I like to pack early, so I'm not in a rush at the last minute and forget something. That reminds me, I need to remember my toothbrush. It's always the things you use right up until the last minute that you are most likely to forget, like Christmas ornaments. (Joke).
I attached my ID labels to my carry on and hand bag. I tried on different pairs of shorts and decided which to pack. I want to make sure to wear something that doesn't make my butt look big. I'm taking the 200 mm lens and flash, though I may not use them. The carry on can't weigh more than 35 pounds. I weighed myself, then picked up the bag, and so far, it's only me plus 20 pounds, even with the 200 mm, which is quite heavy. I packed my plastic jar for getting some white sand. I downloaded five MP3 albums of piano and trumpet jazz to listen to on the plane, and I made sure I have enough reading material on my kindle.
I bought canned dog food so that Phyllis doesn't have to make rice and eggs for the dogs, to add to their frozen food that I make. Today, I'm going to get a haircut. Also later, when it's within 24 hours before my flight, I am going to print my boarding pass. Flying procedures have changed quite a bit since back in the day, when you needed a real ticket. Now, according to Daughter, you just need an ID. I hope to God she's right, or I'll be spending my vacation in stupid Denver, Colorado, where there aren't any glass bottom boats.
Little Brother and I are going to visit Older Brother, who doesn't know I'm coming. Older Brother is a retired state trooper, and frowns on drug use, so I think I'll leave my "medicinal" marijuana at home. I may get boat sick, but I can deal with that. It's the no smoking three and a half hour flight that could cause withdrawals, so I will bring my nicotine gum. If that doesn't work, I'll just take out the first person who greets me cordially. Someone has to pay for my discomfort, and Phyllis isn't going to be there.
I think I might see if Little Brother will go on a deep sea fishing excursion, and I will try to hook a sailfish. I can have it stuffed and shipped home, and surprise Phyllis with a new living room wall piece. It will be a memorable souvenir and an ice-breaker at our cocktail parties. It will be a "conversation piece," and I will regale our guests with the story of how it took me seven hours to reel it in. Maybe, instead, I'll catch a swordfish, and tell of how I got impaled and (obviously) lived to tell about it.
All in all, I'm sure it will be a great trip, and I hope I remember to bring a daily change of underwear. Little Brother has a washer and dryer, but I may be too tired to do laundry after all of that fishing. Also, if I see any water moccasins, I may need to change my underwear a lot.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
God Damn Son of a Bitch...Phyllis
I threw my lunch together, tossed it in the car and took off. I had to get to work before Ms. Prissy Pants and get that note off her desk. I thought it was funny when I wrote it, but if she throws a fit, I could be fired. I’ve heard it a million times. When you write a note like that, hold on to it awhile. The recipient will not think it as funny as I did. “Goddamnit, why am I so hot-headed?” I thought.
I was approaching a parking lot driveway. The blue car appeared to be going to turn into the lane in front of me. I stopped. “OK! Go!” I waved it the go-ahead. The blue car was in front of me now. “Please let me get to work before Ms. Prissy Pants.” The light ahead turned yellow. The blue car could have made it thru, but it stopped instead.
“Shit!” I sat thru the yellow light and thru the red light. The light turned green and the blue car just sat there. I hit my horn. “Move, goddammit!” I hit my horn again and the blue car came back to life and started moving. A steady stream of oncoming traffic kept me trapped behind. My urgency seemed to make this car go even slower. “Jesus Christ!” I hit the steering wheel with my fist.
My mind was going forty miles per hour. The blue car was going twenty. It’s right turn signal came on and it slowed down even more. “Don’t roll it!” I yelled. “Thank God it’s going to turn.” We went several blocks like this then, for no reason I could see, it changed it’s mind and the turn signal went off. “Son of a BITCH!” I yelled. “Will you MOVE!”
As the blue car crawled along at 20 miles per hour, it was also intermittently hitting it’s breaks. It appeared to be breaking for shadows. “Jesus Christ Goddamn son of a bitch! What are you doing!” Another red light turned green and the blue car wasn’t paying attention. I laid on the horn. I could see the startled driver look into the rear view mirror, then start moving at the pace of a snail. I could feel my blood pressure crescendo and the top of my head ready to spin off into orbit. I was rocking back and forth in the driver’s seat. “Goddammit. goddammit. goddammit. goddammit.”
Finally, there was a short break in the oncoming traffic. I jerked the wheel to the left and sped up even with the blue car. The driver turned her head and looked at me just as I was hit head-on by an oncoming car. I recognized the driver just before I died. It was me.
I was approaching a parking lot driveway. The blue car appeared to be going to turn into the lane in front of me. I stopped. “OK! Go!” I waved it the go-ahead. The blue car was in front of me now. “Please let me get to work before Ms. Prissy Pants.” The light ahead turned yellow. The blue car could have made it thru, but it stopped instead.
“Shit!” I sat thru the yellow light and thru the red light. The light turned green and the blue car just sat there. I hit my horn. “Move, goddammit!” I hit my horn again and the blue car came back to life and started moving. A steady stream of oncoming traffic kept me trapped behind. My urgency seemed to make this car go even slower. “Jesus Christ!” I hit the steering wheel with my fist.
My mind was going forty miles per hour. The blue car was going twenty. It’s right turn signal came on and it slowed down even more. “Don’t roll it!” I yelled. “Thank God it’s going to turn.” We went several blocks like this then, for no reason I could see, it changed it’s mind and the turn signal went off. “Son of a BITCH!” I yelled. “Will you MOVE!”
As the blue car crawled along at 20 miles per hour, it was also intermittently hitting it’s breaks. It appeared to be breaking for shadows. “Jesus Christ Goddamn son of a bitch! What are you doing!” Another red light turned green and the blue car wasn’t paying attention. I laid on the horn. I could see the startled driver look into the rear view mirror, then start moving at the pace of a snail. I could feel my blood pressure crescendo and the top of my head ready to spin off into orbit. I was rocking back and forth in the driver’s seat. “Goddammit. goddammit. goddammit. goddammit.”
Finally, there was a short break in the oncoming traffic. I jerked the wheel to the left and sped up even with the blue car. The driver turned her head and looked at me just as I was hit head-on by an oncoming car. I recognized the driver just before I died. It was me.
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