(Notes from me hitting the road, the air and possibly a bottle to reach Analheim, CA.)
This morning found the world's worst traveler on a plane headed for California. I have not packed a mental, this trip was for business, not a vacation sojourn. I never did manage to follow that old advice of 'Go West young man'. I was not alone on this trip, as my boss was traveling as well.
As is typical for me, no trip ever starts off without some insanity:
Sleepless freaking night, knowing i am going to be up early, and getting on an aeroplane.
Typical last second running (Perhaps it is 'The Runs from the Border'.) amok.
The longer than Dolph Lundgren line at the Aerodrome.
Rain or Snow? You bet there is freaking some shxt coming from the sky when Johnny has to fly some...place.
Have I ever mentioned how much I despise flying? How much I would rather face a horde/legion/cohort of all kinds of baddies? Facing them with nothing but a lit cigarette, and a bottle for of piss and vinegar. I would even stare down a barrel of a mushy movie marathon with as many people who wanted to restrain me and listen to me whine at full velocity.
Okay, before anyone decides to accuse me of some unprintable thing, let me regress.
Since no flying experience for me is incomplete without some version of panic, I received my dose on the way into landing in Denver. Coming in, it was extremely inky (Soupy, or perhaps seriously foggy is the easier way to put it.) with visibility real low. During decent and approach in this, the plane suddenly poured on the coal and went up. This scared the pants off me in the figurative sense, as the plane went around for another go. We landed on try two, with no more mishap than my boss most likely getting a chuckle from me attempting to conceal my extreme displeasure.
Hell, and I certain the lot of you freaks are laughing your nads or ovaries off at that image. Okay, and the fact I am whinging like a champion.
I know I may sound morbid. I like to think I hit brooding and stopped. Perhaps this marks an improvement of my temperament, or the fatigue caught me and pushed me to be 'mellow'. Difficult determine is, complex thoughts such.
As I write this, I suffered a small 'sweaty' moment. (Not that kind you flaming perverts. You all need to bleach your minds. It is nearly Christmas for the love of Twinkies!) I thought I had dropped my almighty flippy phone whilst on the plane. I spent a good five or so minutes frenetically and frantically trying to look for it in the sardine can of a plane. All my effort would be for naught, as it dawned on me the bloody thing was folded over my shirt collar.
Jet lag, as I had forgotten, is a total wench. I was sleepy with my boss rented the vehicle we have, tired when we went to the store to pick up stuff, but not tired now. My brain says it is late, the clock says it is early and my body is out to a late supper it seems.
So in short, I came, I saw, my brain forfeit.
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