Thursday, June 25, 2009

What number are you?

I awoke this morning in the middle of a sunken cheesecake-like crater wondering how I got there.

No, I hadn't been drinking. My hotel has a Sleep Number Bed. Cool. But I now suspect that Sleep Numbers are manufactured by The Firestone Tire Company ... It's a giant whoopee cushion with a controller that you can either dial up or down to control an electric air pump. Up, turns on the compressor. Down, releases air from the bed balloon.

I like a soft bed. So I bled it down to #35. So now I'm rolling around in the middle of this crater like a turtle, stuck on it's back.

Reminds me when my wife and I awoke soaking wet because one of our cats punctured our water bed.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

A LONG story about a LONG flight

I usually enjoy flying. Today was an exception.

The first leg of the flight was great. Not many people on board and most of them were experienced, respectful fliers.

That all changed when we got to Birmingham ... apparently the local chapter of ROCKY (Really Obnoxious Children who's mission it is to Kill You) AND a highschool jump-roping squad thought it would be great fun to sit  together in one EXTREMELY loud, large mass using my seat as ground zero. 

One of the 50 babies/toddlers sitting around me was screaming as she walked up the aisle and entertained us all with mind- numbing screaming as we flew across Texas - Texas is a VERY wide state - the words homicide and suicide came to mind more than once.

I think the guy sitting next to the ROCKY kid bought it a shot of whiskey as the child has now been silent for ... I knew I shouldn't have said anything, WWAAAAAAHHHHHH! Oh, Miss, would you put a case of beer on my tab and deliver it to that kid, please? If not, do you know if a child placed on the depressurized toilet in the back of the plane would be sucked out when flushed? Just curious.

I'm looking out the window now wondering if a person would actually feel any pain at the moment of impact from a 35,000 foot fall. I think I can squeeze through this tiny window if I suck in my gut. It's worth a try.

The flight attendant just brought me a Dr. Pepper. I think I'll postpone the jump for now - life is good again. Now if they just had some Twinkies.

Now there's something you only see from 10 miles above the planet - we just flew over a river that looked like a pig eating a mashmallow.

If the plane turns upside down, does it have to fall to go up? So, in THAT case, falling would be a GOOD thing, right?

Airplane drinking cups are coated with clear Teflon to ensure that they WILL slip out of your fingers into your lap.

Airplane seats are designed to keep all spilled Dr. Pepper collected around your butt and off the cheerful cabin carpeting.

Shortbread cookies are deadly at 35,000 feet unless you can convince the flight attendant to keep a steady stream of Dr. Pepper coming to unstick your mouth.

The kid is screaming again - GIVE IT SOME SHORTBREAD COOKIES FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!

We'll be landing and changing planes soon - time for a short, heartfelt prayer: 

Heavenly Father, please do NOT let that child be flying on to Austin. Thank you, Lord. Amen.

Post note/prayer: 
Heavenly Father, thank you for sending the screaming child on to Fairbanks. But now there's a Californian, valley girl, self-made rock star sitting behind me that is not aware that the volume of her airplane voice should NOT be the same as her rock n' roll stage voice. Please, Lord, strike me temporarily deaf. A little decompression-clogged-up ear would work fine. Thank you again, Father.

The THIRD leg of our flight to Austin -  The right lens of my glasses just fell out and onto the cheerful cabin carpeting. The lady behind me can see it but can't bend down to get it because we're all strapped-in for landing. So I'm wearing only one lens and can't see shit. Probably just as well.

So I just spent the entire landing with my feet painfully pigeon-toed and stretched out far enough to catch my eyeglass lens should it slide forward when the plane hits it's airbrakes during landing ... the lens didn't slide - either that or my pigeon-toe trap didn't work and my lens slid forward 5 or 6 rows. Should I yell out, "NOBODY MOVE! I DROPPED A LENS!"? The Sky Marshall would probably just shoot me when he/she heard, "DONT MOVE..." Then I'd be blind AND dead. And all the other passengers would be sucked out of the pressurized cabin through the bullet hole in the wall. So in the spirit of love for my fellow passengers, I'll keep my mouth shut.

This trip can only go uphill from here.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Happy Father's Day, Dad!!!

Hang in there until after the credits run 1:36 mark.

Yes, my Dad DOES read my blog - it serves as kind of a "Forgive-me-Father-for-I-have-sinned-these-are-my-sins" kind of thing.

I used to be an atheist, I couldn't handle the punishing God, smash-you-with-His-Big-Fist-for-screwing-up, thing. So I just dismissed Him and put Him out of my mind for the next 35 years. But about 10 years ago, a wise man named Doug asked me, "Would your Dad help you if you had trouble?" Sure. "Would he listen to you if you wanted to talk and offer you advice?" Sure. "Does he love you regardless of what you've done?" Yes. "Then why don't you try thinking of God THAT way ... like your Father."

From that point on, I've had no trouble with the concept of God.

So thanks, Dad ... BOTH of you.