Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The First 100
There's nothing like an arbitrarily-selected benchmark to really give you perspective on things. After 100 days of an Obama presidency, I think it's safe to say that The World Will Never Be the Same. That's also, incidentally, the title of the James Bond script I'm trying to sell to MGM. In this version, Bond is black, and the President. And sings Celine Dion ballads. I think I'm really onto something here.
Of course there's been all kinds of talk lately about how the President is doing 100 days into his term, about why he hasn't managed to get the Dow to 15,000 yet and how he probably began infecting people with Swine Flu personally using a tiny syringe he hides in his sleeve, but it's pretty hard to know what it all means. Am I supposed to be taking my life cues from CNN's John King now? Because if so, I have a lot of high-tech flatscreen monitors to purchase. Is Glenn Beck supposed to be my political sensei? Because I'm pretty sure he doesn't really go in for anything even vaguely multicultural-sounding. Where am I to go? Whatever am I to do?
I think the best part is the town hall meetings, because I really enjoy the questions that "real people" come up with. I'm just waiting for someone to ask him who he's rooting for on Dancing With the Stars. Definitely that one guy all the way.
There's nothing like an arbitrarily-selected benchmark to really give you perspective on things. After 100 days of an Obama presidency, I think it's safe to say that The World Will Never Be the Same. That's also, incidentally, the title of the James Bond script I'm trying to sell to MGM. In this version, Bond is black, and the President. And sings Celine Dion ballads. I think I'm really onto something here.
Of course there's been all kinds of talk lately about how the President is doing 100 days into his term, about why he hasn't managed to get the Dow to 15,000 yet and how he probably began infecting people with Swine Flu personally using a tiny syringe he hides in his sleeve, but it's pretty hard to know what it all means. Am I supposed to be taking my life cues from CNN's John King now? Because if so, I have a lot of high-tech flatscreen monitors to purchase. Is Glenn Beck supposed to be my political sensei? Because I'm pretty sure he doesn't really go in for anything even vaguely multicultural-sounding. Where am I to go? Whatever am I to do?
I think the best part is the town hall meetings, because I really enjoy the questions that "real people" come up with. I'm just waiting for someone to ask him who he's rooting for on Dancing With the Stars. Definitely that one guy all the way.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Little Darlings
I taught my fifth and sixth graders again on Saturday, and I can officially say that I've now lost any and all reservations about hating a child. They are all little monsters. Each and every one of them. I am keeping very careful track of all of their names because I feel certain I will see them on Chicago's Most Wanted some day. Unless, that is, some overwhelmed educator decides to take them out some day. Although we as a nation typically do not condone child murder, I feel relatively certain a jury would deadlock in this case.
In the course of just three hours I had children talking compulsively and without ceasing, throwing protractors and markers, tearing up handouts into tiny pieces, attempting to set overhead transparencies on fire, running in circles around the perimeter of the classroom, and threatening to jump out the window. Oh, and telling me that I was "fake." That was the part that hurt most of all. I consider myself to be 100% genuine around eleven year olds.
The lesson was on drug testing, which you would think would be an absorbing enough topic. But I think I could actually drug test these children personally and they would still not find it particularly diverting. Unless I could get Madea to do it. She's rather a popular figure.
We only have one class left. I'm seriously thinking about just popping in a movie. Or some Valium. Either way, it's definitely entertainment.
I taught my fifth and sixth graders again on Saturday, and I can officially say that I've now lost any and all reservations about hating a child. They are all little monsters. Each and every one of them. I am keeping very careful track of all of their names because I feel certain I will see them on Chicago's Most Wanted some day. Unless, that is, some overwhelmed educator decides to take them out some day. Although we as a nation typically do not condone child murder, I feel relatively certain a jury would deadlock in this case.
In the course of just three hours I had children talking compulsively and without ceasing, throwing protractors and markers, tearing up handouts into tiny pieces, attempting to set overhead transparencies on fire, running in circles around the perimeter of the classroom, and threatening to jump out the window. Oh, and telling me that I was "fake." That was the part that hurt most of all. I consider myself to be 100% genuine around eleven year olds.
The lesson was on drug testing, which you would think would be an absorbing enough topic. But I think I could actually drug test these children personally and they would still not find it particularly diverting. Unless I could get Madea to do it. She's rather a popular figure.
We only have one class left. I'm seriously thinking about just popping in a movie. Or some Valium. Either way, it's definitely entertainment.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
R&R
I spent two days in New York this week for work. I knew it was going to be an awesome trip when I got into the cab to O'Hare at 6:30AM on Wednesday and the cab driver decided to spend the whole ride trying to argue with me about banking regulation, a subject on which I had little to no opinions. The awesomeness continued when the rather full bodied lady sitting next to me on the flight repeatedly slumped over on me in her sleep, which I believe may have left my right arm permanently paralyzed. Then I had a fracas with a lovely gentleman over a cab, during which I was physically threatened with an umbrella. And then I got rained on rather extensively while walking the twenty minutes from my office to my hotel, which had been represented to me as being "right next door." Oh, and I had to eat two separate meals at the LaGuardia Wendy's. I'm pretty sure that's Zagat rated, right?
Regardless, I'm back now, and feeling very much like there's no place like home. Even if there are rotten bananas in my kitchen and the hall lights keep inexplicably flashing on and off. Oh, and the Cubs have dropped three in a row. I'll take it all, so long as you keep me off the airplanes.
I spent two days in New York this week for work. I knew it was going to be an awesome trip when I got into the cab to O'Hare at 6:30AM on Wednesday and the cab driver decided to spend the whole ride trying to argue with me about banking regulation, a subject on which I had little to no opinions. The awesomeness continued when the rather full bodied lady sitting next to me on the flight repeatedly slumped over on me in her sleep, which I believe may have left my right arm permanently paralyzed. Then I had a fracas with a lovely gentleman over a cab, during which I was physically threatened with an umbrella. And then I got rained on rather extensively while walking the twenty minutes from my office to my hotel, which had been represented to me as being "right next door." Oh, and I had to eat two separate meals at the LaGuardia Wendy's. I'm pretty sure that's Zagat rated, right?
Regardless, I'm back now, and feeling very much like there's no place like home. Even if there are rotten bananas in my kitchen and the hall lights keep inexplicably flashing on and off. Oh, and the Cubs have dropped three in a row. I'll take it all, so long as you keep me off the airplanes.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
How Are We Celebrating Earth Day?
-- Forgetting that it is Earth Day.
-- Driving our SUVs the half block to our neighborhood Earth Day party.
-- Recycling our copies of Mariah Carey's Glitter.
-- Suffering from the acute gingivitis that is invariably attendant to our use of all natural toothpaste.
-- Feeling very noble for picking up that aluminum can someone tossed into our front lawn.
-- Hardcore composting.
-- Planting trees in other people's yards under cover of darkness.
-- Making our coworkers uncomfortable by joking about saving water by sharing showers.
-- Having dirty dreams about Mother Nature.
-- Talking about the many uses of hemp until our friends threaten to seek a restraining order.
-- Explaining to the secret service exactly what we were doing in the White House vegetable garden.
-- Tripping balls on mushrooms.
-- Forgetting that it is Earth Day.
-- Driving our SUVs the half block to our neighborhood Earth Day party.
-- Recycling our copies of Mariah Carey's Glitter.
-- Suffering from the acute gingivitis that is invariably attendant to our use of all natural toothpaste.
-- Feeling very noble for picking up that aluminum can someone tossed into our front lawn.
-- Hardcore composting.
-- Planting trees in other people's yards under cover of darkness.
-- Making our coworkers uncomfortable by joking about saving water by sharing showers.
-- Having dirty dreams about Mother Nature.
-- Talking about the many uses of hemp until our friends threaten to seek a restraining order.
-- Explaining to the secret service exactly what we were doing in the White House vegetable garden.
-- Tripping balls on mushrooms.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Rude Awakening
This morning I was awakened at 6:30 by a repairman leaning repeatedly on my front buzzer. As I had not scheduled a repairman, I was somewhat confused. Also perhaps because I had just been dreaming that I was best friends with Bea Arthur, but that's a story for another time. But anyway, as it turned out my visitor was not there for me at all, but rather for my upstairs neighbors, whose names in no way resemble my own where they are very clearly displayed on labels next to the buzzer. Not that I'm attempting to relitigate the issue; my guest very clearly laid out for me the strong moral imperative that underlay his decision to wake my ass up at the crack of dawn. That is, before he asked to use my bathroom. I thought about offering to make him breakfast as well, but since it was only our first date, I didn't want to seem too forward. My reputation is the greatest treasure I own.
So Mr. Fix It eventually found his way upstairs to his destination, and I tried in vain to go back to bed. Unfortunately, all the excitement of making a new friend had left me wide awake, and despite my desperate attempts to induce a coma by reading the lesser works of D.H. Lawrence, I remained sadly conscious. I decided just to have some Golden Grahams and head in to work earlier. It is a very rich life I lead, let me tell you. I am doing my best to forgive your jealousy.
This morning I was awakened at 6:30 by a repairman leaning repeatedly on my front buzzer. As I had not scheduled a repairman, I was somewhat confused. Also perhaps because I had just been dreaming that I was best friends with Bea Arthur, but that's a story for another time. But anyway, as it turned out my visitor was not there for me at all, but rather for my upstairs neighbors, whose names in no way resemble my own where they are very clearly displayed on labels next to the buzzer. Not that I'm attempting to relitigate the issue; my guest very clearly laid out for me the strong moral imperative that underlay his decision to wake my ass up at the crack of dawn. That is, before he asked to use my bathroom. I thought about offering to make him breakfast as well, but since it was only our first date, I didn't want to seem too forward. My reputation is the greatest treasure I own.
So Mr. Fix It eventually found his way upstairs to his destination, and I tried in vain to go back to bed. Unfortunately, all the excitement of making a new friend had left me wide awake, and despite my desperate attempts to induce a coma by reading the lesser works of D.H. Lawrence, I remained sadly conscious. I decided just to have some Golden Grahams and head in to work earlier. It is a very rich life I lead, let me tell you. I am doing my best to forgive your jealousy.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Lazy Saturday
For some reason I didn't wake up until 11 this morning. Now, there was a time when waking up at noon or one on the weekend seemed normal to me. We call that time college. But since I have started taking on delightful adult responsibilities like pruning the shrubs and grouting the tub, I have tended to rise somewhat earlier on the weekends so as to get some manual labor done. So it was somewhat disorienting for me to wake up around the time I normally start thinking about lunch. But it was also sort of great, as lunch is really the first great event of the day for me.
So far I haven't accomplished too terribly much. I did go to the gym, where a little elderly lady decided to give me tips on my weightlifting form, and sort out the week's junk mail. I had a lot of fine requests from charities to shred. I was thinking about going to the grocery store, but there's a Cubs game, so leaving my house is sort of a struggle. I always hate to walk right through the middle of someone's bags game.
For some reason I didn't wake up until 11 this morning. Now, there was a time when waking up at noon or one on the weekend seemed normal to me. We call that time college. But since I have started taking on delightful adult responsibilities like pruning the shrubs and grouting the tub, I have tended to rise somewhat earlier on the weekends so as to get some manual labor done. So it was somewhat disorienting for me to wake up around the time I normally start thinking about lunch. But it was also sort of great, as lunch is really the first great event of the day for me.
So far I haven't accomplished too terribly much. I did go to the gym, where a little elderly lady decided to give me tips on my weightlifting form, and sort out the week's junk mail. I had a lot of fine requests from charities to shred. I was thinking about going to the grocery store, but there's a Cubs game, so leaving my house is sort of a struggle. I always hate to walk right through the middle of someone's bags game.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Back At It
I drove back to Chicago from Quincy on Monday. The good news was that there was a Cubs game for me to listen to on the trip; the mortal terror their play always causes me tends to make the drive go faster. The bad news was that it rained the entire way; after a while I began to feel like I was living in a Joseph Turner painting. The other good news was that I stopped at Arby's on the way; I hadn't had any fried foods for the entire duration of Lent, which led to some fairly serious symptoms of withdrawal. The other bad news, though, was that I failed to notice the return of the Chicken Cordon Bleu until after I had already ordered, thus missing out on one of the greatest culinary achievements in the field of extra value meals. I guess you win some and you lose most, eh?
Since I've been back I've mainly been working. For some reason this week turned out to be the convergence of all work-related tasks ever for me. I've even been getting up before 7, which is very much unlike me. It turns out the train isn't even crowded then!
I did take a few minutes out from my labors tonight to watch a random fifteen minutes from the middle of Syndey White. I will tell you that nothing soothes the frazzled soul like a heaping helping of Amanda Bynes. Plus it helped me do a lot of learning about America. Still more proof that there's nothing that affable preteen-marketed comedies cannot teach us.
I drove back to Chicago from Quincy on Monday. The good news was that there was a Cubs game for me to listen to on the trip; the mortal terror their play always causes me tends to make the drive go faster. The bad news was that it rained the entire way; after a while I began to feel like I was living in a Joseph Turner painting. The other good news was that I stopped at Arby's on the way; I hadn't had any fried foods for the entire duration of Lent, which led to some fairly serious symptoms of withdrawal. The other bad news, though, was that I failed to notice the return of the Chicken Cordon Bleu until after I had already ordered, thus missing out on one of the greatest culinary achievements in the field of extra value meals. I guess you win some and you lose most, eh?
Since I've been back I've mainly been working. For some reason this week turned out to be the convergence of all work-related tasks ever for me. I've even been getting up before 7, which is very much unlike me. It turns out the train isn't even crowded then!
I did take a few minutes out from my labors tonight to watch a random fifteen minutes from the middle of Syndey White. I will tell you that nothing soothes the frazzled soul like a heaping helping of Amanda Bynes. Plus it helped me do a lot of learning about America. Still more proof that there's nothing that affable preteen-marketed comedies cannot teach us.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Odds & Ends
Yesterday I got my oil changed and was subjected to sass courtesy of the lady working at the desk of the oil change place. Apparently I don't keep my air filter sufficiently clean for her liking. Which is too bad, because I was going to ask to take her out next week. I don't think the twenty year age difference will be an issue, do you?
I also washed the car, which due to strong winds resulted largely in a washing of me. I used only a light wax, as I didn't wish to melt in the strong midday sun.
Last night was a cavalcade of wedding events. The bad news is that there was no bouquet toss or garter toss, but there was a choreographed musical number to "Dancing Queen" involving feather boas on women of a certain age. There was also the requisite slide show of the bride and groom demonstrating their perfect love. I think a lot fewer people would get married if they could somehow force people to watch a slide show about them without a ceremony.
This morning we had church, where the resurrection of Christ was ushered in with a lot of very nasal singing and enthusiastically strummed guitars. The priest had hurt his knee and had to sit on a stool while turning the bread and wine into the Body & Blood O Christ, which made it seem a bit more like a cooking demonstration on The Today Show. Then we had lunch and conversations about the many faults of home health care workers at my grandmother's. Let me tell you, He is Risen Indeed.
Yesterday I got my oil changed and was subjected to sass courtesy of the lady working at the desk of the oil change place. Apparently I don't keep my air filter sufficiently clean for her liking. Which is too bad, because I was going to ask to take her out next week. I don't think the twenty year age difference will be an issue, do you?
I also washed the car, which due to strong winds resulted largely in a washing of me. I used only a light wax, as I didn't wish to melt in the strong midday sun.
Last night was a cavalcade of wedding events. The bad news is that there was no bouquet toss or garter toss, but there was a choreographed musical number to "Dancing Queen" involving feather boas on women of a certain age. There was also the requisite slide show of the bride and groom demonstrating their perfect love. I think a lot fewer people would get married if they could somehow force people to watch a slide show about them without a ceremony.
This morning we had church, where the resurrection of Christ was ushered in with a lot of very nasal singing and enthusiastically strummed guitars. The priest had hurt his knee and had to sit on a stool while turning the bread and wine into the Body & Blood O Christ, which made it seem a bit more like a cooking demonstration on The Today Show. Then we had lunch and conversations about the many faults of home health care workers at my grandmother's. Let me tell you, He is Risen Indeed.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Easter Wedding Weekend 2000!!!!!
I am in Quincy this weekend for a friend's wedding. I had never previously encountered an Easter wedding, but I suppose it's fine so long as one doesn't try to incorporate it as a theme. "Come celebrate the resurrection of our love!" would seem a bit tacky. Or "We're crucifixin' to get married!"
The wedding events begin this evening with the rehearsal dinner, where I understand there's to be an elaborate slide show from which any and all photos deemed unflattering by the bride have been purged. I have prepared a full arsenal of small talk topics, from the weather and everyone's health to amusing g-rated anecdotes about the bride's exploits back in high school. What I'm really excited about, though, is the reception, which will be at a winery in a small town outside Quincy, where I did not previously know there was a winery. I'm really hoping they'll let me stomp some grapes, though I recognize that this will likely ruin my Pumas.
The bride is one of my favorite people ever, who has shared with me a number of delightful bon mots through the years, such as "babies are really small" and "everyone has a name, isn't that weird?" She also made me pigs in a blanket on more than one occasion, and performed with me in a children's show choir. So of course I wish her every happiness in the world.
I am in Quincy this weekend for a friend's wedding. I had never previously encountered an Easter wedding, but I suppose it's fine so long as one doesn't try to incorporate it as a theme. "Come celebrate the resurrection of our love!" would seem a bit tacky. Or "We're crucifixin' to get married!"
The wedding events begin this evening with the rehearsal dinner, where I understand there's to be an elaborate slide show from which any and all photos deemed unflattering by the bride have been purged. I have prepared a full arsenal of small talk topics, from the weather and everyone's health to amusing g-rated anecdotes about the bride's exploits back in high school. What I'm really excited about, though, is the reception, which will be at a winery in a small town outside Quincy, where I did not previously know there was a winery. I'm really hoping they'll let me stomp some grapes, though I recognize that this will likely ruin my Pumas.
The bride is one of my favorite people ever, who has shared with me a number of delightful bon mots through the years, such as "babies are really small" and "everyone has a name, isn't that weird?" She also made me pigs in a blanket on more than one occasion, and performed with me in a children's show choir. So of course I wish her every happiness in the world.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Credit Crunch
I arrived home tonight to a new credit card. Apparently, someone tried an unauthorized use on my old card and my credit card company shut it down. So now I have brand new numbers for the first time in nearly 15 years. It is rather unsettling. I imagine someone running around in a bad wig and sunglasses pretending to be me. Actually, the picture on my credit card makes me look about five years old, so they'd have to wear jaunty suspenders and a bow tie, but you get the picture. Someone is trying to steal my identity! It is all very Lifetime movie.
Of course, when I called the credit card company to try and get some more intel on this situation, I had to go through four automated menus and one rather substantial stutterer and I still only ended up with instructions to visit some website, the address of which I immediately forgot. I know for a fact it was not nastychicks.com, however.
Maybe my parents were really on to something with shredding every piece of paper that comes within forty feet of their house. Maybe my grandmother had the right idea with cutting up her ATM card so no one could steal her identity. Actually, that identity is a pretty hot item. If I could be 97 and watch The Young & The Restless everyday life would be pretty sweet.
I arrived home tonight to a new credit card. Apparently, someone tried an unauthorized use on my old card and my credit card company shut it down. So now I have brand new numbers for the first time in nearly 15 years. It is rather unsettling. I imagine someone running around in a bad wig and sunglasses pretending to be me. Actually, the picture on my credit card makes me look about five years old, so they'd have to wear jaunty suspenders and a bow tie, but you get the picture. Someone is trying to steal my identity! It is all very Lifetime movie.
Of course, when I called the credit card company to try and get some more intel on this situation, I had to go through four automated menus and one rather substantial stutterer and I still only ended up with instructions to visit some website, the address of which I immediately forgot. I know for a fact it was not nastychicks.com, however.
Maybe my parents were really on to something with shredding every piece of paper that comes within forty feet of their house. Maybe my grandmother had the right idea with cutting up her ATM card so no one could steal her identity. Actually, that identity is a pretty hot item. If I could be 97 and watch The Young & The Restless everyday life would be pretty sweet.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
The Current Cinema
Thanks to Netflix, I've been renting up a storm lately. I saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona, which I enjoyed more for the Vicky than the Cristina but mainly for the Barcelona, and Match Point, which reaffirmed my belief that the best Woody Allen movies are the ones without Woody Allen in them. Then I saw Frozen River, which was not as super depressing as I feared a movie about human trafficking would be, and The Women (the non-Meg Ryan version), which was one of the more hilariously misogynistic things I've ever seen. I also saw Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, of which I watched while I was painting by numbers and only finished three quarters of before deciding there was just too much shouting, and Live Flesh, which I heartily enjoyed despite (or perhaps because of) the need to read subtitles. It's been a very busy period for my mailbox.
The one casualty? That's Entertainment, Part I, which has been sitting on my counter for about a month and a half now. Not that entertaining, apparently.
Thanks to Netflix, I've been renting up a storm lately. I saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona, which I enjoyed more for the Vicky than the Cristina but mainly for the Barcelona, and Match Point, which reaffirmed my belief that the best Woody Allen movies are the ones without Woody Allen in them. Then I saw Frozen River, which was not as super depressing as I feared a movie about human trafficking would be, and The Women (the non-Meg Ryan version), which was one of the more hilariously misogynistic things I've ever seen. I also saw Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, of which I watched while I was painting by numbers and only finished three quarters of before deciding there was just too much shouting, and Live Flesh, which I heartily enjoyed despite (or perhaps because of) the need to read subtitles. It's been a very busy period for my mailbox.
The one casualty? That's Entertainment, Part I, which has been sitting on my counter for about a month and a half now. Not that entertaining, apparently.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
The Volunteers
In keeping with my recent tradition of depriving myself of sleep even on the rare days I don't have to work, I went to volunteer at a food pantry this morning. It was sort of awesome. First, there were free donuts, which is always a plus. But perhaps more importantly, my entire job was filling up shopping carts with people's food orders. It was like when I was in high school and had to occasionally run errands for my mom, but with pleasant feelings of social usefulness as opposed to bitter rage. And all the clients were so adorable! It's nice to provide frozen orange juice to people who really appreciate it, you know?
Anyway, with my Saturday school class ending in a month or so, I'm trying to think of some other new and amazing volunteer venture I might be able to try, preferably a little later in my Saturday calendar. I'd like it to be something incredibly fun (do they need any volunteer ice cream tasters?) but not at all demanding (if the people I'm helping could just swing by my house, that would be ideal). Something arts and crafty would be nice, as I am rather handy with a hot glue gun (do you think that the impoverished need handmade home decor?). Or perhaps something that involves forcing my own taste on other people (Faulkner for Fifth Graders, anyone?). In short, I am ready to save the world, so long as it can be done within some very narrow parameters of my own choosing.
In keeping with my recent tradition of depriving myself of sleep even on the rare days I don't have to work, I went to volunteer at a food pantry this morning. It was sort of awesome. First, there were free donuts, which is always a plus. But perhaps more importantly, my entire job was filling up shopping carts with people's food orders. It was like when I was in high school and had to occasionally run errands for my mom, but with pleasant feelings of social usefulness as opposed to bitter rage. And all the clients were so adorable! It's nice to provide frozen orange juice to people who really appreciate it, you know?
Anyway, with my Saturday school class ending in a month or so, I'm trying to think of some other new and amazing volunteer venture I might be able to try, preferably a little later in my Saturday calendar. I'd like it to be something incredibly fun (do they need any volunteer ice cream tasters?) but not at all demanding (if the people I'm helping could just swing by my house, that would be ideal). Something arts and crafty would be nice, as I am rather handy with a hot glue gun (do you think that the impoverished need handmade home decor?). Or perhaps something that involves forcing my own taste on other people (Faulkner for Fifth Graders, anyone?). In short, I am ready to save the world, so long as it can be done within some very narrow parameters of my own choosing.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Tales of Travels
I just got back from three days in New York for work. I have many observations to share from this trip. I would have shared them earlier but for my first observation, which is that hotels that cost $250 a night have no business charging an additional $16.50 for internet access. Also their rooms should probably be bigger than my office, but hey, I don't like to quibble. At least they had trendy desk lamps. Who doesn't need a trendy desk lamp?
On my flight out I had the pleasure of landing at LaGuardia twice. They landed, and then picked up speed again and took off instead of taxiing to a stop. We received not a word of explanation. I swear to god I momentarily thought I was being hijacked, hopefully to somewhere warm and sunny. But no, they were just concerned about "excessive winds" on our first landing, and decided to circle around for fifteen minutes and try again. It was like the worst ride Six Flags ever conceived of.
On my flight back I had the pleasure of flying with not one but two high school spring break trips. Let me tell you that air travel is definitely not improved by having a 15-year-old named Heather running up and down the aisles and repeatedly asking the stewardesses for more plastic cutlery. Or by the reruns of The Big Bang Theory, for that matter. But again, I don't like to quibble.
I just got back from three days in New York for work. I have many observations to share from this trip. I would have shared them earlier but for my first observation, which is that hotels that cost $250 a night have no business charging an additional $16.50 for internet access. Also their rooms should probably be bigger than my office, but hey, I don't like to quibble. At least they had trendy desk lamps. Who doesn't need a trendy desk lamp?
On my flight out I had the pleasure of landing at LaGuardia twice. They landed, and then picked up speed again and took off instead of taxiing to a stop. We received not a word of explanation. I swear to god I momentarily thought I was being hijacked, hopefully to somewhere warm and sunny. But no, they were just concerned about "excessive winds" on our first landing, and decided to circle around for fifteen minutes and try again. It was like the worst ride Six Flags ever conceived of.
On my flight back I had the pleasure of flying with not one but two high school spring break trips. Let me tell you that air travel is definitely not improved by having a 15-year-old named Heather running up and down the aisles and repeatedly asking the stewardesses for more plastic cutlery. Or by the reruns of The Big Bang Theory, for that matter. But again, I don't like to quibble.
