It’s not easy being a Jew:

I’m not Jewish.  I’m really not anything.  But I am seriously dating a Jew and I have many Jewish friends.  And I must say, my hat is off to you folks and what you are forced to endure every time the Catholics celebrate one of their pagan holidays.    What an incredible pain in the ass it is to accomplish anything for you and I should say “us” now, on such holiday’s, of which you don’t even get to celebrate.   I’ve never really “celebrated” Easter anyway so I went into yesterday, thinking “this will just be a nice normal Sunday”.  Below is a timeline of how myself and my girlfriend’s day went yesterday. 

Saturday April 23^rd, 3:00 PM:

As I do almost every Saturday, I dropped my dirty laundry off at the local Laundromat to be picked up later that day. 

Saturday April 23^rd, 7:00 PM:

We meet up with some of my girlfriend’s crew to celebrate one of her friend’s birthdays.  I planned on being there for maybe a couple of hours, having a nice dinner, and going home after retrieving my laundry from the Laundromat.   Instead, the party turned out to be a blast, and I drank two Martini’s and two Bombay and Sprite’s.  On the way home we forgot to pick up my laundry but I did remember to pick up a chicken sandwich meal and a peanut buster parfait from Dairy Queen.  We then, went home, watched Ghostbusters and passed out.  Never for a minute, did I think about my laundry situation.

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 9:00 AM:

I rouse from a long, dreamless slumber in my usual pajama pants and tee shirt.  I roll out of bed and immediately notice that my usual stack of clean clothes is absent from my floor and closet.  At that point, I remember what I had done and that it is Easter and there is a good chance that the Laundromat will be closed and I will be unable to pickup my laundry.  Now over the years, I have become a virtual Gold Glover in regards to making my “second unit” clothing items work for a day or two or three.  But the day before, I made a conscience effort to pack as much shit into my laundry basket as I could to be cleaned.  This included my starting rotation of clothing items as well as a good percentage of my bullpen and third unit items.  I was left with nothing but the stuff that I would have a hard time getting Good Will to accept. 

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 11:00 AM:

My girlfriend and I decided to go out for lunch and eventually hit the driving range as it was a gorgeous day outside.  So I marched into my bedroom and put on my stoned washed Levi Jeans and a graphic, muscle tee-shirt with a huge football helmet on the front of it.  I looked like a man who wasn’t sure if he was going to a tryout for the 1985 Philadelphia Eagles or to a Motley Crew Concert.  I didn’t even remember that I owned this particular pair of jeans.   I can’t imagine why I would have ever purchased them or when they were ever “in style”,   they had more holes in them then the US Healthcare System, and were tight enough in the crotch area to be widely considered, socially unacceptable.  Especially since all of my underwear was at the shackled Laundromat.  I was forced to pair them up with the always popular muscle, graphic tee made famous by ripped UFC cage fighters, not so much overweight 30 year old men in the midst of a mean hangover. 

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 11:30 AM:

We decided to go for lunch at my friends bar in Lincoln Rhode Island.   Surely Dave would have his bar open on Easter.  After a 30 minute drive we came to an empty parking lot in front of his bar and found a note from Dave on the door stating that the bar would not be open for two hours and when it was, there would be a “limited” menu.  So we didn’t feel like waiting two hours for whatever sort of limited menu Dave had to offer.   This really put a strain on my ego.  Now I would be forced to go to some other public place to eat looking like Joe Dirt’s fatter brother. 

We continued deeper into Rhode Island, all the while choosing different places we would like to eat.  One by one, they dropped off the list like flies.  Johnny Rockets – Closed, Chipotle – Closed, Pisano’s Pizzeria – Closed, Panera Bread – Closed.  The only thing that was open was the always delicious Boston Market.  So I ended up sitting in a Boston Market, in Cranston Rhode Island, eating Turkey, Mashed Potatoes and Macaroni and Cheese for lunch, looking like some kind of Cinderella Super Fan who had been hit by a car.  

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 12:15 PM:

We leave Boston Market and get back into my truck and head to the driving range.  Surely, the management of the driving range would not allow the facility to be closed on such a beautiful spring day.   Well they were closed.  My frustration had been mounting all day.  On the way out of the parking lot, I yelled, and I quote, “Fuck my Life!” , prior to realizing that my window was down and that there was a carload of old ladies directly next to me.  They were none to pleased.

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 12:30 PM:

After a solid hour and a half of driving around being repeatedly disappointed we decided to go throw the football in the park.  Luckily the park was open and we had a great time playing catch.  Unfortunately my fun was short lived because I stepped in dog shit and then stepped into a pile of wood chips, which stuck to the dog shit and coated the bottom of my shoe.  So I found myself walking home, in my holy, stoned washed Levi’s, my graphic muscle tee and my shoe covered in dog shit. 

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 4:30 PM:

At this point, I had a chance to unwind and for some reason was stricken by an extreme hankering for Honey Bunches of Oates.  Anyone who knows me knows that this particular cereal is a mainstay in my pantry.   But I had run out the previous week.  Surely the grocery store would be open, it wasn’t.  We pulled into the grocery store parking lot at the same time as what must have been another Jewish couple.  My girlfriend got out and verified that the store was indeed not open.  When I saw this, I slammed my fist into the steering wheel and yelled some sort of expletive.  At nearly the exact same time, the other Jewish couple also realized that the store was not open and in their frustration yelled “Fuck” at the top of their lungs, which reverberated through the parking lot like a gun shot.  I found this situation comforting.  It let us know that we weren’t alone in our dissapointment.  There were probably hundreds of others, just like us, struggling to enjoy their Sunday. 

Easter Sunday April 24^th, 5:00 PM:

I’m still wearing my graphic muscle tee shirt in which I look like a 5^th grader who swallowed a penguin.  I still have my 80’s rocker, nut hugging jeans on, of which my reproductive system will never be the same and now I had my backup skateboarder tennis shoes on because my Cole Han’s are now at home covered in dog shit and wood chips.  And I am walking into a CVS Pharmacy to buy Honey Bunches of Oates.  Luckily they were running a sale on cereal and I made it out of there with 3 boxes, milk and a quart of ice cream. 

We went home and enjoyed our cereal and ice cream and watched Pretty in Pink.  And that was my Easter.  Thanks a lot Catholics.

Ever Notice:

Did you ever notice that aliens never seem to abduct anyone smart?   Every time I hear a testimonial about how someone was abducted by aliens, it is always from some sweaty, cracked out hick in a Disney tank top.  When was the last time you heard of a physicist or some kind of engineer or anyone who has graduated from High School being abducted by aliens?   Is it just a coincidence or do you think the aliens have some sort of an affinity for unintelligent, strung out, white people?   Come to think of it, I have never heard of a black person being abducted by aliens either.  So it looks like we’ve got a bunch of racist, white trash loving aliens on our hands,…. terrifying.   Obviously I don’t think any of it is true, but if it is, and the aliens are judging the entirety of the human race based off of these people, we are all doomed.

Did you ever notice how American’s don’t really ever figure anything out or fix anything anymore?  At present, we have bridges falling into rivers, road conditions that rival that of Bangladesh, diseases that have been killing people for decades,  an economy based on lousy service, gas prices at an all time high, a populous that cares more about sports and preventing smoking in bars then education for their kids,  a completely divided government, two and a half wars, birds falling from the sky, oil spills, fish dying, bankrupt cities, bankrupt states and a Federal Government that would be bankrupt if they ever stopped printing money for themselves, a world full of people who hate us and global warming.  But what are we focused on now, marketing, cell phones and making boner pills.  

Did you ever notice how everyone seems to become stupider as soon as they get behind the wheel of a car?   I don’t know why it happens, but people seem to become more and more inept on our roads on a daily basis.  It is not tough to see the evidence. It is as though everyone gets into their car in the morning and then proceeds to hit themselves in the head with a hammer before they pull out of their driveway.  In 2010 alone, I have personally witnessed the following roadside incidents;

·         A woman rammed into the side of a bridge and ripped off her own side view mirror and then just kept driving like nothing happened.

·          A guy who backed into a tree, in his own front yard, in the middle of summer.  And he must have done this at a high rate of speed because his car was basically destroyed.

·         A man who got hit by a car outside of my Laundromat who scrambled to his feet after the crash and grabbed his drugs off the ground and then just ran away. 

·         A man who slammed his kids head into the trunk of his car on accident.

·         A tractor trailer completely engulfed in flames in the middle of a residential neighborhood.

·         Finally I saw, a tow truck attempt to pull a car out of a ditch and effectively yanked his own tow truck into the ditch on top of the car he was trying to tow, destroying the car completely. 

These are events that I have personally witnessed or witnessed the immediate aftermath of, over the past one year of time.  People are terrible at driving cars these days, absolutely, positively terrible. 

Did you ever notice how terrible we are at handling traffic accidents?   In my opinion, if there is a traffic accident that potentially effects hundreds or thousands of people from getting to where they are trying to go, then priority one should be to move the wrecked crap out of everyone’s way.   Unfortunately, more often than not, the authorities spend an hour blocking off lanes, setting up flares, interviewing people, basically just dicking around trying to CSI the incident.  As though it is difficult to figure out which moron managed to slam into the other one with his car on a highway.  Meanwhile, the other several thousand of us taxpaying citizens, have to sit in our cars, burning through our precious gasoline waiting to be allowed to move on with our lives.

 If I had my way, there would be a huge bulldozer, every 10 miles or so, along every highway.  And if you are talented enough to get into a car wreck on a highway, you have about 15 minutes to overcome your injuries and get your car off the road and out of everyone else’s way.  If not, the bulldozer will move you and your car, and anything else in front of it into the ditch.  The cops can then sort it out later.  The bulldozer could also be useful for road kill removal as well as snow removal in winter; it’s a win win situation.

Did you ever notice how 90’s Alternative Rock has quietly become the most resilient genre of music, ever?  They say Rock and Roll will never die.  But more specifically, 90’s Alternative Rock seems to be more resilient then a cockroach in a nuke storm.  I am convinced that I am going to be listening to songs like “No Rain” by Blind Melon and “Little Miss Can’t Be Wrong” by The Spin Doctors until the day I die. 

What sort of royalties are Jane’s Addiction still collecting after all these years from their smash hits like; “Jane Said” and “Been Caught Stealing”?   I can’t go a month of my life without hearing both of those songs.  You can’t even get yourself away from this music, it will seek you out, wherever you are, and you will have to sit and listen to Perry Ferrell’s bitchy, womanly, pee-wee Herman voice, screeching out of your speakers. 

Why this genre?  You don’t hear 70’s disco music being played with anywhere near this sort of frequency, you can’t even find 80’s hair metal on the radio anymore except a few select songs.   The late 90’s, early 2000’s “Nu-Metal” movement is all but forgotten, grunge has been relegated to radio filler for all of the 90’s alternative rock wrapped around it.  I find it amazing that I can’t tell you the last time I heard the Beatles on the radio but I can tell you exactly the last time I heard The Counting Crows. 

Booze:

I have had a lot of fun on the drink.  I have also had some horrible experiences.  I think that this is true for just about anyone who has ever tried alcohol.   I don’t drink much anymore.  But when I do, I push the envelope.  Having a couple of social drinks just seems like a complete waste of time to me.   I don’t like alcohol that much, so I guess I just assume, that if I am drinking, I minus well get as much in as I can.  Here are a few interesting scenarios that have occurred in my life, that could only have happened with the help of mass amounts of booze. 

The Halloween incident:   A few Halloween’s ago, I dressed up as batman.  A slightly plump, 5’9 Batman, with glasses, but I wore it well.  I then went to the bar with several of my friends.  The night was going great; I had been drinking my favorite cocktail, (Bombay Sapphire and tonic) vigorously for several hours.  It was a laugh a minute kind of evening, everyone was all smiles.  Then it happened, some other short, fat man, entered the bar wearing a Superman costume.   Immediately, I felt as though it was my responsibility to put an end to the Superman vs. Batman rivalry.  

I remember leaning into my group of friends and yelling “This shit ends tonight”!!   I must have said this with some level of seriousness as my friends immediately looked concerned about what was going to happen next.   But it was too late.  I lowered my batman mask and proceeded to tackle the man in the Superman suit.   I don’t think Superman had been drinking nearly as much as I had, as he didn’t really fight back.  I think he was so shocked about what was happening that he couldn’t figure out what to do.  

The bar immediately erupted into cheers as people began cheering for whichever super hero they liked better.  The fun was short lived as we both were dragged out of the bar by the bouncers and physically thrown onto the sidewalk.   Who knew, Superman and Batman could be so easily disposed of by a couple of bouncers. 

The Fence Story:  This is a story I will not be able to tell my grandchildren without laughing my ass off.  Me and my good buddy Dan went out to some bars in the Warehouse District Neighborhood of Cleveland Ohio.  At the time, he lived on the West Bank of the Flats in Cleveland.   This is kind of a hike from the Warehouse District.  We closed down a popular hotspot known as the Blind Pig.   Both of us were absolutely cocked. 

Now, at this point, what we should have done was take a cab back to his place on the West Bank.   But Dan wanted to walk and save the 15 dollars.  Had he known what was about to happen, he would have paid triple. 

We get about a quarter of the way back to his place and I, for some insane reason, announce that “I know a shortcut”.  For the life of me I cannot remember where I got this idea as I had never made this particular walk before.  I had never made any sort of a walk like this anywhere.  Certainly not in this state of mind.  But Dan went along with it without much of an argument. 

After a couple minute stumble through an enormous parking lot, we came to a fence.  This fence was 12 feet high with barbed wire on top of it. On the other side, it was woods, which we couldn’t see through, because it was about 2 in the morning.  I convinced Dan, that if we could just climb over this fence, we would be at his apartment in no time.   In years since, I have often looked at this area on Google Maps and always laugh, because this fence is absolutely nowhere near where Dan’s apartment was. 

So I climb the fence first, hammered and laughing as I reach the top.  I tried to straddle the barbed wire but my pants got caught and it tore a gash in my pant leg clear down from my inseam to my knee.  I then fell over the top of the fence, down 12 feet onto the dirtiest, litter covered, wooded hill, imaginable.  Dan was next.  And in a near impossible turn of events, Dan also got his pants caught on the top of the fence and fell down the hill.  So there we were the two of us, with matching slits in our pants, drunk, filthy, bleeding and tired.  But we were over the fence, nothing could stop us now.

At this point, we walked down the hill and through the patch of woods, the entire time thinking we would emerge on the other side and be right at Dan’s apartment complex.  To our dismay, the wooded area ended at the edge of an 80 foot, man-made, drop off into another parking lot.  There was no way down, no ladder, no stairs, and nowhere else to go but back the way we came…..  back over the fence.

At this point, we are blaming each other for this predicament, but in hindsight, it was mostly my fault.  Again, I went first over the fence.   I couldn’t concentrate as Dan was laughing his ass off and I was too.  My other leg got caught on the barbed wire and ripped an identical gash into my other pant leg.  In aggravation, I attempted to just leap down to the parking lot.  Unfortunately a guard rail got in the way of my balls and I crotched myself on it.  To this day, nothing has ever been more painful.   I remember laying on the ground, bloody, my pants destroyed, covered in dirt and filth, having just crotched myself on a guard rail, holding back tears of pain while Dan nearly choked to death laughing.  Dan’s laughter was short lived as he had gotten the idea that he could somehow avoid climbing back over the fence and squeeze under it instead.  Unfortunately Dan was unable to hold the fence up high enough and it snapped back onto his forehead, immediately creating a bloody gash in the middle of his head. 

At long last, we were both on the other side, back to where we started.  We went to the nearest bar to try to clean ourselves up and the bouncer looked at us like we had three heads.  I told him that we got hit by a bus and needed to use his bathroom.  And he believed us.  At that point, we were so dirty and bloody and tattered that someone actually believed that we had been hit by a bus!  After a quick cleanup in the restroom, we walked the rest of the way back to Dan’s and passed out.

Late for work:  One evening after work, myself and some of my colleagues went out for “a few beers” at the bar across the street from my job.   About a dozen beers later, at around 2:30 in the morning, I was in no condition to drive home.   I managed to stumble back across the street to my car which was parked right in front of the door of my job.  I got into the passenger seat, propped it all the way back, and passed out.  After all I had to be back in work in about 6 hours at 9 am. 

I woke up at around 11:30 in the morning, in the passenger seat of my own car, covered in sweat, with the sun beating down on me, still parked right in front of my office.  At some point throughout the night, I had taken my shirt off and was passed out, bare chest, in plain view of all of my coworkers as they arrived into work.  Worse off, I had to wander into work, 2 and half hours late, unable to make any sort of excuses for myself.  After all, how could I lie to my boss when he was able to see me passed out in my car, half naked at 11:30 in the morning on a Tuesday? 

Lube Stop Jacket Guy:   I used to spend a lot of time at what can be referred to as “Redneck bars”.  One thing I have learned since is that rednecks are not to be messed with.  Like most things in my life I learned this lesson the hard way. 

Me and about 3 of my friends found ourselves in some disgusting backwoods dive one evening and for whatever reason were already fairly drunk when we arrived.  About an hour and about 5 shots later I notice a man sitting by himself at the corner of the bar, wearing a bright yellow Pennzoil Lube Stop jacket.   The drunken idiot part of my brain informed me to immediately get up and give this man shit about it.  So I walked over behind him and began singling the Lube Stop….  Penz….Oil jingle into his ear.  This man was not having any part of this because without a moment’s hesitation he turned around and punched me in the face.  To this day, I have never been hit so hard.  I’ve been in serious car crashes that weren’t nearly as debilitating as this strike.   I remember making some sort of a sound that resembled that of a goose getting run over by a golf cart.  I then flew back against the wall behind me and lost consciousness for about eight seconds. 

When I came to, the man in the Lube Stop Jacket had proceeded to also punch my best friend in the face and was already working on another friend of mine. 

When it was all said and done, this man had basically kicked all four of our asses.  I guess it was just not a good day to make fun of that guy. 

Interestingly enough, we all got thrown out of the bar and he got to stay. 

Gyros anyone?  Myself and the aforementioned Dan were again shitfaced somewhere in Cleveland.  Around 1 in the morning, we decided to take a taxi back to a bar closer to his place.  Prior to entering the taxi, we went to a late night gyro stand and purchased a couple of Gyros to eat on the way. 

These particular gyros were not good.   We both took a couple of bites and were done with them.  Now, what we should have done was pitch them out the window or hold onto them until we found a garbage can.  But instead we shoved them into the taxi driver’s backseat pockets, those things where you generally put magazines, not messy food items. 

We arrived at our bar and got out and paid the driver.  He immediately noticed that we no longer had our gyros or any of the garbage that went along with them.  He then, very quickly figured out what we had done.  Dan and I stood there and laughed for a minute, thinking he would just be mad then go away.  Instead the cab driver pulled out a knife and proceeded to chase us about two blocks through the flats. 

Finally we lost him and had to come to grips with the fact that there is a taxi driver, somewhere out there, with a knife, who meant to kill us.  We went to a strip club. 

Sadly, this but a mere snapshot of the drunken tales that I could mention here.  More to come. 

Fake People

I’ve spent my fair share of time surrounded by people who I consider to be pretentious.  I have gotten in many of argument with my friend Ben who apparently thinks that everyone is just acting how they “are” and that nobody is really “pretentious”.  Maybe I am in the wrong.  Maybe I am the one who is not giving humanity the credit it deserves for all of our individual differences. But anyone who knows me knows that I have a hard time with being wrong.   So I will let you read my below examples of what I have found to be pretentious behavior in my friends and you can make your own judgments. 

A lot of my friends will purposely order expensive, disgusting food items at expensive restaurants and act like they enjoy eating them:  I’m often looked down upon by my friends when I order a filet and they have ordered something like “sweet breads” (Sheep Brain) or a whole pigs head for dinner.  Now I find these situations hilarious.  Because someone with a steaming, severed pigs head sitting in front of them is actually giving me shit for ordering what has been widely agreed upon as the best piece of meat on any market.  I mean, entire religions have denounced pork in general, let alone eating the god damn things head for dinner.  Or how about a guy sitting there smearing a sheep’s brain onto a cracker who actually thinks they have a more sophisticated pallet then I.  Why? Because I get to go to sleep tonight having paid less money, for better food, while not risking a staph infection?   For the life of me, I cannot understand why my friends do this.  How can you justify paying over a hundred dollars for a meal consisting of things that a goat would refuse to eat?  And all the while, fancy yourself as some kind of sophisticated individual?  I might be over-simplifying the situation, but I don’t see a sophisticated person sitting across from me, I see a desperately pretentious person who enjoys wasting money on horrendous food.  Does anyone really enjoy eating a pig’s head?  And even if they say that they do, isn’t that kind of a problem in and of itself?

 Here is what I think is going on with them, and of course I could be completely wrong.  Somewhere along the line with them, what they enjoy eating took a back seat to… “What can I order that will impress my friends?”  So it’s not about what they WANT to eat, more so, what can I order that will make me look creative and free-spirited and sophisticated?  I’ll bet that if some chef came out with an entree that consisted of people snorting ants off of a popsicle stick, some of my friends would be lined up to sample just such a dish. 

How come everyone at any wine bar knows so much about art?  The answer is simple, they don’t.   However, the atmosphere within any wine bar is generally artsy and peoples incessant need to constantly be speaking to one another about anything that they can muster, leads to them discussing art with each other.   You can have one guy who works in a machine shop and a woman who works as a debt collector talking to each other as though they curate Picasso’s in their basements in their spare time.  To me, people who are “artsy” and who are not artists are some of the most pretentious people you can find.  Now they will generally say things like “You don’t have to be an artist to appreciate fine art”.  And I agree, but if you could do it, or have ever even tried to do it, then your opinion would be of value to me.  But the vast majority of my friends have never painted anything short of a wall or two in their apartments, nor do they work in any sort of a capacity that involves art in any way.  Am I to believe, that in their spare time, they took it upon themselves to study fine art to a point where they have enough knowledge of it to carry on a two hour conversation about it, at a wine bar?  You’re really not just talking out your ass about art to each other?    The answer is simple, they don’t know shit about art, but the atmosphere with which they have found themselves in encourages a more sophisticated level of conversation.  It’s not cool to talk about football at a wine bar.  God forbid someone overhears you speaking of something where you know what the hell you’re talking about. 

Men in a wine bar are a farce to begin with.  I smile when I see a guy struggle to order a glass of wine off of an enormous list, of wines with names that he can’t pronounce.  Because at least that guy isn’t acting like he has heard of any of them.  At least he isn’t pretending to know the difference between Razor’s Edge Charraz and Porte Blac le Canfior dry.  You know that that guy isn’t going to try to strike up a conversation about art with you later.  It’s the guys who walk into a wine bar, look at the list, order something, and act like they are completely within their element that concern me.   Gay guys are excluded because gay guys know wine.  The problem is, there really are some straight guys who know a lot about wine.  And they are the ones who ruin it for everyone.  Because for every one of them, there are a about a thousand pretentious assholes who wouldn’t know Merlot from Grape Faygo showing up at wine bars and trying to start conversations with people about art.

Pretentious people are some of the most close minded individuals on Earth:   Now this is counterintuitive to hear, but in my opinion absolutely true.  By nature, a pretentious person will usually be artsy and maybe make his or her own clothes, and act free-spirited and accepting of others.  However, this is not the case.  From my experience, pretentious folks want nothing to do with anyone who doesn’t share their own pretentious opinions.  If you don’t believe me, ask an “artsy” person, in as friendly a manner as you possibly can, what they thought of the game last night.  And see what kind of response you get out of that person.  99 times out of 100 they will bite your head off about how they not only didn’t watch the game but could care less about any sport because of how artsy and pretentious they are.  If you’re extra lucky, they will even take the time to let you know the underlying reasons for their sports hatred.  To me, this is strange, on the outside they seem like they would be such outgoing, accepting folks. They seem like they would be open minded enough to see someone trying to strike up a friendly conversation with them and at the very least, respectfully decline.  But on the inside, there is a storm a-brewin.   No pretentious person has ever respectfully declined a conversation that they aren’t interested in, after all that would be the sensible route.  Instead they must crush the person in front of them for asking such a ridiculous question about a sport that millions of people watch every day. They must, at any cost prove to this stranger that they aren’t interested in anything normal or main-stream.  And they generally accomplish this by acting like a complete asshole to you. 

Sometimes they will even take it to a point where they laugh at you when you talk about your opinion of music that they disagree with.  Usually the pretentious crowd will refuse to acknowledge any sort of music that could possibly have ever made it onto any sort of a radio station.  What they like is generally some combination of Indian music, trance, and industrial.  Now to most people, this music is horse shit, plain and simple.  But to them, it is all that is, and ever has been, in the world of music.  And they are passionate about it to a point where they will laugh out loud at you when you tell them you like The Doors or Korn or Nirvana.  Because, they, in their own heads, have made themselves so sophisticated, that they couldn’t even fathom listening to anything but what they believe to be good music.  These people take this attitude towards just about everything in their lives.  They are basically just dead to everything outside of their box.  And this is our problem, because we just aren’t advanced enough in our lives to possibly understand the level of sophistication that they have reached in theirs. 

Generally pretentious people will hide behind the “you just can’t understand me” excuse.  “You just can’t understand me” is a very convenient explanation for someone who has no fucking idea what they are trying to talk to you about.  Who couldn’t understand you is more like it.  What’s to understand?   You love art; you’re extremely hostile towards people who don’t, yet you have no practical art experience and you work in a factory.  You love a certain kind of music that most people think sounds like an Indian version of daft punk remaking Nine Inch Nails songs, and you like to eat food that the FDA likens to medical waste.   Is that about the half of it?   Are there any more layers to this complex onion that is you?  Maybe you’re not as original as you fancy yourself?  Maybe you’re just a bitter, pretentious weirdo?  

Or maybe I’m just a close minded boob.  Either way it’s funny.

It’s the End of The World??

Every time a tree falls down in the park someone thinks it is the end of the world.  I disagree with these people but there are some strange things going on, I will admit.  I don’t understand their motivation.  Even if they are right, and there was nothing any of us could do about it, what is the point in harping on the fact?  How could that be productive? 

And the notion that the “World” could be coming to an end is about as arrogant a statement as anyone could make.  I am no scientist, but read my lips; The World (Earth) isn’t going anywhere.  Not for billions of years when the sun swells up and engulfs us along with Mercury, Venus and probably Mars.  One way or the other, no matter what we do, this rock is going to be floating around space for a long, long time after we have either left or terminated each other. 

According to non-Christian people, much smarter than me, our world has been around for about 4.55 billion years.  Humans have been around for somewhere around 195 thousand of those years.  Most of those 195 thousand years were spent, by our knuckle dragging ancestors walking around, trying not to freeze to death.  So you can really only count about the past 6 or 7 thousand years of history as being anything we should pay attention to.  And this is being generous.  Most of that 6 or 7 thousand years was spent by people, running around desserts, chopping one another’s heads off.   Not exactly a progressive society.  Only in the past 5 or 6 hundred years, have we really begun to grasp Earth Science and the laws of physics that are at work all around us every day.  

The average human being on Earth lives for 78 years.  That’s 78 years against 4.55 billion of which we have only been self aware of how things work for about 600.  There have always been people so paranoid and crazy, yet arrogant in their beliefs, that they think that our planet is going to end within the miniscule amount of time they are walking around on it.  

Our cosmos has a much slower Swatch.  As far as our Earth and Solar System and Galaxy and Universe are concerned, 78 years isn’t enough time to microwave a hot pocket.  Our planet couldn’t blow its nose in 78 years.  Mowing your lawn, takes thousands of years on a planetary level.  For this reason, and many others, there is no F’ing way that the world is going to come to an end within our lifetimes.  The probability of that happening is so infinitesimally remote that I am comfortable with calling it, impossible. 

There have always been earthquakes, there have always been floods, and there have always been hurricanes.  The difference between these events now and when they happened a few hundred years ago are the amount of people affected by these events.  Katrina would not have been a problem, if New Orleans hadn’t gotten in its way.  Japan is so insanely populated, that of course something like this earthquake is going to be a major humanitarian disaster.  Birds and fish die.  I don’t know why they are deciding to die in huge numbers, all at the same time, but it’s not because the world is ending, I will guarantee you that. 

We don’t do ourselves a whole lot of favors within our own human nature.  Human beings, no matter where they are on the planet, love to live around the oceans.  As we have industrialized and built up ports and traded with each other over the years, the major population centers have had to be built along the coasts. This is right where most of the horrific shit happens on our planet, which turns something like a flood, running 6 miles inland, into a catastrophic calamity of biblical proportions.  Nearly every coastline on our planet has human being after human being, literally stacked up on top of each other to the point where they can barely move.  But we can’t seem to understand why a flood would take so many of us out.

Now, the planet aside, is it possible for life on Earth to end within our lifetimes?  Again, no, life on this planet isn’t going anywhere for a long, long time.  The quality of our life could suck a lot more as the years go by but it isn’t going to kill us all off.  Human beings would have starved to death if they didn’t learn how to stand on their back legs and reach for leaves to eat. They survived ice ages and famine, and predators trying to eat them.  Some crazy assholes even believe that we survived a planetary flood on a big wooden boat, that one dude named Noah built, and put two of every animal on the planet onto.   If we can pull that shit off, we can stomach a flood or an earthquake or a hurricane or a few dead birds every once in a while. 

I am a lot more worried about the progressive dumbification of our species that seems to be doing nothing but accelerating as the years go by.  To me, this is what’s going to ruin all of our lives.  I am a lot more worried about the collective IQ of our voting population then I am about a volcano or tidal wave.  Democracy only works if you have people who can understand what it is that they are voting for.  As soon as you don’t, like we have now in this country, you can just tell people that they will get free bacon if they vote ‘NO’ on issue 6… and then they will.  And then the schools won’t get funded and then our country gets even stupider.  Eventually, you end up with a country of illiterate people, living under bridges, drooling on each other. 

But still, this won’t kill us.  We will still be “alive”, the planet will still be spinning around the sun.  If anything, the dumber we get, the better off the planet will be.  Eventually, we will all be so stupid, that nobody will remember how to run the coal plant or how to release the chemicals into the river.  Nobody will be able to build the cars that spew the exhaust into the atmosphere.  We will all just be sleeping in huge piles, trying not to freeze to death while drawing pictures of penis’s on each other’s foreheads, and laughing our asses off.  

At which point, the planet will recover, and we will either have to re-evolve of just finally die off completely.  At which point, who really cares which way this, goes?  We won’t be smart enough to even understand what the hell is happening around us anyway.  

Either way, the world is still going to be here, and there will still be plenty of time for some other bag of jelly to crawl out of the ocean and learn how to eat leaves and eventually evolve into the next great species.  Who will again, build up the planet to the point where it starts to affect the weather.  And who will eventually become arrogant enough to tell people that the world is coming to an end. 

I think the Earth has a way of keeping our numbers at a level that it can handle.  And I am not sure 7 billion of us rats with credit cards and cell phones, is in that range.  It certainly doesn’t seem so.  How this works, is beyond me. 

Annoyances within the world of Pro Sports

Professional Sports: 

Here are a few, of the hundreds of thousands of things that annoy me about professional sports…

Why is there still an umpire calling balls and strikes in baseball?  We have had the “pitch tracker” technology for nearly a decade.  A computer can easily call balls and strikes with perfect accuracy, on every pitch, based on the real dimensions of the strike zone.  Instead, in 2011, we choose to still have fat, middle-aged men literally humping the catchers back, arbitrarily calling balls and strikes from what is probably the worst point of view in the entire park to do so.  Our pitchers are forced to adjust their game to whatever blue-haired clown they have behind the plate on any given night.  Half of them take 3 or 4 seconds to make the difficult decision of ball or strike which prolongs what is already a ridiculously time consuming game that is professional baseball.  The guy can still be back there to call people safe or out at home, but take away their ball/strike calling power already.

Why is there not a “pitch clock” in baseball?   In basketball, you have 24 seconds to hit the rim with a shot.  In football you have 40 seconds to run your next play.  In baseball, the pitcher can literally go to the dentist in between pitches.  I watch a lot of professional baseball and at least 3 or 4 times per game, I find myself yelling “throw the god damned pitch!”  at my television.  I don’t want to be that guy anymore, I just don’t.  Just impose a time limit in between pitches.  If they fail to throw a pitch in that time limit, then you add a ball to the batters count, it’s that simple. 

Let the referee in the booth, at the game, handle the reviews:  I think that NFL reviews have their place in the game now.  It is impossible for these old, white guys to keep up and be in good enough position to make every call correctly, on a field that size, surrounded by world class athletes. However, do we need these guys to have to run to the sidelines and stick their head in a box for 5 minutes every time they have to review a play?  Why can’t we just have the “upstairs” referee, who is already at every game, watch it on a monitor and then make the call?  

If you aren’t going to have a salary cap in baseball, then why have so many teams/games?  Over the years, I have watched baseball dissolve its fan base in the smaller markets to the point where it is about as popular as cricket in most of this country.  The lack of a salary cap in baseball has created this environment.  Larger market teams get larger sums of money from their TV contracts, allowing them to buy all of the A+ baseball talent.  Baseball has a revenue sharing system, but when players’ salaries and operational costs go up by an average of 10% every year and you keep getting the same amount of revenue sharing money, it is useless.  Team this with teams that can’t get more than a couple thousand fans to come to each game and you basically just have the XFL in those cities.  However, as apathetic as most baseball fans have become, other larger markets are still extremely passionate about it.  The NBA is quickly getting to this point as well.  To me, it would make good business sense for MLB to contract, a lot of the smaller market teams and just keep having baseball in the larger markets where people actually care about it and go to the games.  This would also allow them to not have to play 162 regular season games as they would not need to play so many teams.  If you have to play 162 regular season games just to figure out which 8 teams make the playoffs, then your system is broken.

Why does any professional athlete get paid, while injured?  NFL Football is the only league that has figured this out.  In the NFL, your contract is written in such a way, that if you don’t play and produce, you don’t make as much money.  In the NBA and the MLB your money is considered “guaranteed”.  This means, the NBA’s Greg Oden is still going to make all of the money he inked on his rookie contract despite playing 82 out of 328 possible games, when this season ends. Professional Sport Teams are the only business model in the world that would allow its employees to honor less then ¼ of their contractual agreements while still paying the entirety of the money.  The blame can be put on both sides.  The owners are dumb for allowing these sorts of contracts to even be written let alone signed by someone.  And the players and their unions are guilty for demanding and taking advantage of such agreements.  In many cases, the player doesn’t even have to be injured, he just has to be pissed off, or in jail, or under some kind of league investigation etc, but he still gets paid, millions, in most cases.  It is completely insane.

Could there possibly be any more propaganda around Professional Sports?  While watching an NFL game, it is increasingly difficult to tell where the game ends and the beer commercials begin. It’s just the same Coors, Miller or Budweiser commercial, making the average football watching guy look like some sort of brain-damaged, alcoholic, who gets so excited over terrible beer that he can barely keep his pants on.  I have met some less then reputable characters in my life, by I have never seen a man, or group of men, even get mildly excited over a refrigerator full of Miller Light.  If anything I would feel sorry for my friend(s) for having such poor taste and an obvious lack of money and nutritional diversification.

You can’t even hear yourself think at an NBA game anymore with all of the sound effects and Hip Hop/80’s Metal/Pop music playing, dancing strippers at half court, people shooting off tee-shirt guns into the stands, shit on parachutes failing from the ceiling, midgets on stilts, people dancing in the aisles and begging for people to throw them wadded up, garbage quality tee-shirts and somewhere in between this extravaganza, is a basketball game.  Someone had a seizure in my section the last time I went to an NBA game and I can’t blame them.  They have pigs pushing shopping carts around the court at halftime, guys trying to fit their bodies inside of balloons, people jumping dirt bikes, teams of people break dancing, people giving away pizzas and taco-bell products, people trying to get you to fill out credit card applications, dancing robots in the concourse, contests for huge sections of fans, the always safe, indoor explosions and fireworks displays, all wrapped around what is usually a really shitty basketball game.

To me, baseball does a decent job of limiting the propaganda within the park.  You can still sit and watch the game you came to see without being bombarded with distractions and propaganda.  The NHL also does a great job. 

Do we really need to force athletes to go to college?  Who does this really benefit?  Sure it keeps some college teams able to compete while forcing the best players to play on those teams however, these people are also forced into GOING TO COLLEGE.  And let’s face facts; the average, professional athletic prospect is not college material.  Colleges also get screwed, having to create classes and programs to put the athletes into, that they can grasp mentally so as to keep their athletes eligible.  This is time, money, resources that could be put towards, I don’t know, educating people, who want to better the Earth. So while these kids may benefit a sports program, they waste a lot of people’s time and money and smarter well deserving kids opportunities by being there for one or two years and then going pro.  Just let them go pro out of high school and let the people who know how to read things other than defensive schemes go to the colleges.  

Professional Athletes Calling themselves “Business Men” and referring to the sport as “A Business” and getting away with crimes:   Is there anything more insulting then listening to a professional athlete refer to himself as a “business man”?   It must be really insulting if you were a real business man.  Why doesn’t anyone ever try to refute them?   Technically these men are about as much of a business man as, the guy who cleans the urinals or the lady selling popcorn for the same company.   I think players should be fined when they make statements that make themselves and their collective leagues sound even dumber than they are. They could site “language detrimental to the league” as the reason for the fines. 

Or how about the taste you get in your mouth when, you hear a professional athlete say something like…  “I understand that the sport is a business, I am just trying to do what’s best for me and my family.”   Well thank god for you being so smart!  Your, dumbass, dysfunctional family can finally be comfortable by you being such a savvy business man.  You making 120 million instead of 118 million is really what your family needed to bring it all together.   Again, professional athletes saying things like this should be met with fines.

Ben Roethlisberger raped two women, that we know of, Ray Lewis was directly linked to a man’s murder, Jamal Lewis sold a shitload of cocaine out of Colombia, everyone in baseball who hit a home run in the late 90’s, early 2000’s was involved with trafficking steroids, Michael Vick killed a ton of dogs and funded a massive dog fighting ring. Yet, very few of them ever get in any sort of real trouble or jail time.  Why is this?  If I were to be in any way involved with any of these things, I would be in prison for 20+ years.   If anything, professional athletes should go to jail for longer than everyone else, for being dumb enough to risk such an awesome lifestyle. 

Stop letting ESPN and other media outlets influence professional sports:  ESPN and other media institutions, thanks to their 24/7/365 format, have to fill a ton of time, without much news.  For this reason, and because they are on TV, it makes sense for ESPN to go after the largest markets, after all, more TV’s, more money for ESPN.  This is why, the network, uses every influence it can to produce good teams in the major markets.  After all, good teams in those markets create more reasons to have them on TV which will get ESPN on the most TV’s possible, in the largest markets, making them the most money.   So handing the big market teams, the biggest checks, from having them on TV the most, completes the circular farce that is the relationship of large market professional sports and ESPN.  You can tell this is a culture within ESPN as every employee will not miss an opportunity to bash or bad mouth an entire American City over something that one of its sports teams has done.  Of course the athletes hear this which makes them want to go to the places where ESPN won’t bad mouth them, which makes the larger market teams even stronger, which gives ESPN more reasons to broadcast their games, which puts ESPN on more TV’s, in the largest markets, making ESPN more money.

Ask yourself, is this collusion?  Sure it is. But it is such a broad systemic failure within the system, that it is tough to do anything about. Teams would have to no longer be allowed to accept any sort of kick backs from television networks.   Teams should also have a choice of which media outlets are covering their teams.  If a team doesn’t want ESPN covering them, they should be allowed to request this.  I don’t know exactly what you do about any of this, it would require a lot of terrible, greedy people to all have to accept some kind of a deal, that included less money for them, for the betterment of a sport....  Good luck.  

I love professional sports.  Until, all professional sports teams can again compete for championships, I don't have to listen to 40 something, talking heads on ESPN, bad mouthing vast regions of my country, professional athletes are no longer allowed to speak in public, and we stop treating one of the dumbest demographics of people as gods, and some of the more common sense rules are cleaned up,  I will love professional sports a little less every day. 

International Travel Nightmares:

Over the years, I have been all over and have dealt with just about every kind of pain in the ass that an International Traveler has to deal with.  Here are a few highlights. 

The Lufthansa vs. Continental stalemate:  If you fly on a Continental Airplane into Frankfurt Airport and are then, per your itinerary that you paid for, expected to catch a Lufthansa flight out of that airport, just run out in the street and let a car hit you because it’s not happening.  Not once, not twice, but three times I have been a victim of this fiasco within the Frankfurt Airport.  You get off the first plane, go through immigration and security which in Germany is about as organized as a monkey shit fight at the zoo, then you have to go get your luggage because Continental won’t transfer to Lufthansa, for some reason.  After this pride swallowing marathon of a journey through the Frankfurt airport, you can go to your gate, where the ticket that was issued to you 8 hours earlier will not be accepted by the Lufthansa people.  You are then asked to go to the “Continental Counter” and sort it out.  Unfortunately, the Continental Counter is about a mile away, walking, from Lufthansa.   So you get stuck, having to walk miles around an airport and you will eventually miss your flight. 

In an amazing turn of events, the last time I went there, my Lufthansa ticket was accepted however, the flight, which the ticket was issued for, didn’t exist.  It was just never a flight that was ever going to happen according to the attendant.  I’m not sure how my company paid for it or booked a non-existent flight, but it happened.   Therefore, I had to take the train from Frankfurt to Nurnberg for a fourth time. Now, the train station is technically part of the Frankfurt Airport but it is nowhere near the airport part of the Frankfurt Airport.  It is halfway to France, walking.  Then you get a good 5 hour train ride, not something you want to endure after a 6 hour flight and 4 hours wandering around a foreign airport, but it must be done in the name of business and progress! 

To top it all off, you end up in Nurnberg, but nowhere near the Nurnberg Airport where your car rental has been waiting for you for the last 8 hours.  So you must facilitate some sort of transportation across town to the Nurnberg Airport on your own, surrounded by a bunch of people who don’t speak English, without a working phone and nothing but an American Express Corporate Credit Card that nobody accepts.  The last time, I made the mistake of hitching a ride with some dude I met on the train.  Only, I couldn’t understand half of what he was saying to me, and I ended up hitching a ride with him and his parents.  So there I was, in the back seat of an Opel Station Wagon, cruising around Nurnberg Germany, with a strange German family, after 10 hours of travel and their 37 year old son, who I now believe to be criminally insane, showing me digital photo after digital photo of his recent trip to the United Arab Emirates on his camera.  It also quickly became apparent, that these people had absolutely no fucking idea how to get to the airport from the train station.  So the ride took a good hour and a half and only traversed about 14 miles on a map.  Finally, I end up at the Nurnberg airport and am presented the unique opportunity of walking into an airport solely to use their rental car service all with some jackass trying to get me to look at more of his vacation photo’s and asking me to become his Facebook friend.  I would rather fly through Kabul next time I connect to anywhere in Europe then ever have to see the Frankfurt Airport again as long as I live. 

Cultural Differences:   If you ever find yourself in Manchester England, at the “Hewley’s” suites next to the Manchester City Soccer Stadium; don’t go to Burger King while they are in the middle of playing Celtic Glasgow. 

I was there for weeks for work.  I couldn’t deal with room service anymore.  So I took to the streets in search for food, after all this is England, these people are our friends, what’s the worst that could happen?  I spot a Burger King across the street and head over.  All the while I can hear singing and cheering and glass breaking from the massive Soccer Stadium that I am walking around. 

The line at the Burger King is at least 25 people long but I deal with it.  You would be amazed how great Burger King sounds after weeks of eating boiled meat and rye bread and just general hotel garbage.  I get my food and leave, just as the game ends and the “fans” begin to file out of the soccer stadium.   Now when people in the United States exit a football stadium, sure they are drunk and kind of rowdy but they generally walk in some kind of orderly fashion to their vehicles and leave.  This is not the case after an English/Scottish soccer match.  Everyone run’s out of the stadium, in all directions, like it’s their last day of high school; half are engaged in some sort of an active fight or brawl, they all have glass bottles and they are all absolutely shit faced.  Needless to say, some guy in a 3 foot top-hat, that said “Bring it to Glasgow” (will never forget that)  fell down drunk and knocked my Burger King out of my hands and it was immediately trampled.  I then ended up having to physically grapple my way back to the hotel, where I sat on the corner of my uncomfortable bed, and ate more boiled, hotel, meat wondering what the hell I was doing with my life. 

Japanese guys can’t handle bourbon:  I love Japan; I would go back to Tokyo in a heartbeat.  That said, those guys, while friendly and fun-loving party goers, cannot handle Bourbon. 

I had been working with these guys for weeks.  We had established a wonderful level of trust and respect for each other.   It was to the point where they were all calling me “Matthew-San”.   We went out to the Ropongi Hills section of Tokyo.   Each one bought a different kind of Sochi, some hot, some room temperature, some chilled and we all enjoyed it and were having a great time.  I couldn’t understand what the hell any of them were talking about, but the language of drunken fun is universal.   Finally, we end up at this place literally called “The Tokyo Sports Café” , it was a sports bar and incredibly, they were playing a rerun of the Cleveland Cavaliers game from the day before.  I remember thinking how crazy awesome it was to be watching my home town team, in a sports bar, on the other side of the International Date Line. 

Now I was already drunk and I felt that I had to return the favor to these guys for buying all that Sochi earlier.  I quickly spotted a bottle of Jack Daniels hidden behind the bar.  It looked like it had not been touched since the Reagan era.   I ordered 6 shots and brought them back to our table.  I did a quick cheers that only I could understand and we all downed the shots.  Two of the men immediately vomited on the floor under the table.  A third managed to run about three steps before vomiting on the wall where he must have thought there was a door to something or somewhere. The other two managed to keep it under control, but did not look happy.   I have never in my life seen such a spectacle, before or after. In Japan, when you vomit in a bar, it is considered a dishonor and you have to clean it up yourself.  The bar tender provided us with a mop and a bucket and we all cleaned up puke and then said an awkward goodbye and went our separate ways.    I never spoke to any of those men again.

Food that would make a Billy Goat Vomit:   It is important to not offend anyone by showing them how offensive you find their food.   In Japan, I had dinner with the CEO of a major retailer at a ridiculously nice restaurant on the 58^th floor of a skyscraper.  I was forced to share ala-cart sashimi with our table.  Sashimi is just a big uncooked filet of recently dead fish.   I can’t eat this, I just can’t cant.  I don’t even eat sushi which is at least dressed up with everything to mask the flavor of the raw dead animal that you’re eating.   In an incredible sleight of hand display, that David Copperfield would have been impressed by, I managed to cut my sashimi into small enough pieces to either throw under the table or hide under my rice, without anyone noticing.  I left hungry, but I left happy and without risking mercury poisoning. 

The German’s eat sausage and sauerkraut.  I know it is prejudice but this is really what they eat.  They eat these items in such mass amounts that it is truly incredible. There is not a pork product, known to man, that the German’s don’t absolutely love.  Pigs, literally stand no chance of survival anywhere near that country.  Every little burg in Germany has their own “special” type of sausage that doesn’t taste any different from Jimmy Dean or Pepperidge Farm sausage.  It is so weird to listen to someone talk up sausage.  As though we are expected to believe that sausage is some sort of a difficult, complex food item.  I could see a country of people, who all took pride in filet minion tooting their own horn but sausage, really?  It would be like if everyone in some country took pride in Chicken Tenders and everyone had their own kind, and they all tasted the same as Swanson’s.   Then everything comes with a ridiculous amount of Sour Kraut.  Whether you like it or not, you’re getting a shitload of it with anything that you order.  

Germans also eat something called Blood-worst.   This is exactly what it sounds like.  A disgusting sausage casing filled with animal blood.  I think the guy who ordered it in our party, only ordered it in an attempt to gross me out.  It didn’t work, I wasn’t eating it afterall. I don’t even think he liked eating it.  So he just had to sit there, looking like some kind of shit-head vampire, eating a tube full of blood, while getting absolutely no reaction from me. 

Dealing with phones and currency:  Your phone doesn’t work when you’re in Europe or Asia.  I don’t care what your phone company tells you, it won’t work.  We even had company cell phones that were labeled “International Cell Phones”, purchased specifically for the purpose of working in Europe, that didn’t work in Europe.  So, when you get off the plane, you’re on your own, until you find your way to your hotel or find a way to make your phone work. This is a tough proposition in a foreign country where you can’t read anything or talk to anyone.

Team this inconvenience with the financial fiasco that will quickly ensue.  American Express has a veritable monopoly on the US Corporate Credit Card business.  The only problem is that nobody outside of America accepts American Express.   So you wind up having to use it at ATM machines, at foreign banks to take out foreign cash, if you can find one. You then, have to somehow get this to all tie-out on an American Expense Report when you get back.  This usually requires something like; help from 5 different people, three separate pieces of software and a scientific calculator.

Generally, when you get off of a foreign flight, there is a 2 or 3 hour period of time, where you have no money, no way to buy anything and no way of communicating with anyone.   You feel like a bum and everyone looks at you like some sort of poor vagrant. 

The Traveling Smoker:  I have recently quit smoking after a lot of years, which is nice.  However, all of my international travels took place while I was a smoker.  Sitting on 6, 8, 16, 18 hour flights is tough for a pack a day smoker.  So you get creative, you chew tobacco you find where you can smoke in airports; you get as many cigarettes in whenever you can while traveling. 

This leads to some interesting situations.  On the way to Australia, I had a two hour layover at LAX.  I decided to use this layover to get as drunk as humanly possible.  When I am drunk, I make poor decisions.  About 30 minutes before my flight was to board, I decided, that I was going to go back out through security and have a smoke outside. No way was I not going to be able to make it back through security and the concourse before my flight left.   I didn’t make it. 

So I had to catch the next flight to Sydney, four hours later.  In the meantime I got drunker at the airport.  It was to the point where I could barely stand in the line to get on the plane.  To this day, I can’t believe I got on that flight.  As soon as I sat down, I put a massive chew in my mouth and then passed out drunk.  I didn’t wake up until we were almost over Australia.  I was passed out drunk, on that plane, for nearly 9 ½ hours.  I missed 3 meals, who even knows how many beverages, and I had a huge lipper of Kodiak Wintergreen in my lip the entire time.  The lady next to me was absolutely terrified when I woke up, she told me that she thought I was dead.  I had to immediately run to the bathroom and take the biggest piss of my life and get that chew out of my mouth. 

If you are lucky enough to locate one of the new aged, smoker death chambers within an airport you are in for treat.  There is no environment, on Earth more unhealthy then the inside of one of these things.   I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see a dead body in one someday.  These things are just a glass, gas chamber, chalked full of people trying to smoke as much as they possibly can before they get on airplanes.   The exhaust system is cranking, but it can’t possibly handle the volume of smoke billowing out of these people.  You don’t even have to light your own cigarette in that thing it is so thick.  Someone always has a beer in there.  People always want to have a conversation with you.  They are made out of glass for some reason so that all of the non-smokers can look at you while you smoke, like some kind of zoo animal who’s addicted to nicotine. 

These are just a few examples.  I could go on forever, but this was more than enough complaining for one day.  International travel is fun and sort of exciting but also very inconvenient.  You sacrifice a lot of comforts for that privilege.  I personally think it is worth it.