Boo

Let's talk about haunted houses. Do you like them? I do not. Why you may ask? Well, I don't like to have the crap startled out of me. I won't say that I don't like to be scared, because I don't think Haunted houses are scary, they just try to startle you. And that, they are good at. It doesn't take much to startle me. In fact, I sometimes jump, and perhaps let out a little squeal, if I turn around too fast, only to find my wife standing there. Of course, I can't prove that she didn't just appear there, which would make my heart rate increase justifiable. I didn't hear her walk in, but then again, after years of concerts, most with a close proximity to speakers the size of townhomes, I don't have the best hearing anyway. I can remember the first haunted house I ever went too. I was living in Springfield, VA, and the haunted house was set up in a building with a lot of rooms down a hallway. Each door was set up too look like a jail cell door. As I came around a corner, I saw the jail cells and thought I would be smart and hug the back wall, away from the arms reaching out through the bars. As I slid my back against the opposite wall, I felt a hand grad my back and a scream. I'd like to think that the scream was from the now visible prisoner, but we all know that scream came from my 10 year old mouth. What I soon realized was, that the jail cell and prisoner I had tried so hard to avoid, was actually a mirrored reflection of the same prisoner that now had ahold of me. That was a dirty trick, one I would never forget. That gauntlet of reaching arms from 6 or 7 jail cells, emptied into a room with an assortment of bowls that you could put your hand in so you could feel what eyeballs, intestines and brains felt like. I later learned that the "eyeballs" were peeled grapes and God knows what the other two were. That trip made an impression on me. As I got older, I no longer feared the people in the houses, but I knew their ultimate goal was to make a grown man cry. I've also realized that I don't function well in the dark. I don't like to be in pitch black, that is why I pay my electric bill on time, every time. I'll go without water, I can pee in my backyard, but I will not go into my basement at night without lights, it's not natural. The last, and I do mean last, haunted house I was in was probably 20 years ago. I went with a group of friends, who for some unknown reason liked haunted houses, at a local grocery store that was known for their yearly scary basement. The trip started pretty well, I was on the lookout for the upcoming predictable jumping from behind the curtain, or arm grabbing me from behind a wall, but there were new obstacles that I hadn't encountered before. The first was, in that pitch black room I mentioned before, a room that seemed to have no exit. After a few minutes of feeling around the walls, and suddenly realizing that my friends were now all gone, I began to panic. Where had they gone? Did someone take them? Good, those assholes are the ones that brought me here and I don't want to be here anymore. As I contemplated balling up in the fetal position and whimpering myself to sleep, I heard one of those so called friends say "Mark, crawl." I yelled back, "That's what I was going to do." Well, I didn't want her to know that I almost gave up on life itself, merely because I was left alone in the dark for about 30 seconds. Now, on my hands and knees, I began to feel the wall at knee high, until I found the next portal to hell that my friends had all ready passed through. I found it, but soon realized that the crawl space was made for someone who is 4 foot 2 inches when standing, which I am not. I am 6 foot 4 inches, and crawling with that height, still makes me taller than whoever built this thing. So now I'm half crawling, half slithering in the dark, to the next section that I want nothing to do with. I keep moving, following the laughter of my friends who are obviously drunk or mentally unstable, for what seems like a mile. I hear my friends voices getting closer, so I know it's just a matter of time until I punch one of them in the face and claim it was an accident, in the dark. I finally bump into one of them, but something weird has happened. Apparently, the crawl space was only a few feet, but I continued to slither not knowing that I could stand up. As I smash into the calves of my friend, she says, "You can stand up now." Well isn't that helpful, thanks for the info. Now on this trip, I had been leading the line, not by choice, but by default, because I was the only guy. If they knew how nervous I was, I think I would have been stripped of my guy title and banished to the end of the line, which is the second worst place to be. After all, some of the scare people wait for the line to past, jump out in the back to scare you forward faster into the next trap. I was trampled many times because of this tactic. Since I'm now at the back of the line, I have a decision to make, do I stay back there, or do I whine my way back to the front. It's a lose, lose, situation, but I opt for the leader of the death march and work my way forward. We are in a hallway that is barely wide enough for one person, but a man determined can collapse his skeleton like a rat and get into spaces 1/4 his size. Now as the leader, I plug on, praying that we will soon be in a group of people complaining at how short this haunted house was for the money we paid. I'd be right there with them, vowing to NEVER come back to this waste of money, when in reality I would pay double if they would turn on the lights and come get me. It's still dark as night, and I have all ready smashed into so many walls trying to find my way through that I can barely see through my glasses that are now bent and smudged, partly from wayward fingers from other wall gropers and partly from the sweat that is forming on my fear riddled face. I'm moving along well, when my hand goes into a wall crevasse, and I feel a face. At this point, I'm not sure what to do. Do I acknowledge that I know he/she is there and possibly beg him/her not to scream at me, or do I just move on, knowing he will jump out at the end of the line, thereby causing my friends to rush forward pushing me right into the next scare position that will cause me to squeal like a girl, again. I go with the acknowledgement that I knew they were there, in hopes that they will just let us pass and wait for the next group. Yeah, that didn't happen. As soon as I revealed their hiding place, which apparently infuriated them, they screamed, scared the shit out of me and my friends STILL rushed forward, but instead of us getting away from this new scare person, now I'm in the arms of said person. This is no time to be romantic. I wiggle my way free and head off to the next section. The next section had what I would call a low beam. The 4 foot 2 inch person who built this death trap might think that it's just a low ceiling, but to a 6 foot 4 inch person, this is a head buster. I whacked my head on the padded beam nearly knocking myself out, but most certainly knocked myself backwards into the crowd of people that had formed behind me. I regained my footing, lowered my head and plowed forward, only to step on a soft squishy part of the path that caused me to tumble forward and fall to the ground, only to have the now panicked crowd trample me on their way out the exit into the night air. I'm alone, in the dark, in the haunted house, with scary people near me, but I don't know where. To say that I got the hell out of there, would be an under statement. I burst through the door, leaving the hellions behind, probably laughing at the big doofus who was battered nearly to death by his friends, and wonder why it smells a bit like urine on the squishy park of the trail. So as the ads start popping up in the newspaper, on the TV or on the radio, tempting you to plunk down your hard earned money to wander around in a haunted house, remember this. That place is flooded with urine and tears from people like me, and you my friend, just paid to walk in it.

Yes I'm back, you can all relax now.

Back by popular demand, or perhaps just a couple people inquiring about something completely unrelated, I have decided to try and start writing again. It has also been requested of me to post on my Facebook page when I do write, so they know when to come take a gander. That being said, let me put out a disclaimer for those of you that are visiting this site for the first time, drawn by my titillating Facebook post.


Disclaimer:
1. I am not a professional writer. I am a horrible speller and thank God everyday for the person who invented spell checker. I was not an English major is college, because I didn't go to college. Well, that isn't totally true, I took a college course for about 3 days when it hit me, I don't like school and I'm borderline retarded.

2. You will find slightly less than accurate grammar, punctuation and information on this blog. Please do not use this blog for your Masters Theses, you will fail and be banned from your school campus and website.

3. This blog has "colorful" language at times and isn't recommended for anyone over the age of 2 years old. If you are older than 2 years old, and still reading this, you're on your own. The writer of this blog and the whole Blogspot family, will not be held responsible for your hurt feelings or your offended nature, from something you read on this blog. Get over it, they're just words and you should take no offense to anything I say. I'm some random dude in the middle of America with 6 readers and no political aspirations, so this should never be a "skeleton" in my closet. I sometimes say "politically incorrect" things, see the word retarded in #1, so if you are sensitive to words, then read no further.

4. I do not feel that I'm better than anyone, so if you say to yourself, "This ass thinks he better than me," then you should stop reading my blog. You have missed the point. This is purely entertainment, mainly for me, but hopefully you get a laugh or two from something I have written, even if it's about you. I WILL point out my dumbass moves, as I will point out yours as well, if I see it. I will change the name to protect you so you don't get a visit from the FBI, CIA or any other letters. If your name was, say, Kevin, and I was telling a story about you, I would change your name to Kevine. That way, you stay anonymous and your feelings don't get hurt.

I'll leave it at that, see if I get any comments on the disclaimer, update if necessary, and publish the final draft. You will all be asked to sign a release, stating that you have read the disclaimer and will abide by its rules. Then I will have my lawyer draft up a contract and certify mail it to you. You will then need to get a notary to witness you signing the form and mail it back to me. I will then compile a list of "authorized" readers and post that as well. You then will be allowed to view, read and comment on all posts. Anything you say, can and will be used against you on a future post. Just kidding. Not really.

Now lets get started. Since my last post, I have gotten two years older, and no years wiser. I still do the same stupid things I did two years ago. I still drink too much Coke, although it is less. I still have a diet that should have killed me years ago, and see no chance that will change until they either pronounce me dead or tell me that if I eat one more cupcake, my head will explode. Even that might not remove cupcakes from the menu. I hate to admit it, but I had two cupcakes for breakfast the other day, and it was neither the first nor last time that has/will happen. Not proud of it, but if I'm anything, I'm honest about my poor choices. Now if you are friends with me on Facebook, then you know I saw a guy shit in the bushes the other day. I have written about it, spoke about it and even acted it out, up until the final act, I skipped that. You might be asking yourself, "What is the fascination with a grown man, dropping his pants in clear view of a major road, backing near a bush, and making dookie?" I'm glad you asked, because there is a very good reason for that. OK, maybe not a good reason, but a explainable reason. Really, not even an explainable reason, just a reason. That reason is, people fascinate me. Pure and simple, people amaze me at what they will say or do, right in front of other people, and think nothing of it. That is one thing I really like to write about, so be prepared for that. If you are a person that likes to say and do things that amaze people around you, be prepared for your name to show up here, Kevine.


It has been suggested of me that I should write a book. My take on that is, the only people who would read a book that I had written, would be my brothers and sisters and my other two avid readers. The problem with that is, since I would give all of my brothers and sisters signed, complimentary copies, that would leave my sales potential at 2 books. I'm pretty sure the money I would have to pay someone to correct my grammar, punctuation and just incoherent sentences, would be way higher than the amount of money I would make on sales of two books. I'll stick with the blog and see if I can get my readership up to five, then we will checkout the book writing potential and I can dream of ways to spend my new fortune of $.37.

Well my lunch is over, so I'm getting back to work. Here is a teaser on my next post. Haunted houses. Love them or hate then, they are coming on line now for the Halloween season and I've been to a few. Until next time....

So you think you had a bad day....

I know it has been a long time since I have posted, but to be honest, I didn't feel that my sleeping, eating, working and housework were interesting topics for you to read about. I just returned from a work related trip to Akron, Ohio, and as usual, shit happened to me that I thought I would share. First up, my flight from Des Moines to Chicago. The plane had two seats on each side of the aisle, unlike my normal plane which has one seat on one side and two seats on the other. I love these planes, if I can get on the single side, so I don't have to deal with a seat mate. Why you may ask? I'm sure when you travel, you end up with a super model, GQ stud or just a fascinating person sitting next to you, so you can chat the time away and arrive at your destination before you even knew you took off. That isn't my luck. I am constantly being seated to the oddest people that happen to inhabit this earth. Don't take this as "I'm better than they are" kind of attitude. I've never felt I was ever better than anyone. Perhaps it's a low self esteem or perhaps it was my upbringing of accepting everyone for who they are, regardless of their quirks. That being said, we board the plane and a lady who appeared to be in her 50's sat next to me. Now my goal when I fly is to get my headphones on as soon as I can, get my book out and get into my own relaxing zone. As soon as the flight attendant said you may resume using electronic devices, I stuffed the ear buds in and cranked some Skillet. The lady next to me decided it was time to break out the snack buffet she had packed in her carry-on. The variety of her selection was amazing. There were all sorts of bags to be opened, and un-fortunately, all kids of smells for me to inhale. I tried to take a peek to see just what exactly would be the item/smell that would cause me to vomit, but I neither recognized the food or was able to read any of the labels. Some of the items appeared to be some sort of nut, and others appeared to be dead sea creatures. I'm guessing that was what was making the smell. She actually offered me a chocolate, which I declined. Now I'm getting into my music and book, but realize that my leg is being peppered with nut/sea creature escapee's from her mouth and hand. Most were hitting my leg and bouncing to the floor, but several were just sitting on my leg. Now I'm not interested in her getting the food off my leg, but I don't want it on there either. I decided to "shift" in my seat and send the offending droppings onto the floor. So I did. Out of the corner of my eye, I see this woman is kind of, twitching. Not in a being electrocuted way, but enough that I was beginning to be concerned. I could hear through my ear buds that she was making some noises as well. I kept an eye on her, in case she decided to pass out or start really freaking out, but after a few minutes, everything calmed down and I wasn't forced to rear naked choke her out of my misery. You know I watch MMA and have wanted to try a few moves I've seen without the possibility of getting my ass kicked, and I think I could take her. I'm pretty sure I could. But alas, I was still unable to break out the moves and she quietly got her book, something about how to freak strangers out, but I could have read that wrong. The rest of the trip was uneventful, except that my bag decided to stay in Chicago for awhile as I continued on to Akron. It is a lonely feeling when everyone gets their bag and walks away and there you stand with nothing. I filed my missing bag claim and headed to my hotel. Now I love staying in hotels, but like everyone, I'm always concerned if my room is actually clean or not. As I looked around for a power outlet for my computer, my search lead me to behind the couch. Now I know what is behind my couch when I pull it out, but I assumed a hotel couch would be a bit better. I was wrong. Some if the things I saw back there were coffee creamer lids, a straw, and this sweet number.

I know I didn't need to put it on for you, but who could resist. I'm not sure if this vest belonged to a hotel worker who decided to take a little break with a maid and my room was the love nest, or if this was a honeymoon room and the clothes went a flying. There was a pair of socks back there as well, but I decided that the vest was as far as I was willing to go. I can not explain the dumbass grin on my face in the picture, or completely explain my awkward gaze straight ahead, instead of at the camera. You may have seen it posted on Facebook, but the view from my room is well worth a second look.

My week in Akron was one of the most exhausting visits I have made while working for my company. I know I'm getting old, but the amount of walking and climbing was a bit more than normal. I'm lucky that I work with fantastic people and everyone works hard to get the job done, so you never feel like you are pulling more of the load than everyone else. Gee, I hope they feel the same way about me:) My trip was over, so it was time to head home, again through Chicago. On my layover in Chicago, I found a gate in the far corner of the airport where I could again, put in my headphones and maybe get a short nap before I had to get to my gate for the final leg of my trip home. As I sat there and started to drift off, I heard a muffled sound that I wasn't sure what it was. I tried to ignore it, but it was consistent and getting louder, so I pulled an ear bud out to see if I could figure out what it was. As soon as I pulled the bud out, I knew it was someone crying. I listened as the woman continued to sob. I was trying to figure out what the issue was, was she apprehensive about the flight? She was about 2 feet away from me and talking on her cell phone. It has now been several minutes and it has become clear to me that she is alone and very upset about something that was just relayed on the phone. She kept saying "No, no no" and now my curiosity was peaked. She got off the phone, but her breathing had me concerned that she was going to pass out. Have you ever seen something going on, and you want to help or offer assistance, but not sure how or if you should? That was where I was at this point. As I debated as to whether I should approach her, two women saw her crying and did it for me. I heard them ask if she was ok, and I heard the four words no parent ever wants to say. "My daughter just died." Oh my God, I just heard a woman I don't know, utter her worst nightmare. I was stunned. My first reaction was to yell out "No" right along with her, but I certainly didn't want to draw anymore attention to this poor woman than she all ready had. I heard the ladies ask her what happened and she said, "I don't know, my mom just called and said she was dead." My first thought was, why would you call someone who was on their way home and give them this horrible news while they are among strangers and far from home. But the more I thought about it, I realized that maybe the mom was in shock as well, and never thought that the news could or should wait until she landed at home. Then one of my co-workers pointed out, that since Facebook and Twitter have become such a "I want to be the first to break the news" kind of thing, that someone who knew might have posted the news and this poor lady would have to read it on a "Friends" wall. I guess we can all say how we would have done things, but there is no good way. There isn't a way that will make it any less painful. As I sat there in that terminal, so far away from my three boys and longing to give them a big hug, I felt helpless. I couldn't help this lady and I couldn't squelch my own sadness by holding on to the three things that mean the most to me in this whole world. I felt like my plane would never get there for me to get on and get home. I choked back tears, for her and for my fear that I might get that call some day as well. We've all been in those near accidents where you know if something just a bit different happened, you might not be reading this. Or you might be without one that you love. That all came crashing down on me that afternoon and I couldn't get home fast enough. We can't keep our kids safe all of the time. And we can't keep an eye on them 100% of the time they are awake. So what do we do? Well, we teach them to stay out of the street and not to talk to strangers. We tell them not to eat stuff they find in the street and to choose their friends carefully. We tell them to do well in school and say no to drugs, We tell them to wear their seat belts and to not throw rocks or sharp objects at their brothers. But the most important thing we tell them is that we love them and the things we make them do or won't allow them to do, isn't because we are trying to be mean. No, quite the opposite. I do the things I do because I love you so much, that my heart breaks just thinking about you not being in my life. And if that makes me over protective, or paranoid, then so be it. I'm not willing to take that chance, that I will receive a phone call, in an airport, that my life has just changed for the worse, and there is nothing you can do to change that. If you have kids, give them a hug, tell them you love them, and turn off your phone.

I need a sleep numer bike seat.

So if you are friends with me on Facebook, then you know the basic part of this first story. Lets rehash and add some details. The big fourth grade bike ride is fast approaching. I was unable to go last year, but promised Makiah that this year, I would go with him. Now I use to be a big bike rider. Not fat, that is the kind of big rider I am now, but back in the day, I rode all of the the time. So as the 20 mile ride approaches, I decided that we needed to get some miles under our belts, or more to the point, under my ass. You see, the miles on the bike are little concern for my legs, but a huge concern for my ass. We decided to take the whole family to a local lake and ride around. Its a 3.2 mile trail around the lake, a great ride with lots of animals to see and places to stop and hike. At one such place, we usually stop and have a drink of water. The boys wanted to hike up a trail that runs away from the lake, so we let them head out. After a few minutes, I couldn't see them anymore, so I started to whistle for them. My kids know, you hear dad's whistle, its time to come home. After I whistled, and then didn't see them, I whistled again. And again. And again. After realizing that this was not working, I headed down the trail to find them. This trail runs for several miles along a river and the kids LOVE to play along this river. After hiking about a quarter of a mile and still not seeing them, and they weren't responding to my whistles, I started to get a little concerned. I decided that I need to get my bike, a quarter of a mile back, and go looking for them. I sprinted, okay, sprinted is a stretch, but I ran back sort of quickly, to where my bike was. I told Marcy to stay there in case they circled back. I got my cell phone and headed out down the trail in search of three soon to be in trouble boys. Now this trail is about 4 inches wide and goes through the woods in a most dangerous way. That "way", is down gulleys, over fallen trees, under leaning trees and along the river. At one point, the trail runs right up to a 20 foot drop off, right to the river. I was a bit concerned at this point, and searched the river to be sure we didn't have three swimmers. Feeling confident that they hadn't taken the plunge, I continued down the trail. Now there are forks in the trail, and I'm not 100% sure I'm on the right trail. My thought was to continue on the "biggest" trail, which means the 4 inch wide trail and not the 3 inch wide trails that broke off every so often. Now I'm flying down this trail as fast as I can, ducking under leaning tress that I pray won't scrape my back as I slide under. I go from full speed to a complete stop so I can lift my bike over the fallen trees. As you can imagine, I'm getting a little worried that my boys might be a bit more lost than I had originally thought. As I squeeze between two trees, the handle bars of my bike hit one of the trees and toss me into the tree. I wasn't hurt too bad, but my $75 bike from Target was not built for such rude treatment. As I gather myself so I can continue my search, I realize that my handle bars are no longer in their helpful position, and have now been relocated to my knees. This turn of events is not welcome, when you are trying to race through the woods. I prop them up as best I can and head off. In the distance, I see movement. Is it another deer, like the one I whizzed past a half mile back? No, it is three soon to be grounded boys, still running down the trail. At this point, we are a good mile and a half to two miles from the trail head, and I'm pissed, and completely out of breath. Now I have to whistle. My first attempt is weak and not nearly loud enough for them to hear me. In my head, I think, "You better whistle loud, or you are going to have to continue this death race down this trail." I let out a whopper, and they hear me. They start heading back towards me, so I take this time to try and catch my breath. After all, it will be really hard to yell at them if I'm passed out on the ground. They make it to me, show me the toad they caught, and seem totally oblivious to the fact that they are nearly in another state, with their mother extremely worried a few miles back. I call her, let her know I found them, but that all three might not make it back. They described the fun they had on their little trip, and I couldn't even be mad. I was so happy I found them without having to call in a search party, that my only question to them was, "Do you know how far down this trail you are?" They did not. Now I have to push my busted bike back to the main trail and ride back to the truck with my handle bars resting on my knees. I can't describe the relief I felt when I finally got them back into my sight. The boys actually were upset that I made them turn around, and ended their "adventure." Sue me.

Things I've learned, or figured out.

A few things I have learned recently.

1. I suck at NCAA pools. I've tried for years to win a pool, but have never been successful. I don't get to watch much NCAA basketball anymore, but it doesn't matter. Even when I was watching a ton a games, I sucked. I tried again this year and titled my entry "Guessing." Because that is what I do, guess. I'm glad I'm not a gambler, because we would be broke, or should I say brokER.

2. I learned that your kids do model what you do, and whether that is good or bad, is up to you. I figured this out the other day, when a family from the kids school, lost their house in a fire. The school was having a fundraiser at school and then a group that Mason is in was going to go shopping to buy items for the family. I told Mason the story, but before I could ask him if he wanted to be part of the shopping trip, he had jumped over the couch and grabbed his wallet. I asked him what he was doing and he said he wanted to help. Couldn't have been prouder. I was shocked at his exuberance, but not surprised in his heart.

3. I'm old, my body hurts, period.

4. I rule the street in basketball. If you saw my Facebook post, you all ready know. Yes, the next tallest opponent is 3 feet shorter than me. Yes, my arms are as long as they are tall. Yes, the oldest competitor, besides me, is seven. All that said, I dominate them. The first game was four of them against me, still won. Don't mess with the kid, I'll knock the Snoopy off your shirt and dunk over you like Michael Jordan over Spud Webb. That reference probably means nothing to most of you, lets say like Big Bird over Ernie. You got the picture.

5. I recently got my first smart phone. I knew I would like it, but had no idea just how much. I use mine when I'm working in the yard to listen to my favorite radio station, or Pandora radio for my favorite music or comedians. I can check Facebook anytime I want and even take pictures and post them right away. I know this isn't news to you that you can do these things, but now I can actually do them. I'm now trying to learn just how much usage 5G is. I used the online calculator to try to figure what my usage would be, before I switched from Verizon to US Cellular, but it was way off and I'm actually using less than I figured. If only Verizon would have had a desire to keep me as a customer, I would still be with them, but they seemed to not care that I was leaving. That's ok, I'm loving US Cellular so far.

6. I still hate snakes. My yard is over run with garter snakes. Maybe "over run" is a bit over stated, but I found 3 in one day and I think 1 is waaaaay too many. I know they are harmless, but the way they move and how they can disappear into a small hole like a rat, just makes me queasy. My kids and the neighbor kids are catching them so I'm thinking about paying a bounty for them. They catch them and not kill them, then haul them down the street to the creek, and I'll pay $5 a snake. I'd pay twice that, but these are kids, so my low ball offer will be snatched up in a heartbeat.

That's my lost for now, I'll update when I figure out something new.

Hello? Anybody out there?

Has it really been that long since I posted last? Wow, I'm either really busy or I had absolutely nothing to say. Truth is, a little bit of both. My life is a constant train of waking, working, washing and sleep. All of my free time is spent doing homework, cooking meals and cleaning a house that could be compared to a frat house in the cleanliness category. The best part is when I have a moment to myself, to do what I want to do. I last got to do that in 1997 and I long for that experience again, some day. With Marcy working odd hours and working on her Masters, there is little time for me to go off on my own, or spend time with her. I hope to teach the boys to get their degrees before they start a family, it seems that would be much easier. I'm not sure how she is able to write all the papers, work her jobs and travel out of state every week. Hopefully some things will get easier for her soon.

Since my last posting, not much has happened in my life. I don't get out of the house, so I haven't had the opportunity to observe the people that amusing me the most. I did have an interesting sighting at the library the other day. It seems one fellow decided to hop out of bed, and head to the library for a new read. Why bother to change out of your jammies? Why comb your hair? Shoes? Who needs them. This may sound like a tall tale, but it is all true. Dude was wearing what I would describe as pj bottoms, his hair was smashed and sticking up and he was shoeless. I first thought that he must have kicked them off when he arrived,, to keep the carpet nice I would guess, and spent the rest of the morning spreading his toe jam around for everyone to enjoy. But I saw him sit down with his pile of "stuff" that was sitting on the floor, including his computer, backpack and a pile of books, and there were no shoes to be found. Perhaps they were in the backpack, but my vote would be to just put them on and save us all the wondering.

My work travel starts up again next month, so hopefully I will again have a life worth writing about. Then again, you all may have given up on me ever writting again, and this is falling on deaf ears. I don't blame you, I about gave up on me ever writing again as well.

I know, I know.

First, let me start out by saying, I'm pathetic. I'm a simple, boring, childish man. I know this for one simple reason, and that is because I'm going to write about White Castle, again. I am now in Chicago, staying at a hotel I stayed at 2 years ago. This year, there is one important difference. That difference is, I did a search to find the closest White Castle to this hotel, and was happy to learn there is one .8 miles away. I all ready ate there and had only been in town for one hour. I think that because 5 of the past 10 posts have mentioned the WC, I have a problem. There would be no issue if I planned all trips around a disc golf course, which I love to play, but that I work everything around a fast food restaurant, is both sad and probably dangerous. I'm all ready not skinny, so these frequent trips to a place that is not only unhealthy, but also reeks havoc on my gastrointestinal track, is a sad state of my life. Will I change anything regarding this scary obsession? Not likely.

I decided to drive here, about 5 hours, instead of flying so I could avoid 2 airports, security and being trapped in a tube with sick people. It never fails that I end up sitting next to Carol Cough on every flight. My last trip from Akron, was finished off with a 45 minute flight next to a lady that sneezed and coughed the whole flight. I was kind of hoping those little masks would drop out of the bulkhead so I could breath some fresh air, but no luck. I'm not a nosey person, but I watched as this lady took breaks from her germathon to circle and highlight damn near an entire book. She kept underlining and circling and writing all over the book she was reading. At some point, don't you just give up on highlighting the entire book, and just say "The whole book is important." I hope it was her book or the next person to try and read it, will be confused and distracted.

While traveling by plane, I really like to people watch. It's one of the reasons I don't mind getting to the airport a little early. If you keep your eyes open, you can see alot. Here are a few things I remember from my travels over the past two months.

I heard a dad in the Houston airport, tell his kid that jet lag would go away in a few minutes. I'm not sure if he has no idea what jet lag is, or if he was just trying to calm his son.

I heard the same kid that was being duped by his father on the jet lag thing, call his brother a "Fucker" on two occasions. The kid was maybe 12 years old.

I listened to two ladies, probably in their 40's, try to figure out Angry Birds on their phone. It was funny to hear them discuss the strategy in flinging the birds, but they were way off. It was hard to listen to them, and not run over and take the phone away and show them how you REALLY do it.

A guy got on the plane in Houston and was so drunk, they tossed him from the plane. I knew he was in trouble when the medical staff came on board and asked him where he was, and he said Des Moines. Oooops. That is your destination, not your current location.

As I sat in one of my planes, waiting to taxi, it began to snow inside the plane. No lie, there were flakes of snow blowing out of the air conditioner and started to accumulate on my leg. Maybe it never got measurable, but still, it shouldn't be snowing inside.

One flight had the flight attendant slamming the overhead door 10 to 12 times, because it wouldn't latch. That's fun when it is right by your head and she decides she is determined to get this thing to close, but this method only. Not move things that might be blocking or check to see if the latching mechanism is stuck, no, lets just whack-a-mole this thing until it stays shut or falls off the hinges. It finally shut.

Question. When did flight attendants stop being friendly? I remember as a kid, flight attendants were nice, helpful and always had a smile. Today's flight attendants don't smile, seem to all hate their jobs and act like everyone on the plane is 2 seconds away from snapping and tossing their complimentary Coke right in their face. Can we crack a smile, or say something that is sincere and not the canned "Bubbye, bubbye, bubbye"? (I'm not sure how to punctuate that sentence, since the last bubbye isn't a question, so I put the question mark on the outside of the quotes, but that doesn't look right. Please pray for my kids, dad will surely get them an F in English class.)

And my favorite story from the airport, involved this couple:

I saw this couple in the Houston while I was waiting for my flight back to Des Moines. What caught my attention was, firstly, they looked so cute. So nicely dressed and both looked so sweet I just wanted to give them both a hug. I learned my lesson last time, unsolicited hugs in an airport gets you a visit with the TSA. I tried to explain that a hug is not the same as a bomb in your underwear, but they weren't hearing it. I watched as Dorthy pulled out a bag and began to divide the contents inside between the two of them. There were two sandwiches, a bag of apple slices and some cheese. I watched as they shared their lunch together and again, wanted to give them both a hug. I know her name was Dorthy, because it was hand written on the bag they were eating out of. As they ate, they whispered to each other and he was obviously funny, because she giggled repeatedly and he smiled, knowing he still had it. Again, my mind is screaming to run over and hug them. Finally, Dorthy noticed that I was watching them and said to me, "Stop staring at us, you fucking pervert!" So sweet. But I decided against the hug.

OK, maybe she didn't say anything to me, but I so wanted to hear a second old lady cuss that I almost coaxed it out of her. Honestly, I got a warm feeling in my heart as I watched them. I imagined that they have probably been married for years, and obviously still love each other. It made my day. I hope that when I'm there age, which doesn't seem to be that far off, that Marcy and I will look that cute, as we board a plane for destinations unknown. Mainly because my mind will be numb by then and I will have no idea where I am going. Maybe that isn't such a bad thing.