Sitting alone in a hotel room on New Year's Eve, or How My Plans Came To A Sudden and Painful Demise

I write this from a Hilton in Allentown, PA, not happily at all. Not one bit.

I spent the bulk of 12/30 searching for a reasonable/workable ticket from New York to Grand Rapids in hopes of seeing Beth on New Year's Eve. Finding absolutely NOTHING I was pretty much resigned to being home alone and sulking, two of my previous favorite pastimes. However, somewhere in the vicinity of midnight, Beth comes across a ticket on that one Northwestern airline that, while not reasonable, was very workable. Possessing my shiny new voucher I plunged ahead and coughed up the difference. It was what I wanted the most for New Year's Eve.

So, ticket in hand I forged out to the airport. Weather was mild in both locales, plane was on time and everything was looking hunky dory. I boarded. We departed. Excitement lay just beyond the horizon, more so than my wildest fantasies dare conjure! We hit cruising speed, or whatever they call it, and I busted out my laptop to write. Drinks were served. All was well!

Not two minutes after this the flight attendant called for all items to be stowed, all refreshments to be picked up and all (four) passengers to prepare to land. What? The left engine was about to be shut down and we were landing in Allentown, PA, the pilot told us. And this we did, in extreme winds, on one engine and at frightening speeds. I now know exactly why airplanes have seat belts as I lurched hard forward on that landing. The pilot took it really well, though, and we all survived.

This being Allentown no escape was forthcoming, so we holed up in this hotel. My three fellows and I hit a Red Robin for dinner as the hotel concierge assured us that they accepted the meal vouchers we were supplied. She was incorrect. The manager was nice enough to dock $20 from our check for them in apology of the confusion but Dan, one of the travellers, was even kinder. He charged the whole sum to his corporate card. What a guy! Turns out that not every time God closes a door does he also seal the window just to watch you die of heat stroke.

Alas, here I am, writing this misery from my room, waiting for my early morning escape into...Detroit of all places. Still, it will end well. As Beth has said, it could have been worse. I could have died and stuff. And, truthfully, I am happy that I did all I could to get out there for the New Year. I know I'd actually be this much more miserable if I had just stayed home and done nothing. And I will be in Grand Rapids far before anyone reads this. Happy New Year, all, and best to you in 2009.

Mom's hospital stay, lacking nutrition, sleep and non-painful beds

As some may have heard my mom just underwent bariatric surgery on 12/16. I flew into Indianapolis to be with her that afternoon when she came out of the operating room. Naturally, I hadn't slept for two days before this either. Its safe and routine and all that but its still surgery.

She came through it with flying colors, though, and was conscious (mostly) when I got to her room. She was in a lot of pain and, therefore, on a lot of morphine. And my mom is hilarious when she is doped up, it turns out. Who knew?

She went to liquid pain killers either the next day or the one after that. They all started running together once we left my friend Mike's house and started sleeping on either hospital cots or tiny lounge couches to be closer to Mom. I wanted to sneak some of her meds by that point. But she perked up by and by and we were able to take her home on Saturday, 12/20 and sleep in real beds and stuff. Not that sleep was much in coming even then, thank you, Beth. ;)

Now, onto the angry ranting part. Given that this was a bariatric hospital, designed and built to help people whose obesity has become dangerous and for all intents and purposes stopped them from living normal lives, the state of their cafeteria is disgraceful. There were times I couldn't find non-deep fried vegetables there. One day was just mashed potatoes and corn, nothing green at all. In fact the salad bar had more cheese than greens on it! The smallest beverage cup was about 24 oz. near as I could tell. I looked for smaller ones but turned up zilch. I was amazed; it was as if they had put several factors of obesity on display. I have to wonder if they aren't just drumming up business by having this cafeteria at all.

Holiday traveling sucks, or how I hate flying into Detroit

I am returned to the greater New York metropolitan area as of yesterday afternoon, one bag sadly lighter and one girlfriend more happily encumbered since the beginning of the holiday season. I was booked onto a flight with a certain nameless Northwestern airline for Saturday, 12/27, which was oversold by four passengers. They offered vouchers and hotel rooms; I needed flight dollars and sleep in a private room more than I needed to be home. A deal was struck. I went to my hotel and drank myself into some semblance of pleasant slumber.
I woke very early the next morning, as I am wont to do, and proceeded on my merry way to the airport. One bag checked, one bag carried on and off I was to Detroit as my previously flight seems to have been the last direct between Indianapolis or La Guardia. Or Newark. Or JFK. There was to be no happy middle ground. The flight was rocky and windy but we made it in safe enough.
I and my fellow travellers, Jessica and Hillary (also good sports about being left back), deplaned to discover that our connecting flight had been cancelled and we were to race to a second terminal to attempt to board the next flight to LGA, leaving any moment. Off we sprinted. We made the plane, though I lost the promised first class accommodations only to wind up between two people in what would have been termed the "bitch seat" of an automobile. The best was made of the situation, though, and I finished most of Scrooge, a movie musical version of A Christmas Carol starring Albert Finney which was rather enjoyable. My fellow passenger, Phil, a quite decent fellow from Flint coming to New York to install a new 911 system, was rather intrigued with the film and we struck up a conversation about the different versions of the tale out there. Good times can be had by strangers on a place.
Remember that bag that I checked in Indianapolis? Well, the airline didn't. They left it in Detroit in their haste to get the angry passengers into the air. And there it sat while I put in my claim and finally escaped the hell that is La Guardia airport. It was to be delivered last night, late they told me. They just called saying that they are on their way nearly twenty four hours later. I, however, am at work and they are going to Brooklyn. Ah, such is life. The good news is that I will not need two bags again this year until swag season comes again. Hooray for travel. I will probably see you again, Detroit, loathe as I am of the prospect. Happy holidays!

Obama hasn't even taken office yet and I'm already sick of him.

It's not his fault, though. It's yours. I was shopping Friday and came across a beauty of a T-shirt: "Sex, Drugs and Barack n' Roll." Jesus Christ, is Obama going to legalize it? What a stupid sentiment. You fuckers do remember that this man is a politician, correct? I'm as full of hope as the next delusional jerk but I know that the man can only do what he can do within the system. HE'S NOT MAGIC. Lay off with the dumbness, please.

I found a suspicious Jesus puppet and the model he is clearly based on.

I think this one speaks for itself. Just check the pics side by side. Remember the reason for the season!

Making ugly sweaters sexy (not really but trying way too hard)

Thanks to the ever reliable Yahoo! news (for digging to the very bottom) I saw this today:

http://www.baadsheep.com/

Yes, hipster douchiness covered in a very thin layer of trying-too-hard-to-be-sexy. Christ, look at some of these names, Pitching Tents in Pointy Places, Polar (Bear) Express to my Pants, Checkout My Package and my personal favorite, The Glory Hole. Gross. This is worse than Spencer's Gifts at holiday time. And before you question this (everyone does) yes, Spencer's is still in every mall and also online now. Wearing something like this ironically still means you paid money for it. But that's possible sadder than buying something like this at Wal-Mart (cheaper) with the delusion that it looks good. Still ugly, still a bad choice. I probably would have found the whole project more palatable, truthfully, if it weren't so pitifully tarted up. Case in point, the main page picture of the Playboy bunny sweater, which is not sold on the site as far as my two searches were able to turn up. Happy holidays!

"Massager" looks suspiciously like Mickey Mouse's fist

So, I just got around to looking at this today, http://www.deepdiscount.com/Deep-Daily-Deal-_stcVVcatId492045VVviewcat.htm , and thank God I did because today's has to be the best thing that I have ever seen. Take a look at the picture that I have provided at the left if this deal is gone already because it is a must see. There are no number of scenarios where a vibrating Mickey Mouse fist could come into play. Is this a timid first attempt to get in on that Sanrio market for Hello Kitty adult toys? (www.j-list.com) by Disney? Oh, God, the awful things this could have lead to if it had worked out (given the 3.49 price tag it is an apparent failure). Ah well, I guess it can go on the shelf next to the classic vibrating Harry Potter toy broom.

Day of the Ninja and anniversary of the 21st amendment to the Constitution fall on the same day. Coincidence? I think not.

It was brought to my attention that both of these historic moments have today's date (thanks, Brooke). And I think I've now unraveled an important piece of history's mysteries: how Prohibition came undone. Clearly a mortal man could not have stood in the path of Americans with their panties in a bunch (A.W.T.P.I.a.B. tm). Who could face such a task? A pirate? Yes, but they were already making money hand over fist in smuggling rum so why should they? An astronaut? Astronauts are fictional and there is no such thing as the moon. No, clearly it was the work of a ninja or possibly a ninja clan. Ninjas always walk single file so that you can't tell how many were there by their tracks. Also, ninjas leave no tracks.

Someone, let's call him the Mighty Anti-Sobriety Ninja as his real name will never appear and probably be all Japanesey anyway, infiltrated the government, drafted an amendment to the Constitution of the United States and blackmailed or threatened all of the men who stood in the way of its ratification with pain of death or worse until they shut the fuck up and let everyone drink again. So, say a small prayer to the M.A.S.N. today as you sip from your beer can helmets, hoist your flagons of mead or, like me, drink mash liquor from the skulls of your enemies, in thanks. Then, say a longer prayer that he does not come for you in the night.

Renaissance Books at the Milwaukee International Airport

I went to Milwaukee to have Thanksgiving with Susie and Cindy again this year and had a great time as usual. We spent a lot of time with the new Wii (particularly Wii fit) and even more time eating to excess (hence the need for Wii fit). But on the way back I stopped be Renaissance Books at the Milwaukee International Airport. What a terrific bookstore to find in a huge place like that. How they stay in business is beyond me but they are superbly stocked. The variety and prices of these old books is impressive enough but the man that runs the place seems to do it alone. Given, I don't hang out there all day but I've never seen anyone else working there that I can recall. Dubious, I know, relying on my powers of recollection. Moving on.

I first noticed the place years ago when I first flew to into MKE. It looked like one of those old treasure trove bookshops you'd find in a strip mall or tucked into an alley somewhere. Dingy, dank and smelling of molding paper. Beautiful, in a word. The proprietors are inevitably gruff octogenarians, suspicious of your ability to care for tomes properly (as they should be; look at the state of yourself!). The old man at Renaissance isn't particularly gruff or suspicious but he has managed to transport his realm of mystery into the most soulless of places, the aeroport. But when I first encountered the place they had not made any of the renovations you'll see in the photo. The windows were boarded and there were stacks and stacks of books all over the floors. Sure, that's no big deal in a used bookshop but this is in an airport. They tend to frown upon disorder and dishevelment as a rule. That was what first drew me to it. How could this place possible exist? Who let this happend? "Hurry!" I thought to myself, "before they find out and close it forever," whover they in this case. But if they did find out about it they simply required the place to spruce up a bit and go about business as usual. Which was fairly brisk on Monday. I picked up a gift and a book about fortresses for myself. I needed it, you understand, for business reasons.

Should you find yourself in MKE for any reason take a moment to visit. The only other options are the PGA store and Brooks Brothers and if I'm giving you trip advice you're most likely not a douche in the first place so you won't be patronizing these establishments anyway.

Day 3 of NaNoWriMo

It is already day 3 of the writing contest and I have about 420 words down...out of the needed 50,000. This comes out to 1,6667 words per day on average. I am already short by 4,5680 words. Or I will be at the end of today if I don't do some serious catching up instead of working today. This is supposed to be the gravy time of the contest. Damn.

Eclipse restaurant in Sunset Park

Just had breakfast this morning(afternoon maybe) at Eclipse, this new Mexican spot I found. They have an interesting vegetarian menu (a rarity here; the vegetarian combo is particularly good), great food and are dirt cheap. Yasuko, the owner, is also quite nice. Today I had a cheddar/jalapeno/nopal (cactus) omelet that was delicious and enormous. Take a look.
Check this spot out if you are in the neighborhood. You won't regret it.
http://www.eclipsebrooklyn.com/

Nature's McGriddle

I stopped by the deli this morning to grab something quick and I had a hankering for egg and cheese on a roll. When I got outside and unwrapped it, though, I had that on a cinnamon raisin bagel. Sounds gross, I know. Guess the guy in front of me ordered it. I thought about taking it back but then I thought, "Fuck it. When would I ever actually order this abomination." So, I take one bite. It actually was kind of good. It was not unlike a McDonald's McGriddle, which is an awful idea but the greatest hangover food God ever turned His back on. Don't know that I would order it on purpose but as one of life's accidents I can chalk it as happy.

The current Frankencintricity of my life

I checked the mail on my way in just a few minutes ago and found, to my great pleasure, Frankenstein Unbound (which may or may not be good but irresistibly features Raul Julia as the doctor) from Netflix and my new shirt (shirt.woot.com), the American Gothic drawing replacing the farmer and his wife with the Monster of and Bride of Frankenstein. This was after a fifteen minute walk home from the train, upon which I had been reading- you guessed it- Frankenstein. Oh, and I signed up with the National Novel Writing Month again yesterday to write my newest opus, The Undead War, featuring Frankenstein's monster.
What is my obsession with Frankenstein anyway? I was never all that infatuated with the monster. Maybe it's the Halloween spirit manifesting itself in me lately but I doubt it. I previously had intended to write a novel featuring Dracula and Dr. Frankenstein as the principal characters and I've been toying with a screenplay for a couple of years that is basically a retelling of the Frankenstein tale from another perspective. So, it has been with me for a while. Maybe I just need to finish one of these and get it out of my system.

Newsweek critic fishes desperately for controversy

Ramin Setoodeh has really gone out of his way to defend Sex and the City from non-existent hate crimes. For all of the author’s lashing out at Iron Man and the Incredible Hulk Setoodeh certainly sounds like a ruffled fanboy. The article is filled with broad statements about hateful, vengeful talk of men who apparently want vengeance against the movie but with only speculation and a few random quotes from movie reviewers who happen not to care for the film. Coincidentally Roger Ebert and I know of Vivienne Westwood through the same source, the Sex Pistols. Kudos to Anthony Lane on the line, "hormonal hobbits, and all obsessed with a ring." Then, in order to provide the barest justification for this outraged rant, Setoodeh attempts to string this to some boob who wore a silly shirt to a Hilary Clinton rally. The article only brings one question to mind for me, though: when did Newsweek stop caring about being a reputable news publication? This is no more journalism than stories of Bigfoot are anthropology.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/139889