I’ll be heading up to Maine on Monday for a family reunion. Funny, some SOBs are headed that direction, too, and two fellows at the Island Mart said they were on the way as well. I’ve been looking for winter stuff in the garage, still packed from last year, and looking for some good foul weather gear – I think they had two days of sun in the last couple months. But hey, the weather dudes say sunny and 80, so maybe I’ll just bring some stuff from … do I really have to root around in the garage, really? Fifty degrees might kill me in my “Nantucket Nut Cooler” shorts.
Lori is staying here and I don’t blame her, as I have four connecting flights each way and the prognosis doesn’t look good if one plane sneezes or farts, or if it rains in Nebraska. I sure used to love to fly. Those were the days. Last four times I flew they figured me for a terrorist and made me to the “goose dance” with my arms straight out before I could even get in the terminal. Then when getting on the plane … OK, assume the position again. I keep saying “my name ain’t Ted Kennedy” but they just don’t listen.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m going to have a great time seeing the folks – last reunion was 2002. I’ll be happy. But honest, folks, if you drive you’re styling first class and if you fly commercial you’re in the cattle drive. Maybe hogs. The steward yells “SOOOOOEY” to get your attention to the safety stuff. Everyone disregards that crap because if it’s a “Let’s Roll” situation we’re dead as shit already. Just give me a cold beer, mama, and don’t bother asking for money or that fake “Anyone got change for a 20?” routine. Jeez, flying really sucks these days unless you got a crop duster or a Beachcraft or something.
So after getting all worked up about how shitty flying is and was my Mom (we call her Mother) will ask “How are you doing?” I always say fine, my favorite F-word, and then we talk about the real stuff.
p.s. Sorry folks, it doesn’t look like I’ll get to Hampton Beach NH or Block Island RI this year. Natch to Essex and Clinton, CT.