Stories from the Road

Continuing my streak of awesome vacations, I just returned from a trip to the east coast with my dear friend Lindsay. The pretense of this trip was that Linds was going to the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD) to take a couple summer classes. If you don't already know, she has an astounding amount of talent in the arts. She wanted her car there and asked if I would drive with her. Road Trip? Count me in. In a former life I think I was a trucker. Of the 17 hour trip I think I drove 13, and not because Lindsay was slackalacking. I can just sit and drive and drive and drive and never really tire of it (unless I am sleepy and in which case I pretty much fall asleep at the wheel). That and Lindsay's company made it completely awesome. The first leg was to Niagara Falls. While Lindsay wasn't jazzed about the extra hour out of our way at first, I strong-armed her into going saying everyone should go to Niagara Falls. Have you ever been to Niagara Falls? It is HILARIOUS! Ok, so the waterfall is just plain cool, but the town is like a mini and cheesier version of Vegas. There are flashing lights, ferris wheels, arcades and IMAX movies galore. Come to think of it, it is actually a cheesier version of Atlantic City. Who knew that was possible. The next day we headed to Connecticut to visit our old friend Monica. Monica's parents live there now and Monica was house sitting. We stayed there a day and then went to Providence to register Lindsay for school. Neither Lindsay nor I had smooth transitions into college, therefore the sight of teenagers and their parents registering for classes sent both of us into a horrendous flashback that only a trip to Target buying adult things like irons and cutlery could bring us out of. She checked in, got an awesome apartment and later that night we met with Monica for dinner. The following day David met us for lunch in Providence. Sometimes when I think of my brother, I wonder how we are siblings. In my head/memories, we share very few personality traits. However, everytime I see me brother I am reminded how much we are actually alike. Some similarities off the top of my head: we both like to krump, we both work with people very unlike the people we grew up around, we both find situations that are not funny at all utterly hilarious, we both get super defensive when critisized, we both get pinched nerves in our neck with disturbing regularity, and we both like to drive. These are just a few, and they may seem to be not as deep as to make me believe we are very similar people, but I think watching us interact gives one a better point of view. Our similarites are just much more subtle than our differences.
Anyway, that is about the point where any fun to be had on this trip stopped. I won't get into too many specifics, but I didn't arrive into Chicago until 30 hours after I was supposed to. Along this adventure I had the pleasure of being marked for extra security checks. The other individuals going through these checks were the 18 year old, 100 lbs young lady behind me and the 86 year old 100 lbs woman in a wheelchair in front of me. I guess I can get on board with the idea of screening a younger, more able-bodied person in a wheelchair (though able-bodied is relative since they are, in fact, in a wheel chair) but this woman couldn't have caused more damage then accidently running over your toe, then knitting you an ugly sweater as a token of apology. Anyway, they put me in this box where they blew air at me in loud, violent puffs. Other than blowing my shirt over my head, giving the TSA guy a free peep show and making me devolve into a fit of giggles, I don't understand the point. Another highlight came on the plane from Laguardia to Chicago. I had to sit next to a woman who was not just drunk, but pissed and drunk and wanting to tell me all about it. All the flights were delayed and while on a normal day, I might have had some sympathy for her 6 hours in the airport, however I already had 10 hours on her 6 so I was in no mood. Then as the plane taxis to the runway, the older gentleman in front of me goes and has a seizure. So I ring for the flight attendant and they make an announcement that it is not a good time to ring for them as the plane is about to take off. I telepathically communicate that it is also not a good time to have a seizure either, but that didn't stop seizure man from having one. During this time the wino next to me gets up and begins to take the man's pulse. Someone asked if she was a doctor or a nurse and she said, "No, but I have taken CPR." I'm not sure about this, but I think all I learned in my last CPR class was how to makeout with a dummy, so I don't know how she felt qualified to help. The flight attendant asked her several times to sit down but she wasn't in a listening mood thanks to her pre-flight cocktails. Finally the flight attendant ased her firmly to sit. At which point wino decided, 'hey, I haven't offended or upset enough people today, why don't I just keep talking.' She replies to the other flight attendant (not the one instructing her to sit), "will you just slap the little faggot!" Exsqueeze me? I am uncomfortable even typing that word. I turned to her with this look of horror on my face. Before this point I was politely trying to give her the hint that I was in no mood to talk to her alcohol breathe. At this point I correctly decided polite went out the emergency exit 5 minutes ago and I could safetly actively ignore her which I did for the rest of the flight. We took off, the seizure stopped, I got home at 1:30am. Needless to say I wrote United a very long letter requesting comp tickets on any airline other than them. I'm still waiting for their response.
It's good to be back, but not as good as my trip was. So now I pretty much just daydream of my next vacation.
On another note, I just finished A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. It was awesome. From what I know of people trying to control their addictions, this seems to me to be an honest, open and articulate account, even with his embelishments. Oprah is a Hack. Read this book!