I'm out in LA on business, so I'll actually try to keep a real blog going this week. I doubt that I'll get to post stuff every day (both for lack of want to and lack of interesting things to post), but I'm hoping for 2-3 moderately entertaining posts.
Sunday. Direct flight from Reagan National Airport to LAX--5 hours and 43 minutes. The captain mentions an 82 knot headwind that we're flying into--that sounds like a lot to me. I'm on an Alaska Air flight (was booked through Delta, but operated by AA). As a result, you had to call and book your seat, it wasn't available online. Result was that I called and got an aisle, the other three that I'm traveling with all got stuck in middle seats. 6 hours in a middle seat is my idea of hell, and one of the guys is in the last row next to the pisser. Sucks to be him.
Fairly uneventful flight, there are a lot of Koreans on the flight. Not sure if they all fly AA, or they're all just going back to LA. Get to the rental car place (Avis) and they try to up-sell me on the car category. No, I don't need an Impala, just give me the Malibu or Monte Carlo that I signed up for and let's get this done with. She tries a couple of more times, but finally gives in and gives me my contract. It's in space 938 and it's a canary yellow '06 Mustang. I see what she's writing and I tell her that that's not what I asked for in the reservation. Sorry, that's all we have. Really?!? Are you fucking kidding me?!?! "Is there anything else available?" I ask. "I'll even move down a category." "No, I'm sorry", is her response. I feel like I'm being punished for something. So I'm the homo driving around a Navy base in a canary yellow Mustang.
Stop by a friend's place to meet up to watch the Superbowl. Liz lives in Redondo Beach, about 10 minutes from the airport. Derek meets up with us with a friend, Carol. She turns out to be very funny, attractive, intelligent, and she doesn't work for his company. Hmmm. She must not know him very well, or he must have some sort of incriminating photos of her. Anyway, off to lunch at Hermosa Beach at a little Mexican place. Decent food, nothing outstanding. The major subject of conversation turns out to be sex acts/positions. Rusty Trombone, Cincinnati Bowtie, Cleveland Steamer, ATM, Bull Rider, etc. Just your general run of the mill, lunch conversation. The Superbowl has started, but Liz TiVo'd it, so we're heading back about 20 minutes into the game.
I won't talk about the game, but we all have a good time and head out to our hotel. I already love the fact that we've watched the game and it's still early. The hotel is in Oxnard, about an hour north of LA. Check in, and here I am, writing in the blog. The plan is to try to stay mostly on East Coast time, but I know that that is doomed. I'm hoping to get up early tomorrow, get a run in and still be out of here by 0800 LA-time. We'll see what happens.
Talk to everyone tomorrow.
3 comments:
There is a reason why I normally watch the Superbowl alone. If things go bad, I hate talking to people about it. If things are going well, I still don't want to talk to anyone because I'm so nervous. But this was a great place to watch the game and it brought me some good luck. Plus everyone was very nice and those cookies were crazy good. So
tell Liz that I will be coming over now for every superbowl or any other type of big game.
Nice work trying to play off the yellow Mustang. You didn't mention how you brought your Katrina and the Waves 'Walking on Sunshine' CD for the ride. I'll probably call tomorrow @ 7 your time to let you know what came of the tickets for tomorrow night.
Also, read King's Super Bowl recap. He's the most arrogant writer this side of Rick Reily. I am shuddering that I took the time to read the whole steaming load.
Is this the right place to admit that I almost bought a yellow Mustang for my first new car out of college?
No? Well, ok then. Strike the record.
And rrd - I'm starting to agree with you. Peter King seems to get more pompous as the week goes on. It's less real football and more one-line digs at anyone.
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