A random assortment of oddities compiled by the Missus and I while heading out to NYC for a few days:
- The guy at the Milwaukee airport checking ID looked at my fair lady’s driver’s Wisconsin driver’s license and asked where she was heading. When she said I’m going to New York,” the guy said without batting an eyelash, “OK, great, enjoy the trip home.” This is guy is part of the crack crew keeping problem people off the airplane?
- I don’t get as worked up as other people about the baggage fees they’ve been charging lately. That said, why the hell is there still a weight fee? If I want to gaffer tape a handle to a refrigerator box for my $15, why can’t I? The lady made us transfer several items to our other lighter bag to meet the weight requirement, which makes no sense. Try this: treat it like a take-out Chinese buffet. I pay based on what my stuff weighs. That’ll stop the shell game at the terminal check-in of trying to move six pairs of shoes into a suit bag.
- Basic physics problem: The little plastic specimen cup in which they serve your beverage is about two inches wide on the bottom. The tray on which you put it is about a foot long and about 20 inches across. How the hell is it that the people who sit next to me on these flights end up missing the damned tray with the glass and spilling shit on me? This has got to be about the fourth time I got wet on a plane and not in a fun way, either. The very nice lady next to me dumped a whole thing of apple juice on me. She apologized which was better than the last guy who did it. That jerkoff dumped a whole thing of Jack Daniel’s on me and it was my only pair of jeans for the whole trip. I flew home smelling like a three-day drunk, as there were no laundry services at my hotel. As part of the airline announcements, we need a portion on how to put the damned cup on the damned tray. If they think you’re too stupid to know how to buckle the seat belt, this can’t be too far outside the realm of their assumptions regarding your intellect.
- James Gandolfini, Jeff Daniels, Hope Davis and Marcia Gay Harden as parents trying to resolve an argument between their kids, which quickly devolves into chaos. Tell me that’s not the makings of a great Broadway show. I’ll let you know if it pans out.
- Sign in the Milwaukee airport over the chairs where you can sit down to put on your shoes and belt after being frisked by security: “Recombobulation Area.” Is the concept of “combobulation” something that can be transferred to a new word like that? Also, is it then fair to call security discombobulating?
- Why is it that people jolt up out of their seats the second the plane lands? You’re not going anywhere for a while. Sit your ass down. We were in row 19 of 20 and the guy next to me was out of the seat faster than Usain Bolt the minute the thing parked. All you’re doing is crowding the aisle and giving me claustrophobia. Plus, I’m at groin level, which is always fun… No one’s going to beat you to your luggage. Read a few more pages of your religious magazine you’ve been attempting to interest me in for the past two hours. I’m sure God will be found just above the cartoon.
- Definition of awkward: Walked into the men’s room and nearly slammed into a guy with whom I’d interviewed for a job, but never heard back. This was a fairly recent development, so I figured he’d recognize me. He looked right through me and walked away. I didn’t want the job that badly, so it wasn’t a huge deal, but come on. As a result of this, I took a little bit of pleasure in the fact that his school’s team was playing on the TV in the airport and moments before the final seconds would play out, the station cut to it’s monthly test of the emergency broadcast system. It cut back to the game just in time to show the opposing team mobbing one of its guys on the floor after hitting an insanely off-balanced game-winning shot. Mmm… Karma.
Thanks for letting me share your air. Be back next week.