Side Step...John, the Business Trip, and Some Other (Bacon) Bits, Round Two and Three

       (Since Round Two and Three are somewhat brief, combined you will find here.)
      
       (Round two of the saga John, the Business Trip and Some Other Bits.  This details my thoughts of being in the air and on an airplane, both of which I take with a morbid amusement.  Fair Warning:  Offer void in Montana and California.  Read at your own risk of raging flatulence or active hiccup fits.)

       Boarding the plane came and went sans much ado.  Massive relief washed over me upon seeing that I would not be reliving the 'Spirit Airlines Extra Small Sardine Can' incident of last year.  I am referring to the (total) lack of leg room I had on the way to Bore-lando last year.  I thought I was going to blow both knees out on that trip.
       In a moment of seriousness, I did give myself a moment of fright upon boarding.  When I sat in my seat at the window, I did not notice where exactly I was.  I only noticed that I was right next to an engine after we started rolling.  As we all know, in the very recent past someone died due to an engine explosion on a Southwest flight.  This loomed in my mind as I began snapping some of my craptastic photos.
       I am not a fan of gimicky gadgets, but I hammered out my notes for this posting on an iPoo'd.  Detest crApple products I do, but for being in a tight space, the size was a gem.  I am an old school sod, so I prefer an actual keyboard, but it worked good enough for my hot (steaming) mess of notes I took to amuse myself whilst flying.
       As we continued on, I had a good chuckle at the amount of electronics I was lugging about.  The list is a long one, leading me to feel more like someone heading to a hacker con.  I reasoned I could probably conduct an orbital launch from where ever I found myself parked.
       As we made final approach to Snotlanta, one last thought rolled down the alley of my mind.  Certain am I by now you dear reader, have determined a fair amount of doubt in my level of sanity.  A good thing, as it leads to another psychological concept:  Compensation syndrome.  No, not that one.  Egad, not that one either you dirty minded scary people.  A coping mechanism for my aforementioned fear and distaste. Tormenting those whom dare read this (dis)missive with the randomness of me not screaming for Klondike bars, or why my plans for the conquest of Mars remained unrealised.

       (Round three of the saga John, the Business Trip and Some Other Bits.  Ric Flair Warning:  Wooooooo!)

       Unlike last year, I did not arrive at a destination alone.  Our Marketing Manager flew on the same flight, which was fantastic, as someone knew where to go.  Directions...hate me do they.  An added bonus:  Snotlanta did not boil the eyebrows off me upon arrival.  Last year's trip to Bore-lando resembled oven temperatures, nearly setting my hair aflame. 
       The report for today is rather short, as it involves a good deal of walking:

       -Walking all over the airport in search of transport.
       -Walking to acquire food
       -Eating said food and waiting to check in
       -Marching first several blocks outside to locate the trade show site to register.
       -Marching through several buildings finding an over the land route.  (I should have made a map, since my terrible sense of direction may get me into South Carolina.)
       -Meeting my good friend Miles, and us marching along and talking all kinds of randomness, from lessons in surveying to concepts of reality.

       Tomorrow, like those pesky Redcoats, are coming.  You may return to your regularly scheduled insanity, shenanigans, freaky things you naughty people do.  Please do not tell me, I had a capital dinner and would like to keep it down.
      

Side Step...John, the Business Trip, and Some Other Bits, Round One

(I know it has been an unprintable long time since I have remotely written anything.  Sadly, Life has just been a bit much, and my thoughts dashed because of it.  However, in the spirit of Chaos and Insanity fueled by asses of Fi-YAH! powered eggs, I did decide to write this little thing, for entertainment.  If there are small children nearby, send them away.  If you are weak of stomach, run screaming and find some Pepto Abysmal.  Thank you for your patronage.)

       Once again, I find myself flying.  It is, yet again, for business.  Generally speaking, it is harder to get me to fly than to get a miser to part with a few pence.  Actually, you have better odds against a Kodiak with flaming hemorrhoids armed with a New Kids on the Block album.  But I agreed to do this one, since I am a nice guy...okay, I am just a putz.
       Some of you reading this know all too well my extreme distaste for flying.  I am mortally terrified of about four things in this life, and heights happens to be one of them.  I am pissy on ladders and roofs, so you can only imagine how much the thought of tens of thousands of feet in the air makes me joyous.  The only thing with the potential to make it worse:  Being attacked by flying Twinkies whilst on ye olde aeroplane.
       One good thing about this trip:  I do not have to get up before the Dawn's crack of ass.  The last two times had me up at times I normally go to bed.  This is a good thing, as I am not doing a full on George Romero inspired tribute for once.  No moaning, drooling, looking for (Chilled Monkey) brains or anything else the Society for Public Decency might want to hunt me down for.
     As I am writing this part, I am sitting in the Pittsburgh International Airport, waiting.  In true 'John is a paranoid sod' (lack of) fashion, I arrived with plenty of time to spare.  Hence, why I decided to get an early start on this one, since it spares me from focusing fully on my lot.  In case any of you wonder why I go out of my way to write this stuff, it is to compensate for my mortal (Kombat!) fear of heights/flying.  Anyone needing to do a field case for a psychology project, you can use me for it.
       As I find myself looking out the windows, it is currently a overcast and gray Pittsburgh day.  This is better than the (Holy Shit Batman) early morning flight I took in 2012, when it was snowing and sleeting like all the furies.  I remember that morning well, as it was my first flight in 22 years.  But I digress, and potentially regress in a nifty 2 for 1 special.  So in short, once again, I find myself willing the weather to be good enough to not make me want to reenact Major Kong's last ride.  (Nothing dirty you freaky people.  I see you there, PUT THAT AWAY!)
       I have never been to Snotlanta.  I have heard of it, seen pictures, read some history on it.  Otherwise, I know exceeding little about it, other than I know a couple of people who live there.  And that they have a football team.  And a baseball team.  And it is the home base of Ted Turner, who owned (amongst other things.) the WCW.
       I am not going to get to see any sites, or sights sadly, as I am going down for a business trip.  I am certain most of us are familiar with the format, so no need to dive into that one.  I do expect this one to have me running amok a great deal more.  Perhaps I may lose a few pounds, or hairs instead.
       Since I mentioned I can be used for a psychology case study, I should add a comment about my lack of patience.  Yes, I know I bloody well got here early.  Yes I know my paranoia made me do it.  Yes, I am most likely whining.  However, my notorious lack of patience means waiting is like someone raking nails over a chalkboard...in stereo...with the Bavarian Burping AND Farting Choirs as accompaniment. Before you ask, exaggerate I do not.
       Boarding time is approaching a bit as I look, so this missive will continue.