Go West Old Man

So. It's me again. I'm back. For now. I have a pretty massive trip ahead of me and I think it might be Middle Seat Worthy so...I am threatening to restart The Middle Seat for a few months. Where am I going? Out West. How are we (Sue is coming along) getting there? By car. It will take eight days and we'll stay for 12 weeks and then drive back but on a different route. Why am I going "West". I'll let you know on my next post. For now...I wonder if anyone is still out here.

Vegas Baby…Wait, What?!?

Warning: If you love Las Vegas then you will probably hate this blog post. On the other hand if you have been to Vegas and were not totally sold on the “experience” then you might find this post something you will enjoy. If you have never been, this may help you decide whether you should go or not. For the record, I think everyone should go to “Vegas”…once.

Two months ago a work trip popped up on my calendar that was going to require me to be in Las Vegas for at least three days and adding a fourth day made sense and was easy to do. I saw an opportunity to mix business with pleasure so I decided I would bring my wife along. I called her excitedly from Seattle to tell her the “good” news.  “Hey, I have to go to Vegas for work (I was calling it “Vegas” because I thought it made me sound like an “insider”…a veteran Vegas goer) and I get to bring you.”  I expected her to be thrilled but instead I got a long pause followed by “Wait…what?” Having been married to her for nearly 24 years now I know what the long pause followed by the “I did not quite get that” reaction meant. This is her tactic she uses to get out of something when she does not instantly have an easy “out”. She was buying time. I chimed back with “C’mon…it will be fun”. After some coercing or maybe cursing she agreed. It was official…we were headed to Vegas Baby!

We left on a Saturday and arrived mid-afternoon allowing for the three hour time change. Back home we left two of our three children to watch the house and keep the dogs alive. The dogs by the way looked concerned as we left. We arrived at the hotel not knowing what to expect and then it all began… The Las Vegas “experience” was underway. We exited the cab by our hotel entrance and were greeted with a mob of people. There were people everywhere…many who seemed to have no destination in mind…they were just going with the people flow. Others looked like they were going to the beach…which confused me since we were in the desert.  A few like us were trying to get into the hotel but with bags and bellman helping people try to leave the hotel we were not making much progress. Eventually a gap developed and we made it inside. We were greeted by not nearly as many people but still too many for my liking. There was loud “beats” music; cold smoked filtered air and…darkness. We had just left the sunny outside entrance of mid-afternoon and now it looked like it was midnight inside. There was plenty of artificial light but not an ounce of sunlight.

We checked in pretty quickly (which I hear is often not the case) and made our way from the West Tower section to our side over on the East Tower section. To get there we had to walk through the casino. Not an easy task with bags in tow considering everyone else appeared to be trying to get to someplace in a hurry (or not at all) or was gambling. We were now in “it”…”Vegas” I mean. Part Disney, Part Sandals, Part Hell’s Kitchen with a strong side of The Jerry Springer show thrown in for good measure…this was our hotel. We grabbed a music filled elevator along with six other people much younger than us and exited on the 32^nd floor.  For the first time in thirty minutes it was quiet. We found our room and before opening the door we looked at each other and knew what each was thinking.  “What day do we go home again?”

As the door opened we relaxed. Our room was spectacular. We had a large entry way, to the right was a huge bathroom; it was open to the room but could be closed off by a door or blinds. There were two sinks, a walk-in shower, tub (we never got near it) and a separate…you know. Ahead of us was a living room with a huge sectional couch, a table, two chairs and a desk. There was a kitchenette and a large flat screened TV as well. Beyond that was our room (again open to the living room) with a king bed another huge TV and beyond that a very large balcony. Sun was also visible. This was nice. Very nice. I opened the door to the balcony and walked out. The music was back. Below us was the Las Vegas strip visible for miles on either side.  Across from us was the Planet Hollywood Resort…and Britney Spears. All twenty stories of her staring right at us.  From the marquee below detailing her “show” in town I gathered she had “Twenty hits”…this seemed very high to me, “New shows” had been added to “Meet demand”… I found this surprising and it was  “A can’t miss Vegas Experience”. We missed it.

Below I could see one of the two pools at our hotel. It was 28 floors below us but we were basically right over it. It looked like the entry to the hotel…Wall to wall people dancing and drinking. I realized this must be the “beach”. Not a chair or lounge was free. Had it not been for the empty deep end I would not have been able to tell it was a pool. Water was not visible. The hotel entry looked empty compared to this. We decided to get a snack and to explore the hotel. We had a dinner reservation in 5 hours which would put us at the table at roughly 11:15 PM our time so we thought we should get some food. We found a Greek restaurant with lots of windows so we sat at their bar and had a couple of “Small Plates”…they were. Good food but small. We also each had a “specialty” cocktail…gin with cucumber, lime (maybe) and some “Infusion of herbs and rose petal”. A gin and tonic would have been fine but who can refuse rose petal? The food and cocktails worked. We relaxed, felt better and set out to explore the hotel. We paid the$100 bill and left. We were slightly buzzed, slightly stunned at the cost of “a snack” and bobbing to more throbbing techno music.

We discovered you did not need to go through the casino to get from east to west. We found the fitness center (we actually used it Tuesday) another rowdy pool and a walkway out of the hotel to a shopping area that connected our hotel to another hotel. Our dinner restaurant was there so we located it and made sure it was acceptable and returned to our hotel. We found “our” pool on the east side and verified it was “off limits”. Based on the muscle bodies, tiny bikinis, travel hats and excessively tattooed bodies it appeared most of southern New Jersey had arrived and taken over the pool. We then went to get the elevator. It was now roughly 5 PM. At 5:30 we still did not have an elevator. A few showed up but they were full of “Pool relatives”.

Eventually the elevator “rush hour” cleared and we were back in our room by 6 PM. We pushed up our dinner reservation, got ready and were seated around 10:15 PM our time. It was a very nice seafood restaurant. We both had steak. For some reason they thought one of us was having a birthday so we got a free dessert. I looked around and it appeared like many people were having birthdays. Thankfully no one sang to us. We were back in our room by 1:00 AM our time and passed out from exhaustion. Trust me it was too expensive for us to be drunk.

The next morning I had an early tee time with friends from work. Sue had decided she would find a hot yoga place off site so she got up with me. I opened the curtain to blinding sunshine, walked out on the balcony, nodded to Britney and looked at the strip below. It was quiet but not deserted. Southern New Jersey had not yet returned to the pool. I changed for golf and headed to Paris. Yes…Paris. It seems that someone somewhere in the real estate world decided that Vegas was not complete without a little slice of France right smack in the middle of it so they built a hotel called Paris…complete with a large scale but smaller version of the Eiffel tower outside the hotel. As I made my way over to “France” I saw a couple my age heading back to my hotel apparently making their way home for “The night”.  It was 7 AM. We made eye contact and I gave them the look that said “You guys know you are way too old to try this right?” They looked away in shame. When I arrived in France I encountered signs for  “Le Casino” and “Les taxi’s”. I walked past “L’ATM” and “Les Shuttles” and found my golfing buddies. We hopped in “Le Limo” and went off to play “Le golf”. It was a blast. The pace of play was swift (the only way I enjoy golf), I only lost three balls (thanks in large part to valiant efforts to rescue three others) and the views/vistas were beautiful… I could even see “France” at one point. Instead of being home at 3 that afternoon I was back in “darkness” by 12:30 PM. Perfect. Sue and I took advantage of the extra time and had nice mother’s day lunch back at the expensive Greek place. The lunch was very nice, more reasonable and the place was packed with families…also celebrating mother’s day. We toasted to Sue over wine and forgot to call our mothers that night.

Later, after a work meeting we went to a show at the Bellagio where we enjoyed both the fountains and the show. We wandered through their casino minus the “Le” and dropped $100 in a slot machine. We realized it was gone faster than the time it took to get it out of the ATM. We went “home” lost another $100 by having some “Acorn fed pig” from another tapas place and two glasses of wine. As we collapsed into bed I said to Sue “I hate Vegas”.” She promptly agreed and we slept.

Monday things got better and after work meetings ended two hours earlier than I thought we were actually able to get chairs at the pool and hunker down. We guessed New Jersey had either returned home or was still hung over.  We were greeted by a waitress “wearing” a bikini. We ordered margaritas (not frozen) and she seemed surprised. Over the Omni-present music  I asked what she thought we would order and she just giggled and walked away. This was not the first time we experienced “Age discrimination” in Vegas but the alcohol took away the sting. About 1PM the pool area began to fill but not terribly. The crowd was of course much younger and over the next three hours became much drunker. By 4 PM the pool was no longer usable for us. There was a flotilla of empty plastic cups making their way around the pool, a variety of citrus slices bobbing in the water and most of the “bathers” were invading each other’s personal space. One poor guy had a beer in one hand and a margarita (no longer frozen) in the other  and was standing in the not so deep end. But it was hot and he would cool off by dipping himself up to the neck. The problem was he kept forgetting not to take his drinks with him. He drank a lot of pool water in addition to the copious amount of alcohol. We guessed Tuesday was not his best day. Looking down upon us Britney did not seem to notice or to care.

Monday night we met up with some more people from work over in “France”again, had a fun dinner and lost more money at a roulette table back in “darkness”. It took a lot longer to lose that money so we had that going for us. Tuesday I had more meetings which took longer than expected but we managed another nice lunch outside by the Bellagio fountains. Two salads, two cocktails and $100 later we found ourselves back in our room. We tried to get to the pool but another meeting was added and by the time we made it to the pool there was not direct sun, there was plenty of wind and the water was cold. We packed, drank two beers from the mini bar (less than $100 but not much) and found a decent place for dinner. We spent less than our allocated gambling money and called it a night.

Wednesday morning we awoke at 4AM local time, waved goodbye to Britney, made our way through a not totally empty casino and hopped on our plane home. As the plane lifted off from the runway I smiled across the aisle at my wife. She smiled back and said “Philly Baby!!”

Taking A Break...But Don't Worry...

I am taking a break from The Middle Seat for a bit. No, I am not sure for how long yet. I am focusing my efforts on my other blog, ConlinSense and of course...work...and family...in reverse order. If you worry you will miss The Middle Seat during this break you can go to Smashwords.com or iTunes, Barnes and Noble or other sites I don't use and grab my three (free) e-books which together contain every post from The Middle Seat. The link is also just off to the right on this site.

The latest, Volume III is called One Martini is Good, Two are bad, Three Aren't Enough. I hope you will indulge me while I focus my efforts elsewhere and I really hope you visit ConlinSense. In fact, I just posted a new one tonight...until I return...be safe.

Cash Is King…At Least in Portsmouth

I had a blog all ready to go. I really did. It covered the past five weeks where I explained that while it was supposed to be a quiet year of limited travel it was suddenly not turning out that way. I explained that I have been to California three times (twice to Fresno (you can’t get there from here) and once to Los Angeles for an hour meeting). I made a last minute trip to Michigan by car…a mere 1121 miles of pure turnpike bliss. I talked about how I discovered a “bonus” in my salad in Phoenix (live insects) and how during one of my return trips home from the airport I encountered an “Epic” hailstorm…so epic the insurance company wrote us a nice check because Sue’s car was damaged. I even explained in depth how I felt after last week’s “Red Eye” home from yet another trip west (Wakeful coma is pretty much spot on…with red eyes of course). But all of that went out the window because of what happened in Portsmouth, New Hampshire last night…

I was scheduled to negotiate a contract in Manchester, NH and instead of staying in Boston, where the hotel prices have gone through the roof, at least for the summer; I decided I would stay in scenic, historic Portsmouth, NH. It was closer and the rates were much better. I don’t stay in Manchester because unless there is a presidential primary going on, there just isn't much going on in Manchester. I don’t really do much other than go out to dinner anyway but I don’t like the feeling that I am the only one in town going out to dinner. In Manchester you can feel that way...unless of course there is a presidential primary which there wasn’t...so Portsmouth was the destination.

From the beginning things did not go quite according to plan. I had all day Monday to make the drive and this led to me procrastinating. I did not leave the house until 1PM and shortly after leaving, Mrs. Navigation let me know I had seven hours ahead of me. I knew her to be wrong as I would hit some traffic either in Hartford or in the outskirts of Boston.  I wasn’t that worried as I had made up some time at home. I pride myself on being “efficient” and I was very efficient…during the last fifteen minutes I was home. I was cleaning out the car while it cooled off inside, I gathered up my computer as I came downstairs with my bag and I let the dog out. Tasks were being completed at a fever pitch and I was on a roll. I left at 1 PM as I had said I would…at noon. Ten seconds into the drive Megan called me. “Dad?” “Yes Megan…miss me already I take it?” “Nope. You left your luggage in the front hall.” She hung up. I went back and got my luggage and thanked Megan declaring her “The coolest person in the world”. She barely noticed. The ramifications of not receiving this call are too much for me to get into here. Megan remains…”The coolest person in the world.”

Nearly eight hours later I made it to my hotel…and I wished I hadn't. It was a dump…I know, sounding like a hotel snob now but it was a dump. The rooms were dirty and outdated but the lobby was fixed up. The truest definition of putting lipstick on a pig. It wasn't working for me. I wanted to change hotels in the worst way but it was past 9 PM. I stayed. I did go downstairs to the “new” lobby and grabbed a snack that did not count as dinner and I noticed this hotel did not sell my company’s beverages. I had an out. I found another hotel nearby; made sure they sold our products and booked it for the next night. I settled down for the night and discovered there is a reason why my profile asks for “feather pillows”. Feather pillows allow your head to lie mostly flat. Non-feather pillows (in this case basketball pillows) do not.  

Tuesday was a short negotiation day followed by a cram prep session to see if we could finish Wednesday (We did!). I checked into my new hotel and decided I would venture into Historic Portsmouth to enjoy the town…the reason I stayed here. One “hiccup” in my plan was that most of my preferred chain hotels were “Just minutes away from historic downtown Portsmouth” which meant nothing was in walking distance. The hotel offered a shuttle but my negotiation team had informed me that “There is a parking garage right downtown that you should use as parking in the summer is impossible.” Duly noted. The hotel had a shuttle but I avoid these as I like to control my schedule and my experience is that shuttles run “Every twenty minutes unless the driver doesn’t adhere to this schedule.” I am always at the mercy of airlines, traffic and rental car bus drivers. I had a car, a parking garage and I was ready to dine like it was a presidential primary year.

Unlike Manchester, Portsmouth was crowded. Despite the fact that I knew I could park in the garage I decided to “troll” the town to both see it and to see if I could snag a free parking place. I passed on two parking spaces…the last one exactly across from the parking garage entrance. I drove into the garage. I exited on the top level (it was packed) and made my way down the five flights of stairs. I noticed, almost as an afterthought a sign that said, “Cash or Check Only.” I exited into an alley...Earlier on the trip I had spoken with a friend who knew the area and I asked for some restaurant recommendations. She informed me that “Portsmouth is great but I rarely had dinner there.” She also said, it is totally safe but “Joe”* (A co-worker) was once mugged there as surprising as that sounds…I think he must have wandered around the back streets for that to happen.” I now laughed at the irony.

I made my way to the square and discovered that any restaurant that hinted at having seafood was jammed…line out the door jammed. I don’t wait in lines other than for the TSA and communion. I wandered into an “Irish Pub” and justified the choice based on available seating and the fact that I could have “Cod” if I wanted. I didn't. I had a better than average meal and a better than average ale…just one followed by four club sodas. I opted out of “trivia night” and asked my server if they “validated parking” as I had seen that as well as I wandered out into the mean streets of Portsmouth. Sadly she said no but directed me to an ATM close by. I paid my bill and made my way (backpack over shoulder) to the ATM…which was located in a back alley.  It was one of those that required you to swipe your card to enter the enclosed ATM zone. I was appreciative as I knew someone who had been mugged on just such a street. As the door closed behind me I inserted my card into the slot and began the process that literally millions of people do multiple times per day. As I removed my card, the machine asked for my pin number…a typical request. Based on my internal reaction you would have thought it had asked me for the code to stop to diffuse a live bomb. I drew a blank. Meaning…I drew a blank.  I had NOTHING. No clue. I did not know my pin…I knew it had a six in it but even that was not a certainty. My brain had said “enough.” I was at a loss. It occurred to me that all of the years of changing bank accounts with every move, dealing with hotel room numbers (sometimes like this week, multiple rooms) and countless airline flight numbers, car reservations and T and E reports, my brain had just hit the saturation point. That or I had Alzheimer’s. I tried a combination of numbers that seemed familiar; the machine tauntingly took me through each step only to announce at the last possible moment that “My transaction had been canceled due to an incorrect pin number”. This happened to me two more times (once with the existing card and once with my “backup card” which has the same number…I did this so I would not forget it).

Truth be told, I don’t use the pin very often. I use the “credit” feature since it acts like a debit but it takes the bank three more days to remove my money. My stinginess was costing me. That and the fact that I used to have somewhere near $100 in change in my backpack but it had started to get me pulled over by the TSA so I had removed it. I was out of luck and money.

I don’t carry cash. When I have cash it is extracted from me by children, my spouse who then gives it to the children and I sometimes make dumb purchases given the means. I literally did not have two pennies on me. I wandered the streets of Portsmouth for the next ten minutes trying to let my brain do its work and recover the lost pin that was somewhere inside it. I knew that some stores validated parking so I started to look for the little insignia on the windows. It was dark now and in some cases I had to get very close to the window to see what the various stickers affixed to the window meant. In one case the stickers were on the window near a table at a restaurant. I ruined a nice evening for a couple by seemingly peering in at them for an extended period of time. There were a lot of stickers on that window. Portsmouth would probably be off their tourism list thanks to the strange peering man with the backpack. I found a yogurt shop and wandered in. I stood in the middle of the store and looked around. I did not see anything that gave clarity about their parking validation policy. I finally asked the teen behind the counter. She asked if I wanted anything and I said I did but if I did order would they validate my parking? She said no and I left…the strange, peering, inquisitive man with the backpack had struck again.

I wandered back to my car and walked up the five flights of stairs. I felt like I was visiting a hostage. I got in and turned it on. I apologized to it. I did. I called my wife and had her go to my desk where right smack in the middle of my desk is a list with all of my passwords. She found it! I had not listed my pin numbers. After her initial laughing fit she was sympathetic and offered me solutions…I called my bank and was put through a series of invasive questions that became more detailed at every level. I began to fear I would choke and stumble on my zip code which would require me to have to answer the question about the name of my favorite pet…”I don’t have a favorite” probably wasn't going to cut it. To my surprise I made it all the way to level 5…the level where they believe you are you. After all of that along with my explanation the best they could do was mail me my pin. I had visions of waiting in the car roughly for a week, finally having my wife call me with the number, getting out twenty bucks and realizing my parking bill was now more than my daily withdrawal cap. That wasn't going to work. I was apoplectic now. They did reset the number of times I could try my card and I went back to the only ATM I knew existed in Portsmouth where I failed three more times and wandered the streets again without my backpack this time.

Finally I decided I would simply tell the parking attendant that I had no cash. When it was my turn to exit (it was now 10 PM and everyone was leaving the parking garage) I explained what happened. His first question was “Do you have a check?” I laughed. I wanted to say “Let me see. I usually keep them right here in my 8 track player…no, not there. Do you accept Bitcoin” (I didn't have any by the way). It was a ridiculous question. In today’s society checks are for people you don’t like. It forces them to bank the old fashioned way. And no…I don’t carry checks. Who doesn't take credit anymore? I have been to Farmer’s markets that do. I bet (don’t know for sure) some street drug dealers use the little square for their “business” transactions. But The Portsmouth Garage that holds five thousand cars only takes cash or check. I was allowed to fill out a form and I can send my debt by U.S. Postal service. The final tab came to $2…yes $2. I checked in my car. I had 73 cents in change.

It took me awhile to fill out the form where I again worried I would forget a key personal detail like my address and the growing crowd of people exiting in their cars was getting impatient. I made it out and arrived back at my hotel psychologically concussed. The desk clerk asked “Did you enjoy Portsmouth?” All I could muster was “They have a parking problem”. She said “Didn't you take our shuttle?” The elevator door closed before I could answer.

*Joe is his real name

A Wicked Trip Nahth…Part II

After navigating through the triage zone at the pharmacy I went back to my hotel and booked another hotel room in the city at half the cost that my room would be the next night where I was currently staying. I did this because I am paranoid…not because I intended to switch hotels. No, I intended to use my negotiation skills that I use for work to get this hotel to change my rate so I could stay there. But I also wondered if I encountered a “By the rules” kind of desk agent if he or she would be able to zap me out of other hotels in the city thereby rendering me “hotel less” should we not reach agreement or as Kate Gosselin* once said “Agreeance”.

Bolstered by my “forward thinking” I strolled down toward the front desk and to my happy surprise the Taylor Swift fan Club President was at the desk. I said hello. She didn’t recognize me. I explained that I was the guy from Taylor Swift’s hometown and she brightened right up. A reduced room rate was all but certain. I explained my “situation” that is, that my rate was going to nearly double the next night. She frowned and began typing on her keyboard. She then smiled and acknowledged I was right but explained that I was getting “A great deal” because of my corporate rate. The rate would be even higher had I not had that. I then explained that I understood but also told her I could go to another hotel…one in her chain a few blocks away for less than half of what I would be paying the next night. She frowned some more and then, with hand on bended hip said “I highly doubt that sir, the city is sold out this week”. Slightly taken aback by the inference that I had lied, I explained that I was indeed right as I had already booked another room at just the rate I had told her. “Prez” was now steaming…she began to type furiously switching screens again and again (I was sure this is where she was sending out an APB to all hotels in the city to shut me out but I had beaten her to the punch!). She looked up finally, faked a smile and said, “I wouldn't know anything about that”…and disingenuously wished me a good day. I had won…and lost. Either way I was sure Taylor Swift or I had lost a “fan”. I think Taylor Swift is safe…

The next day was another Apollo 13 ride nahth this time with some heavy rain. The meeting participants remained highly contagious and I remained relegated by choice to a cahnah of the room with my miracle cure ever ready. The ride home was better than the day before but now I had to go into the city…with my fairly giant “car”. I don’t mind city driving but I do mind it when I don’t know where I am going. I didn't know where I was going. The “Navi” works well but directions can be a tad late which causes last second lane changes or left hand turns from the right turn lane all of which when added up with an out of town plate draws the ire of the “locals”. I drew a lot of ire. I made a guess when the “Navi” got confused when the satellite signal started bouncing off buildings and luckily made it to my hotel. I also remember thinking that this part of town is “Really Busy…and congested…almost chaotic”. I checked in to a giant high-rise attached to a giant city mall and felt slightly out of sorts. I can’t fully explain it except it was like starting a new trip even though I was in the middle of an existing one. I think mentally I thought I had four nights ahead of me instead of two.

After getting my keys I approached the elevators along with a crowd of waiting people. An elevator arrived and the masses stampeded towards the open door…barely letting people out; which by the way is a huge pet peeve of mine. I call it “The Elevator Rule” but it also applies to subways/airport trains and/or rental car buses. It is simply this. Let the arriving transport mode empty before getting in. I can’t tell you how many times I have been on an airport train and had difficulty leaving the train because people want to get on…makes no sense. Let me off and then there is more room for you. So I watched the crush towards the door and just backed off. I let these selfish you know whats jam in the elevator playing a bad game of twister with those trying to leave. My last image of them was of a group of people crammed in the elevator half of them looking like they had just snagged a seat on the last chopper out of Saigon in 1975.

I shook my head. And then I waited. And waited. And waited some more. No joke…twenty minutes. By now there was a crowd and I overheard a man saying he had waited thirty minutes for an elevator that morning. As I waited still longer I started to second guess my decision. Just about the time I was ready to Google the lyrics to a Taylor Swift song thinking I might need them to get readmitted at my former hotel, the elevator door opened. The crush started again…with me in the middle. I rushed forward as well but an elderly woman who had clearly over spent at the mall was in front of me struggling with her shopping bags. I lifted my roller bag over and around her to allow me a cross step in front of her, cutting her off but guaranteeing me a spot on the elevator even if I had to elbow a few departing passengers. Elevator Rule be damned…it had been thirty minutes. When I turned and found a place on the elevator a man gave me an approving nod as if to say “Nice Move”. The “shopper” was too busy organizing her purchases to notice. As the elevator started up I realized I would have to build in “Elevator time” to my morning commute. I started again to Google Taylor Swift lyrics.

Once in my room I figured out why this part of town seemed such a mess. There had been a bomb scare basically as I arrived related to last year’s or perhaps this year’s Bohston Marathon. That pretty much ruled out dinner outside the hotel and now the temperature had also dropped. The next morning I was greeted with snow on the ground, a quicker elevator trip thanks to a friendly worker who explained one flight down they arrived much fahstah, and I dodged “snice” Frisbees from the top of cahs on my way back up nahth. My meetings ended early and it was time to leave Boston and her pot holed filled streets. As I departed I breathed a sigh of relief. I had survived, for now, another wicked trip nahth.

*Kate Gosselin and her 48 kids live nearby as well…she does not live in a shoe.

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A Wicked Trip Nahth…Paht I.

I had to go to Boston last week to negotiate a contract…In Manchester, New Hampshire. I stay in Boston even though Manchester is an hour away. I do this because even though the “commute” is an hour I get to stay in a bigger city and I sort of feel like a “normal” business person who drives to and from his place of work …as opposed to just the airport. I always like going to Boston because there is plenty to do. I also like it because of the “Famous” accent. You know the one…Pahk the Cah in the Hahvahd Yahd. Here’s the thing. This accent, while distinct, is not everywhere despite some movie depictions of this. If you want a great laugh watch the movie The Perfect Storm. Two things of note as they relate to the accent; first, notice how in the beginning of the film the accents are everywhere and constant. Then notice how later in the movie the same characters start losing the accent. It makes for a good laugh. Second, there is a scene in the weather center that always gets me because the accents of a couple of people are over the top. But like I said, in reality, the accent is not everywhere but when it shows up…you notice it.

My trip stahted on a bad note as I had to leave on Sunday. Sunday of The Masters no less. Leaving on Sunday always puts me in a foul mood and missing The Masters didn't help. The weather was nice though so that helped a bit…even if I was stuck in the car. I listened to the golf tournament on satellite radio and I have to say if you think golf is boring on TV you should listen to it on the radio. It is a miracle I did not fall asleep. But of course I never changed the station either.

I arrived after dahk around 9:30 PM and was greeted by a cheerful desk attendant. I handed her my credit card and license and she thanked me “For being a Platinum Member” This always starts things out on a nice note. She then said to me, after handing back my license, “Do you like living in Taylor Swift’s hometown?” Surprised, I said that I did and asked her how she knew where Taylor Swift had lived.. She explained that her boyfriend, wait, ex-boyfriend used to live in Reading and that she knew the area fairly well because he would take her to various places nearby when she visited…including the town where I live, Wyomissing. After she explained some of the places she visited I said “No wonder he is an ex-boyfriend”. The desk attendant didn't really get a kick out of this and  frowned as she handed me my room key.  On the elevator up to my room I noticed two rates. One for the first two nights and one for the second two nights. The rate nearly doubled. I made a note to try to get this fixed.

On my way into Boston I noticed the roads seemed to have a hangover from winter. There were a lot of potholes. In case you weren't paying attention, the Giant SUV died awhile back, or at least it started to so I traded it in while the trading was good. I ended up with a smaller SUV that was, well…too small. So I traded that out and got a bigger “car”. It isn't an SUV, it isn't a van, and it isn't a wagon. I don’t know what you call it but it is big and comfortable. It also “floats” a bit on the highway. Meaning the suspension is soft and when it encounters a bump you are nestled in comfort…but the car moves all over the road. As I got near Boston I was doing a lot of “Moving all over the road”. The next morning I headed Nahth to Manchester and discovered the roads were really bad…at least in Boston propah. The potholes and bad “patches” outnumbered the smooth patches two to one at least. It was a comfortable rough hour. On the way back the weather had started to turn and now it was getting a bit cooler and the wind was really ripping. Gusts were hitting 40 miles per hour and combine that with all the potholes and it became a two handed drive back down to the city. The closer I got to the city the rougher it became. At times I felt like Tom Hanks in Apollo 13 as he tried to steer their spacecraft manually to make sure they hit their orbit just right. Just keeping the “car” in my lane was a challenge...and I was probably talking to myself about how the state should expand their paving budget, etc. Eventually I made it back and I focused my thoughts on getting cold medicine.

You see when I arrived in Manchester and after shaking hands with my negotiation team I noticed something. One of them was sick. Yes, he had a cold…”Just started” he said. “No worries” he said. “Got it from my 5 year old.” NO WORRIES?? The colds from 5 year olds (and under) are usually the mutant kind. The kind that take near 50 year olds and toss them out back into a dumpster…or at least that is how you feel. Meanwhile, I had left my Purell bucket back at the hotel. I also had no vitamin C (which really is no match for a 5 year olds mutant virus) and we had to sit within close proximity to each other…and he was touching things. The table, the chairs, my things…papers, moved my computer. I could see the virus spreading before my eyes.

 A couple of hours in, I simply resigned myself that I would just get a mutant cold but that I would survive. About that time “He” got a call from his wife. His 5 year old had pink eye…in both eyes. I began to cry…somewhat out of fear but mostly because my eyes instantly began to itch…badly. That’s what I do…I assume I will get whatever illness is around me. I know this is not rational it is just simply what happens to me. Meaning…I almost always get the illnesses around me.

After my space ride back to Bahston, I found a local drug store and was able to find my miracle cure medicine (I actually got the last box) and then I stood in the checkout line…with loads of sick people. There was the coughing girl and the super nasally guy who just couldn't seem to “shake this nahsty cold” and frustrated mom with shivery girl…who probably had a fevah and a different mutant 5 year old virus. I became concerned the two viruses would combine and not throw me in a dumpster but perhaps out into the freezing bay instead. I left. Actually I left the line and hid in a corner contemplating my next move. I could come back, but this was the last box of my miracle cure. I could tough it out and end up in the bay. I could go elsewhere but I did not feel like more space travel at that point. Finally I noticed self-checkout lanes so I raced pahst the sick crew and checked out on my own. On the way back to the hotel I realized those touch screens were probably worse than the air I had been breathing. At the hotel I tried to figure out how to rig the shower to just spray Purell. I also had to do something about the “Wicked bahd” rate increase they handed me.

End Of Paht I…..


VOLUME II of My e-Book Series "The Middle Seat" is now available! Both books are free so if you want all the posts in one easy place this is the best way to do that. If you happen to like this blog please share the site and the link to the right up above where you can find...

The Middle Seat Volume II: Never Check a Bag You Want To Keep

Then There Was One…

We lost Chase Friday. He was ten…almost to the day. Like many dogs, Chase had begun to slow down but mid-week he took a serious downturn. Still, when Sue took him to the vet on Friday we only halfway thought he was truly near the end. But, unfortunately, the vet said he was in a lot of pain and suddenly our time with Chase…was over. As you know I am not a “Pet Fanatic” but Chase was truly one of a kind…

In the spirit of this blog and in an attempt to both honor him and be honest about him here are some random thoughts and memories of Chase, the giant headed, not the smartest, most loving dog I've   ever encountered.

We got Chase as a puppy and he lived with us for one night in Connecticut, three years in Michigan and nearly seven in Pennsylvania.

Despite his massive size he was a gentle giant and was so not an Alpha dog.

He had a massive head…beautiful too. Suitable for wall mounting. It was really that good. And no we didn't….

He loved grabbing shoes and walking around with them…never ruining them just losing them.

Unlike labs, food was secondary to people for him.

He lacked some gene in his brain that supposedly every dog and human has which causes dreams to be non-events by semi paralyzing the body during sleep. Because of this we had to move any “underweight” objects away from him at night otherwise they could be damaged as he sent them flying across the room. He awoke me on more than his fair share of nights kicking the laundry machine. A running dream for sure.

His “Native American” name was “Walking while poops” because he never stayed in one location while conducting his “business meetings”. Many a shoe suffered damage because of this issue. Despite our best efforts, the yard was a dangerous place to play.

He always thought he was the same size as when he was born and to the end he always tried to lie underneath your seat even if that meant you had to move.

He seemed to sympathize with me for having no hair and tried to lose most of his every day. It just kept growing back.

He never wanted to be left out of a car trip…even though he got carsick.

He actually hugged. If you got down to his level when he was sitting he would put his head on your shoulder….and leave it there for as long as you stayed.

He panted no matter the temperature whenever he got close to you…he was just that way.

He battled a severe drinking problem his entire life…never not spilling water everywhere.

Speaking of water…he was happiest in it.

If he could have spoken he would have told you I changed the rules on him many times. That was because he found new rules to break.

He was ours and we were his….we loved him but he made us do that. He gave us no choice.

Murphy has some big shoes to lose…..

My Friend “Bill”…

I have to admit that I dread many of my trips…most likely because they can be too frequent and when things go awry, it creates extra stress on top of an already semi-stressful situation. So when I awoke Monday morning I did so with a sense of gloom slowly filling my head, despite the fact that I was home and not scheduled to travel this week. It is simply a habit. It should have been short lived but as winter continued to keep its grip on our weather with cool temps and thick clouds my mood continued to dampen. Then I opened an email from a friend and co-worker who does basically the same job I do and travels just as much…if not more. Seems he had a bit of “bad luck” as he started his travels the night before and sadly, it brightened my day. To protect the innocent I will call my friend “Bill”. This is his story…

This past Sunday evening “Bill” made his first mistake…he embarked on a business trip. I do my best to avoid Sunday travel for a couple of reasons. First, it simply ruins your weekend. Whenever I have to travel no matter what time of day I depart, I spend most of the day waiting to leave. I don’t start a new project or enjoy a relaxing seven hours prior to departure because I am incapable of doing so. You will recall that despite multiple backup alarm systems I still awake roughly every two hours the night before a flight if it happens to be an early departure. The same holds true for late departures...I watch the clock. The second main reason I avoid Sunday travel is because the flights on Sundays are always full. They are always full on Mondays too but on Sundays you have more “rookie” flyers. Those people who are heading home after a week or a weekend away, who possibly have acquired “things” on their little trip that don’t fit in their oversized unchecked bag and that they now want to jam in the overhead bin even if it means moving your bag that just moments ago was resting comfortably. The same people who don’t check in over the airlines website who now find they are sitting apart and ask (very publicly) if you would be willing to switch to a middle seat so they could sit together. The same people who basically bring camping gear on the plane in an effort to have a more comfortable flight. It doesn’t work…for them or anyone else. It is for these reasons that I avoid Sunday travel if at all possible.

Bill’s second mistake was going to West Virginia but that is an entirely different blog topic. Anyway, Bill starts out from his home in sunny Florida in what I imagine was a pretty good mood. You see, even though he was traveling on Sunday he had been upgraded on his “Status” Airline * so he was at least in for a comfortable seat, more personalized service and he would be segregated from the returning weekend hoard. Most likely about the time he mentally switched from “home” mode to “travel” mode he heard an unsettling sound. His steering wheel also felt “heavier”. The sound? A thump whump, thump whump that coupled with the heavy steering wheel meant two things. First…Bill had a flat tire. Second, someone else was going to sit in Bill’s First Class seat, drinking Bill’s Bombay Martini with blue cheese olives. Bill was going to miss his flight. I can honestly say that I have not had a car “issue” either on my way to or upon returning from a trip that caused me anything more than “concern”…but I will now add it to my list of worries.

Ever the optimist, Bill starts to attempt to change the tire…on I-95…this country’s closest thing to the Autobahn. If you haven’t driven on I-95 south of Richmond, you shouldn’t. It is flat…and straight and almost never gets snow...at least not in Florida. Nearly everyone who is on I-95 appears to be in a near panic hurry or they may have just robbed a bank. Either way…they fly down that road. It is scary enough driving there let alone changing a tire. As luck would have it, this is Bill’s first flat tire in this car so he has never changed a flat for it before. And he still hasn’t. After about twenty minutes of fruitless efforts he begins to see his first class seat being given away so he calls AAA…he is a member after all. Actually, it turns out his wife is a member and he gets a “rule abider” who refuses to let him use his wife’s membership. So he has to buy his own…which he does. Then he has to contact a local tow company which is always a treat but even more so on the I-95 raceway. Over the din of tractor-trailers doing 80 they say “Someone will be there shortly”…which means an hour. To add insult to injury, Bill is dressed in business casual attire while his “representative” looks like he starred in Saw 5.

Finally back on his way, Bill’s flight is long gone. He has to re-book with a “non-status” Airline.** He knows he is lucky that he even got a seat but he is in the middle and in the last row which has the added “bonus” of being near the restrooms. Prior to boarding though Bill gets in the security line. He is a frequent flyer so he is now part of the new TSA “Pre-check” group and promptly enters that line. Here too you are treated with dignity, respect and it is so much easier getting through this line than it is in the “regular” TSA security lines. There is just one catch though (and I have inquired to the TSA about this “hitch”). Just because you are on TSA Pre-check with one airline does not mean you are with another airline. And getting on with other airlines is time consuming and there is no guarantee they will grant you the status. As luck would have it, Bill wasn’t “pre-check” for this airline and he is summarily rejected by the TSA agent after standing in what was a very long line (more people are pre-check every day so it is losing its luster). Bill now has to do the “Walk of Shame” past “real” TSA pre-check participants who now wonder if he is a terrorist or “just another rookie flyer”. When he finally makes it to the metal detector he forgets to remove his shoes (his second infraction within 30 minutes) and is nearly detained. He does make his flight (a connection 300 miles north of the city where he had a direct flight booked earlier) but not before they snag his bag and $25 to check it…the final insult of the day.

I never did hear if he made it to his destination that night but given that it was West Virginia…I might never hear from him…generally, I’ve had a pretty good week…thank you Bill.

* Status Airline means they treat you like they want you as a customer. They are friendly, offer assistance, occasionally throw you a “bone” in the form of a free snack or beverage and, if you get really lucky, they upgrade you to first class where life is actually tolerable.

** Non-status Airline means they treat you as if you are a carrier of TB or SARS. No question is acceptable no matter how gently asked and they go out of their way to make you check your bags and you board the plane last, usually having to operate the jet bridge before you get on.

Don’t forget you can get The Middle Seat Volume 1 (essentially the first six months of this blog) for your e-reader at smashwords.com…it’s FREE.

www.smashwords.com

A New ConlinSense has been posted: "Weather Channels' Naming of Winter Storms Has Created Controversy"

You can find the new Conlinsense on the link to the right...also...

Regarding my "Big Announcement About The Middle Seat"...which I know is a day late....here it is...

I have turned The Middle Seat into an e-book. The Middle Seat Volume 1: First Class vs. Coach...I'll Take Coach Please...is now available for purchase. Before you gag, please know that I do not expect any regular blog readers to buy the e-book. Volume I is the first six months so since the site has shifted to The Reading Eagle...those posts are no longer available. Anyhow...if you think someone (or dozens of people you know) would like the book...please let them know. It is for sale for $2.99 on various e-reader platforms. How do you find it? Simple. You can go to iTunes and search for The Middle Seat Volume I...there are a few "Middle Seats" as some guy does weekly pod-casts which I am sure are not as funny....or you can go to Smashwords.com (may not show as a link in this posting) and search under The Middle Seat...

In any event. I will be creating Volumes II and III over the next few months. In the meantime...this is basically it for my marketing so...I humbly ask you to pass this on if you feel it is worthy. If not....the blog remains.

Thanks, as always for following The Middle Seat, I hope you give ConlinSense a chance...it is very different than this site and...as always...thanks for reading.

Old Man…Conlin

I grew up in Michigan, went to high school in Pennsylvania and college in Wisconsin. That said I should be pretty well prepared for winter…except I am not. The older I get, the less I enjoy snow and cold and cloud filled days. I think when I was younger I just didn’t know any better…neither did my wife. Until the day I called her to let her know I had been offered a job…in Florida. We lived there for five years and she has never been the same…neither have I.

I remember when we “moved back north” and I had been on a business trip, was stranded a day because of snow and upon returning to my car at the airport in loafers and a sweater (it had been 55 when I left) I had to dig my car out of eight inches of snow…not counting the mess that had been plowed all around my car. An hour later with frozen hands and loafers that felt more like cardboard I was “free”. My hands never recovered that winter no matter the amount of “hand healing” lotion I applied.

Four Months later I was driving back to our home in Connecticut from Rhode Island…In April. APRIL. A “freak” snowstorm descended upon the region. The day before had been nearly 60 degrees. About eight inches of snow turned a 3 hour drive into a 6 hour drive. The snow was wet and heavy too so I had to exit once to clear the wipers. When I did this, another car stopped as well. A man got out and asked if I was “okay”. I nodded and explained what I was doing. He again asked me if I was “okay”. I again said yes. Finally he said “Are you SURE?” I hesitated thinking perhaps he knew something I didn’t, like there was a psychopath in my backseat. As I snuck a peak in the back window while I cleared off the taillights I suddenly realized his concern. My car still had Florida plates. I then explained that I knew how to drive in this stuff and grew up in the Midwest, etc. He then asked, “So what are you doing here?” With a goofy smile I told him we had just moved back. He just shook his head, said to himself “Why?” and left.

And so it is some eleven years later and it is the winter of 2014 and I find myself asking the same question. Snow storms, more than one polar vortex (vortie?) and today an ice storm that has left us without power has me questioning why anyone would live in the north. Yes, there are the diehards who having never lived in the south say things like “I would miss the seasons” or “I just love the fall colors” and my favorite, “it is too hot in Florida in the summer.”  Well here are my responses:  There really are only two “seasons” in the north. Hot and cold. Go on the internet and Google fall colors…problem solved. And finally I must point out to you the summer we left Florida to go to Delaware for vacation with family. Florida was 88 degrees. Delaware… 104 degrees. They had rolling blackouts, the local pool filter kept shutting off which prompted the lifeguards to panic and demand we “Get out of the water…now!” The first time they did this the exit from the pool resembled a scene from Jaws. So no…I reject those arguments.

At this point you must be asking “What prompted this…he has been back in the tundra for over a decade.” Truth be told…yesterday prompted this. The day before we had eight inches of snow; we wrestled with our newly obtained snow blower (our neighbor moved and generously gifted it to us…since he was moving…to Florida!) and did a less than complete job removing the snow from our driveway. There were patches of snow that overnight turned, well…icy. It was sunny out and knowing it might be May before I saw that again I went outside…and I took the dogs. I decided to venture out further and get the mail…a mistake. As I approached the incline where the driveway slopes down towards the street I felt it…my left foot was giving way…slipping. In a spastic effort to save myself I twisted to the right. My other foot slipped too and I was airborne…feet right out from under me. With arms flailing and feet in the air I knew I was going to hit both concrete and ice and my back was going to bear the brunt of my stupidity. I am always amazed at how certain things that happen in an instant also provide incredible clarity…as was the case during “The Wipeout.” I could see the mailbox blur through my line of sight, I saw the wispy  white clouds contrasted against the blue sky and  I had enough time to tell myself not to let my head hit…no matter what. As I landed I tensed up to stop my head from hitting and I succeeded. I also succeeded at landing hard on my right hip, at feeling most of the muscles in my back scream in anger and in feeling a good portion of the air leave my lungs. I had saved my head, bruised my hip, stressed my upper back and knocked the wind out of me. Oh and the dogs were thrilled that I had “come down to their level”. As I rolled in pain and tried to breathe again, dumb and dumber (Chase and Murphy) greeted me with a snowy, slobbery mess. I still am not sure if they came to play or were just seizing the opportunity to perhaps “off” me since I was down.

I struggled to my feet, nearly falling again and confirming that my back was “not in a good place”. I stood as straight as I could (which meant I was totally bent over) and did what anyone who ever bites it in public does…I looked around to see if I had been spotted.  I had not. Not that I knew of anyway. But what was worse was that I now felt something I have not ever felt before in my life; (okay mostly not ever except for the time I went back for my five year anniversary at college and a co-ed addressed me as “sir”) I felt…old. I wondered what this fall would have done to me in another 10 or 15 years. I wondered if a broken hip would have ruined my already dismal golf game. Mostly I wondered if we had any whiskey in the house.  I made it inside, went straight for the Advil and waited until 4:59 to make my first medicinal Manhattan.

This morning, my back hurts but not nearly as much as it should, we have no power; I dug the car out for my wife for the second day out of three (so she could go to work!) I am hearing rumors of a potential Nor’easter on Sunday and I feel old. I feel old, I miss Florida and I hate that groundhog. I am guessing I will spend today powerless, waiting for 5PM (so I can help my back) and I will ask myself the same question the man in Connecticut asked me 11 years ago…

A New Blog Site! Conlin Sense

I am excited to announce that I have created a second Blog site called Conlin Sense. Part "News" (a very small part), Part Onion-esque, Reminiscent of The Borowitz Report and mostly "me"…the point of this Blog is simply entertainment. No venting, no life's lessons, no politics (I will "dig" equally on both sides of the aisle).

In short, I hope you will give it a try. My intent is to do this weekly…key word is intent. If you like it let me know…if you don't…just keep that to yourself.

What about The Middle Seat? It will continue just as before…which means randomly. That said, I will have a "Major" announcement regarding The Middle Seat on February 10th. Stay Tuned…

Here is how you find Conlin Sense:

Conlinsense.blogspot.com

The Family Vacation...Part II

Forty-five minutes into our drive to Florida everyone had basically accepted the fact that while we were crowded (yes the golf clubs contributed to the pain but so did the multiple blankets, backpack with homework that was never going to be released from the backpack...ok it actually was...and a yoga mat thingy along with a food bag of snacks) we were actually on vacation and headed south in the winter. A very good thing. We planned to stop in North Carolina for the evening so we could do a couple of high level (meaning unofficial) college visits. The sun was out and the temperatures were rising. Moods inside the car were improving with each sunny mile that passed.

We arrived and attempted to tour Duke around 3:30 PM. But our navigation system was not cooperating and we kept getting directed away from the campus...or so we thought. We quit on "her" and moved to UNC that we found quickly and were very pleased to walk around for 30 minutes.

We decided to try to find Duke again discovering it had an East and a West Campus. Apparently we had been circling the East campus and while nice enough...it did not seem like, well, Duke. That is because it wasn't...not really. Happily we found the West Campus but just as we started to embark on a walking tour there, the mood began to shift. It was getting dark outside ...and even darker inside. Not able to put my finger on the growing tension I attempted more mediation, which failed (again) miserably. The only light moment was when our oldest thought he had seen a "celebrity" and shouted out "Is that Larry David....ahhh noooo"? A man dressed in a ball cap with white hair and glasses stood before us. He looked more like Bernie Madoff than Larry David and the way the mood was in the car his two siblings verbally pounded him for a good 5 minutes.

Still trying to determine our next move as the angry din grew inside the medium sized crosswagvantourer, Sue finally realized the problem. Being the diligent travelers that we were and given too that we had "A schedule to keep" we had neglected one crucial item. We had not fed the hungry humans in our control. With blood sugars plummeting and tempers rising we sprang into action and engaged the services of the navi again who, most likely due to operator error, was only able to locate fast food...after five minutes of coaxing. Sue's IPhone was not getting "service" (which the kids also blamed on operator error which did not enhance the happiness factor one bit). Finally we were able to locate a restaurant that seemed a bit more upscale but we had no choice. We arrived and discovered an area basketball player probably violating NCAA rules (and we'll leave it at that) but had an excellent dinner and the moods improved temporarily. The night ended with everyone dreading the next day's drive.

Throughout the trip we had many ups (we saw friends we had not seen in quite some time, we fished, we enjoyed the brief Florida sun, we watched a bowl game...yes Wisconsin lost) and only a few downs. The downs occurred each day we had to drive any significant distance, which were 5 out of the 7 days. Essentially what would happen is we would load up our luggage and then cram everyone in around it and the tempers began to boil...what typically happens is one person just isn't "right" and for whatever reason feels slighted.... that they have been deliberately targeted as the child who will suffer that day. They then make sure the rest of the car knows it and off we go. Twenty minutes later everyone has been "mediated" and they are told to "Never speak again unless it is an emergency and even then it is preferable that you just handle it yourself". So began each morning of our driving days. Perhaps the worst was my threat to ban all family trips until the kids have kids and then force them to drive exorbitant distances with 4 year olds...just so they know how it feels. The fact that this threat sounded like a four year old was not lost on any of us. I had also threatened to sell the dogs more than once…just to make myself feel better. Typically, this threat was met with laughter and therefore it had the opposite of my intended effect.

In the end we had covered some 2400 miles of which about 100 were really bad. The rest, while not perfect, were great as we all love Florida and appear to feel the same way about each other...just not in the morning...

The Family Road Trip....Part I

It started out as a risk and we both knew it. Sue and I debated it for a couple of days before deciding that we would pull the trigger and spend most of our Christmas budget on a family trip to Florida instead of another set of semi-useless gifts that were not really needed or wanted. That they would not be getting many gifts would not be the issue but the fact that we were pulling them away from their friends at New Years could be. Our oldest would turn 21 on January 1st (a day my wife has dreaded since she went into labor on December 31st, 1992) and we envisioned him having an elaborate plan of drinking and debauchery that we were about to foil. His brother who had just turned 18 last month now had a girlfriend (going on 6 months) and we feared  a mini Romeo and Juliet level of despondency over not spending New Year's Eve together. Their sister, now 14 has such an active social life that we wondered if we would have to put an ad in the paper explaining our decision to her friends...simply to get our side of the story "out there". As it turns out, all of them, while suspicious (we gave them "present clues" to open) were very open to the idea and excited about it actually. It probably helped with the boys that we had tickets to see Wisconsin play South Carolina on January 1st and while they did not care, Megan was floored that Hunter Hayes was playing both a pre-game concert and the halftime show. As parents, we had scored...at least a few points.

They were somewhat stunned that we were driving and not flying but we explained that the "Air travel budget had been eaten up with a rental house on the beach". Enough said. They understood. But they didn't...not really. You see mornings are the hardest. Like when battling a cold, starting a new workday or waking up from a night of "one too many"... mornings and road trips do not go well...especially when you combine a soon to be college graduate, two teens and their parents. Yes mornings are the hardest... and we were caught off guard.

On departure day the problems began. First, we decided to leave early as we were headed down to stay in Durham so our sons could see UNC (for the younger one) and Duke (for the oldest). We had roughly seven and a half hours which meant we "targeted" 7 am. This would give us enough time to see the two schools in daylight. I say "targeted" because we never meet our "targets" because they are set for the hours prior to noon and when our three kids are off school those hours are for sleeping not traveling.

At 8 AM we were deep in the middle of packing the car and this was a new experience; one that was not going well. In the past we had the giant SUV so we could essentially take anything or anyone we wanted and still have enough room for all Family members (even dogs). Now we were a little more space challenged...and two of us were taking golf clubs. This did not set well with the two of the passengers who identified the clubs as "space stealers" and "comfort crushers". The clubs made the trip. When my daughter saw her space in the third row her expression of disbelief was outdone only by the dogs who are very accustomed to seeing me leave the doorway with luggage in tow but who nearly shivered out of their hides when they saw Sue with a bag as well.

We exited the driveway at 8:25 AM and the chatter in the car was not about the excitement of the trip but more about how little space "this crappy car" had. Sue started out driving and our oldest was sitting behind me. Just prior to my getting in he had moved my seat all the way forward because he "Needed the leg room". I was able to sit in the seat but any sudden stop would have severed my spinal cord as my head would have hit the windshield. I had less legroom than on a regional jet and began to move back. The protests were deafening...so much so that after a couple of minutes I could no longer hear them. That may have been because the other two were arguing over where a bag was placed and how quickly it might fall and create discomfort, etc., etc. I attempted to mediate but as my wife often tells me that is not what I do for a living. I failed miserably and quickly moved from mediator to dictator making idle threats everyone including me knew I could not keep. I managed to be loud enough and sufficiently unreasonable that everyone stopped talking...totally. We were five minutes into the trip.

Blog Worthy III

Return trips home can often be the most challenging especially when things don't go according to schedule. When you have been away you just want to get home. The trip back from my two week sequester had no hiccups whatsoever. All was going very smoothly...my clubs were nestled safely in a Fed-Ex box probably waiting for me to get home (A tearful reunion a certainty) and my flights had been on time. Everything was running like clockwork. That is...until I landed in Philadelphia...

My typical routine is to depart the plane, make a quick pit stop to grab something to drink for the ride home and then reunite with my car in the parking garage. I even take the same route slipping over from Terminal D to Terminal E (which is the side of the parking garage where I leave my car). Today however, I knew I had to go to baggage claim, not because I checked my bag...I didn't... but because my ride was waiting for me there...the dreaded car service.

On the way as I was walking to meet the driver I heard a man behind me apparently trying to get someone's attention. That someone was me. He was on the moving sidewalk while I was not...so he quickly gained on me. I turned and he said in a very loud voice "Delta"? I said "I'm sorry"? "DELTA" now much louder... I still did not understand. "What about Delta do you mean"? "BAGGAGE CLAIM!! WHERE THE HELL IS IT"? He was actually angry with me...the person from whom he had just requested help. This did not sit well with me and so we had a bit of a discussion while he was "riding" and I was walking and I let him know that perhaps when requesting help he could find a more appropriate tone for "Someone with hat in hand". He did not care for my tone back and we continued to exchange "False pleasantries" for another 15 seconds before I finally said "You need to go to Terminal B"... As I expected, he "rewarded" me with a "Now that wasn't so hard was it" as he turned to go back to terminal B. Delta baggage claim is in Terminal D/E.

I left "The Happy Traveler" and was greeted by my driver. He was seemingly a pleasant enough twenty-something who took my luggage and outside we went...where he deposited me at the "Limo Drop-off Area". Then he went to go get the car. This did not make sense to me but apparently it is how things are done with car services in Philadelphia. I am not sure why they cannot use the cell lot but I decided not to ask. Ok, I did ask but his answer made no sense to me so I nodded as if I thought he had a point...a kind of side head nod that says "ok, got it". I didn't get it. Eventually the driver returned and we were off...after he explained where the water was, the newspapers and the AC controls...all very nice...just not necessary.

One minute in my driver began to ask me questions about my trip. I don't like this and usually provide one word answers. "Was your trip business or pleasure"? "Both". "How long were gone"? "A while". "Do you travel often...Do you like it"? "Yes and no". He wasn't catching on...about that time he informed me that at this time of day (it was around noon) we were not likely to hit any traffic. He said this as he locked up the brakes as a car in front of him had stopped abruptly. I saw this well before my driver did. We nearly crashed. He swore at the driver under his breath and screeched around him into the next lane without looking. Another car nearly hit us. My driver shook his fist at them. I was concerned although it was hard to have clear thoughts since the driver was blasting music on the radio flipping stations almost as often as he switched lanes. We had a few more close calls with him tailgating, lane hopping and starting and stopping. All the while, he  critiqued the "Bad Philadelphia drivers".

Less than halfway home he nearly hit a guard rail and had to make a sudden maneuver to avoid losing his lane altogether. I looked up (I had been trying to go into a travel coma and just get through the ride). and to my disbelief he was texting. Yes indeed.  He was looking down and texting with one hand. I bit my tongue and carried on while watching the road. The texting went on for three or four minutes on and off. I was fuming but was also a bit of a hostage on this roller coaster ride from Car Services Hell.

We managed to not have (or cause) an accident and were now on The Pennsylvania Turnpike which in the eastern part of the state is fairly straight and mostly flat. Even my "Driver Trainee" could handle this. I eased back in the seat (finally) and looked out the window. We weren't changing lanes as much and we seemed to be basically in the appropriate flow of traffic. Then we weren't. We drifted in and out of our lane a couple of times so I looked up into the rear view mirror. My driver was fighting off sleep. I watched his eyes close oh so briefly then open with eyes crossed and eyebrows lifting to try to keep his lids open. He recovered...then briefly faltered then recovered again. My eyes were glued to him and the road. Suddenly he faltered again and this time his head bobbed. I was done...or done for. I smacked his shoulder with a wrist flick I am sure left a bruise as my fingers left a stinging "smack" and yelled "Hey BUDDY...DO YOU NEED ME TO DRIVE "? He jolted awake and said he was "fine". We debated that for a couple of seconds and I sat back...watching him like the trapped passenger in a limo with a narcoleptic driver that I was. He faltered one more time so now I had no choice. I had to talk to him to keep him awake.

We talked the last thirty minutes about things I did not care about but that seemed to make him happy and kept him awake. He had a poorly thought out economic plan for the country that involved small planes, he told me how he was terribly underpaid for what he did (all I could think that unless he was an actor for Punk'd, he was grossly overpaid) and that he had driven another car yesterday to the airport with the emergency brake on the whole time...this made complete sense to me. We arrived home where I resisted the urge to kiss the ground. My driver left with a squeal of the tires and I contemplated how to report him without having him know it was me...still working on that.

My thoughts shifted to home where the only greetings I received were from two stunned canines who thought I had left for good.  My wife was at work and the kids were sawing logs deep in sleep. It was nearly 1PM. I walked through the house and saw a note stuck to the door. It was Fed-Ex...My clubs were "home" but since there was no answer they would return Monday... by 5PM. It was official...I had the hiccups.

NOTE: The Blog will continue but most likely at a reduced "rate" (see Blog Worthy I). However, I have been a bit more active on twitter where I find 140 characters easier, quicker and more satisfying for my supposed "quick wit". If you'd like to follow me please do...my address is @Themiddleseat.   You will get more of my travels in real time. Thanks as always for "Sharing the pain".