There are no bad owners, only bad dogs

2005-09-01

Employment Needed.

Do I qualify as a Frequent Flyer yet? Because just now I recognized the cocktail waitress in the cesspool lounge in the Orlando Airport (itself a deep and seriously filled-to-the-brim cesspool that seems to have been the model for Reagan Airport in D.C.). When I ordered my cocktail du jour, she suggested a tall double for a mere $2 more. So apparently she recognized me, as well.

Today I was:
• Barked at by a cab driver for paying with a credit card, a service his company advertises. Apparently, paying with plastic leaves the cabbie without the proper change for the toll booth and somehow that’s MY fucking problem.
• Sweaty.
• Happy to be going home.

I have this odd perspective of Hurricane Katrina, as I was an ex-pat during the tsunami. I saw the Brits immediately and generously swing into action to collect money to help the aid relief. There were people in the tube collecting buckets of coins, storekeepers collected, everyone helped. Now there’s a disaster of devastating proportions right here in our own back yard, but I have no idea how anyone outside our borders is reacting. Are they helping? Ignoring it? How is this seen outside the US? Will aid workers and relief organizations from around the world come here to help? Holy crap, I’m becoming Jack Cafferty. help. I’ve developed an unhealthy relationship to CNN.

Next day:

The flight from Orlando to Dallas was interesting in that there was almost a riot among the passengers, spurred on by the flight attendants. There were about 6 people who boarded last and would not sit down so we could take off. They kept milling around in the aisle, trying to figure out where they could put their carry-on bags since the bins directly over their seats were already full. Apparently, finding a non-full bin didn’t occur to any of these visiting dignitaries from the planet Moronia, because instead of doing that, they were trying to ascertain ownership of the bags in THEIR bin so they could return the bag to the owner and take over that real estate. This continued for about 10 minutes while everyone else on the plane got angrier and angrier. The flight attendants made about 4 announcements about how we were ready to leave but couldn’t until everyone was seated. Then they made an announcement saying that if the bin over your seat is full, you should try to find one with some space. Eventually the idiots sat down and we took off.

The next leg of the trip was interesting in that a dude wearing a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses got on the plane right in front of me. He stopped to ask a flight attendant if he was supposed to sit in row 2 or row 3. She looked at his boarding pass and told him that it wasn’t an either/or situation, because his seat assignment was in row 23. Then he sat down in row 23 and proceeded to tell everyone around him that he was a secret service agent on a secret mission. Then he said he was an air marshal. Then he said he was a secret agent. His carry-on baggage consisted of a barf bag full of mini-sized bottles of liquor. He forgot his carry-on baggage when he was being escorted off the plane, but they took it out to him.

Then I got home to find my dogs waiting for me – Yay!! It was because they got kicked out of Dog Camp for being bossy – Boo! No surprise, I guess. My monkey got kicked out of Montessori school in second grade for allegedly pulling down a girl’s pants. I suppose it’s just a tradition in our tribe to get voted off the island.

This morning I wrote a very snotty email to a dude who had written an email to me – FULL of typos, by the way – saying that a draft document I had sent to him had “the symbol for pie” in it where there should have been a check mark. I quoted his email back to him, noting that he had said that something “look’s like” blah blah and mentioning that I assumed that “the symbol for pie” referred to pi. So I’m probably going to get fired. If there were a symbol for pie, I certainly would use it daily, but I haven’t been able to find it in the Wingdings. Will edit for food.

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