Woke Up This Morning

The new season of the Sopranos started a few weeks ago and it has been, as always, quite enjoyable. However, there’s been something that’s been bugging me lately that until today I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Now, some of you might not have any idea as to what I’m talking about here…but for anyone who lives or has spent considerable time on the East Coast you will understand why it’s bothering me when I say that Tony Soprano seems like the kind of guy who would definitely have EZ Pass. And yet there he is taking a ticket from the toolbooth on the NJ Turnpike in the opening credits.

There is no way that a man with Tony Soprano’s characteristics would be patient enough to wait in line to take a ticket and then wait again to pay the tolls when the option of EZ Pass is available. For those of you who are not familiar with EZ Pass, it’s basically an automatic toll payment that electronic sensors read as your car passes through the toll plaza, thereby eliminating your need to stop or wait in long lines.

The reason I bring this up is that just recently I relinquished possession of my EZ Pass, which had been sitting unused in my car for the last 9 months. And seeing as how the likelihood of me driving my car back to the East Coast any time soon was very remote, I decided that it was time to send said Pass back to NJ to my parent’s house where perhaps it might get some use during those rare times when I’m back to visit.

It wasn’t hard to part with it or anything…so don’t worry about me…i’m fine.

In other news…

I watched the season premiere of Thief last evening on FX. All in all a very promising pilot episode to a show that has some big shoes to fill being penciled in to The Shield’s time slot now that this season of The Shield is over. If anyone is looking to add another hour of television to their weekly schedule or fill the void that the end of this season of the Shield has brought then definitely check it out (although presumably if you watch The Shield you probably did check out Thief as what else would you have been doing at 10pm on Tuesday evening).

I also finished listening to the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs album, Show Your Bones. It is quite good. I think overall I like it even more than their first album. So feel free to go ahead and check that out also.

Otherwise, i’m still rocking the status quo, waiting for the plumber to call us back to set up our next appointment, so that they can bust open our ceiling and peep our pipes.

Alright kids….in the immortal words of The Audrey II

I think it’s suppertime.

I'm Not Dead

Don’t worry, I’m not dead.

The plumber did indeed show up this morning as promised.

Of course this resulted in our being no closer to having our flooding problems fixed then before. After assessing our apartment and our upstairs neighbors, the plumber came to the conclusion that he had no idea as to why our apartment has flooded. He suggested that he could either open up our ceiling and see if he could better determine the source of the problem, or we could wait until it flooded again and then call him to come over while it was flooding so he could see for himself where the water was coming from at that time….

Needless to say we opted for choice A and so now we need to make yet another appointment with the plumber to have him open up the ceiling and take a more invasive look into the problem.

Perhaps needless to say as well, I am still not 100% Super Terrific.

I’m certainly happy about the plumber showing up as promised (albeit on the second time)…but at this rate my apartment will flood again before anything is fixed, and therefore I continue to go to sleep every night with the anxiety that comes with knowing that at any moment the dreaded inside rain might come again.

Another issue is that it is raining outside right now…so i’m sure the sound of normal rain will continue to make me uneasy as i try to sleep with one ear open for the sound of water splattering on my carpet.

Alright…time to try to get a full night of z’s.

The Quest For 100% Super Terrific

Today my day consisted mostly of me sitting at home, writing, and waiting for a plumber to come by to try and assess what might be the source of our flooding problems. This was different from most days when I sit at home and write and not wait for a plumber. However, just like on those days, my day ended without a plumber ever stepping foot inside my apartment.

Why, you ask.

Because the rat bastard never came.

Yes, the plumbing people called to tell me that he was not coming, of course it wasn’t too hard to figure out when 5 o’clock came and went and no plumber had showed up.

He was delayed on another job was the official excuse.

And I was assured that Monday morning between 9am and 12pm the plumber shall arrive to deal with my problems.

If come Monday evening you do not hear from me it will be because I died from the lack of oxygen that occurred while I was holding my breath.

Needless to say that this setback put the kabash on my hopes of achieving 100% Super Terrific status today. I will not give up hope though. If I learned anything over these last 5 1/2 months of waiting for my coffee table (or during the 14 weeks that I waited for my recliners) it is that if you wait long enough anything is possible.

And so another night shall pass, and I will go to sleep, and I will dream that perhaps, maybe, one day soon, I will know the joy of being 100% Super Terrific.

A Step Towards 100% Super Terrific

Oh joyous day…something amazing has occurred, my coffee table has arrived.

Now perhaps some of you are saying that the arrival of a coffee table should not warrant this type of reaction, and I would agree with you, that is if this were just the arrival of any old coffee table.

You see 5 1/2 months ago my brother and I found a coffee table that we liked in a LA-Z BOY store near our apartment, unfortunately said coffee table was not in stock and needed to be ordered. Against our better judgement we decided to go ahead and order the coffee table (this, after waiting for our recliners to arrive - albeit from a different company - for 14 weeks). The days passed and we waited, eagerly anticipating the day when our apartment would be complete. Soon the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and still we waited…

Winter came and passed and Spring arrived (technically speaking) and still no coffee table. During that time many calls were placed to the good folk at LA-Z BOY to inquire about the whereabouts of our coffee table. Patience we were told, the order was pending, and there was nothing they could do to speed it up (as a side note, because the table was placed on a special order, the store has a no cancellation policy, which needless to say we did not think too long about when placing the order - then again our salesperson told us that the table should arrive within 2-4 weeks…he quit one week after selling us the table).

Soon, after our apartment had flooded several times, our patience was rendered extinct, and so one day last week we marched into LA-Z BOY and did the one thing that we had been getting a lot of practice in lately…we raised hell.

After some investigation and discussion we were offered a floor model of the same table but with a different color stain and with some dings at a discounted price of 70% off…after a brief consultation we accepted this offer and were told to return today to pick up our table.

Which at approximately 4:43pm we did.

This evening for the very first time since moving into this apartment some 8+ months ago I watched television and was able to put my beverage down somewhere other than the floor beside my chair.

And, ladies and gentleman, let me tell you…it was glorious.

So, let this be a lesson to all of you…do not think for one second that ordering tables or chairs or anything for that matter from warehouses far, far away is anything but a recipe for anguish and despair. And know that LA-Z BOY is more than just a brand name, it’s a way of doing business.

But they can go straight to hell now for all I care (along with my apartment’s management company) because today I got my coffee table…

Now, if only the goddamn plumber would show up to make sure that the fucking roof doesn’t leak again, then everything would be 100% super terrific.

Again I Return

It’s been a few days since last I posted, and I therefore once again apologize to anyone who was having trouble maintaining their sanity without the help of my blog. My reasons for not posting are varied, but all of them have merit.

REASONS FOR NOT POSTING:

1. FLOOD - As you know (by the last post) my apartment flooded again, and as was the case before, internet access has been occassionally interrupted due to post flood circumstances. Normally, the modem in the apartment is kept in my brother’s room, but seeing as how his room sustained the most damage from the flooding, we had moved all his stuff out into the living room and surrounding areas. It took a few days to get everything set back up, and then when we did set the modem up, it was running very poorly. So I was able to sign on, but only for brief periods of time before my connection would disappear. Which actually resulted in my losing an attempt at a blog post a few days ago. At that point it was determined that the modem needed to be relocated into a better spot so that I could have uninterrupted internet again. And as you can see (by evidence of this post) this has now been accomplished.

2. BASEBALL - The other reason for my absence was that yesterday I was in San Diego for the World Baseball Cup finals between Japan and Cuba.

Originally when I found out that I would be going to the WBC finals I was extremely excited and hopeful that I would see a matchup of the United States vs. The Dominican Republic, basically the two teams with the most Major League All-Stars on their respective rosters. So, needless to say when the two teams that ended up in the finals were Japan and Cuba it took a little bit of the polish off the shine of the game.

However, being that I’m the type of guy who looks at my glass and instead of seeing it as half empty or half full just pours more of my beverage into the glass, I knew that I would have a good time no matter who was playing.

So, off I went to the great city of San Diego yesterday for the game.

In assessing the two teams, I made the decision to root for Japan (a wise one seeing as how they won). Basically, my philosophy was that if things turned rowdy and got ugly I’d rather be rooting with the people in the stadium who might know karate rather than against them.

All in all the game was pretty enjoyable, Japan jumped out to an early lead, but Cuba fought back to make it interesting up until the ninth inning when Japan put it away for good. It was rather cold out, so that was one negative, but the majority of fans were pretty in to the game so there was a lot of cheers and chanting that kept things entertaining (albeit in languages that I couldn’t understand - but then again that was part of the appeal…I will say that when those Japanese fans really get going with their chanting it is a sight to see).

So, anyways, now I’m back, and with good internet access, so I should be able to get back on schedule of updatiing you all on the goings on in my day to day existence with the usual frequency.

I’m sure you are all collectively breathing a huge sigh of relief.

More Inside Rain

My apartment flooded again Friday night (technically Saturday morning - at about 2:20am).

And while I am tempted to go off on a long-winded rant about how grossly incompetent the management company in charge of my apartment is, I will instead refrain out of the growing fear that my blood pressure has suffered enough in the last few days.

I will note that I have been assured that the responsibilities of overseeing the repairs necessary have been shifted to a supervisor as clearly the last person in charge was incapable of handling them…seeing as how we’re still waiting for things to get fixed after the first flood occurred over three weeks ago.

On the positive side, my brother and I met our upstairs neighbor the other day. As you all know, I’m a big fan of fostering community (or in this case neighborly) relationships. And let me tell you nothing says icebreaker like, “Hi, we live below you…you have plumbing problems.” She was a nice woman who is more than willing to help out and let a plumber in to check things out on her end.

Anyways…i’m gonna go make some dinner now, and assume my nightly position in front of the television for some low stress entertainment (though 24 is probably not any easier on the blood pressure - but in a good way).

Good Times In South Carolina

And now the story of how I spent the night in a South Carolina Emergency Room last summer after my cat, Socrates, scratched me across my right eye.

In the beginning of last July I was making the final preparations to move from Miami out here to LA. As part of said preparations I made a trip up to my parent’s house in NJ in order to drop some unwanted stuff off and to pick some other wanted stuff up.

Once this exchange of stuff was complete, I packed my car and headed south on I-95 on my way back to my apartment in Miami to gather the rest of my belongings before heading west.

I’m not sure what time I left my parent’s house in NJ, but I do know that I pulled into a motel in South Carolina at about 8:30 pm on a Wednesday. I know this because I was in the process of watching the summer reruns of the 1st season of Lost (I had missed the original airings due to the time constraints that accompanied my finishing up my MFA).

So, anyways I checked into the motel (it was a Day’s Inn for all those curious), and settled in to enjoy the show.

Socrates is normally quite docile during long car rides, but she is not by any stretch a fan of being kept in her carrier for an extended period of time. This means that whenever we’re traveling and I stop for the night, she spends a good couple of hours running around the motel room like a tweaker on a meth binge.

Usually she tends to not bother me during this unwinding process, so it’s really never an issue for me. However, on this particular occasion, Socrates had spotted a fly in the motel room and was hell-bent on getting her paws on it.

The pursuit of the fly led her all over the place and eventually onto the bed. The fly had settled on the wall behind my head, and Socrates was stalking. In an instant she sprung and predictably the fly took off. Now, obviously Socrates could not land on the wall, so instead she attempted to perch herself on the bed’s headboard, directly above me.

Unfortunately for both of us, the Day’s Inn happened to have a particularly narrow headboard, and as she began to lose her balance her natural instinct to grab on with her claws took hold.

Now to backtrack a second, I was lying down with my head propped up with a few pillows in order to create the optimal television viewing position, but when Socrates leapt towards the wall I, understandably, shifted, mostly because her sudden movement had startled me.

So…due to my shift in position and her position on a very narrow headboard, the perfect storm was created where as she fell off the headboard (still clawing at it in order to try and grab on) she landed directly on the right side of my face, with her front paws coming down on top of my right eye.

I knew instantly that damage was done, as the flash of white lights, stars, and searing pain that accompanied her arrival, hinted to as much. My first instinct was to put my hand up to cover my eye until the pain subsided.

After a few moments, once I had regained my senses, I took my hand away only to find it dripping in blood (which is never a good sign, but particularly so – as the rest of the story will illustrate - when you are in a completely random town in the middle of nowhere).

I stood up and walked over to the bathroom mirror to inspect the damage, and lo and behold I had a huge gash over my eye (not on the eyelid exactly, but right above the soft area and just below the eyebrow). Underneath my eye was already swelling, and my eye itself (inside – cornea area) was also quite red.

After a quick assessment of the situation I soaked a washcloth in hot water, and began to use a makeshift compress to see if the bleeding would stop on its own (and also so that I could try to watch the rest of the episode of Lost – even if this was slightly more difficult to do enjoyably with only one good eye).

The episode ended (about 15 minutes later), and my eye was still bleeding (and also in need of a fresh wash cloth).

It was around this time that I began to entertain the possibility of having to locate the nearest hospital. After a brief consultation with my father over the phone, it was decided that the hospital might be the safe way to play it.

So, down I went to the front desk (new washcloth and bleeding eye in tow) to inquire as to the whereabouts of the closest hospital.

Now, here’s where things start to get really fun…

I asked the girl working the front desk if she could provide me with some directions to the nearest hospital…

Her response: Okay, but it’s about 45 minutes from here.

Me: The nearest hospital is 45 minutes from here?

Her: Yeah.

Me: What happens if there is an emergency in the middle of the night and someone needs a doctor?

Her: I think people just try and wait until morning and go to their doctor.

Me: Yeah, but what if it’s an emergency, like a heart attack or something?

Her: I don’t know, I guess they might die then.

Me: Okay, well can you give me directions anyway.

She then proceeded to give me some directions (which I wrote down). The problem with these directions was that they were basically tailored to someone who was familiar with the local roads and landmarks. Which obviously didn’t do me much good, seeing as how I had never driven around the area before, let alone in the middle of the night with one eye.

The directions included instructions like take Oak road till you get to The Tucker’s Ranch (which allegedly you can’t miss because, “They have that funny looking mailbox”), and then take your next left.

So, anyway, I take down her directions, get into my car, and head off into the night in search of the hospital that is approximately 45 minutes away.

Now, being that it’s July in South Carolina there is quite a bit of humidity at night, and my windshield is completely fogged up. And being the middle of South Carolina and a highly rural area there are basically no businesses or houses or anything else for that matter on these roads, so in turn there are practically no streetlights, and it is mostly pitch black.

So, picture me holding the directions in my left hand, the washcloth in my right hand, pressed against my eye, trying to drive with my knees and elbows in the pitch black of night to a hospital 45 minutes away with my only chance to get there being predicated on my ability to spot a funny looking mailbox in these conditions and my current state.

Miraculously, I did indeed manage to make it to the hospital (which was located in the town of Beaufort). As for the Tucker’s mailbox – it was a dancing Cow, complete with tutu.

Of course, getting to good ol’ Beaufort Memorial Hospital was half the fun.

Once I was there I got to witness the result of what having only one hospital in a 60-mile radius produces.

Upon entering the ER I was greeted by a giant sign reading:

TRIAGE – FRENCH – A system of assigning priorities of medical treatment.

In the waiting area there was a young man who had been stabbed (the knife still protruding from his thigh), a woman in labor, a woman alternating breaths from an oxygen tank and a cigarette (well, technically she was outside the waiting room but waiting nevertheless to see someone about her chest pains), a guy who had a compound fracture of his leg, as well as a prostitute and a pimp who was not embarrassed at all to let us know that, “bitch done give me the drips, cause her stupid-ass don’t know how to use no rubber with them tricks.”

Therefore although I arrived at the hospital a little before midnight, it was another 4 hours until Triage dictated that my bleeding eye was worthy enough to see a doctor (of course this was also compounded in part, I’m sure, to the fact that there was only one ER doctor attending to all these patients. I probably shouldn’t complain though, because it would have been a lot worse if the pregnant woman hadn’t insisted on waiting for an Obstetrician to deliver the kid, as opposed to letting the ER doctor do it – though he was certainly game).

Eventually my name was called and I was led back to one of the exam areas where a nurse cleaned my eye and Dr. Oguntoyinbo (the aforementioned lone ER doc) told me that I could use a few stitches, but they weren’t absolutely necessary (at which point I opted to forego the stitches). I then asked Dr. Oguntoyinbo if it might be possible to check my cornea for any damage and/or scratches. He said sure, and that he would be back shortly.

I waited another 15 minutes or so, until the nurse came back with my discharge papers.

I asked her what happened to the Doctor, explaining that he was supposed to check my cornea. And she said he had just gotten off shift and left 10 minutes ago. She then told me to look up and she shone a pen light in my eye for a few seconds before telling me she didn’t think anything looked scratched.

Now approaching 4:30 with the prospect of another 45 min drive back to the motel, along with the remaining 7-8 hours to Miami ahead of me, I decided to cut my losses and leave (thankful that they hadn’t decided to amputate anything while I was there).

So, off I went, on my way to a nearby CVS to fill the prescription they gave me (after some insistence on my part) to ensure that the gash didn’t become infected.

This, along with the time I almost died when my car broke down on the only operational lane of I-95 N in South Carolina and resulted in my blocking traffic for miles, subsequently led to my decision to never again travel through South Carolina by car.

As for the story of my car breaking down and me almost dying, well, that’s a story for another day…

Unicef

I got a letter in the mail today from the good folks at unicef.

Inside said letter was a nickel, and the words, “This nickel could save a child’s life!” Now forgive me for stating the obvious here, but why in the hell is unicef sending me a nickel that could be saving some child’s life?

I am not starving or in need of any vaccines. I have running water that is clean, and a toilet that works. So don’t you think that they should be sending these nickels to those kids in need whom they talk about in the enclosed literature who need my help.

This seems like one of the worst decisions made all time. I mean, how many people get these pleas for help? How many nickels are wasted on trying to solicit help from people who really have no need for loose nickels? Certainly, the letter would be just as effective alone as it is with the inclusion of 5 cents.

In the letter, the people from unicef state:

“Even if you can’t make a donation today, please return the enclosed nickel as a sign of your support for children in desperate need around the world - EVERY NICKEL COUNTS in our battle to save innocent children’s lives! But if you can, your donation of whatever amount you can afford can help protect thousands of children from malnutrition and disease. Thank you!”

Now, first off, I’ll bet that a ton of people do not ever send back their nickels. But even if you did decide to send back your nickel, it’s gonna cost you 37cents to do it, because unicef, while they toss around nickels like there’s no tomorrow, they do not provide postage paid envelopes.

Maybe it’s just me here…maybe I’m being a little to hard on them, after all they’re only trying to help save the world one child at a time. And I applaud them for this, and I wish I could do more to contribute. But don’t try and guilt me into giving money when you’re throwing away who knows how many dollars with all your wasted nickels.

At the very end, in case you are not feeling guilty enough you are told:

“In the time it took you to read this letter, dozens of young children died painful, preventable deaths. It’s too late to help those children, but you can prevent many needless deaths from occuring in the future. Please don’t delay in responding to this plea for help - the children are counting on you!”

Well congratulations unicef, you’ll get your donation…the children are counting on me alright, because you geniuses keep wasting money that should be going to them.

Updates

Ruby is no longer accident free, she took a dump and peed in my parent’s dining room yesterday. I’m not sure how this will affect her potential admittance into MENSA for dogs.

In other news, I received my survey on homeless problems in Santa Monica today.

Clearly you can see the people behind Santa Monicans for Sensible Priorities take this homeless problem very seriously. As they so eloquently state, “The time for talk is past. What is needed now is bold action. For these strategies to succeed, the political willl in City Hall must be resolute and strong.”

I will certainly will be thinking long and hard (as well as possibly doing some further investigation into the “Housing First” model that is mentioned) about which of these options is best for my fellow Santa Monicans before filling out the form and sending it in.

I have also realized that I neglected to post a Picture of The Month for February - in part because February is so short, it was over before I had the chance (stupid February). So anyways, I’m posting it now…here is the Picture of The Month February 2006. It is a class picture of my nursery school…good ol Oakhurst Country Day. I am the strapping fellow in the tie.

Don’t I look sharp? The gentleman in the top right corner smiling in the striped shirt is my friend Jeff. Jeff is also the person under My Friends who is giving you the finger…see what a good job Oakhurst Country Day did in starting us kids out on the right path.

My Triumphant Return

I’m back. Thankfully, I did not die over the last few days (although there was one point in which i thought my death was possible - more on that soon), and so I can now resume my posting for all of you, my loyal blog readers.

My journey began last Friday with one of the strangest encounters I’ve ever had with an airport security screener. Now let me first say that I have been subjected to random security searches in the past and though I find it highly unlikely that terrorists would attempt to use airplanes to attack us again, I still can understand the need for said searches. What confuses me though, is the exchange I had with the security guy right before I stepped through the metal detector. It went like this:

Him: Boarding pass.

I had him my pass.

Him: What’s your name?
Me: Um, Alex
Him: How old are you?
Me: 27
Him: Where are you flying to?
Me: Newark
Him: What’s your favorite color?
Me: Uh, green.
Him: What’s your favorite film?
Me: I can’t really name one, if you’d like I can list a bunch that I like.
Him: Fine, tell me who’s on the head’s side of a US penny?
Me: Lincoln.
Him: Okay, you can go.

Now, again, I answered these questions honestly (though in retrospect I’m not sure if I’d say green is really my favorite color over say blue and grey - it’s probably a three way tie), but with a bit of confusion in my voice. So as I walked away towards my gate, I was just confused more than anything as to what spurred this decision to interrogate me in such a strange manner. Was he profiling me? Trying to gauge my level of nervousness as he asked me these seemingly random questions? What if I had answered differently? Would that have led to problems?

For example -

Would it have been bad if I had said that my favorite color was blood red?

or

My favorite film was Paradise Now?

or

That Mohammed was on the penny?

Presumably, one would think, that these answers would raise some kind of flag - but then again, presumably, terrorists probably wouldn’t give these answers. So, I’m not really sure what was going on. Some people have suggested that perhaps the guy was just bored and wanted to mess with someone and I looked like a guy who wouldn’t get too upset by it. Which I suppose I can understand - oh, except for the part about the airline security guy being bored and instead of actually trying to prevent terrorist attacks spending his time at work messing with people by asking them pointless questions. Other than that, it makes complete sense.

Anyways…

Saturday was spent going with my parents (did I mention that part of my trip was spent at my parent’s house - albeit a brief part) to pick up their new dog, Ruby.

Ruby is a Golden Doodle (which is a cross between a golden retriever and a poodle), and she is absolutely adorable.

Ruby, along with being adorable, should also be a candidate for MENSA for dogs - if such an organization exists. I’ve never seen a puppy so well-behaved or good natured (which i suppose in and of itself is not a sign of intelligence, but it was the best analogy i could come up with). Through three days of being at my parent’s house, Ruby has yet to have an accident in the house, has already started to scratch at the back door when she does need to go out, hasn’t cried at all at night, and has already learned to recognize her name. As my parents so eloquently put it:

My Mom: Not that I loved him any less, but Ruby is definitely a lot smarter than Ranger (my first dog - he passed away a few months ago) was as a puppy.

My Dad: Are you kidding me, she’s (Ruby) smarter than Alex.

Which I really couldn’t argue with, because I did in fact cry a lot my first few nights at home, it presumably took me longer than a few days to recognize my name, and I definitely went to the bathroom whenever and wherever it suited me. Though as I pointed out, I was smart enough to never lick my own ass, so there has to be some credit given on my end.

On Sunday I went to an engagement brunch for one of my best friends (and college roommate) and his fiance who I am also friends with from college. The brunch was held at a country club in Pleasantville, NY and it was a wonderful time. Since I’ve been living out here (and previously in Miami and New Orleans) I don’t get to see a lot of my friends from college as often as I would like, so it’s always nice when I do have the opportunity (especially under such joyous circumstances).

The most amazing thing about the brunch was the fact that the guy who worked the coat room didn’t give out stubs when you checked your coat. “I don’t need to, I’ll remember,” he said. I have no idea how you could manage to keep that many coats straight after 4 or so hours coat room guy, but I am indeed impressed. Although, I must admit, during the brunch I was kinda worried that I was gonna get the wrong coat back and never know the difference - because I had borrowed a coat from my father, so it was the first and only time I’ve ever worn - until I got back to my parent’s house and my father asked, “who’s coat is that?”

Anyways, here are some things I learned at the engagement brunch -

Pink is the new blue.

If you decide to drink mimosas be prepared to be made fun of (especially true if you are also wearing a pink shirt).

And a lot of girls I know from college wear way too much makeup (though, I can’t remember if this was always the case - I suspect it is).

Then came the trip home - which brings us to the point in the story when in which I neurotically considered the possibility of my untimely and tragic death.

I was boarding the plane and came to my row only to find an Arabic man sitting in my seat. I told him politely that he was in the wrong seat, and after muttering something under his breath he moved into the middle seat, as I took my place by the window.

Once settled, I buckled myself in and in doing so saw on the armrest a crudely drawn picture of a Star of David next to a gun firing bullets in the star’s direction. Immediately, I started to think the worst, that I might not only be seated next to a terrorist (or a Jew-hater), but that I had just pissed him off.

This led to my immediate assessment that if he was a terrorist, I would be the first one killed — seeing as how he would have to, in order to attempt to gain control of the plane, kill someone immediately, and I was now the prime candidate.

Rather than say anything to the flight attendant (which would only have caused either a. a long delay or b. a potentially innocent - seeing as how the grafitti could have been there before he ever sat down - man being removed from the plane and/or harrassed), I decided instead to just keep a close watch on the guy and monitor the situation.

Soon the meal was served, a beef sandwich, and as I watched him take a bite my mind raced…did Muslims not eat beef along with pork, or was that just Hindus? If he was a terrorist would he be willing to eat the beef in order to keep his cover? Why didn’t I keep bacon strips on me at all times for such an occassion?

Then I started to dissect things even further - if he was a terrorist, why would he have wanted to sit by the window? One would think a terrorist would want the aisle seat, in order to have easier access to the plane. What good would a window seat do? And why would a terrorist draw on the armrest, isn’t that too much of a risk of tipping your hand before you act? I would think that not drawing Jewish stars and guns on the airplane’s armrest is covered in Al Qaeda training camps.

As the possibilities continued to run through my mind, I finally noticed him start a conversation with the woman seated in our row’s aisle seat and at one point he touched her arm - this I assumed was finally enough proof that he was not an Islamic terrorist, and rather just some dude.

So I finally relaxed and went to sleep.

Later I woke up still alive and overheard him tell the woman that he lives in Burbank and owns a jewelry store.

Then we landed…and here I am alive and recounting the past few days events for all of you…

Out Of Town

Forgive me if I don’t post over the next few days, as I will be out of town for a long weekend.

Presumably I will have access to a computer (well actually, I’ll definitely have access, I’m bringing my laptop along), but I’m not sure whether or not time will permit me to post while i’m away.

I know this might be a serious blow to some of you who look forward to my posts on an almost daily basis. But I promise to return in a few days (assuming I don’t die before hand - keep your fingers crossed) with all new blog posts for your enjoyment.

In case you are having serious trouble and start to go through withdrawal I recommend you go back and reread some of my previous posts to tide you over.

Until then…

Be strong…I will return.