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Relive the wonder of Vol. 1.
She was one of those gals who walk around dressed up like it’s the 1950’s all over again. Well, sorta. They’re not fully committed to the bit, which annoys me.
They do the dramatic eyebrows,
bright-red lipstick, jet black hair tied up with a bandana in case some
housework should come up.
It’s a nice look, but I wish they’d
go whole hog with it. These girls tend to mix the old school vibe with some of
today’s sluttier fashions (tight this, low-cut that) and then they cap it all
off with lots of aggressive tattoos and piercings.
It’d be like seeing a full-on Amish
guy walking around with Google Glass on. Something just doesn’t add up.
Even though she seemed nice enough,
I got the distinct impressive that her haphazard fashion sense might actually
be a symptom of a bit of a flakiness going on inside her noggin.
When the overhead bin above us
filled up, she tried to cram an entire suitcase under the seat in front of her.
Needless to say, that didn’t work. Then she decided she was just going to sit
it in front of her and wrap her legs around it. Surprisingly, that also didn’t work.
Eventually, the flight attendant
was once again called into service and he helped her find a reasonable home for
the suitcase.
Once the plane was actually in the
air, you know the part that should be the most complicated and risky, everything
was completely fine. Putting several hundred thousand pounds of plane, people
and personal belongings in the air is apparently much less difficult than
asking a few dozen people to take their seats in an orderly fashion.
I landed in Texas, hopped in a cab
and made my way to my hotel, which is lovely yet frustratingly secluded.
I planned to take a trip into
Dallas today and visit were Kennedy was shot, like every good, card-carrying
American and Russian should do when in Texas. Same trip, different emotions depending
on the perspective.
In order to do that, I would have
needed to find a way back to the airport ($25 cab ride or $13 dollar shuttle), somehow
get on the right bus to downtown Dallas, make the hour+ trip (complete with two
transfers), and then do the whole thing in reverse later.
I’m about as patriotic an American
or Russian as you’re going to find, but let’s be honest with ourselves, that is
a lot of work. Even Kennedy wouldn’t go to Dallas without the explicit promise
of a limo.
Plus, the likelihood of failure was
alarmingly high. My track record with the buses in the area where I’m from is
spotty at best. In a strange town? There was almost no way I wouldn’t find
myself dead before I reached the end of the line.
And keep in mind that this is a
state known for its chainsaw massacres. Being viciously cut up into ten
thousands tiny chunks of meat and bone is a high price to pay for making
missing a transfer on route to pay homage to Massachusetts’ second favorite
native John.
After John Cena.
I’m just saying 14-time World
champion in WWE bests one term leader of the free world any day.
Instead
of getting killed, I stayed at the hotel, got a little work done, took care of
some conference business ( you know, the whole reason I’m here in the first
place) and so forth.
Thus
ends a brief recap of my latest business travel odyssey. I’ll be back tomorrow
with my thoughts on the premiere of “24: Live Another Day.” Until then, from
the great state of Texas, I’ll be ever vigilant for morbidly obese men wearing
human faces as masks. Good advice really no matter what state you’re in.
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