Quirks from the road

My coworkers and I travel a lot during the fall and we all have stories we can tell about our great road running adventures. We have all had at least one moment (a day??) where our outlook has betrayed us by switching our appointments to a different time zone or where we get a call or text obnoxiously late or early from some other time zone (PEOPLE- I AM ON WEST COAST TIME. JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE HAD YOUR LIFE IN ORDER FOR LIKE TWO HOURS DOES NOT MEAN I HAVE.... also, sorry, coworker, for calling you at midnight East coast time-- it was only 9 my time).

We have all been at the point where we roll over in the dark to find the alarm, slam it off, get up, scratch whatever needs scratching and make our way over to the window to throw open the shades to get a view of whatever office park, parking garage, or lame intersection our room faces- just so we can remember exactly where we are.

We entertain each other with "tales from the road," stories about showing up to the airport way too early (foiled by different time zones again) or late (damn you, time zones); recaps on throwing our keys away with our trash and what it was like to dig through the dumpster at the Embassy Suites for an hour; or run downs on what type of rental cars we got and jealous grunts when someone reveals the sweet ride they snagged on their trip. Ahhhh yes, life on the road.

Fortunately/Unfortunately/Fortunately/Unfortunately, Tunately, I didn't have any major happenings to report on during my last trip. My adventures were kind of lame. I ate "chicken" at a Vegetarian restaurant. (I have no idea what it was if it wasn't chicken, but I am still flabbergasted at how far veganology has come.); I took a lot of pictures of the leaves changing colors, and I apparently ordered a bunch of shower caps. On the last night on the road I went back to my room to be greeted by a frantic hotel employee. He was knocking on my door as I walked up. A huge smile of relief spread across his face. "FOR THE SHOWER!!!," he barked as he thrust the shower caps in my hand. "WEVE BEEN TRYING TO GET YOU!!!" and off he went. I had not been to my room in hours and... oh yeah... HAD NEVER USED A SHOWER CAP IN MY LIFE, so was a little confused about why I was suddenly holding four of them. I shrugged, went into my room, and immediately started wondering which room the person with the shower cap necessary hair was camping out in..... And if they would let me touch that mystifying hair. 

FYS

There are some people in this world that people just want to talk to. Total strangers will walk up to them and reveal their deepest secrets. People in the line at the grocery store will seamlessly shift the conversation from the weather to a detailed outline about their struggles with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. An innocent smile while pumping gas could result in a fifteen minute monologue about their granddaughter's ballet recital. A friend and I describe this as an 'FYS' moment- one that should be held onto for your shrink. While in line at Starbucks, divulging that you are stressed out because you have to move unexpectedly because you caught your landlord in bed with your boyfriend is not for me- that is FOR YOUR SHRINK.

Luckily, I am not one of these people that people just want to talk to.

Well not most of the time, at least.

Thank god.

But, for some reason, every now and then, I do attract some bizarre behavior and conversations. For example, the time that the girl ringing me up at the grocery store told me about her weight issues. Or the time that the man got on the half empty streetcar and chose to share a seat with me and proceeded to tell me about his ultimate fear of getting trapped in the deep freezer at work.

A more interesting FYS moment occurred this summer, while I was staying at a casino. (Just to paint the picture- it was legit, it wasn't like a truck stop casino). I had just pressed the elevator button to go to my floor when a man in a bathing suit stuck his hand in between the doors and just barely made it in. He gave me a big "I'm only missing two teeth" smile and proceeded to talk.

"You been winnin big!?"

"No- not really, I haven't been gambling much."

"Awwww- come on now--- you gotta play. I bet yer lucky! I won real big last night."

"Oh."

"No- seriously. Real big! I done won $600! And I'm doing good today, too- but I had to take a break and run to the room to use the bathroom. I didn't want to take the chance to find it in the casino. I gotta pee real bad."

At this point, he gave me another grin while hopping from one leg to the other and pulling his knees together real tight.

"Shit," I thought to myself, "why did they put me on such a high floor? If I were on the third floor, I could have avoided this altogether."

The elevator slowed down as the doors opened and he let out a moan as he kept up the toddler 'I have to pee' two step.

Another woman got on and pushed a button.

He looked at her "How ya doin, ma'am?" Her face twisted slightly as she took in the scene. He continued. "Man, I been havin a good day! But I was just telling my friend here I wish they would turn up the A/C- I'm so dang cold-I'm shiverin!" He squeezed his knees together and somewhat covered his crotch and sent a wink my way. Like it was a little inside joke that he really was about to piss all over himself.

Finally, the elevator dinged to a halt at my floor and I scrambled off of it.

I guess I had been lucky- I got to avoid what could have been a urine soaked scene in a small space. And, just from my brief interaction, I think that this man had a lot of things that he should have been sharing with his shrink.

We should all be ashamed of ourselves.

The other day while perusing Wal-Mart, I came across this fine example of how Americans have become overweight, sad, materialistic, Honey Boo Boo loving, ignorant consumers.

Please notice the size in between L and XL.


That's right- Husky.


Really!? Really!? HUSKY is a size now!?

I guess there's no such thing as vanity sizing when it comes to boy's Halloween costumes.

There should be a size called "YOU ARE TOO DAMN BIG TO GO TRICK-OR-TREATING" or maybe, instead of Husky we should call it "YOU DON'T NEED ANY CANDY, FAT-ASS. NOW RUN HOME AND DO SOME SIT UPS, KING CURTIS.*"




*Thank you to Laura Meagher for the King Curtis reference.