Enough about me... let's talk more about me

11.5.2002 Going down to Houston / Happy HB

So, now I’m sitting in a plane with poor Elizabeth sitting next to me trying to sleep through all the turbulence and people passing by.

She had been up for the last 24 hours and after just getting off of work, we had to haul ourselves to the airport. We booked our flight arrangements online and usually, I check with the ticket agent while checking in what our seats consisted of. Well, this time, we were in a little rush and I just *assumed* they were all right: The last 10 times I checked, they were always good. Well, this time, they were a little off, but not really too bad. We wound up with an aisle seat and a middle seat—of course, I gave her the aisle seat, and I stayed squished between her and some physically fit wide guy. I pretty much sat shimmied over toward Elizabeth the entire flight.

Also, we are situated second to the last row in the aircraft. There’s a line of people waiting to use the lavatory just to the side of us (some of them watching as I type this—providing them with just oodles of entertainment). And of course, accompanying this great location is the occasional whiff of sh*t when those doors open. Oh yes, I almost forgot, the jet engines are exactly 3 feet away from our heads, so we get that nice humming sound. The last few items are, of course, bonuses, courtesy of Continental Airlines.

Earlier, as we were driving over to the airport, it was one of the best driving experiences that I’ve have had yet so far. Yes, I’m being sarcastic. Elizabeth says I’m a type-A driver. And, I think that she may be right, but I have seen worse …hmm, I’ve seen better too. Anyhow, I consider myself pretty adept with the hand-eye coordination thing. This comes with growing up with hours in front of the TV watching sitcoms and playing massive amounts of videogames. I have no problems operating heavy machinery. I have no problems staying within my own lane of traffic, just driving between the two dashed white lines. Actually, I can even maneuver the car specifically within a predetermined portion of the lane that I wish at any time. But I don’t think this is true with many people, and this is okay. It’s not everyone’s talent, and I understand that people have talent’s elsewhere. But please, oh please, when we are on the highway and that someone is right in front of me, and we’re doing 70, please do NOT hit your brakes. At first, I thought it was just that they wanted me to back off, but as I passed them, I realized they just kept habitually doing it. Also—thanks to all those ungraceful fellows who ruined it for those of us who were able to drive competently while talking on the cell phone in the city of New York. But here’s a hint—if someone were having trouble driving straight and erratically while using a cell phone, and STILL drives this way using a hands-free cellular kit, maybe it’s time to NOT talk on the cell phone in any fashion while driving—you know who you are, you uncoordinated freak.

So we reach the airport and symptoms of this recession are really showing itself. There is no shortness of different routes to take where every 20 yards or so, there is at least one exit off to the left or right. But, there is a shortness of signs. I guess this is where the cost-savings went. Who’s bright idea was this? I imagine it was the uncoordinated freak with the cell phone.

And to top it all off, my hair is just really bothering me. I didn’t put any gel in it. It looks better, but I constantly have to push it out of my eyes. And another thing, I went to visit my parents house the day before the trip, which is where my license information gets sent. And it just so happens that I was graced with a letter from the DMV noting that my license is due to expire this coming Monday; my birthday. Thank you… and expire? Expire?

Alright … alright … look in the mirror. I’m alright .. deep breath. I’m good enough … I’m smart enough … and gosh darnit, people like me. And, it’s … Okay.

Rant over. Thanks for letting me vent.

We’re en route down to Houston for a cousin’s wedding. We got our new getups packed safely in our luggage (that includes my new suit and Elizabeth’s new dress) and our accessories safely stowed away in the overhead compartments (that includes my new cufflinks and her new jewelry).

This trip should be fun. No really. I actually really enjoy our trips down to Houston. We usually go house-hunting just for the fun of it. Compared to New York, we can find mansions for a fraction of the price, What we usually do is drive into one of these new housing developments and people there, oh they’re so honest, half the time the doors to the new houses would be unlocked. We usually let ourselves in and run around screaming and laughing—great echoes of madness in large vacant mansions.

And, I like to take advantage of the suburban lifestyle too. This includes multiple trips out for ice cream and smoothies.

There’s also this Asian market area that’s pretty neo-cool. It was built only about a few years ago and has some of the neatest shopping and yummiest Pho dishes around (that’s a beef-based Vietnamese soup dish—chock full of MSG probably).

Anyhow, thanks again for letting me rant. The people in the lavatory line look pissed at me (oh, there’s almost a pun there). Of course, I’ll let you know how things went.

Yes, it really was my birthday yesterday. I'm ... I'm ... damn, I'm getting freakin' old.

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...One thing is that no matter how old I am, I probably will not like being called sir or mister, for they have always seemed too far out of reach...




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