Thursday, September 20, 2007

Miscellaneous Shit

The queen wondered aloud on my lack of postage. It's a combination of many things, but mostly the amount of work that piles up as a trip onboard concludes. That and the stress of things looming at home as I retire for a very short break to the great north woods. Many things to do and very little time as my break is cut short for a stint at the North Pole this month. This stress has made me decidedly uncreative and pissy in the extreme. Not smoking has undoubtedly contributed to this, as well.

Nonetheless, faithful blogger that I am, I knew this and decided to buy the Internet service here in Minneapolis Airport for 8 bucks and post something, anything. So here I sit in front of the sushi bar in the food court, wasabi smeared on one cheek, bits of ginger in my beard trying to be be witty, interesting and creative while listening to Bach; Sarabande from Cello suite no. 5. All that comes to mind is that only a few hours ago I had an offshore physical and some doctor stuck his finger up my ass. And no, I didn't get a reach-around. That was my day and this is what you get for asking Queen. Eye bleach required.

I also was once again vaccinated against yellow fever, typhoid, diphtheria, tetanus and hepatitis-A; two shots in each bicep, so periodically I have to flap my arms like a bird, or I won't be able to move them, tomorrow, which happened to me the last time I was stuck with all these shots. So, I'm on an airplane. Flapping my arms like a bird. On an airplane. Yes, the stewardess finally came over and asked if I was OK, needed my medicine, or my hands cuffed behind my back with a plastic tie. Now, I shit you not-I told her about my shots and showed her the Spiderman band-aids to prove it (NO plastic tie cuffs for me). Her response? "I bet that hurt" and she punched me in the arm. Bicep. Right one. Yellow fever plus Typhoid. Nearly shit myself. Bitch.

I was also given a large, plastic shopping bag at the medical center. Inside was a clear, plastic bag labeled "BIOHAZARD" containing a bucket to crap in. Now, I was made to fast before this physical and while I managed to squeeze out about an ounce of pee, I cannot and will not crap on demand. For anyone-not even if you stick a finger up my ass. So they made me take it home. Since they watched me get into my limo, I had to take it with me to the airport. BIOHAZARD, my ass. or I should say, not my ass. By the way, if you want a laugh while traveling, lean over to the couple eating next you and tell them you typed "stick a finger up my ass" while listening to a Mozart Symphony. I'm a barrel of 'em today.

Did I mention that I farted in the sound booth halfway through my hearing test? Apparently I am nearly deaf in one ear and falling off the stool, gagging, is not an excuse to take the test over.

I could go on, I'm stuck here for at least five hours until Northwest tries to bump me off the last fucking flight of the day. Bastids. The 2:30 flight was canceled for some odd reason, so there's gonna be a shit-pot full of angry people trying to take the Pirate's seat tonight. If had known it would come to this I would have crapped in the bucket and used it as a weapon. Do you sense a theme here? I'm sitting in a food court talking shit. What's wrong with me?

A non-fecal anecdote- My limo driver tells me his wife works at the medical center we're heading to, this morning. He also says it's fucking huge. It's been 4 years since I've been there, but I remember it's easy to get lost. 35,000 people work there-no kidding. Well, after the physical, the guy is driving me through the med center campus, remarking on the number of new buildings, their functions and what-not, when he says that the place is full of hot women. I have to agree at this point and he rolls down his window and gives a gaggle of gals the old "hey baby" routine as we pull up to a light.

Suddenly, a woman turns around from another group and starts screaming at him. It was his WIFE. He actually made to run the red light, but traffic was heavy. She gave him a pretty good tongue-lashing until people started beeping behind us, then said she'd see him at home tonight if he had the balls to come home. He acted all tough and shit, but I bet he doesn't go home. That's how I knew 35,000 people work at the med center campus-he kept shaking his head and saying,"35,000 people! Why'd my wife have to be there?". Poor bastard, he was probably just trying to show off in front of me and now he's in a heap of trouble. In the shit, as it were.

Speaking of shit-here's some- A guy just tapped me on the shoulder, motioning me to remove my wonderful, noise cancellation headphones by Bose for 300 bucks at fine audio dealers across the country. He's asking me about how to log onto the airport wireless. Then he tells me to look at the windows and watch for a tornado. The airport itself must once again, have tornadoes on the infield. They are clearing people away from the glass and all that stupid crap. Last time this happened here it was a nightmare getting home. I had been awake for 3 days straight crew-xing out of Trinidad, West Indies and had a helluva time getting a rental car to drive home nine hours, then having to remove downed trees from the roadway to get out of the city. Great. maybe I'll end up live-blogging a tornado...I need a fucking drink.


Heidi said...

And I realize how bad my day is not.

Mr. Bud said...

ok buddy. i'm going to bed. drive safe. pushing it makes no sense. we'll all still be here tomorrow or the next day. get a big car, it's harder for the tornados to pick up.

qofd said...

I hope you get home soon. And no more fingers up the ass. Or tornados. But not up the ass, on the infield.