” story.

Day One

I was honestly looking forward to my very first two-week summer drill commitment when I joined the US Army Reserve. I was interested in seeing how different it would be after recently completing three years of active duty in the Army. I was slated to teach advanced CPR and lifesaving techniques at Fort Devens, Massachusetts.

Our platoon sergeant at Ft. Devens was a genuinely scary Sergeant First Class named Crow. I’d heard things about “Crazy Sgt. Crow”, none of them good things. He was 100% Choctaw Indian, had a crew cut and an odd way of tilting his head that made him look like a bird. He was 100% muscle and had a tendency to stare intently.

He also seemed to think we were back in basic training. We got up at 5:30 in the morning and did two hellish hours of PT (Physical Training) with Crazy Sgt. Crow leading the way, followed by a 3 mile run….definitely NOT the way I had planned to spend my “summer vacation”.

After my first long day was finished, I was ready for a drink. I didn’t have a car, so I walked to the front gate of the base and asked if there was a bar nearby. The front gate guard told me about a club called the Wagon Wheel “just down the road”.

So I walked down the road.

And walked…

And walked…

I walked three freakin' miles before I found that place.

That first beer never tasted so good.

A group of four girls were pointing at me and giggling. “Did I pass you on the road? Did you walk all the way from the base here?”

Why, yes, yes I did.

For some reason they thought this was pretty amusing, and introductions were made all around. They invited me to sit with them.

The bar had live music and I danced with each of my new friends. I was having a pretty good time, even if my muscles were a bit sore.

Returning from a quick trip to the restroom, I happened to look over to a dark corner of the bar.

Sitting there, alone at a two-seat table next to the pool table, was Crazy Sgt. Crow.

Now, if I hadn’t had four beers in the past hour and been dancing non-stop, I might have just ignored him.

But I had had four beers and my mind works in devious ways.

I went back to my newfound lady-friends and asked them to follow me. We went over to Crazy Sgt. Crow’s table and I introduced him to them, and them to him.

Seeing the look of outright panic in his eyes was the highlight of my night (so far). It seemed Crazy Sgt. Crow had more than a few major anxiety issues around women.

One of the girls asked Crazy Sgt. Crow to dance and he shot me an evil glance…nope, sorry Sarge, I didn’t put her up to it. I watched as she basically dragged her “prisoner” out onto the dance floor.

I’d have given a month’s salary for a video camera, watching him attempt to dance…Life did not get much better than this.

About this time I felt a poke. I turned around and saw that it was a local townie guy holding a pool cue. He'd poked me with his cue!

“You guys shouldn’t be here…you have your own clubs on base”.

Hey, I’m just here to have a few beers and dance, there are plenty of women here for everyone, buddy.

“We don’t like you dancing with our women”.

I laughed at him, and noticed a bit late that he had five, count ‘em FIVE, guys standing behind him.

He started to blather on again, and I turned to ignore him.

He swung the cue. I saw it coming, and tried to twist out of the way. The stick still glanced off my shoulder blades.

All hell broke loose about then.

I stepped on the end of the guy’s pool cue so he couldn’t swing it again and got a single good swing in, connecting solidly on his ear.

That was the last good swing I got in.

His buddies jumped me and knocked me to the floor and began punching and kicking the hell out of me.

Recognizing a bad situation, I basically “tucked” on the floor, protecting my head and ribs.

In an absolutely surreal moment, I opened my eyes in between stomps and kicks…and there was Crazy Sgt. Crow, about four inches away from my face, staring at me with that all-too-familiar birdlike tilt.

“Needs some help?”

Uh…yes.

Now, most bar fights are over in a minute or less.

The next minute, however, seemed to be a blur. I’ve replayed this minute over and over in my head countless times but it still is a jumble.

Crazy Sgt. Crow cleaned house.

He grabbed two guys by their hair and smashed their heads together with such force you could hear the “thwock” sound above the noise of the band (smack two coconuts together very hard, the sound is similar). They went down, lights-out.

He grabbed another long-haired guy by the hair, and Mr. Longhair twisted violently away, which was a big mistake…Crazy Sgt. Crown was left with a handful of hair in his hand. Longhair started shrieking in pain, which got virtually everyone’s attention in the bar.

Another guy tried to tackle the sarge, but the sarge basically played matador and pushed him to the floor as he bulled by. Crow then STOOD on him.

I’m still on the floor, my pride bruised but my ribs intact and watching this guy on the floor next to me…maybe 5 feet away, turning red because someone is standing on him.

The other two turned and ran.

As is so often the case, the bouncers showed up after the fight was essentially over. One of the girls we were with explained what happened to the bouncers, and our “competition” was summarily ejected from the place.

A splendid time was had by all for the remainder of the evening. I won’t bore you with the details.

5:30 a.m. came all too early the next morning.

Our platoon grumbled and moaned as we assembled for two hours of physical hell.

Crazy Sgt. Crow was in a happy mood, which unnerved more than a few of my fellow soldiers.

“Jensen? We had some fun last night, didn’t we? Doesn’t get much better than this!” He cackled at me.

He was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

End Part One.

I've got the Backup/Restore Blues

2010-03-11T11:49:00.004-05:00

From bitter experience, I have learned to always...ALWAYS.....back up important data. When my laptop's hard drive went to the great bit bucket in the sky yesterday, I was ready. I bought a replacement, fired up my restore program, and waited...

10% restored....50% restored.....95% restored....95% restored....95% restored...

Mr. Restore Program seemed quite stuck at 95%. Where is the problem? Hmmm....missing my Toastmaster club records (almost 3 years worth). Well, that's annoying, I'll go to last week's backup.

Still missing. Three weeks back: still missing.

What the heck?

Then a sudden horror dawned upon me...in the interests of efficiency, I'd moved my Toastmaster meeting management program and the folder with all my club records to my laptop's desktop over a year ago.

What I didn't realize is that years ago I'd set a parameter in my backup program to specifically EXCLUDE stuff on my desktop (which used to be icons and other trivial unneeded stuff).

So now I'm looking at least a solid week's worth of re-entering data at night.

Remembering Celeste

2010-02-25T11:26:00.002-05:00

Over on Facebook, I've joined a group called "Chamblee High School Memorial", a group formed to remember those from my high school that have passed away. One of the memorials was to Celeste Marley, who passed away in an accident in 1977. I never understood the phrase "laughing until tears come out of your eyes" until I met Celeste.

Let me explain:

I took third-year French class with Celeste. The class was mostly juniors and seniors, with the exception of one eighth-grade phenom, a very tiny boy named Eric who had spent his childhood growing up in France. Third year French is mostly conversational, and the following exchange was the highlight of my year: (Note: entire conversation is in French)

Teacher: How are you this morning, Celeste?
Celeste: I am very happy, my little friend has come to visit this morning!
Teacher (slightly confused, then looks over at little Eric): Your friend came to visit?
Celeste: Yes, my little friend visits me once a month. Sometimes I don't like it when my little friend comes to visit, but I was very very happy this month.
At this point, I'm laughing, so the teacher turned to me
Teacher: Robert, is something funny?
Me: No, no, I was happy when Celeste's little friend came to visit this month too! Very, very happy!
(Celeste is giving me dirty looks now)
Teacher: Why is that?
Me: Celeste was afraid her little friend would not visit her for a long time!
Teacher: I see. Do you visit Celeste's house also?
Me: Sometimes I do, but not when her little friend is visiting.
Teacher: And why not?
Me: Because she never wants to play with me when her little friend has come to visit...
Celeste (interrupting): *ahem* I never want to play with you even when my little friend is NOT visiting.

Only now, after three minutes of conversation does the French teacher suddenly get the inneundo....I watched the light bulb go on over her head and she turned seven shades of scarlet. The entire class breaks out in laughter, I'm laughing so hard I have tears rolling out of my eyes and the French teacher is spluttering nonstop in French at me for almost a minute.

I miss Celeste.

The End of The Road

2009-12-16T19:39:00.002-05:00

On January 1st, 2010, I will have come to the end of the road. Literally. My body has betrayed me.

I have always enjoyed running (except in Buffalo NY during the winter of course, but that's the exception). I've been overweight for years but I have a large frame that easily absorbed the punishment of the additional weight...I went 31 years between knee injuries, for example.

Around June of this year I had gotten my blood pressure and blood sugar under control, dropped 70 pounds and was in the best shape I've been in in almost 20 years. I was breaking personal records lifting weights at the gym and running mile after mile on the golf cart paths here.

But then, inexplicably, I began slowing down...and this was not due to old age. I literally had my running stride shorten from 42 inches (I'm six foot four, have long legs) to 36 inches, to 32 and finally 29 inches. My legs refused to stretch any further...they didn't hurt, they just...wouldn't...stretch.

I tried increasing my pre-run stretching from 10 to 15 to almost 20 minutes, with no improvement. I swung a 25 pound kettlebell to stretch my hamstrings, nothing doing. Finally, I went to my doctor. He suggested I see an orthopedic doctor with a sports medicine specialty.

Long story short: one of the two ankles I broke in 1978 has so much calcium buildup on the upper joints that my right ankle only has half the mobility it should (it "locks" now at 90 degrees). This has forced me to take almost twice as many strides as most people when running....

...and this excessive number of steps, while making my musculature in my legs incredibly strong, has worn out BOTH of my hip joints. Bone is grinding on bone on each side.

The ortho doc gave me a Faustian choice:

give up running and save what is left of your hips for another 20 or so years,
or run for another year or so and get your hips replaced before you're 53. Of course, once you have artificial hips, you can no longer run.

Bottom line: my running days are effectively over. I've reached the end of the road, literally.

He told me that most people in my situation take up cycling, but the "wear pattern" on my hips would make it hard to pedal a bike, so he suggested getting a recumbant bike. I'm not to enthusiastic about that idea.

I'm still coming to grips with this, but this has put me in a profound funk. I have decided to make a clean break and "retire" from running on January 1st after one final 4 mile run on December 31st.

New year, new decade, new exercise regimen.

Anyone want to buy a pair of almost new New Balance running shoes, size 13? They're only a month old!

Life is too short to carry a grudge

2009-09-24T21:38:00.004-04:00

Gayle and I had been friends for a very long time. Three years ago, we had a serious argument about some catty remark she'd made about my wife. I was very offended and basically shut her out of my life. Tonight, I thought about her for the first time in a long time and decided that life was too short to carry a grudge. So I did what most people do in this day and age: I looked her up on Facebook. I sent a "friend" request to her, and included a note that said that after all we had been through together, it's really dumb that we weren't on speaking terms.

I got a response back within an hour.

It wasn't what I expected.

The response came from her son, Anthony. He hadn't realized his mother even had a Facebook account. Her email was being forwarded to his email, he explained, as she had passed away in June 2008 unexpectedly. He'd tried to contact me then, but his email to me had been returned as "undeliverable" (I'd gotten a new email two years ago).

Life really is too short to carry a grudge.

I feel awful.

The Fire Down Below

2009-08-24T15:26:00.002-04:00

One thing I am NOT proficient in is mechanical repairs.

Two weeks ago, we bought a dorm refrigerator for my college-bound youngest daughter. Unfortunately, it leaked in our garage, shorting out the electrical system on our golf cart and the charger it was hooked up to.

I was looking at over $600 in repairs. I made the decision that, mechanically incompetent or not, I'd try and rewire the golf cart myself. How hard could it be?

Not too hard, as it turned out. I spent Sunday rewiring the harness and using a 12 volt auto charger to "jump start" the 6 volt golf cart batteries two at a time. Tested my handiwork out with a quick spin around the neighborhood and went to bed happy and smug.

I decided to take the cart to Lake Peachtree at the crack of dawn this morning to run around the lake. I was three miles away from my house when I smelled the unmistakeable odor of ozone and burning wiring.

Uh Oh.

The instrument panel flickered twice on the cart and I lost all power going up a somewhat steep hill.....and began rolling backwards.

Double Uh Oh.

Did I mention that the brakes on our cart weren't the greatest in the world?

Triple Uh Oh.

I am literally STANDING on the brake pedal and finally coast to a stop at the bottom of the hill....and I realize my rear end is uncomfortably warm...

I yanked off the padded seat to see that the wiring harness had become disconnected from the battery array and was gapping and smoking and putting on an awesome display of 36 volts of direct current "lightning" to the battery post.

I tried to pull the wiring harness away from the battery, and got quite a jolt of current through my body for my troubles. Burned the heck out of two fingers. Was not happy.

Decided to let the cart cool down for a few minutes, then went back to assess the damage.

I was shocked to see that the post on the battery (where the wires connect to) had MELTED, there was nothing left but a puddle of solder!!

It was a long walk home.

Gee, Aren't You "Special"?

2009-08-12T15:06:00.004-04:00

Today I had to take my oldest daughter to a doctor's appointment up in Marietta, GA. She was not a happy camper. It was pouring down rain. Hoping to cheer up Little Miss Gloomy, I treated her to lunch at Marietta's legendary Big Chicken restaurant.

She was in a bad mood, I was too. I had made the mistake of running this morning, and then it rained. For some reason, rain and running make the six bones I broke in my left leg in the Great Parachute Mishap of 1978 hurt like crazy, and I limp very noticeably when that happens.

While we were eating, a long white bus pulled into the parking lot and about 20 to 25 special needs people entered the restaurant, along with about a dozen attendants. They were having the BEST time, they were in awe of being inside the Big Chicken!! It was great seeing a group of people enjoying themselves like they were, and they all settled down into seats around us.

Well, my daughter wanted a refill on her drink so like a good father I took her empty cup and began limping up to the Coke machine for a refill. I had taken about five or six steps when I felt someone grab me gently but firmly by the right elbow. It was one of the attendants for the special needs group. He looked at me, smiled and said "We're going to sit over here today, okay?"

Okay?

Then in one cosmic cataclysmic moment we looked at each other and our eyes simultaneously widened as we both realized.....

Him: Oh my God, this limping guy is NOT IN OUR GROUP!
Me: Oh my God, this guy thinks I'm IN HIS GROUP!

He turned red, I turned red and we both laughed, embarassed...

....but not as hard as my daughter, who had watched the situation unfold.

I brought back her refilled drink, and she chuckled "Gee, Dad, aren't YOU 'special'"?

P.S. I took that picture above with my cell phone in the driving rain as we were leaving the restaurant and almost got run over in the parking lot....

She Was Crying By The Side Of The Road

2009-08-11T06:56:00.005-04:00

She stood there by the side of the road, holding a six month old baby. She was sobbing uncontrollably...

I'm working from home this week, revising project plans. My head was spinning from linking 100+ project dependencies, and I decided to clear my thoughts by taking a morning run.

I got out on one of the 80 miles of shaded golf cart paths here in Peachtree City, setting off earthquake detectors within a 15 mile radius as I rumbled on a leisurely 4 mile jaunt.

I was on the service path behind the new elementary school when I saw her. She was standing next to her golf cart, which had been pulled awkwardly off the road. She was standing there, gazing at the elementary school playground. She was holding what looked to be a six month old girl, and she was crying uncontrollably.

Sometimes your actions are automatic....I immediately stopped running, smiled and approached her and said conversationally "It's too pretty a day to be crying.....can I do something to help you stop?"

She looked at me and turned a bit red. Balancing her infant on one hip, she turned and pointed to the playground.

"It's my oldest's first day of school today....I thought I was ready for this day... but... but... I'm not!!" The tears really came rushing out....

I smiled....and thought back to the first day of school for my oldest kid, so many many years ago. We made small talk about kids and milestones, about next steps and how the years seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

Interestingly, I felt like we talked about 15 minutes but when I looked at my watch just about 5 minutes had passed. I got her to smile....she obviously wanted someone to talk with... and finally wished her and her children all the best in life and went thundering down the road once more.

I was smiling the rest of my run.

What do you mean, she "failed"?

2009-08-10T08:07:00.003-04:00

I woke up in the middle of the night with a start: yesterday was my birthday...and I had forgotten to renew my car tags! (Car tags expire on your birthday in Georgia)

Got up at the crack of dawn this morning to go get the mandatory emissions test for the car, a.k.a a waste of $25.

The technician had a sad look on his face..."I'm sorry sir, your car has failed the emissions test."

"Whaddya mean she 'failed'? The car is only five years old!"

"Well, sir, it failed the gas cap pressurization test..."

I interrupted "I just don't see how that can be possible on a late model car!"

"uh, sir, that's just it.....you don't have a gas cap on your car."

"I don't...have.... a gas cap?"

Sure enough, there's a gaping hole behind the little door where the gas cap used to live quietly for so many years. I have no idea how long I've been driving without a gas cap, I think I last filled up the tank three weeks ago.

I'm off to NAPA auto parts to buy a $13 gas cap replacement......

"The Fish Are Dying!"

2009-08-09T17:44:00.002-04:00

Against my better judgment, my youngest daughter Jenni inherited a fully stocked aquarium from her loving maternal grandparents last Christmas. I told her in no uncertain terms that she would be taking this aquarium off to college with her, as I had no interest in any pet that can't say "woof". She said she'd be quite happy to take her fishies with her.

Well, today was The Big Day: my daughter was moving into her dorm at Georgia college. We dutifully packed approximately 450 pounds of her favorite clothing into my wife's Pontiac Grand Am (I wish I'd taken a pic of the sagging back end of the car!!) and prepped the aquarium for the Big Move.

We opted to take "the shortcut" and bypass the interstate altogether in the interest of saving time and gas. This meant a long boring haul on a two lane logging road through the Oconee national forest.

An hour into the two hour trip, my daughter yells from the back seat "Dad! The Fish Are DYING!" I glance in the rearview mirror and sure enough, it's Goldfish Armaggeddon. My wife is of no help whatsoever ("Maybe they're not totally dead yet...maybe they're mostly dead") ...I think she's watched Billy Crystal as Miracle Max in the Princess Bride too many times...

I'm feeling a bit helpless at this point...we've transported the aquarium before for hours with no problems. Not so today. We arrive at the college and the inside of the car is smelling like, um, spoiled fish. I quickly arrange for a hasty naval funeral ("burial at sea" in the dorm visitor's bathroom) while my wife attempts to console my daughter "we'll get you some fresh fish" ("I don't WANT 'fresh fish' sobs my daughter).

We ended up bringing the empty aquarium home.

RIP Penelope, Chomper and Dubya.

Technology Arms Race continues..

2009-08-09T00:33:00.002-04:00

My terrible techie arms race with Wayne Botha continues....testing simultaneous twitter/facebook/blog update..

Pay It Forward EIGHT YEARS!

2009-08-08T20:40:00.003-04:00

In the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, an unfortunate situation occurred in my sleepy little subdivision: the only Arabic family (technically, they were from Syria) in our neighborhood were essentially treated like pariahs.

Their 12 year old son actually asked me if it was "okay if he and my son could still be friends". He said he would understand if I said "no". I laughed at him and told him to stop asking ridiculous questions like that....of course it was "okay" for them to be friends!!

Now, I hadn't seen him since he and my son graduated high school some years ago, and quite frankly I had forgotten about our little conversation. He, however, had not forgotten. It must have left a powerful impression upon him, because today, out of nowhere, EIGHT YEARS LATER...he was able to do my family a very nice favor that was greatly appreciated (forgive me if I'm being deliberately vague here on the details, it's a bit sensitive but appreciated nonetheless!)

I have a better appreciation for the concept of "Paying it forward"!

Disqualified!

2007-11-05T11:30:00.000-05:00

The Toastmasters District 65 West Division contest was mine to lose.

I lost.

Technically, I was disqualified. I went over the time limit by 7 seconds.

I gave the speech of my life this past Saturday morning. I was extremely proud of my performance. I've given that particular speech 8 times and it always clocked in between 6:50 and 7:15. I shaved a few sentences off of it because I *knew* it was going to get a lot of laughs.

I should've shaved a few more sentences. 7:37, and mostly because I had the audience laughing so long.

A tough lesson, but I am extremely pleased with my performance, especially since I drew the dreaded "first speaker" slot....I was so psyched up I didn't care. I offer no excuses....I goofed. It was a learning experience.

It would have been a tough competition to win in any even...yes, there was even a speech funnier than mine.

The contest winner gave a sidesplitting speech on how hard it is to be a spanish speaking toastmaster.

*I* knew my material...*HE* knew his target audience.

My bad day didn't end there!

After the competition was over, my wife and I went outside to get into our Ford Expedition and take a well-deserved weekend trip up to Toronto.

Bad news: there was a huge puddle of bright green fluid beneath the Expedition. As most gearheads know, bright green puddles usually indicates a severe radiator leak.

One problem: this was at the BACK of the Expedition, not the front where the radiator is.

Hmmmm....I'd just bought a brand new big old bottle of Scope mouthwash that morning at a 24hr convenience store across from the hotel.

Yup. My loving wife didn't put the cap back on tightly, I threw the bottle in my overnight bag and off we went to the competition.

Leak, leak, leak, leak, leak.....

Soaked my clothes, my bag, the floor rug in the back compartment in the back of the SUV and eventually the ground underneath.

Quick trip ensued back to my corporate apartment to get some dry clothes for the weekend.

On a positive note....the inside of my Expedition DOES smell "minty fresh" now!!

Gratitude

2007-10-31T15:07:00.000-04:00

It was 4 a.m. in an Army barracks. One of the cooks woke me up...I'd just gotten off duty at 1 and was NOT a happy camper.

"You gotta come, it's Ramierez...he's dead".

Well damn.

Followed the cook to the squad bay two doors down and there was Ramierez on the floor, purple, with a syringe sticking out of his arm.

Double damn.

Adrenaline kicked in and I went on autopilot. I had the cook call the base's equivalent of 911, yanked out the syringe (later found out it was full of the finest Turkish heroin) and started mouth-to-mouth on the guy. Everyone starts waking up and crowding around. Lot of Hispanic guys all jabbering in Spanish.

I'm beating on the poor bastard's chest and wishing more than anything else in the world for a defibrillator. Breathe, damn you, breathe. This goes on and on for almost 20 minutes and I am wondering where the hell is the ambulance crew.

Then, miracle of miracles, we get a heartbeat. His eyes fly open and he stares up groggily at me.

I'll never forget his words of gratitude:
"Get off me you @#$%^& homo!"

How Embarrassing

2007-10-29T14:18:00.000-04:00

How embarassing. I took the team out for lunch on Saturday, as a reward for having to pull a rare Saturday morning installation. The bill came, and I handed the waitress my Visa card.

She came back a few minutes later and whispered, "Sir, your card has been declined." Declined? Moi? I keep X thousand dollars as a buffer on my debit card when I'm on the road! How can I be declined? Figuring it was a processing system glitch, I paid in cash. I then hit an ATM to replenish my wallet and check my balance. X thousand dollars. Whew, that's a relief!

I then went to Barnes and Noble bookstore to pick up a copy of Charles Stross' new book (The Merchants' War.....recommended!), only to find my debit card once again mysteriously declined. I tried calling the "customer service" number on the back, but was informed by the robot-voice attendant that only stolen cards could be cancelled from this number. Some service!

So this morning I called the issuing bank, and after three transfers found the root of my problem: "Well, we've had a lot of fraud in New York and California, so we've put a block on charges originating there."

Great.
Just great.

I'm up here in New York for a solid month with a non-functional debit card....it still functions as an ATM card but a lot of places (like hotels) look at you like you're from Mars if you attempt to pay in cash.

Oh, and did my bank publicize this block on charges? "Internally within our branches, yes."

Very helpful.

Man's Best Friend

2007-10-28T15:55:00.000-04:00

Okay, I'll admit it....I once got into a pissing contest with my dog.

We were out in the deep woods chasing rabbits (okay...HE was chasing rabbits), on a glorious Fall afternoon, about a mile or two away from civilization. I had to pee. Sooo...I began to relieve myself against a nearby tree. My dog, who was maybe 25-30 yards ahead of me, immediately alerted, ears and nose pricking up, and came running at me in a beeline....stopping right in front of me. I had to stop doing what I was doing to avoid soaking man's best friend. My dog looked up at me, sniffed the bottom of the tree, and hiked his leg up and began to whizz.

I waited patiently for him to walk smugly away, then finished peeing atop where he had just sprinkled. Folks, I've never seen a dog look so irritated in my life. He sauntered back and peed over where I'd finished, then gave me a look that said "top that!"

So I did.

I managed to shake out 3 or 4 drops just to piss him off (bad pun intended). He sniffed some more.

I was jeering at him by now... "Come on, you mutt...I can do this all day, dog!"

...and I looked down in time to notice he was pooping on my foot.

The Claw!

2007-10-26T11:19:00.000-04:00

I once worked for a software company that had their product installed at banks around the globe. One night around 10 PM, two days before Halloween, I got called at home with a particularly nasty little software bug. I decided I needed to go into the office.

I had a small problem...three small problems, actually. My wife had gone out for a "girls night out" and I had no way to reach her, so I had to rouse my three sleepy children and take them into work with me. They were excited about going on an "adventure" in the "middle of the night".

There was a large conference room next to my office at work, and I deposited the kids in there. The conference room featured a large whiteboard with a multitude of dry-erase markers, and I told the kids to draw something special for Daddy. They attacked the whiteboard with artistic glee and I went into my office.

I forgot about Rocky.

Rocky was the building janitor. He had lost both of his hands and forearms in Vietnam. He had realistic prosthetics that he used for his "day job", but at night when he emptied trashcans and cleaned offices he used two generic metal claw devices to speed up his cleaning.

I heard the bloodcurdling screams. I turned around in my chair only to be knocked over by three figures that exploded into my office with looks of sheer terror on their face. My kids dove behind me, underneath my desk.

"The claw! THE CLAW! He's COMING FOR US!"

Now, a good father would have calmed them down right then and there and shown them there was nothing to be afraid of with Mr. Rocky.

....I'm not a good dad.

I said "gee kids let me go see what's going on". They were trembling.

I walked outside my office and Rocky was standing there with a sheepish grin on his face. He started to apologize for scaring my kids but I hushed him wordlessly. I mouthed "watch this" and said loudly "Who ARE YOU? What are you doing in this building? I oughta..." and then made a gurgling sound. I "fell" back into my office, grabbing my throat in front of the kids, Rocky standing over me.

I looked over at my kids, still underneath my desk, to see if they'd wised up yet...

...and noticed my son had grabbed my phone off the desk and was in the process of dialing 911.

Whoops!

I fessed up immediately and my kids were full of nervous laughter....they kept looking suspiciously at Rocky. I don't think they got ANY sleep that night....

I won the Area contest!

2007-10-22T10:08:00.001-04:00

I won first place in the area level of competition for the Toastmasters Humorous speech contest on Saturday!! I did my "Prague" speech and while I didn't get as many laughs as I have gotten in the past, it was still a technically flawless presentation. I'm very happy with my delivery.

The contest hierarchy goes as follows: 1) club level, 2) area level, 3) division level and finally 4) district level. The Division contest is in two weeks!

I also won 2nd place in the TableTopics category. TableTopics is a 1-2 minute impromptu speaking competition.

I marvel at how far I've come this year. Learning to be a better public speaker was a New Year's resolution that I've actually kept. Back in January, I was terrified to get in front of a crowd....now, I can't wait! Quite a change in attitude.

On To Division!

Murder upstairs!

2007-10-14T19:27:00.000-04:00

The guy who has the corporate apartment above mine murdered his girlfriend last night! (Buffalo News Link)

This happened around 2 a.m. and the strange thing was I was awake at the time....I heard the ambulance but assumed it was the Alzheimer's lady at the nursing home next door pulling the fire alarm again (she does this twice a week).

The Project Team Has a Baby!

2007-10-12T20:40:00.000-04:00

BABY PROJECT PLAN Version 1.0
Role	Responsibility
Project Manager	Schedules nine women to deliver a baby in one month.
Business Analyst	Estimates it will take 18 months to deliver a baby.
Offshoring Resource Coordinator	Commits to a single woman that can deliver nine babies in one month.
Client	Doesn't know why he wants a baby.
Software Vendor Representative	Commits to delivering a baby even if no man and woman are available.
Resource Optimization Team	Claims project doesn't need a man or woman; should be able to produce a child with zero resources.
Documentation Team	Doesn't care whether the child is actually delivered, they'll just document 9 months.
Quality Auditor	The person who is never happy with the process to produce a baby.
Tester	The person who always tells his wife that this is not the right baby.

A Royal Reception

2007-10-11T12:08:00.001-04:00

When my son was eight years old and we were living in Orlando, he was a fanatical fan of the Orlando Magic. When he heard that an actual honest-to-God Orlando Magic player (Donald "D-Rock" Royal) was signing autographs at the local mall, he made it very clear that he absolutely, positively HAD to go there.

My youngest daughter got caught up in the excitement as well. She spent an entire afternoon creating a portrait of Donald Royal for him to sign. Six year olds have interesting perspectives! She drew an enormous black head on a rather stunted body, with big red ruby lips and *gulp* eyeliner. It looked like a Blackface caricature from the 1930s!

We went to the mall and stood for 45 minutes in line to meet Mr. Royal. It was a very efficient operation, a handler took the ball/jersey/hat for him to sign, a quick autograph, then the handler would shout "next!".

My son got his beloved Magic baseball cap autographed, and the handler then took my daughter's "portrait".....he looked at it distastefully and held it by one corner, as if he were being asked to handle wet toilet paper. USED wet toilet paper.

He passed the picture to Donald Royal and I'd have given anything for a video camera to have captured that moment. Royal's jaw dropped and then clenched, his face clouded and he scowled, then he looked up and saw a sweet starry-eyed six year old girl smiling ear to ear...and he melted.

He smiled and motioned her up to the table where he was signing items, and began asking her questions about the picture, where she went to school, etc. Where everyone else got a bare signature on their item, my daughter was rewarded with a full paragraph from Mr. Royal "Best wishes for your upcoming school year to a very talented young artist, Sincerely, Donald Royal, Orlando Magic Number 5".

Of course, my son was insanely jealous that Royal had taken the time to talk to her when everyone KNEW he was the number one Orlando Magic fan in the entire country!

It's been ten years and she still brings that up from time to time to get his goat!

A million little ants....

2007-10-08T16:56:00.000-04:00

ATL - BUF Delta
Flew into Buffalo NY this evening after a long holiday weekend. I forgot that the Bills were on Monday Night Football. The Delta MD-88 did a long sweep turn over Lake Erie in preparation for landing, and I guess we were maybe 10,000 feet up. We lucky window-seaters were treated to the amazing sight of a stadium packed to the rafters with people...they looked like a million little ants. Truly impressive!

Too Old For Toys?

2007-10-05T22:00:00.000-04:00

I was in a meeting this morning. We got off track a bit, and a very proper older woman from the Netherlands started talking about her husband.

"My husband has this interest for handcuffs and always tries to involve me...I don't understand why" (young woman near her snickers). "He's got our two sons interested in them as well." (young woman turns red).

Dutch woman continues: "My husband is forever visiting those special toy stores you have here in America and bringing home toys for me....do I look like a woman who enjoys toys? I haven't had any desire for a toy in years!" (young woman is laughing and beet red). "I shoo my husband away and tell him I shan't be a part of his little threesomes, thank you very much"

At this point, young woman, who was in the process of drinking a Coke, sprays Coke out of her nose.

Dutch woman notices this...stops and looks concerned "my dear! Are you unwell?"

Young woman replies "no no..I'm so sorry, when you said "threesomes" I thought you were referring to menage a trois!"

Dutch woman (concerned): "Oh, I am sorry dearie...I don't speak French. Do you have swallowing issues?"

A Hill of Beans

2007-10-04T21:55:00.000-04:00

Since George Decider Bush has mismanaged the American economy to the point that the Canadian Loon is now on par with the American Dollar, I've noticed quite a few more Canadian visitors in Buffalo NY of late.

I was amazed to see 3 Canadians descend on a supermarket right next to the Peace bridge to Fort Erie. Like a plague of locusts, they were stripping every single can of baked beans from the shelves. In 3 carts they must have had over 300 cans of beans!!

The supermarket manager explained to me that there was some Canadian law that prohibited certain food items for sale without both English and French labelling and that baked beans were somewhat difficult to come by up north as few American manufacturers opted to put French labelling on their product. The price differential between Canadian baked beans and American baked beans is enormous.

I did notice that at the checkout I was not only asked "Paper or plastic"? But was also asked what currency I would be paying in!

Comedy Tonight!

2007-10-02T22:05:00.000-04:00

After listening to Darren LaCroix tell story after story about bombing onstage at an open mic night at a comedy club, it dawned on me that I'd never been to an open mic night.

Wonder of wonders, there just happened to be one 3 blocks away from where I am staying tonight! *evil grin*

I showed up for the "7:30 show" which actually didn't get started until 8:30 pm. 10 comics and an enormous lesbian emcee. I'd say there were 5 college students from Canisius college, 1 school teacher, 2 other lesbian comics, and a guy with a guitar. Everyone did about 4-6 minutes.

It was fascinating watching this group have a collective meltdown on stage, one after the other. They were trying so hard, but the comedy wasn't there. The school teacher was onstage for her very first time and she had more "presence" and connect with the audience than anyone. She was riffing on teaching sex education to ignorant high schoolers. On a "funny scale" of 1 to 10 she was about a 4, which was the high for the night.

None of them understood pacing, and the "dead spots" were painful. I kept thinking to myself "I could do this..."

Dangerous. These are dangerous thoughts that I think.

When the police interrupt your speech...

2007-09-29T11:36:00.000-04:00

After yesterday's debacle, I tried once again to practice my humorous speech before a group of unsuspecting Toastmasters.

I was in a restaurant banquet room and just getting to my first punch line when four policemen walked in and sat down, which of course EVERYONE noticed.

I didn't miss a beat, I pointed to an elderly courtly lawyer who was sitting in front of me with one of those emphysema oxygen bottle breathing machines and said "Officers, if your looking for Mr. Smith he's right up front here, but he swears the waitress told him she was over 18 last week!"

(side note: these officers had all failed the oral portion of a promotion exam and the promotion board told them that Toastmasters might be good for them. Big ole brave policemen had to come as a group to muster up enough courage to do this together!!)

Murphy's law when giving a speech

2007-09-27T11:28:00.000-04:00

I was visiting a Toastmasters club last week to practice the speech I plan to give at the upcoming humorous speech contest. Two-thirds of the way through my speech, I hear a very obnoxious cell phone go off...I try to ignore it.

A woman opens up her purse and pulls out the cell phone...Good LORD that is one LOUD ringtone.

She opens up the phone and says "Give me a moment please..."

Eyes are turning to her...I'm getting to the "funny" part of my speech....

She gets up to leave the room...and knocks over an elderly man sitting two seats over...."oh I am SOO SORRY!"

more eyes turning...I should've stopped right then.

She is still jabbering on her phone "honey...honey...wait just a minute until I leave the room.."

To leave the room she has to walk right in front of me. She limps so she moves very very slowly....

I've lost 50% or more of the audience at this point...

She says "Honey...stop crying, I can't understand you..."

Now EVERYONE has lost interest in whatever I had to say and is watching her.

My speech falls flat. Bleh.

"I will NOT have sex with you anymore!"

2007-09-22T22:37:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting in a relatively crowded airport last night waiting for my flight to board.

There's a woman sitting behind me having a heated conversation on her cell phone. I am trying to ignore her but it just got too good...

"Look, we can still be the best of friends, but I am just not going to have sex with you any longer..."

pause

"No, that counts as 'sex' to me!"

pause

"No! That's also considered sex!"

*sigh* then they called my flight
Wish I could've heard the rest of THAT conversation!!

THUMP THUMP THUMP....at 40,000 Feet

2007-09-21T17:10:00.000-04:00

BUF-ATL Delta(Comair)

Just when I thought I'd seen it all.....

Flying home tonight on a Canadair Regional Jet Buffalo-Atlanta. Beautiful night to fly, cruising right along at 40,000 feet...

In the extreme rear of the plane, I heard THUMP THUMP THUMP

huh?

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP

coming from the lavatory.

Evidently, a somewhat portly man was doing his bidness and when pulling up his pants afterward fell over and had gotten stuck in the tiny lavatory between the sink and the door....he had literally fallen and he can't get up.

Fussy older flight attendant tries to ascertain through the door if the man requires medical attention? "No, ma'am, I'm just stuck here!"

Burly Svedish looking guy tries jiggling the door but can't get it open.

Finally flight attendant gets on phone and pilot comes out of cockpit with odd looking key...opens door and Mr. Portly spills out into the aisle (thankfully, he'd managed to get his pants up.

Plane cheers wildly and Mr. Portly turns beet red. I notice pilot rolling his eyes as he walks back up aisle to cockpit.

Methane on the Train

2007-09-16T22:03:00.000-04:00

I was in Las Vegas airport last Sunday night, getting ready to fly to Atlanta. I had just finished a huge steak dinner prior to getting on the plane.

At Las Vegas airport, they have these trains to take you out to the different terminals. I am standing there at the terminal and feel the overwhelming urge to pass a bit of flatulence. I was all by myself, so I didn't see any problem with doing this.

Ahhhhhh....much better.

Well, to call this a "silent but deadly" one would not do it justice. Paint was peeling off walls, folks. I moved about 20 yards downrange because my eyes were watering so bad. On a scale of 1 to 10 this was easily a 30.

The train arrives and the doors open. People are streaming out....and turning green. One woman starts making retching sounds. Her husband looks concerned, then takes a sniff...and turns around and punches the guy next to him!!

"Dammit Jim! I told you I was gonna kick your ass if you ever farted around my wife again!"

Jim slugs Mr. Husband back "It wasn't me, I swear!"

Three Shots

2007-09-04T17:55:00.000-04:00

My all-time favorite basketball story, from 2001:

Everyone should witness their child in a game like this at least once in their life.

It was the quarterfinals of the league playoffs. Our team, ranked #2 in the league, had its hands full with the number 5 ranked team. The other team was playing on emotion and you could feel the electricity in the air.

We were down by three points with 14 seconds left in the game. The other team knew we were going have to throw up a long three pointer just to tie the game. We had one long distance shooting threat on our team, my son Ed. I was coaching and drew up a play for Ed during our last timeout. The people in the stands were yelling so hard we couldn’t hear ourselves. I was proud: our team didn’t look defeated, although we were down. We looked…hungry.

We started back out on the court, and I called my son back. Away from everyone else’s ears, I leaned down and whispered to him “Whether you make the shot or not, hold your head high. You’re my son and I love you”. He grinned at me.

We lined up and executed the play to perfection. My son shook off two defenders, stepped behind a screen of two players, and fired from 30 feet out.

And missed.

He hit the back of the rim, and the ball caromed wildly right back to him! He looked down (to make sure he was beyond the three-point arc) and fired again with two seconds left.

Nothing but net. Three points. Tie game. Overtime.

We were spent, and the other team quickly ran off five quick points in overtime. Down by 5 with a minute left to play in overtime is usually a sure loss. But we battled back, and our most mercurial player David fired a jump shot that somehow went in with 50 seconds left in overtime. Down by 3. We stopped them on their next possession, and I called time out with 30 seconds left. Déjà vu all over again.

We again ran a play to Ed, but they were ready this time, with three defenders hanging off of him. He had no choice but to pass off to our big man, Jon, who was way out of position at the top of the key. I waited calmly for our season to end. Jon, who was not being guarded, cranked up his very first jumper from just beyond the three point line…

and it went in.

Tie game. Again. Pure bedlam. Ten seconds left.

The opposing coach was screaming at his team to call time out, and we got a gift.

The player attempting to inbound the ball was distracted by his coach and stepped on the inbound line. Big no-no. Referee whistled a turnover and we get the ball back!

I quickly set up a play, and caution the boys that we only need a single point to win the game. Let’s do it, men!

Jon and Ed are covered by two kids each, so we are forced to throw the ball to our worst dribbler, Devon. The other team sees this and they all descend upon him like a pack of hungry wolves. Devon somehow manages to squirt the ball out to my son behind him. Ed fires a jump shot with four seconds left and no less than three hands in his face. He misses badly, the ball clanks harmlessly off the bottom of the rim….

…into the hands of Mark, a kid who has not scored a basket for our team all year. He is all alone beneath the basket, no one had bothered to guard him as he had one of the worst shooting percentages in the entire league.

Mark twists his body, fires an off-balance left handed soft shot from underneath the basket. The ball totters on the rim.

The horn sounds.

The ball drops in.

Two points.

We win.

I can’t breathe.

You Go! Go NOW!

2007-09-02T17:51:00.000-04:00

I ate dinner last night at an all-you-can-eat chinese buffet.

A rather large woman two tables away began choking. Her dinner companions started smacking her on the back, and she was gesticulating wildly because she couldn’t breathe. She knocked a plate on the floor.

I got up to play Heimlich Man, but before I could reach her table she made a massive retching noise and dislodged whatever was stuck in her throat….and promptly yakked up everything else she’d eaten as well.

The ancient Chinese crone manning the cash register ran over and quickly assessed the situation. She turned to the woman and said “You GO! Go NOW! GO!”

I love people.

My picture

2007-09-01T22:20:00.000-04:00

Just loading this up here to use for my avatar.

>......Luuuuuuke........<

2005-11-11T17:31:00.000-05:00

BUF - ATL (ASA)

I don't know if I can do this entry justice...it might have been a "you had to be there" moment.

Routine pre-flight instructions from the flight attendant, until she gets to the part about putting the oxygen mask over your face. There's a momentary pause, I was quasi-paying attention (having only heard this 1000 times before) when all of a sudden over the PA you hear the iconic "Darth Vader" wheeze... she's actually wearing the fake oxygen mask! and says in a very low, throaty voice that would have made James Earl Jones proud... "Luuuuuuuuuuke...."

It's little things like that that put a smile on everyone's face.

Champagne Flight

2005-10-11T17:42:00.000-04:00

CVG - GRB Comair

It was May of 1998. Judy and I are celebrating...after 18 months of flying into Appleton Wisconsin and driving 40 miles to our account in Green Bay, we are on the inaugural flight...the very first flight....of Comair from Cincy directly to Green Bay. Judy, a 2 million miler, is telling me about these "champagne flights".

Seems that when an airline begins service to a new city, they pull out all stops and have champagne at the destination and usually the local news.

We pull up to the gate at Green Bay, and there are a lot of party streamers ringing the gate. Walk inside and see....a tray of cheese danish (each cut IN HALF) and a tub of ice with soft drinks in them.

Some party.

I laugh at Judy, pick out a wet Diet Coke and we trundle down to baggage claim. I pop the top on the Diet Coke, take a healthy swig...and spit immediately. Something is VERY VERY WRONG with the soda. It's like drinking liquid metal, the aftertaste is so strong. For a fleeting moment, I think someone has doctored this drink somehow and I have been poisoned. Judy looks at me worriedly. I examine the can...

....contents best used by August 1995. Three YEAR old Diet Coke? WTH?

Judy never lets me live this down.

2003-07-11T17:37:00.000-04:00

IAD - MCO All Nippon Airways (USAir codeshare)

First time I've been on a 747 in a long while. First time I've EVER been on a Japanese flagged carrier, this is a Tokyo-Dulles-Orlando flight that I've picked up at Dulles.

Uneventful first half hour, until we get over Fayetteville, NC. All of a sudden I hear excited squawking in Japanese from the cockpit on the public address. I am on the left side of the plane, and virtually EVERYONE on the right side of the plane stands up and rushs over to the left side.

For a fleeting moment I thought there was trouble on the plane...but then I notice almost all these friendly Japanese folks are getting out cameras.

I look out the window... and far below our plane is a large KC-135 tanker plane refueling a pair of military fighter jets.

The cameras are clicking furiously.

Most impressive to look down upon!

Tai Chi Whiz

2003-05-08T17:17:00.000-04:00

ATL - PDX Delta

Got a comp first class upgrade to Portland...makes all the difference in the world. Long flight from Atlanta, all oriental flight attendants (this flight stops in Portland and then goes on to Japan).

About an hour into the flight, an older guy stands up in the middle of the first class aisle and starts doing tai chi movement exercises. It's intrusive as all hell, but everyone pretends not to notice. Another guy stands up and opens an overhead bin, to get his laptop out...

....and Mr. Tai Chi whirls and cracks his temple on the raised overhead bin door. *Lights Out!* He crumples into the aisle, a huge knot forming on his forehead...

.....and everyone pretends not to notice.

In The Pink

2003-02-02T17:25:00.000-05:00

MCO - LEX Delta Express

Early morning flight to Lexington for a big presentation. I've got the "power suit" on, my favorite blue pinstripe. I'm a master of my domain today. I'm sitting in the front row of a Delta Express, no first class regrettably. Next to me is a cute girl about nine or so in the middle seat. She's wearing one of those big red and white striped buttons that Delta gives to unaccompanied minors.

I'm making last minute changes to some Powerpoint slides when the little girl falls asleep...her head nestled against my left arm. Awwwww....how sweet.

We land uneventfully and the little darling wakes up. They open the front door and I stand up...

...and there is a big...no HUGE...blob of chewing gum in the crease fold of my suitcoat that I've been wearing the whole trip. It's the size of a baseball, and when I stood up it stretched pink gum in ALL directions. It's a wool suit and dammit the gum just won't come off. Little darling must've had it fall out her mouth when asleep.

I try, with no luck whatsoever, in the terminal bathroom to get this mess off. Nothing works. I have to show up for my presentation in a shirt and tie only, no way am I gonna face 20+ senior bankers like this. People on the team with me that are assisting with the presentation all try to catch my attention: "Psst! Suit Jacket? Where's your coat?"

Yeah yeah, I know....

Why I Hate Mankind

2002-11-08T17:14:00.000-05:00

PHI - ATL Delta

Return trip to Atlanta from Philly. I hang around the counter and ahhhhh yes, I'm cleared for a complimentary first class upgrade. Life is good.

But only for a fleeting moment. 20 minutes later I hear my name being paged on the public address. Gee sir, we're so very sorry, but at the same time we were clearing you for a first class upgrade someone purchased a first class ticket. So we won't be able to honor your upgrade tonight but here, have a free cocktail and 10,000 Skymiles on Delta.

*grumble grumble grumble*

I board the plane and trudge towards my lousy very-last-row-of-the-plane seat and I happen to glance at the bastid who took "my" seat 2A in first class...

and son-of-a-gun if it isn't Mick "Mankind" Foley, the same wrestler I ran into coming INTO Philly a few nights earlier!! He's hitting seriously on the sweet young thing sitting next to him in "my" seat ("I'm an author...seriously! and I've been on just about every morning talk show...blah blah blah").

I decide then and there that I hate Mankind.

"You Dat Rassler!"

2002-11-05T17:06:00.000-05:00

ATL - PHI Delta

Uneventful flight Atlanta Philadelphia. Long, long walk to the rental car counter. Ancient black lady behind the counter looks up at me and says "You! You dat rassler!" I smile and puff up my chest. No, ma'am, I begin, I may be tall and stocky but I'm not a wrestler... "Not YOU" she interrupts "HIM!" pointing to the guy behind me...

Mick "Mankind" Foley.

Sheesh. How embarassing.