Chicago

Oct. 13th, 2010 02:48 pm
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[personal profile] book_of_daniel

Anytime I've looked at LJ in the last two weeks with the intent of posting my mind has downshifted into some kind of weird fugue state of brain damage. 

Seriously.  That last sentence?  Ive written it four times and I'm still not sure it makes sense.  I havent even been able to post snarky comments in the journals of others.

The cobra has been temporarily defanged people.  Enjoy the respite.

This last weekend I flew up to Chicago to spend time with my...well I'd call them my best friends but in all honestly they're my chosen family.  It was almost a homofied "Big Chill" type of weekend except noone died and the only sex was among the couples involved.  (Ew.)  The weekend was a lovely time away from home with many of the heart warming and touching moments that make the ongoing project that is friendship so enjoyable and worthwhile.

But if your'e like me....and most of you are...you'd agree that the negatives and the bitching of said negatives makes for a much more enjoyable read.  Therefore, bring forth the bitches..

1.  Everytime I've been to Chicago...every single time...I've been sick.  It just happens.  I dont know why.  Colds.  Flu.  Infections.  Chicago just brings it out of...or puts it into....me.  Remembering my past ailments, last monday while I was in perfect health I decided to start taking some Airborne to preemptively strike at any pathogens in and around my voluminous personage. 

Within an hour of my first dose, I went from healthy and pain free to fevered, coughing, and a big ball of mucousy fun. 

"Well that's odd."  I thought as I blew my nose for the 40th time that first hour.  "I must have been just on the verge of illness.  Perhaps I should take more." 

I'm not bright when I'm sick.  I took more.  I got sicker.  Airborne jumpstarted my cold the way a nuclear power plant would jump start a car battery. 

I was sick most of the weekend in Chicago.  I felt bad.  I was weak and whiney a good portion of the time as we deathmarched around the city in 85 degree heat.  (It was October for chissakes.  I wanted fall...not Hawaii Five O.)  Guilt would creep into me as I went into huge, gasping, wheezing coughing fits and the patina of sick that I left over everything I touched grew thicker from my shame. 

Next time I go to Chicago I'll be sure to pack a stem cell smoothie and a full body laminate deep sea diving suit....perhaps my own air supply suctioned directly from the healthy pink lungs of orphans. 

2.  The airport in Columbus now has one of "those" scanners.  You know what I mean.  The scanners that take pictures of you through your clothes so detailed they're practically fit for a Manhunt profile or a craigslist ad.  The little drill sergeantina in front of the scanner was screaming at everyone...SCREAMING...to take everything out of their pockets.  The lady in front of me made the mistake of going through the scanner with her boarding pass in her hand and it was RIPPED away from her so quickly it gave her a deep paper cut.  As she stood in front of the camera for a moment, she looked over at me as if to ask, "What is going on?"  I tried to telepathically tell her that the perv in the box with the scanner was looking at her nipples and touching himself inapproriately and from the look of horror on her face I think I succeeded.

Then it was my turn. 

I stood in front of the scanner.  I gave it my best, "That's my dick you're staring at buddy" look and waited. The yelling seemed inevitable.  I was not disappointed.

"What's in your pocket?" the security thug yelled.

"Nothing.  I emptied them." I replied calmly.

"What's in your pocket?" he yelled again.  I reached into my pocket, fished around a bit, and after a good minute found a Rolaid stuck in a fold in a fold in the fabric.

"It's a Rolaid.  I didnt notice it." I deadpanned to the gestapo.

The gestapo then frisked me.  Full on, full body, third date kind of frisked me.

I wanted to be snarky.  I wanted to fight back.  I wanted to sneeze a double barreled sinus full of N1HI mucous onto the little tyrant.  I wanted to do a lot of things....but I didnt.  I did the one thing that the little Hitlers want you to do.  They want you to realize that the destination at the end of your flight is more important than being delayed by a minimum wage earning mall guard in a cheap uniform with garlic breath from their Chilis Too luncheon five gates up on the concourse. 

"You've already got a picture of my cock, you asshole." I telepathically ranted.  "Do you need to cop a feel too?" 

The force must have been strong with my telepathy that day.  Our glares locked and I'm pretty sure he got the point. 
 

*insert four nice days of comraderie here*


3.  On the flight home...short and to the point here...someone in the very small cabin of the plane shit themselves before we even got a chance to take off.  Like a massive, omigod what the hell did they eat, type of movement. There were no babies on board the plane so it had to be an adult.  There was a very old couple sitting directly across from me and, despite a lack of evidence, my suspicions rested firmly on them.  Now was this just because they were old and I was practicing geriatric profiling?  No. Well yes but there was more compelling evidence. Everyone else around me quietly reacted in their own ways to the slaughter house of airborne excrement assaulting everyone on that tiny plane....everyone but them. They never reacted.  They never acknowledged it at all and hence...in my mind..it became their issue.  An inverse of the golden rule of surreptitious emmissions passed down from childhood through time eternal:  He who smelt it, dealt it.

Retching aside, I wasnt mad. It must be a god awful thing to have to live with day in and day out.  I cannot even imagine.  However, their lack of responsibility didnt make the hour and a half in that enclosed airplane any easier for the other 70 people flying home to Columbus that night. 

And then I was home and home was good.  A good time was had by all and I've allowed myself to be peer pressured into "Words with Friends" on the iPhone.  (Note to world:  I suck at it big time.)  Tomorrow starts the diet again though.  Seriously, any bigger and the next flight I take I'll need to book a second seat. 


Date: 2010-10-13 07:23 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] dendren.livejournal.com
I can't decide whether being one of those scanner watchers would be totally hot or totally grody. I think the 2 - 5% of hottie cocks you see go by would be totally obliterated by the other 95-98% of ewww you'd have to see.

I'd kind of like to watch once or twice tho...

Date: 2010-10-13 07:40 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] divos-voids.livejournal.com
ah, welcome back! missing you here on LJ.

i actually applied for a TSA position here in NM. thought it would be a nice supplement to freelancing while looking for a FT job. but after 6 months, I'm still no closer to receiving an offer of an effin PT job (they only let you work 25 hours for the first year) even though i jumped through all their hoops....and for a $14/hr job. sure, there are gov't bennies. but puh-leeze! i'd rather get the free lb of starbuck's coffee as an employee there.

gracias al dios my FT job finally came through. but i still question how some of these other morons got hired by the TSA.

Date: 2010-10-13 07:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] vastlymore.livejournal.com
My stomach hurts from the laughing. I want to travel with you.

Date: 2010-10-13 09:20 pm (UTC)
ext_124015: (Default)
From: [identity profile] book-of-daniel.livejournal.com
Mamacita, I am the traveler who rejoices over scoring the last cheap, discount ticket with Priceline on the USS Titanic. My passport should be stored in a location that requires Indiana Jones to retrieve it.

Date: 2010-10-13 08:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] wescobear.livejournal.com
I went through one of those scanners in Las Vegas and got barked at for leaving a garden variety handkerchief in my back pocket. I've never ever had to remove a handkerchief for screening before. Why don't the TSA just make everyone strip naked and be done with it?
Edited Date: 2010-10-13 08:00 pm (UTC)

Date: 2010-10-14 09:50 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mikiedoggie.livejournal.com
So you got sick on your visit? This is why we couldn't meet up so I could pee on you?

[crickets chirping]

Uh... that's an inside joke for the rest of you.

Date: 2010-10-15 01:15 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] topgunsman.livejournal.com
More ammunition to my reasons why I so want to avoid flying. I pay money for the flight and go through..this?
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