High School hair was the best

tim cigelske with long hair
Originally uploaded by lille

Plan of Attack

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Let's break this down:

Three (3) church rummage sales.

One (1) Lake Drive estate sale

Ten (10) college kids holding a moving sale

Three or so (3 or so) other odd rummage sales along the way.

Starting tomorrow morning at 8 a.m.

Let's do this.

But first, I have to go to a Water Street bar being taken over by gay people. No lie.

This is hell

I worked in the airline industry, so I've seen ugly.

I have seen people who have planned trips for a year see their vacations crumble before their eyes.

I saw the newly fired Packers head coach miss his connection to the Caribbean.

I've been the only passenger left behind in the barren and empty Green Bay airport.

I have tried to sleep and shiver on airport seats under florescent lights while vacuum cleaners buzzed in the distance.

I have left my best friend fend for himself in the Phoenix airport for 36 hours. He wasn't too happy.

I caught Jess when she passed out in a Costa Rican airport.

And I know I actually got out while the getting was good. Air travel has only gotten more miserable.

So I know a delay out of O'Hare, a missed connection, and possible weight restriction that keeps you overnight is kind of par for the course. I heard there's thunderstorms, floods, tornadoes and whatever else in the Midwest, and we just missed that. Maybe that's lucky.

That doesn't make getting stuck in the Miami airport any more fun. I almost titled this post "American Airlines can suck my cock."

We immediately went to the service counter when we arrived, oh, about30 minutes too late for our connection. Someone scrawled "No" service before the huge "Service" sign behind the counter.

When she saw us coming, the agent already looked bored and unresponsive with anything we might say. Keep in mind this is the airline that canceled and stranded countless passengers on FAA orders.

There's probably nothing you could say, scream or threaten that they haven't heard already. Now they just don't care anymore. They've given up.

On the plus side, we did score a $20 food voucher between the two of us (bonus!) not including alcohol (boo!). Even so, Jess got a Bloody Mary and I got a Mojito for the first and last time in my life. I figured when in a Cuban airport lounge in Miami, do what the stranded passengers do. It tasted like college booze.

I decided this is what hell must be like: Breathing hot, stale recycled air. Standing in endless lines just to stand in more lines. Eating overpriced food that never fills you up but always makes you feel too full.

Crowds of pushing people are milling about, sitting or rushing off. They either always have someplace to go or nowhere to go. And it's that slight hope that you're going to make it to paradise worst. Because then those hopes can be repeatedly crushed.

While we were waiting on a packed, idling shuttle for 15 minutes, I told Jess we would be irresponsible to even bring a child into this world. She told me the character in the book she was reading believed the same thing. During World War II.

I guess that put things in historical perspective. Our plight is probably not as bad as, say, Vietnam, the Great Depression or the Spanish Inquisition. Traveling for 11 hours on vacation or getting burned at the stake. Which is worse?

Eventually, we did get out and made it to Marco Island. So I guess it was just purgatory.

If I ran the world

me: who fucking governs antarctica?

12:55 PM Kyle: theres a joint coalition

me: man, the world is so complicated

i'm glad i'm not running it

Kyle: you should run the world

Kyle: we'd all feel guilty for being pussies

you would be the best negotiator ever, too

Kyle: your two techniques at negotation are as follows

1. ridiculing and emasculating the other party

12:57 PM

Kyle: with use of devices like the sand in the vagina

me: damnyou are on to my techniques

Kyle: 2. preemptively deciding and therefore forcing someone to do something you want to do

with use of "done!"

me: unilateral action

Kyle: a better way of putting it

12:58 PM me: that's the only way to do it

Don't worry, not our baby

IMG_1311
Originally uploaded by cigelske

Flying with the Governor

The other night, I was on the same flight as New Mexico governor Bill Richardson.

When I saw him, my first thought was (obviously) holy shit, that's Gov. Bill Richardson.

Then self-doubt kicked in. Can't be him. He's a former presidential candidate. Doesn't he have a personal jet or something? Why would he be catching a 10 p.m. turboprop from Denver to Albuquerque?

Then rational thought kicked in. Because he governs in Albuquerque. Maybe he was catching a Rockies game. Plus, look at his nerdily ambitious aides in their three-piece suits. And that beard is unmistakable. It's him.

My fourth immediate thought was how I interviewed this dude six years ago. He was a new maverick governor of New Mexico, and I was a college student doing an article on Tommy Thompson's screwball brother Ed.

Coincidentally, this is (probably) the article that taught me the single most important thing about writing: Reporting. That's a fancy term for not being afraid to talk to a lot of people. Including the new unknown governor of New Mexico who was in town for a Libertarian Party function.

So when I see him at the Denver airport, I'm thinking, funny story. I wanted to tell him: Remember when I interviewed you six years ago? Yeah, I was a college student sitting in my dorm room. And all that commotion you heard behind me? That was probably my dorm residents playing kickball in the hallway.

I was all set to tell him that. Then I realized that would probably be deeply tacky, not to mention likely to draw attention of authorities. This is one time it's probably not so cool to talk to strangers, even if that's my job.

The governor was just like everyone else. He was staring straight ahead with a blank look on his face, waiting for our delayed plane to arrive. I decided to leave him alone. But I thought it all in my head.

Apparently I was not the only one having an internal struggle about giving the gov. a piece of my mind. An older couple was sitting next to me, and the old guy was absolutely fuming.

"The whole state votes for Hillary," he thunders, barely under his breath. "And he goes and endorses Obama. That's not listening to the people!"

He was pissed. Which is funny, since a personal endorsement isn't exactly legislating. He wife, on the other hand, was more pragmatic.

"But is the country ready for a woman president?" she asked, in all sincerity.

Then they went back to talking about how the plane was delayed like this during their trip last year to Vegas.

When we arrived in ABQ, an SUV and a police escort were waiting for the governor on the tarmac. They were of course the first off. I watched him stride past rampers who were only interested in offloading the late-arriving luggage so they could go home.

I have this habit of scavaging magazines and newspapers from seatbacks as I exit the plane. On this particular occasion, there were two magazines where the gov. and his aid sat. I would have taken them regardless of who sat there, but I was kinda curious what they were reading.

The verdict: The New Yorker and People Magazine.

Two Belt Scenario

Jess bought me a new belt.

She deemed my previous sole belt "kind of nasty." It's black and has tiny bite marks all over from when Sadie was a puppy and chewed on everything in sight, including Disc 3 of my Nirvana box set.

The new belt is nice. It's brown and genuine leather and I think from Banana Republic. Now I use both belts, and keep them in whatever jeans I happen to wear that day.

But that's a problem. When I wake up in the morning, I look for the pants with a belt in them to identify which pair I wore the day before.

Having easily pinpointed my target from within the huge pile of laundry, I transfer the important shit from its pockets to today's pair of pants. Or just wear the same pants again so I didn't have to transfer the important shit in my pockets. Depends on my motivational level.

Now, I have two pairs of pants with belts in them, so I can't identify yesterday's jeans quite as readily. It takes further critical thinking or discerning actions.

This is why I was happier with just one belt. See? It's like a metaphor how too many choices lead to undue stress.