Here I sit, in a food oasis in the Phoenix International Airport. I’m assuming it is “International” because most Airports slap that onto their title these days. I thought I would take this opportunity, in the form of a two hour layover, to relay sundry events.
Old Issues:
I finished Vachss’ “Down Here” the other night. It was a quick, good read. I’m not sure if I liked the ending. I felt that it wrapped up way to fast. There were two flippant references that I caught earlier in the book that alluded to the nature of the ending, but it was so immaterial to the rest of the book. I would have liked to have learned more about the characters that were financing Wychek, personally. I hope that the other issues (the relationship with Laura and the hunting of Wychek) were just slapped together hurriedly because he’ll get to them in a later story. Otherwise, as a stand-alone book, I was less than impressed with the ending.
Today’s Issues:
Class was put to good use, but I didn’t necessarily need to be there. We went to all that trouble to change to a later flight today and we really didn’t need to. What a scam-ola. However, I used the time to take some screenshots and write a trip/training report that I think management will find useful.
After class, Andy and I went off to turn in our company cars that we borrowed during our trip. The weather was slightly overcast as we slipped into our corporate campus.
You know, before I continue with this story, I have to ask: what the hell is the mystique of motion-sensitive plush pets? Those yapping pieces of crap really need to go. As I sit here, nursing a gingerbread latte and jot down my picayune thoughts, this background noice—black noise, if you will, black as the hearts of the entrepreneurial fuckwits who created such plush spawnlets of Hell’s dark lords of consumerism—plagues me. It beats at the base of my skull and runs up and down my spine. But in terms of physical comfort, this is the best seat in the area. O, how I am vexed!
Anyway, the rest of my adventure. We’re driving onto campus. My first obstacle involves the main security gate. All employees must show their badge. My own private Idaho during this trip was that I forgot my badge. This compels me to stop at security’s gates and tell them the story, have them call into dispatch and verify my employement. Meanwhile, a taxi driven by who the hell knows, can come on into the campus with no problem. Anyway, I make it past the gate, and not 300 yards later I’m pulled over by a glorified mall cop for speeding on campus grounds. Yes, I was going 35 in a 20 zone, that was completely vacant except for me , the security guard, and the devil. Stifling a smirk, JJ, as I later found out his name, wrote me up for speeding. Who knows what the penalty is for that. Technically, nothing. So I did not worry about it.
I meet my coworker at the visitor lobby, and explained to him why I was late. He looks at my citation, and it turns out that he was childhood buddies with this guy. He calls him and gets him to come by and tear up the ticket. On the one hand, that’s nice. On the otherhand, if I was such a goddamned hazard on the road, the ticket should stand and I should take my lumps for it. I don’t like getting special treatment for something I did wrong, relative to the expectations of the company. I don’t like rules enforced based on who I know rather than whether or not the rule was broken. Ah well.
We called a taxi. It’s nice to know that the number for the Yellow Taxi company in San Antonio is 210-222-2222. I don’t know if that’s the same in other cities, since I’ve never called a cab before. I’ve hailed cabs, but not called them. I’ve also not ever noticed such a simple phone number on the side of the cab. But hey, if you’re ever in San Antone, that number gets you to the cab company.
We make it to the airport in a timely fashion, about 4 hours earlier than we need to be given our flight time. Andy and I lamented this, wanting to get home. So we diplomagically threw ourselves at the mercy of the Southwest ticket counter employee. Thankfully, we got on an earlier flight out…It bought me an extra hour of time tonight, which I appreciate.
I now notice that my foot absent-mindedly has been tapping in time with the yapping devils of at Hell’s Souvenir store. Fucksocks!
Andy and I make our way up to our terminal, make a pit-stop at a miniature AirSports Bar. Three Bombay Sapphire G&T’s, one beer, and two Seagram 7 and 7’s later (split amongst us both), we roll over to our terminal and board our plane. We acquire the Emergency Isle, bravely assuming full responsibility for tossing out fellow disheveled passengers in the event of an emergency crash landing. Assumming we live through the crash landing, that is. Otherwise, we become any survivors’ bloody, perhaps dismembered welcome mat to the rest of the world.
My flight to Phoenix was a mix of sporadic napping and reading “The Last Lion” by William Manchester. Churchill’s life is proving to be fascinating, as well as the little tidbits leading to World War II.
Some quotes worthy of note:
“The great masses of the people…will more easily fall victims to a big lie [eine grosse Luge] than to a small one.” --Chapter 10, Hitler’s “Mein Kampf”
I realize the aforementioned concept is not new, and that is what pisses me off most of all. When will the great masses ever learn?
“Englishmen kept their places when they and their families were fed, clothed, and housed. The unemployed, however, knew no such restraint. The man without a situation took little risk, and might attract attention to his cause, by stoning limousines, joining a demonstration—or joining the Communist party.” --The Last Lion, page 49
Somehow, I don’t think Englishmen are the only people who behave in such a fashion.
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