Trip Reports - A Consultants life. Tales from the road at 35,000ft.

Profanity free for now anyways. I thought it might be fun to give my fellow FT’ers a view into the life of a road warrior. And for those of you who share the same lifestyle, you will surely relate and get a chuckle at times. My adventures have been shared in great detail with many of you in FT Chat. And during slow times, or when my travels are uneventful, I will re-tell some of the highlights of my time on the road like the now infamous Kalamazoo ‘Lindsay’ incident. This is sure to be an epic thread as it will follow my travel experiences and document some of my time on the road. From the outside some may find it horrifying, some may not, but I assure you that at times you will laugh hysterically and at other times feel the pangs of sadness.

To give you, the readers, some background I’ll share a little about me so that the framework for many of my misadventures are better understood. I am a mid-twenties single guy who works for an unnamed large consulting firm. I am on the road 5-6 days a week, every week. I ‘live’ in Austin Tx. and am currently staffed in Pasadena Ca. Any given Sunday you can catch me on AA flights 1360 and 2475, as I am today while writing this. Any given Friday I’ll be on flight 1696. The trip is usually uneventful, as it is every week. Sure on occasion I have to sprint through DFW to make my flight, after all, it is the size of Manhattan. I learned the hard way that sometimes it’s better to run than catch the TrAAin for a multitude of reasons. I digress. My life consists of planes, trains, rented automobiles, rented rooms and, single serving food served in disposable plastic containers. I have a ‘home’ I rarely see, even then it is just a glorified closet that I use to re-supply my suitcase and keep the local drycleaner in business. I will be hard pressed to put 5,000 miles on my car in a year, and 2 hours of stick time in my boat (my greatest passion in life).


11/17/04 - What a fitting first entry I have to share this week. Of course Sunday November 14 provided to be a day of non-stop airline and travel entertainment. This happens on occasion as when so many things are left out of your control failures and disconnects are bound to happen. I don’t even let them bother me anymore since they are TRULY out of my control, but I have NO tolerance for stupid people and have NO objection to voicing my opinion at times. That being said; Today was a day like many others, full of idiotic travel. I begin my day just outside of Houston Tx where I had been visiting my family. I quickly gathered my belongings shoved them in my briefcase kissed my family good by and hit the road. I drove to Houston as being able to drive my car was an unusual treat that I enjoy very much (hey, it’s a big V-8 American sports car, who wouldn’t?). So it was 2.5 hours of open roads, loud music, and some generally blissful ‘me’ time. All the while I am watching the clock remembering that I have a 5:00 flight. I feel embarrassed to admit, but my life is more dictated by airline schedules than it is by my own influence at times. I got to my home in Austin at 3:30, whew, just enough time to unpack from the week before, shove some new things into the suitcase, turn around and head out the door to the airplane awaiting me. Well,.. . This took a little longer than I thought it would and I find myself in a bit of a hurry to get to the airport on time. I KNOW I need to check in at 4:10 at AUS to make my 5:00 flight without relying on someone else to make sure that happens. I park the car at 4:08. It’s a mad dash to the kiosk to check in!! The escalator is broke so I have to carry my bags up the stairs and across the airport arriving at the kiosk at 4:15pm. @#$*&!! Thinking that I may be in for some trouble at this point, I swipe my AA card through the machine, enter LAX as my destination, and it finds my record. What a min, it’s letting me check in, SWEET!, I made it!! Well, yes, I had indeed made it, in great time I might add, for my 7:00pm flight. Thinking to myself that I am such an idiot, I could have spent at LEAST an hour and a half at home this weekend! Oh well, I’m here, I’m not leaving.

So I have lunch/dinner at the Schlotzsky’s at AUS, and settle into a seat near gate 14 where I can plug in my laptop for some juice to write this with. The wait was something I was used to as this is not the first time I have done this. The time passes without event. I take my seat on the Mad Dog at A-7. I prefer a window for this short hop from AUS to DFW, especially if it is on the port side of the aircraft. There is nothing I love more than a sunset at 21,000 feet. Also, The fleeting skyline of my beloved city is always enjoyable. Not to mention I have seen more of Lake Travis from the air this year than I did in either one of my boats.

We all board without event and the door shuts, and the plane pushed back. *sniff* goodbye Austin. Just then the engines spool up and we roll forward to the gate again. The Captain makes the announcement that warning lights were going off in the cockpit. Fine by me, fix it if you must. Turns out it was just a gauge. We take off at 7:50 for DFW. Hmm, mechanical delay, 8:45 departure from DFW, I’m not going to make it unless I run. I’ll worry about it in Dallas, right now, I am going to enjoy my flight. Unfortunately, a rather portly woman has spackled me to the window. While this was unpleasant in and of itself, but god good, do NOT take chips and queso with guacamole on the plane with you people! Thank god it is a short flight and I’m young or I’d have required re-assembly when we landed. The actual flight was rather uneventful. But we did have a nice wait on the tarmac in DFW to further complicate my connection. ‘Eh so I catch the next one I think to myself.

The Mad Dog pulls into the gate with 16 min before the door closes. I am at C25 and I need to get to A12. So I start heading that way, maybe I’ll make it, maybe I wont. I get there and the door is closed and the plane has already pushed back. Oh well, I should at least get a bump voucher for this. So I go to the gate attendant who is the most worthless uninformed idiot I have ever delt with at AA. He proceeds to put me stand by for the next one in 1.5 hrs which is oversold. Then Mr. T. Phillips (the ever so helpful gate attendant) instructs me that AA (and I quote) “The flight was oversold, we do not give vouchers in this situation”. So I ask him again, and get the same response as I did not want to jump to conclusions. My jaw it the floor, I instructed him that he should notify his manager about the new policy that he has enacted for his employer. Oh well, I’m not too concerned as they would only expire in my drawer along with the stacks of other like it. (I realize this may be a strange concept for FT’ers, but I don’t care much for miles, vouchers, points or what not. Status is important to me, but not much else, I’m never that motivated to travel much. I take vacation to go home!) . So I think, no big deal, I’m EXP, I’ll get on this flight. Well, they only accept one volunteer for the flight to give up his seat. Unfortunately I did not get that seat. Then it hits me, I’m strAAnded! Thank you AA!

FanFreakingtastic! Just then, I notice, oh no,. It couldn’t be,. My good friend Mr T. Phillips comes to work the gate and hand out hotel vouchers!! Oh wonderful I think to myself. So, they start calling people for their hotel vouchers and seat assignments for tomorrow’s flight. Now, by this point I have talked to all the others who did not make it on and they were all stand by from the flight I missed earlier. Not surprising, as it tends to happen like that. I have also found out that not a single one of them had any status what so ever. So I breathe a sign of relief thinking I will get a seat before the rest of them since I have good status and provide a very generous stream of revenue for AA. So I wait for my name to be called, LAST. No big deal, right. So he proceeds to tell me that AA will cover ½ the cost of the hotel, OF THEIR CHOOSING! Ok, now I have been calm and polite the whole time, while I will not abandon that philosophy at this juncture, I am no longer going to stand idle. AA, Your going to have to kiss me before you F^ me! So I say that this is completely unacceptable and it is the policy of AA that on a Mechanical delay they are responsible for the cost of my room. So he look up my flight (which he now obviously had not before I got there) and says ‘OK’ and not another word. I was expecting further discourse, but I should have known better from Mr. T. Phillips by now. He prints up a bunch of things and lays them out in front of me and starts going over it. He put me standby for the 7:00 am flight, booked me on the 8:20am flight and have me a hotel voucher at AA’s expense. So I look at it, look at him, look at it, look at him and say “dAAys Inn?! You bump me from PAID F class for reasons solely responsible for by AA, do not issue me a bump voucher on the premise of some policy you made up on the spot, put me on stand by then book me into COACH?! You sir, are not making me a happy pax. Can I speak to a Complaint Resolutions Officer (knowing full well that I was not going to find one at 10:00pm on a Sunday night)?” So He radio’s to someone who calls him, who radio’s someone else, who makes a call to some office, who radio’s a CSM to call Mr T. Phillips. He tells me there are no officers available tonight and that I should call “800-433-7300” and ask for one. (yeah, go look up that number and laugh like I did). So I thank Mr T. Phillips for his patience and walk off to baggage in the vein hope I may be able to get my bag.

And of course my bag made the flight that I did’nt. I thought that was against FAA regs, but I don’t know, nor do I care at this juncture. I call *wood and book a room at the closest Starwood; The Sheraton Grand at DFW for $158 for tonight. Great, I’ll take it because I am NOT staying at the dAAys Inn! So I wait 45 min for the shuttle and I am off!

I check in at Mid-night and have to be out by 5:00 to make my 7:00 am flight. Not too much to say about the Sheraton Grand as I was only there for 5 hours and unconscious for the majority of it. It was OK, but I cant imagine it was worth $158/night. I then make the smartest move of the whole night, I call the AA XPlat desk and get CONFIRMED on the 7:00 which had open seats I might add! (thank you Mr. T. Phillips)

The next morning I get up and shove my laptop into my briefcase which is now my only piece of luggage and off I go. I stand in the terminal waiting to board when I see one of the PAX that got bumped with me last night. So I go talk to her and ask if she is going to make it on or not (thinking she had been issued a standby ticket like *I* was). Turns out Mr. T. Phillips BOOKED her on it!! So I board the plane red in the face mad now! I am EXP, I thought that meant something. Apparently not. So I take my seat at 18B and pass out for the remainder of the flight. I get to L.A. looking utterly wrecked and having to go to work now.

I get my rental car (Pontiac Grand Prix I think) and take my place in traffic that can only be likened to waiting for Christmas in June. Now I KNOW, I cant go to work like this so I go to my hotel, Westin Pasadena and beg them to let me check in early so I can change and go to work. Of course they let me, I have stayed here for over 100 nights now and the desk staff knows me and is more than willing to accommodate.

Off to work I am, rolling into the office at 10:30 after having spent 18 hours trying to get here.

Welcome to the ‘real’ surreal life.

Excellent read!!!! Keep em coming ^ ^ ^
(btw thought about flying into BUR - a little closer than LAX to Pasadena)

That's all fine and dandy, but the question is, why wasn't Lindsay with you??? I'm sure she would have enjoyed the comforts of the Sheraton Grand.

Excellent read!!!! Keep em coming ^ ^ ^
(btw thought about flying into BUR - a little closer than LAX to Pasadena)


Yes it's closer, but I dont always get the times I want. I'll be posting more of my travels, count on something VERY crazy after thanksgiving. And I'm not even flying!

That's all fine and dandy, but the question is, why wasn't Lindsay with you??? I'm sure she would have enjoyed the comforts of the Sheraton Grand.


Hehehehe, well, I would have LOVED to have Lindsay with me, but alas,.. I have not heard from her, something tells me I wont either. :( I'll get that story up here sometime soon,.

Great stuff!! I too am a road warrior with over 200K in flight miles and over 100 nights under my belt this year. I am going to have to direct friends and family to this thread when I try explaining that it is not all luxury and fantasy life while on the road day in and day out!

Great stuff!! I too a road warrior with over 200K in flight miles and over 100 nights under my belt this year. I am going to have to direct friends and family to this thread when I try explaining that it is not all luxury and fantasy life while on the road day in and day out!

Thats the response I was looking for! I will keep this updated so feel free to send visitors.

Another "warrior" here...OVER 200K/230 nights annually. 8 years now and still going strong! ^

Well, I'll be curious to keep an eye on this as well. I'm also a mid twenties guy, and could have gone down the consulting path but decided not to in large part because I didn't want to be away from home six days a week. I've always wondered about the life, so I hope you'll include lots of experiences, not just those from your time in the air!

Well, I'll be curious to keep an eye on this as well. I'm also a mid twenties guy, and could have gone down the consulting path but decided not to in large part because I didn't want to be away from home six days a week. I've always wondered about the life, so I hope you'll include lots of experiences, not just those from your time in the air!

I plan to include everything from work at the client site, of course the crazy travel, and mostly the lifestyle. Look forward to a new entry in the next 24 hours. And some great entries in the next week as I am sure I will have some crazy stories from my planned road trip (with cameo appearances from other FTer's!)

GREAT story, and a good introduction to what I may be facing in a month or two (potential project that will ahve me commuting DCA-DTW weekly for 6 months).

Will be looking forward to any further stories.

Thanks for this glimpse into life on the roads, runways and hotel hallways of America. It certainly has its literal and figurative ups and downs and all those miles notwithstanding, you hit the nail on the head with your comment about vacations being about staying home for once.

By the way, I never saw any mention of airline lounges. They sure can make those airport layovers alot nicer. If you don't have a current membership, you might consider Priority Pass (http://www.prioritypass.com/) featuring U.S. affiliations with CO, DL, NW, UA, US and HP. Unlimited visits regardless of whether you're flying the specific lounge's airline or not will cost about $400.00 for one year, though there's an introductory special for $319.00.

What a great read! I too am on the road a lot. And, I really enjoy when I can do a "weekend getaway" to my home in San Francisco.

Sorry for the delay in the posting, the project has been a bit hectic lately and I have been indulging in ‘mindless fun’. I digress;

Here I will mark somewhat of a departure from the typical ‘trip report’ and comment on the life and times of a Consultant. Sure, there are airports involved along with many nights in hotels, but rather the atmosphere of excessive travel is what dominates my mood this evening.

Last we spoke I had barely made it into work after a rather unpleasant debacle at DFW. The work week was long, hard and unproductive. Consulting at times can be difficult work (I know, try to contain your laughter). It seems that the stigma of consulting often puts managers and employees at odds. The memory of the all too many lay off’s in recent years past has had an adverse affect on my ability to deliver work. If you think about it, consulting is one of two things; telling other people how to run their companies, or actually running them for your clients. I am currently doing a mix of both but mostly, running them. More specifically I am undertaking a large migration project at a multi-national mortgage lender. So my day to day work consists of part PMO (project Management Office) part roll up the sleeves technical work. This requires much interfacing with the day to day operations of the client.

Remember that I make mention of recent lay off’s and my ability to deliver work. This is where it plays into my daily activities. Everyone I work with view me as a perceived threat. It is the view of everyone I interact with that I am either there to outsource their job, or to replace them. NEITHER of which is true, but my firm has been known to do those things in the past. Needless to say, I am not a popular man nor a well liked one among those not in upper management. Breaking the ice and blending into the environment is always the priority of a consultant. You don’t want to stand out in any way. So you have an e-mail account from your client, a phone extension, and for all intents and purposes you become an employee of your client. I do not dare bring anything with my employers name into work, none of my business cards, my official work e-mail is always hidden on my desk top, all in an effort to blend in.

THIS is where it begins to affect one’s self. No one I work with (other than the others from my firm and a few select clients) has any idea what my life is like. They have no idea where I live 1,500 miles away from where I work, no idea that I live in a hotel, they have absolutely no way to relate to my way of life. Which I have found to be an ever increasing theme of my life. No one I know, nor anyone I have ever known, can even wager a guess as to what my day to day life is like. I have successfully alienated myself from my friends and family by choosing of a career and being a ‘road warrior’. Sure, it has it’s perks, don’t get me wrong, but those debts are dearly paid. I’ve scarcely watched the years go round. When I started I had someone very dear to me whom I very much intended to marry. Such is no longer the case. But such is the influence of power and money.

I know some of you are taken aback by that; Power? Well, yes hear me out. I’m 26, only an industry like consulting would ever put me in a position to direct an entire division of a multi-national mortgage lender at this age. This is something that may take others their whole career to achieve. On a usual project I will answer to 2 people, the CIO or an Executive director, and the Client Partner. So I talk to my friends from college and others my age and they have no idea what goes on in my life, nor do they have any hope of relating to what exactly it is I do. Often times their confusion is diluted by the absurdity of my lifestyle. The concept of ‘living in Austin, working in L.A.’ is so abstract to anyone I know it is absurd. Everyone has pleasant memories of staying in hotel rooms on family vacation or, flying to some exotic place. It is often difficult to separate flying from exotic places and hotel rooms from vacation in the minds of those I encounter.

Anyways, (yet again) I digress;

Work was long and hard and fruitless this last week. I flew home for the weekend. It was nice to be home for the 39 hours I was there. I got to watch my house flood in time for me to hop a flight back to work. (Austin flooded just a bit this week incase anyone was wondering) I sat coach, no clue what my seat number was since it was all too much like the 60 flights before it . Nothing special, I spent some time in LAX, hopped a flight, blah blah blah, read someone else’s trip report if you want to know what color the tile is.

Getting home was good, I spent some time with my friends who don’t know who I am. I have noticed a trend with those who I choose to spend time with; either they are much older than myself or they are still in college. I’m still trying to figure out why this is. But such is the case.

I flew back to work Monday morning. Rather uneventful again. Flew in First, had another AA southwest omelet. Nothing unusual to report except the crazy weather here in SoCal. As I was flying in and looking out the window, I could not help but notice the unusual amount of SNOW! ...?! Uhm, ok, California is a strange place I don’t understand but hey, I guess they have snow too. Well, not only that but it’s COLD here! I Packed for SoCal, not AZO! So I am freezing my nuts off this week, but it’s supposed to warm up. I hope it does soon because business casual is not necessarily warm.

I know that this post was not of the caliber of the first, but all I have to say is just wait. I have what is sure to be a great entry to come soon. I am strAAnded on the west coast for Thanksgiving and am planning the absolute craziest road trip I could possibly think of to kill 5 days (I will also explain why I an strAAnded here). I’ll give a teaser and say that it involves a Jaguar, some other FT’ers, wine country, and what is sure to be a self-destructive-reconstructive 5 days.

Great Post. Made excellent reading. Looking forward to your next one ^

Wow. Oh man, wow. What a life. 1993gt40, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but that post sums up why I'm glad I didn't go into consulting.

For me (and probably for many of us), the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. I have a few friends that are involved in consulting-related work, and they are always flying around first class, working on interesting projects for major companies, and getting paid awesome money to boot. It seems like it would be so cool (hence my jealousy), but I have to remind myself what you reminded me of: you're on the road all the time; its hard to maintain friendships/relationships, and the folks you work with at a client site really will never become your friends, because you are an outsider. So it isn't exactly an 'ideal' life....

Glad to hear you're coming through the Bay Area. I'd offer to join the party, but I'm in Seattle for Thanksgiving. Send me a PM next time you come by -- particularly if you get another Jag. :-)

i know it must be hard and you must not have a life. But i would still love to do all that flying about.

I have become a PE and a GE the previous year to that by funding my own air travel just for the sake of flying. I know i must be mad!!

But to do all that flying in F and have someone else paying for it must be great. :)

Wow, are you sure you aren't living MY LIFE!!!! It is comforting to realize there are others who are doing the same dance I am. In the last 5 years I haven't been on a project anywhere near my home town (New Orleans). The ability maintain relationships in your hometown is so hard. I basically have 4 close friends left in New Orleans. They are the only ones who really understand that just because I am jaunting around the globe doesn't mean I have forsaken them. They just understand that this is the lifestyle that fits me.

Bummer about losing your girlfriend. It sucks. Dating is probably the worst part of the consultant lifestyle. You have few options. you can date other consultants on the project, which is never good for your career and can be stressful doing all that tip toeing around you can date people in your project city, but then trying to explain that even if things go great you will be gone in 6 months pretty much throws a wet blanket on things going much further or you can date people from back home, this is hard too when you try telling them you are only home at most 2 days a week. This aspect of the job has been the hardest pill to swallow.

Bummer about losing your girlfriend. It sucks. Dating is probably the worst part of the consultant lifestyle. You have few options. you can date other consultants on the project, which is never good for your career and can be stressful doing all that tip toeing around you can date people in your project city, but then trying to explain that even if things go great you will be gone in 6 months pretty much throws a wet blanket on things going much further or you can date people from back home, this is hard too when you try telling them you are only home at most 2 days a week. This aspect of the job has been the hardest pill to swallow.

Or you can date someone who works for your client. Plenty of those at your worksite, so enjoy!

Or you can date someone who works for your client. Plenty of those at your worksite, so enjoy!If you want to lose your job, you could do that. It's bad enough trying to date another consultant but dating the client is strictly prohibited. We have had to remove consultants from projects once the relationship goes bad. That is not a pretty site.

you need to hook up with Queen of Sky from quirksville. She is on the DL board.

You could go hang out at Hippy Hollow. :D

If you want to lose your job, you could do that. It's bad enough trying to date another consultant but dating the client is strictly prohibited. We have had to remove consultants from projects once the relationship goes bad. That is not a pretty site.

Go ahead, live a little. The worst that can happen is that you lose your job. And if you don't like your job (like the OP seems not to), you've got nothing to lose but your chains. My experience has been that if you are halfway decent, they'd rather (in that order) caution you, reprimand you, or re-assign you. I've seen firings (up-or-outs, they are called in the more genteel circles) for incompetence or general inability to progress in the job before for something as juicy as sleeping with the client. Besides, not like it is against the law, and it would seem rather hard to prove cause for that, if consensual. It would be also difficult to claim harassment, since the position of power is held by the client (who can fire you from the project for that).

In the scheme of things you can get nailed for, sleeping with your client is probably below revealing confidential information or doing intentional harm to your client's business.

I know some of you are taken aback by that; Power? Well, yes hear me out. I’m 26, only an industry like consulting would ever put me in a position to direct an entire division of a multi-national mortgage lender at this age. This is something that may take others their whole career to achieve. On a usual project I will answer to 2 people, the CIO or an Executive director, and the Client Partner. So I talk to my friends from college and others my age and they have no idea what goes on in my life, nor do they have any hope of relating to what exactly it is I do. Often times their confusion is diluted by the absurdity of my lifestyle. The concept of ‘living in Austin, working in L.A.’ is so abstract to anyone I know it is absurd. Everyone has pleasant memories of staying in hotel rooms on family vacation or, flying to some exotic place. It is often difficult to separate flying from exotic places and hotel rooms from vacation in the minds of those I encounter.


The reason you are 26 and doing that is because no one older is willing to! LOL. I imagine if you look up the ladder there arent many 30 somethings left. At the same age I was doing the same thing, traveling 100% advising major companies about things I really didnt know anything about. (but how could I only a few years out of undergrad?) Less then 10% of the people I used to work with still do anything similar and most of them have worked out some less then 50% travel deal. I got out because I was starting to wonder why I had a condo in South Beach and yet spent all my time in New Jersey in some town where all the restaurants closed at 9 and I was getting off work at 10. Sure I spent my weekends in fun places and did some crazy things, but it eventually got tiring. The upside is it gave me a wide breadth of experience both personally and professionally and allowed me to eventually get my own business off the ground.

However, now I am back at the traveling game, this time as a communter, but I do it on my on time and choose to spend a week at home whenever I want because now I am the boss. Still its much more stressful when you have a family because you leave your spouse with the child and / or nanny and they are usually stressed out by the time the trip ends. Coming home does not usually mean relaxing and unwinding but instead having a baby plopped in your lap. ;)

Enjoy it now though while you are young and free. Spend those miles to go international and do fun things with friends. In 5 years you probably wont want to do it as much and if you are still at it, it wont be as fun because most of your travel buddies will be married or out of that type of business. However, the experience you gain will server you well whether you stick with consulting or not. There are lots of former consultants out there running businesses that love to hire consultants. :-)

Wow, are you sure you aren't living MY LIFE!!!! It is comforting to realize there are others who are doing the same dance I am. In the last 5 years I haven't been on a project anywhere near my home town (New Orleans). The ability maintain relationships in your hometown is so hard. I basically have 4 close friends left in New Orleans. They are the only ones who really understand that just because I am jaunting around the globe doesn't mean I have forsaken them. They just understand that this is the lifestyle that fits me.

Bummer about losing your girlfriend. It sucks. Dating is probably the worst part of the consultant lifestyle. You have few options. you can date other consultants on the project, which is never good for your career and can be stressful doing all that tip toeing around you can date people in your project city, but then trying to explain that even if things go great you will be gone in 6 months pretty much throws a wet blanket on things going much further or you can date people from back home, this is hard too when you try telling them you are only home at most 2 days a week. This aspect of the job has been the hardest pill to swallow.

So when are you going to let me take you to dinner? ;) And in what city would you like it in? :D

I think you hit the nail on the head, this a lifestyle that suits me. I ABSOLUTELY love the work I do. Turning over deliverables, turning companies around, chaos of fast paced-Go Go Go project work and, working with the greatest people of the highest quality keep me going. I could not imagine doing anything else, but there is a trade off.

And your right, dating is always a problem. I try to avoid others in my firm (pen and company ink kind of thing). Dating from my client location happens from time to time but ultimately they are uncomfortable with the longer term impact of the whole mess. And I dont date at home very much mostly because I am cramming a weeks worth of stuff I would have otherwise done at home into the 2 days I'm there. I spend a lot of time maximizing time with friends which does not lend itself to meeting new people most of the time. And I agree, this is the worst part, some days there is nothing more that I want than that stability, but it happens that way sometimes.

Aren't you both going to be in Las Vegas this weekend?

Aren't you both going to be in Las Vegas this weekend?actually Missy I was thinking the same thing ;) but based on another thread it seems that my fellow road warrior is well "hitting the road" on Friday. I unfortunately wouldn't be in Las Vegas till Friday afternoon. Perhaps another day!

actually Missy I was thinking the same thing ;) but based on another thread it seems that my fellow road warrior is well "hitting the road" on Friday. I unfortunately wouldn't be in Las Vegas till Friday afternoon. Perhaps another day!

ORDGuy and I were talking about going to Rain on Friday, and somewhere else Sat. SO, maybe LAS is in the cards for this weekend. I'm not much into clubs but it may be more fun than driving for 5 days.

ORDGuy and I were talking about going to Rain on Friday, and somewhere else Sat. SO, maybe LAS is in the cards for this weekend. I'm not much into clubs but it may be more fun than driving for 5 days.Hmmm, this could be interesting. Prncess674 already had plans to hang with ORDguy in Las Vegas. FYI, the plan was Ghostbar and N9NE steakhouse on Friday and RAIN on Saturday. Technically I had decided not to go to Vegas but I still have a ticket.

Thinking hard....

1993gt40, i am finally posting to your thread. I wanted to when you first started it, but haven't had the time, no I'm home more than two days a week. Obviously, I am in HNL. A couple of years ago I got hired as the Regional Sales Manager for a t-shirt company based in PHX. I of course was based in HNL as this was my territory. Well, as soon as I got hired, I was told about this major program for one of the discount chains (name withheld to protect the innocent) that was about to start. One of the requirements, weekly vendor service. That was me, until I could hire for each of the stores on Kauai, Maui and in KOA. So, air pass in hand (that's like a bus pass, make a reservation, show it at check in and receive your boarding pass), I did Kauai, Maui and KOA once a week (day trips, leave in the AM, home in the PM) for two months and spent the other two days a week in HNL managing the office. Fun huh? If I couldn't make it for a service during the week, I would go on the weekends. The best was, HNL-KOA-HNL during the day, home for a shower and to pack and then a red-eye to LAX that night, to work the next day. The purchase of two monthly commuter passes on HA got me 20K miles per month and i was instantly upgraded to Platinum status after the second month. I don't miss it...well, ok sometimes. Have a great Thanksgiving!

This is a great thread.

I can totally relate to much of what is said here. My background: at 21 youngest senior associate ever in the history of my firm (accounting) and jet setting all over the place doing IT (audit) consulting.

Now I will be 26 next month but my home is Canada but the office is Tokyo, try that on for size :P hahah

As for the stories and having good times, i wouldnt trade it for hte world. But now that im getting older (sigh) I too wish for somthign a little bit more mellow.

The whole relationship thing is one of the reasons partly, more so the lack of it.

What a great thread, and great writing!!!

I always wondered what consultants did.

In senior year of college I did the whole recruiting thing, but decided that wasn't the life for me. Haven't looked back, but think your life sounds very exciting and interesting!

I'm not sure the ethos of this thread is what consulting is really ALL about. The thread appears to contain youthful descriptions of "consulting" which include a bit of prideful boasting about saving the Universe/Company/Client, along with some heroic bs'ing about the trials, tribulations, and sufferring of being on the road, while at the same time conveying that "I wouldn't have it any other way". And also the comments about envy of the client towards the consultant [?]. Not true for all types of consulting. What has been described thus far implies a horrible life, IMO.

Such is not the case with all consulting for those of you who have considered consulting. Consulting is a great option, and not a nightmare at all. There are many consulting paths, and these will depend on what industry you consult in.

I'm 47, I started my oil & gas consulting engineering company when I was 37. I was never a consultant before I started my consulting firm [there's three of us in the firm now in what we call an "association"]. Prior to this I was an engineer for a major oil company. I just woke up one day, and decided to go off on my own [a licensed P.E.]. First thing I did after leaving the oil company was to get back in physical shape [it only took six weeks]. I earned more my first year as a consultant than I did as well paid engineer for a major oil company. Ten years later this is a great life as a consultant. Now almost all the major oil companies use my services, and a lot of the independent oil companies also. My company has zero debt, and my personal finances have zero debt, nada. Paid the mortgage off in only three years, sent the wife to college and grad school, and now the kid. Financially, I could never have done as well by working for someone else as a "consultant".

I travel a lot, but it's pleasant. The consulting is split up between pedagogical consulting and project consulting. I do both. The pedagogical consulting involves teaching the client with formal classroom instruction on how to apply a specialized technology, and the project consulting is in assisting them with applying the technology. The classroom instruction also serves to market the project consulting. All the clients are appreciative of the learning in the classroom, and are eager for the assistance on thier live projects. Most of the project consulting is working right there with the client one-on-one, sleeves rolled up. It's great. There's no McKinsey-esque bluebook bull$hit here. The oil/gas well either makes more or it does not. Can't hide the results here behind MBA type recommendations on organizational effectiveness, creative accounting, and other nonsense, etc.

My travel is usually hassle free. The gigs are well planned and I am not pinging from city to city within a given week, like some have reported on this forum. Gigs are usually one or two weeks long, though some have gone on for as long as six weeks [Melbourne]. Biz or First C seats on most international flights, SWA for domestic, and great hotels. Sometimes, however, locations are remote. As an example, my pre-Thanksgivng gig to Angola had me lodged in a "camp", which was kinda like an army base. This is still okay, as I even had a troop of monkeys living in the trees behind the bungalow I was lodged in. Some places are a bit dangerous though, like Caracas, where I was dodging bullets a couple of years ago during the coup-counter-coup. This week I am off to Jakarta and staying at the very nice Shangri-La. Other nice places too, like the George IC in Edinburgh, Sheraton Pulitzer in Amsterdam, etc. I even loiter before and after the gig if it is in a good location, and catch some of the local stuff.

The stresses I read about on this forum concerning consultant travel do not apply to me, and I believe do not apply to a lot of other high quality consultants who are in their own game. So one's experience does not paint the true story of the consultant lifestyle for others.

The money I make is mine. I do not bill hours to the client, only to see a fraction of the revenue for myself, with the rest going to some boss who did none of the work. As I mentioned in another thread, there is no reason for one to have a "pimp" in the consulting business. At least not from my perspective.

Cheers,

Z

Ok, Well, I’m going to have to go and back fill the Las Vegas story after this, but I wanted to share some of the recent news and goings on. I’ll try to do a better job of capturing the ‘ethos’ of consulting since I apparently missed the boat on that one (which I never intended to do in the first place). If you have been following my thread you know that I have been staffed in L.A. working for a mortgage lender doing a migration project. Which is no longer the case.

After a retched weekend in Las Vegas with all the associated literal and figurative headaches of that debacle I was very happy to get back to Pasadena (no matter how much I dislike the place at times). I checked into the Westin Pasadena at about 8:30pm Sunday night and settled into my room for some much needed rest. My co-worker was out still on a surgery he had 2 weeks before. So I knew I had to be into the client site early so I could get a jump on the day.

The alarm reared it’s ugly head at 5:45 and the day started. My day started as it always does, with a 6:30AM conference call to my team in India. At first 6:30 calls were brutal but eventually became routine as time marched on, you just get used to it. I took my usual walk to work on a particularly cold Monday morning in southern California. Silly me, 2 weeks ago when I left L.A. it was nice, sunny and 85 degrees. So I packed for Nice, Sunny and 85. Oh what a mistake, it was 50 when I got off the plane 2 days later. Needless to say I was not prepared for the weather. Business casual is not always the warmest clothing. I was happy to get into my office, have some coffee and warm up and put the weekend behind me.

The work day was ‘business as usual’ on Monday. Running from one emergency to the next, working with developers to get their code to work properly on a new platform, and play nice with other applications, meeting with business unit leads to coordinate UAT efforts, planning deployment logistics all the way down to garbage collection and, of course, working with my outsource centers in India who are delivering the packaged applications for delivery via SMS. All in all, on an average day I will have 6 hours of meetings and 8 hours of work to do. Which honestly does not bother me one bit. I love the work I do and the amazing people I get to work with. The hours are long, but the weeks are short. I don’t work on Fridays, EVER. (ok, well maybe if something was going on I would, like the occasional conference call) Part of the value add of staffing consultants from out of town is that they don’t mind the long hours as much. If I were staffed at home, I’d have things to do, people to hang out with, friends, and all the other associated distractions of life at ‘home’. This is not the case with out of town resources. So, what’s 14-16 hour days every day? I have nothing else to do. Now that’s not to say that in-town resources don’t work hard or long . It’s just that in general an out of town resource will bill more hours than an in-towner. I digress,

I end my day with the daily 9:00pm conference to India and I am in my hotel by 10:00.

Tuesday was for the most part a carbon copy of the day before with one exception. At 7:00 the client engagement partner showed up and called an all hands meeting. Hmm,. This could get interesting. He announces that the original budget has run out and our client is dragging their feet getting the change order squared away. While we can and often do leave guys ‘on the ground’ working for the client without a contract with the understanding that they will back pay for those resources. But this client has burned us before and were not going to eat that loss again. Effective today most of the project team is rolled off the project. Including me.

Ok well now, this is certainly a change of events. I immediately begin the hand over process to the stream leads who will be staying. It is just a skeleton crew of guys left to keep the project going until the next change order gets signed. I am turning over documents, deliverables, contact info, and data to those who will have to deal with this tomorrow. I fire up my e-mail and start e-mailing everything to my former co-workers in an effort to hand off the client relationships I have built over the previous 7 months. I book a last minute flight home shortly before 1:00am Wednesday morning. Just 8 hours from now I leave L.A. with a future bright with uncertainty and bench time.

I realize at that point I am walking out of my office for the last time. Walking out of the building for the last time. Walking away from the only people who have known me fore the previous 7 months. People that not only took me in on a professional level, but people who became my friends when I needed them. We laughed, we cried at times, we worked like idiots, drank like professionals, and all accomplished amazing things as individuals and collectively as a team. Now, without a word to almost any of them, I step out onto the cold California street where I soon become a distant memory to all those who I worked so hard with.

I walk down Colorado Blvd for the last time with laptop slung over my shoulder and the contents of my desk tucked under my arm. I walk past all of the places I knew and became accustomed to for the previous 7 months. I walk past LoveBirds and stop in front of the window for a second. My very first day on this project the team and I ate lunch here. What a different time that was. I was still ‘relatively’ new, on only my second project with this firm. It seems like such a long time ago now. The walk down Colorado was something I had done many times before. Every day my co-workers and I would come down to some café to eat and talk about the events of the day and the direction of the project. We shared our downfalls, big wins, milestones, frustrations, and each one of us a little bit of ourselves. We all got along and I would do anything for any one of them, they were really great guys. At every closed café, or street corner I can recall an anecdote or conversation.

This time the walk was different. It was nearly 2:00am and there was not a soul around, all the café’s closed, all the lights off, all of the bustling city life was for all intents and purposes dead. I thought it fitting as I was in a rather somber mood, maybe sometimes I’m too sappy for my own good, but walking out on those who knew me leaving only a cold and uninviting e-mail in their inboxes was not the way I thought (nor wanted) this project would end.

I laid awake in my room most of the night with a hurricane of thoughts whirring around in my mind. Did I turn over everything properly, did I copy all of the data to the right place, did I forward that’s meeting request to the right person, will Kabul recover from his surgery well, will Sean’s training go well, will Adnan like his new home, what will I do when I get home?

I wake up at 6:30 the next morning and begin to make my way to LAX for the last time. I return my rental car to Hertz at LAX for the last time. Check into my Flight for the last time. LAX-AUS flt # 1696. I make certain to say good bye to all those I have met here in the airport all along the way. The ticket agents who helped me make my flights last minute so many times, the ticket checker at the VIP line, the TSA agent at the metal detector I had gone through 60 times before, the gate agent who I was on a first name basis with now, all of them got a personal thank you and good bye as I closed the door on those relationships as I made my way down the concourse at terminal 4 in LAX. I took my seat 3F on the MD 80 and looked out the window over LAX.

LAX is a great airport to watch. A symphony of ground crew, aircraft and, people coming and going each with their own story. The sheer volume of traffic that comes down the runway on any given day is amazing.

I was on the starboard side of the aircraft so as we made our turn after take off I got one last look at Catalina. At one point during the project I took a Cigarette boat to Catalina. What a great time that was. I watched L.A. out the window for the last time, I was heading home and for some reason that was an unsettling thought this morning.

I opted for the chicken breast on lettuce for lunch in F. What a particularly vile creation they managed to come up with on this one. Cold chicken breast was not what I was thinking when it was offered. My seatmate wisely took the Turkey wrap. That looked much better. I napped for most of the flight.

Touching down in Austin was nice. The airport here is Fantastic! Bright ,open, welcoming, clean, friendly. I knew I was home. Down to baggage carousel 3 to retrieve my luggage and then home. All in all things went rather well today. I had no incidents, everything went smooth, I got to say goodbye to almost everyone I wanted to.

Getting home was good, I almost forgot what it looked like. After unpacking my bags I sat down and watched the TV. It was a pleasant change to watch the local news in my home town. That evening I met up with my friends who were shocked to see me on a WEDNESDAY! I told them I got rolled off the project and I will be home for a while. There was much celebration that night as I was in much need of some rest and time away from the road.

That night I slept well for the first time in many months and for the first time in 2 weeks I slept in a bed I OWN and did not have to rent (even if they were heavenly). I slept in until noon the next day (not too bad since it was 10:00am California time which I was adjusted to by now). I ran my errands and took care of some things at home that I could not do on the road and came back home by 3:00. Sitting on my couch I still had a feeling like I wanted to go home. I rationalize with myself that I am already there but I still feel unnerved and like I need to be doing something. For the first time in 7 months, I have nothing to do. No calls with India, no meetings, no deliverables, nothing to work on, no important e-mail, no one to go meet, no one I need to return a call to, no reports to generate, no status to brief, nothing. It was only at that moment I realize what a toll on my life that project had taken on me. I am having a hard time adjusting back to ‘my’ life again. Only now do I realize the extent of the people I have lost touch with and not talked to in so long. So I am working at rebuilding many of those relationships again. It’s a process that’s for sure.

Now I’m sure some of you are wondering what I do now. The best words a consultant can hear ‘bench time’. I am ‘working’ from ‘home’ trying to get staffed on a project. So I log into my e-mail and IM client and BS for most of the day. I’m getting paid like I normally do, I’m not taking vacation, and I’m not working all THAT hard. Life is good from this perspective, I just don’t know what to do with myself now. I will work a little harder on getting myself on a new project next week, I am enjoying some time off right now. My chargeability number may suffer a little, but I’m not concerned. My chargeability is 131% as of this morning. No one even bats an eye until it drops below 80%. Chargeability just means how much of my time is ‘billable’. Basically, am I making the company money? Yes, I have, a LOT of it.

Like I said I have not been working very hard lately. But there is one thing I have been working hard on. I found a staffing I REALLY want. I have been doing all I can to get it. It is a role in Heidelberg Germany for a 10 month project. I don’t know the logistics just yet, but there is a good chance I will get it. My resume has been proposed to the client and I am awaiting their approval now. So this thread could be making a drastic change in the near future. ‘A Consultants Life – In Germany’ :) Where I don’t know the language or anyone for thousands of miles but I’m going to do it anyways. This should be an adventure if I get it. All I know for right now is uncertainty.

Well, at least you got the chance to do a roadtrip to LAS in a Jag :D Good luck in finding another placement and don't sit on the bench for too long each day :D

1993gt40,

If you take the Heidelberg job, you'll probably like Germany. I lived in Germany for three years in [northern Bavaria] and just loved it. You'll be centrally located in Europe, and can get to most of the fun places quickly [provided you get the time]. As for the language, I took some local classes which helped out with basic stuff, but the work was all in English.

I just landed CGK this morning.

Cheers,

Z

Well 1993gt40 you are already wise beyond your years. You have already found out many of the benefits of working as a consultant for a large consulting firm. (Many pimps are good to the whores) Being paid while not working is one of the biggest benefits, as long as you get staffed eventually. Use the time to do your Christmas shopping, visit friends and family, do maintenance around your house, all the while not having to worry about if you will have a paycheck to pay the mortgage, car note, etc.

You have also found out about being able to pick and choose projects. Sure if you have your own company you can choose what project you do but working for a big company there is a huge assortment of projects to choose from. I have lobbied to be put on different projects for a multitude of reasons. Some I picked because I really loved that the project goals and objectives really fit with my long term goals. Other times when none of the current projects really excited me I would pick a project based on meeting new people from my company.

I do have to say that one time I ended up lobbying for a particular project based on location (Manchester, UK). Obviously I had to be qualified but being able to look at the database out of current and future available projects and being able to have some choice in the matter is a great benefit of being a cheap whore.

Be sure to take advantage of all the travel benefits that your pimp gives you. While working in Europe I took lots of side trips all paid for by my client. If you are there over the summer I highly recommend coming down to the DUS DO. There will be lots of other young consultants to exchange stories and beers with (it's all about the cocktails ;)).

May I kindly request ALL the participants on the thread to find a better euphemism for the "pimps" you are referring to. While I appreciate it is intended in good humour, Flyertalk does cater to a wide variety of cultural backgrounds and a number of users find such references to be offensive when used excessively. I would rather that this thread not devolve into a flamewar such as developed on TravelBuzz when similar terminology was used.

Thanks
Sean (B747-437B)
Moderator
Trip Reports

I will respond to you in this thread only once, if you wish to carry on this banter feel free to start your own thread somewhere else. It was not my intention to devolve into the petty back and fourth on what it actually is that consultants do and the value that I (or any of us) provide. I NEVER advocated that this thread would be an accurate representation of consulting, or any profession. This thread was intended to be *MY* experiences of life on the road.

Sometimes the original posters can voice these things so much more passionately than the moderators can, so I will borrow his words (assuming he does not mind) and appropriate them as my own policy on this issue. After all, this is a thread that he started to share his own experiences.

As I have continually stressed on this forum, commentary (and even criticism) about the content of the reports is always welcomed in a civil manner but commentary that goes off on a tangent to discuss the lifestyles or preferences of the posters to the detriment of a travel related focus is better located in the OMNI forum. I'll be glad to spin off some of these posts into a related thread for you folks to continue there.

In the meanwhile, I trust that 1993gt40, prncess674, Zarcero and the others will continue to regale us with travel anecdotes from all of their travels, exciting or mundane as they may have been.

Thanks
Sean (B747-437B)
Moderator
Trip Reports

Ok, Well, I’m going to have to go and back fill the Las Vegas story after this, but I wanted to share some of the recent news and goings on. I’ll try to do a better job of capturing the ‘ethos’ of consulting since I apparently missed the boat on that one (which I never intended to do in the first place). If you have been following my thread you know that I have been staffed in L.A. working for a mortgage lender doing a migration project. Which is no longer the case.

After a retched weekend in Las Vegas with all the associated literal and figurative headaches of that debacle I was very happy to get back to Pasadena (no matter how much I dislike the place at times). I checked into the Westin Pasadena at about 8:30pm Sunday night and settled into my room for some much needed rest. My co-worker was out still on a surgery he had 2 weeks before. So I knew I had to be into the client site early so I could get a jump on the day.

The alarm reared it’s ugly head at 5:45 and the day started. My day started as it always does, with a 6:30AM conference call to my team in India. At first 6:30 calls were brutal but eventually became routine as time marched on, you just get used to it. I took my usual walk to work on a particularly cold Monday morning in southern California. Silly me, 2 weeks ago when I left L.A. it was nice, sunny and 85 degrees. So I packed for Nice, Sunny and 85. Oh what a mistake, it was 50 when I got off the plane 2 days later. Needless to say I was not prepared for the weather. Business casual is not always the warmest clothing. I was happy to get into my office, have some coffee and warm up and put the weekend behind me.

The work day was ‘business as usual’ on Monday. Running from one emergency to the next, working with developers to get their code to work properly on a new platform, and play nice with other applications, meeting with business unit leads to coordinate UAT efforts, planning deployment logistics all the way down to garbage collection and, of course, working with my outsource centers in India who are delivering the packaged applications for delivery via SMS. All in all, on an average day I will have 6 hours of meetings and 8 hours of work to do. Which honestly does not bother me one bit. I love the work I do and the amazing people I get to work with. The hours are long, but the weeks are short. I don’t work on Fridays, EVER. (ok, well maybe if something was going on I would, like the occasional conference call) Part of the value add of staffing consultants from out of town is that they don’t mind the long hours as much. If I were staffed at home, I’d have things to do, people to hang out with, friends, and all the other associated distractions of life at ‘home’. This is not the case with out of town resources. So, what’s 14-16 hour days every day? I have nothing else to do. Now that’s not to say that in-town resources don’t work hard or long . It’s just that in general an out of town resource will bill more hours than an in-towner. I digress,

I end my day with the daily 9:00pm conference to India and I am in my hotel by 10:00.

Tuesday was for the most part a carbon copy of the day before with one exception. At 7:00 the client engagement partner showed up and called an all hands meeting. Hmm,. This could get interesting. He announces that the original budget has run out and our client is dragging their feet getting the change order squared away. While we can and often do leave guys ‘on the ground’ working for the client without a contract with the understanding that they will back pay for those resources. But this client has burned us before and were not going to eat that loss again. Effective today most of the project team is rolled off the project. Including me.

Ok well now, this is certainly a change of events. I immediately begin the hand over process to the stream leads who will be staying. It is just a skeleton crew of guys left to keep the project going until the next change order gets signed. I am turning over documents, deliverables, contact info, and data to those who will have to deal with this tomorrow. I fire up my e-mail and start e-mailing everything to my former co-workers in an effort to hand off the client relationships I have built over the previous 7 months. I book a last minute flight home shortly before 1:00am Wednesday morning. Just 8 hours from now I leave L.A. with a future bright with uncertainty and bench time.

I realize at that point I am walking out of my office for the last time. Walking out of the building for the last time. Walking away from the only people who have known me fore the previous 7 months. People that not only took me in on a professional level, but people who became my friends when I needed them. We laughed, we cried at times, we worked like idiots, drank like professionals, and all accomplished amazing things as individuals and collectively as a team. Now, without a word to almost any of them, I step out onto the cold California street where I soon become a distant memory to all those who I worked so hard with.

I walk down Colorado Blvd for the last time with laptop slung over my shoulder and the contents of my desk tucked under my arm. I walk past all of the places I knew and became accustomed to for the previous 7 months. I walk past LoveBirds and stop in front of the window for a second. My very first day on this project the team and I ate lunch here. What a different time that was. I was still ‘relatively’ new, on only my second project with this firm. It seems like such a long time ago now. The walk down Colorado was something I had done many times before. Every day my co-workers and I would come down to some café to eat and talk about the events of the day and the direction of the project. We shared our downfalls, big wins, milestones, frustrations, and each one of us a little bit of ourselves. We all got along and I would do anything for any one of them, they were really great guys. At every closed café, or street corner I can recall an anecdote or conversation.

This time the walk was different. It was nearly 2:00am and there was not a soul around, all the café’s closed, all the lights off, all of the bustling city life was for all intents and purposes dead. I thought it fitting as I was in a rather somber mood, maybe sometimes I’m too sappy for my own good, but walking out on those who knew me leaving only a cold and uninviting e-mail in their inboxes was not the way I thought (nor wanted) this project would end.

I laid awake in my room most of the night with a hurricane of thoughts whirring around in my mind. Did I turn over everything properly, did I copy all of the data to the right place, did I forward that’s meeting request to the right person, will Kabul recover from his surgery well, will Sean’s training go well, will Adnan like his new home, what will I do when I get home?

I wake up at 6:30 the next morning and begin to make my way to LAX for the last time. I return my rental car to Hertz at LAX for the last time. Check into my Flight for the last time. LAX-AUS flt # 1696. I make certain to say good bye to all those I have met here in the airport all along the way. The ticket agents who helped me make my flights last minute so many times, the ticket checker at the VIP line, the TSA agent at the metal detector I had gone through 60 times before, the gate agent who I was on a first name basis with now, all of them got a personal thank you and good bye as I closed the door on those relationships as I made my way down the concourse at terminal 4 in LAX. I took my seat 3F on the MD 80 and looked out the window over LAX.

LAX is a great airport to watch. A symphony of ground crew, aircraft and, people coming and going each with their own story. The sheer volume of traffic that comes down the runway on any given day is amazing.

I was on the starboard side of the aircraft so as we made our turn after take off I got one last look at Catalina. At one point during the project I took a Cigarette boat to Catalina. What a great time that was. I watched L.A. out the window for the last time, I was heading home and for some reason that was an unsettling thought this morning.

I opted for the chicken breast on lettuce for lunch in F. What a particularly vile creation they managed to come up with on this one. Cold chicken breast was not what I was thinking when it was offered. My seatmate wisely took the Turkey wrap. That looked much better. I napped for most of the flight.

Touching down in Austin was nice. The airport here is Fantastic! Bright ,open, welcoming, clean, friendly. I knew I was home. Down to baggage carousel 3 to retrieve my luggage and then home. All in all things went rather well today. I had no incidents, everything went smooth, I got to say goodbye to almost everyone I wanted to.

Getting home was good, I almost forgot what it looked like. After unpacking my bags I sat down and watched the TV. It was a pleasant change to watch the local news in my home town. That evening I met up with my friends who were shocked to see me on a WEDNESDAY! I told them I got rolled off the project and I will be home for a while. There was much celebration that night as I was in much need of some rest and time away from the road.

That night I slept well for the first time in many months and for the first time in 2 weeks I slept in a bed I OWN and did not have to rent (even if they were heavenly). I slept in until noon the next day (not too bad since it was 10:00am California time which I was adjusted to by now). I ran my errands and took care of some things at home that I could not do on the road and came back home by 3:00. Sitting on my couch I still had a feeling like I wanted to go home. I rationalize with myself that I am already there but I still feel unnerved and like I need to be doing something. For the first time in 7 months, I have nothing to do. No calls with India, no meetings, no deliverables, nothing to work on, no important e-mail, no one to go meet, no one I need to return a call to, no reports to generate, no status to brief, nothing. It was only at that moment I realize what a toll on my life that project had taken on me. I am having a hard time adjusting back to ‘my’ life again. Only now do I realize the extent of the people I have lost touch with and not talked to in so long. So I am working at rebuilding many of those relationships again. It’s a process that’s for sure.

Now I’m sure some of you are wondering what I do now. The best words a consultant can hear ‘bench time’. I am ‘working’ from ‘home’ trying to get staffed on a project. So I log into my e-mail and IM client and BS for most of the day. I’m getting paid like I normally do, I’m not taking vacation, and I’m not working all THAT hard. Life is good from this perspective, I just don’t know what to do with myself now. I will work a little harder on getting myself on a new project next week, I am enjoying some time off right now. My chargeability number may suffer a little, but I’m not concerned. My chargeability is 131% as of this morning. No one even bats an eye until it drops below 80%. Chargeability just means how much of my time is ‘billable’. Basically, am I making the company money? Yes, I have, a LOT of it.

Like I said I have not been working very hard lately. But there is one thing I have been working hard on. I found a staffing I REALLY want. I have been doing all I can to get it. It is a role in Heidelberg Germany for a 10 month project. I don’t know the logistics just yet, but there is a good chance I will get it. My resume has been proposed to the client and I am awaiting their approval now. So this thread could be making a drastic change in the near future. ‘A Consultants Life – In Germany’ :) Where I don’t know the language or anyone for thousands of miles but I’m going to do it anyways. This should be an adventure if I get it. All I know for right now is uncertainty.

Heidelberg is a BEAUTIFUL place. Yes, winter is cold and wet but still not a bad place to be. Wonderful in the summer months. Good luck.

I've worked with 100's of consultants in my life, and they all seem to have one thing on common; they complain a lot about how "tough" their lives are.

The one thing I still don't understand is why they put up with the lifestyle, most of the ones I ran into had no social life, few active contacts with friends, no real place to call home and not much else going on in their lives.

What drives someone to live like this for years and years, I know what most of them make a month so that can't be it...

I lived in Stuggart for 4 months (just south of Heidelberg) and loved every minute of it. I was there from 2000 to 2001. In the 4 months, I went to 9 countries and 25 cities, mostly on the weekends and the holidays via a bus. The trains are great way of getting around too. The weather is cool and damp at times but just driving about 30 minutes away it will and can change. I hope you get the job.

DAM1963

It is a role in Heidelberg Germany for a 10 month project.

I hope you get the job! I worked in Walldorf (a 10 minute drive south of Heidelberg) back in 91-92. Almost every weekend we visited one exciting city after another. What a fun time that was! Now I am on a project in Hasselt, Belgium. And guess what - almost every weekend I am visiting one exciting city after another! The consultant's life is the life for me.

Great trip report. Enjoyed reading it.

1993gt40,

Having worked in a number of countries as a consultant for about 10 years plus last several years of commuting for different projects in US and Canada, I have learned that to keep my friends, I have to make the effort and make time for them in my life. Sometimes the long delays at airports are used by catching up with friends by phone and I try to catch up with them in person when I can. Good friends are understanding that I disappear for a while when I am snowed under with deliverables and deadlines but if there is something important for them, I will make time.

Good luck with the project in Heidleburg. It is a nice university town and very centaly located for travelling within Europe. Even though most educated German speak English, you would get better quality of life and friends if you make some effort to learn some German.

Tealeaf99,

Walldorf is really only famous / known for 1 maybe 2 things so I persumed you work with a German software with 3 letters ;) ?

OK guys (and gals), I think I must update the thread now,. There have been some recent events and I feel like sharing some tonight. But, before we start, think this thread needs a soundtrack, after all, I do live in the live music capitol of the world. It says it right there on the jet way when you deplane. It must be true. So dig through your CD collection and find something to listen to. :)

Ok, That should set you for a while. In the last episode I left off with being rolled off of my project in L.A. and having a future bright with uncertainty. I was happy to be on the bench and get off the road for a little bit and live like a ‘normal’ person. I spent some time at home, visited some friends, re-built a few relationships, and went to Houston for a bit.

Going to Houston was a great thing for me. I got to go see my parents for a few days, and spend some time with my family. Something I realize that I need to do more of. I also got to see my sister, niece and nephew. I love my niece and nephew, they are the coolest kids in the world. We have a lot of fun doing what it is that 5 and 7 year olds do. How I dearly miss the innocence. It’s hard to spend time with them and not wonder how or where I went wrong, or sometimes IF it ever happened at all.

My sister is the person in my life who I am the closest to. I’d do anything for her, and I know she’d do the same. Spending time with her was a treat. I worked from her office for a few days and she gave me a contract for a web site as a side project. I’m sure it helps that the CEO for her company thinks I’m great! I used to work there with her years ago before I managed to complicate my life in such intricate ways.

After a few days at home, it back to Austin! I spent my afternoons at the Flightpath. The Flight path is one of the eclectic coffee houses that dot the landscape here. They offer free WiFi and copious amounts of caffeine, a great place for someone a little geeky like me. I would hang out and check and send e-mail and stay connected to the company while I looked for another project to roll myself onto. Bench time is good because it is very low pace, low stress, and somewhat boring. Which is exactly what I needed after the crazy project in L.A. Unfortunately, I ran out of stuff to do and life became seriously boring there for a few days. Everyone else was working or doing what ever it is they do during the week, some have even left for the holidays. So things were quiet around here for a while and I was left to my own devices.

Then one day it happened, I got the dreaded phone call. A project was needing staffing before the holidays. I got the call at 5:00pm Tuesday night and by 7:00am Wednesday morning I was on a plane to Charlotte North Carolina. Lucky me! I stepped off the plane into the freezing cold of CLT.

I gathered my belongings and headed for the Hertz shuttle. I rented a nice Hyundai Sonata! This was certainly not the nice Jag I was driving in L.A. But at least if I lost the key it wouldn’t cost me $2500. But the real kicker was no NeverLost! Oh no, I’m in for some trouble because I have NO clue where I am going. So with map in hand I set out looking for the client site. I called my sister and had her get on the internet and find me directions. I know, I know, I should have printed directions before I left Austin, but I have neither Internet nor a printer at home. But it’s a little late for that now anyways. After traveling the Billy Graham highway from end to end, I finally figured out where it was I was going to and made my way there.

The client site was nice and parking was FREE! Woohoo! A nice treat after spending 7 months in L.A. I hurried out of the cold into the nice mirrored building and called the project manager who met me in the lobby. I was introduced to the team (3 of us) who had also joined the project today. We were given the nickel run down of the company structure, their product, and what it is that we are doing here. The client develops specialty billing software for a niche market. WE are here to automate their testing procedures and verify that their existing process is either efficient or not. Ok, so it’s really boring high level work, I am going to work no less hard for them than I would anywhere else, so we hit the ground running and I am off looking at the best practices for test automation, contacting the firm experts and documenting the existing environment. A thrill a minute I tell you.

The engagement is for 5 weeks, so I can easily tough it out for that long. I am planning a trip for the weekend before deliverables are due. I hope that everything works out. I am particularly excited about that trip for some reason. It’s with a bunch of new people, to a very cool place in an unnamed European country. So as long as the project ending and deliverables being due the day after I get back to the US does not interfere with my personal plans, this could turn out to be a nice project for me in terms of logistics and time scale. The work is still boring but someone has to do it.

I am staying at the Residence Inn on Mint Street. Not TOO bad, but certainly not somewhere I would have picked to stay. Well, I do all I can to avoid Marriott properties. But this is where the rest of the team is staying so I didn’t want to be the black sheep. Well, that and the Westin is just outside of the budget this time. Oh well, I’ll pad my Marriott account some for the next month. Unfortunately there is NOTHING around the hotel. I mean not even for several blocks! Nothing is within walking distance. Which is not going to be good for me (although my liver may disagree). I am rather fond of evening cocktails but, driving to obtain them is not in the plans. I suppose I could take a cab but I don’t even know where I would go. Fortunately the work weeks are short until after New Years and I can get things sorted out by then.

I spent another 2 days at the client site. I worked a Friday! I have not done that in nearly a year! Regrettably I forgot what time my flight was on Friday and thought it was at 5:00pm. So I arrived in time to catch what I thought was a 5:00 flight. Such was not the case, I had actually arrived VERY late for my 2:00pm flight. Goodbye upgrade, hello standby. I was confirmed onto the flight to Dallas right there at the ticket counter, I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that I would at lest make it to my own state tonight. Worst case I could rent a car in Dallas and drive down to Austin.

So I took my seat on the flight from CLT to DFW. Seat 31F on an MD 80. The worst seat on the plane. I had a window seat with a GREAT view,. . . . of the engine (and the galley, and the lav, and the screaming kid next to me). I realize that this is going to be a long flight, and 30 minutes later, when the battery died in my MP3 player, I had the stark realization that this was going to be a VERY long flight. After a LONG wait in the last seat on the aircraft, the FA finally makes it down to row 31. At least I can get a cocktail now. Open the wallet to reveal a whopping 4 dollars. Ok, this flight just took a turn for the worst, I cant even sedate myself now. So I took my ginger ale and pretzels. I should have eaten lunch today because the pretzels were not going to cut it. None of this would have been a problem if I would have taken a seat where I belong, up front. (yes I can be arrogant at times, I think it’s one of my more attractive features :) )

DFW was a welcome sight when we landed. As much as I detest this airport at times, I detest seat 31F even more. I arrived at gate C30, the flight to Austin was at gate C31. How nice, at least I didn’t have to make the dreaded C-A marathon tonight. DFW has to be the most poorly designed airport I have ever had the displeasure of flying into. The terminals are ‘U’ shaped with jetways on the outside of the ‘U’. While in theory this may sound like a good idea, it is the absolute worst layout, especially if it is going to be a major hub with lots of connections. The major problem is that there are only jetways on one side, so automatically it takes twice as long to get anywhere than it would in any other airport in the world. And if you have to go from Terminal C to Terminal A (or B for American Eagle, or American Connection flights) your in for a trek!

After an hour in DFW, I took what I think was someone else’s seat into Austin. Fortunately I was not in row 31 this time. The gate agent must have bumped someone for me to make this flight. I don’t think I would have gotten the seat if I didn’t strike up a conversation with the nice lady. I asked her if I could get on stand by, so she starts banging away at the key board for what seemed an eternity. Just as she was looking up at me to say something, I comment on the pin she was wearing. United States Coast Guard. I comment to her that I am active USCGA and it is nice to see someone wearing the ensign on their uniform. She squints her eyes, looks down for a second, looks back at me with her mouth cracked open like she wants to say something, looks back down and starts typing away again. Out spits a boarding pass. She picks up the microphone, and calls for a passenger “Michael Something, please see the gate agent at gate C31”, and hands me a boarding pass for seat 18D, winks at me, and tells me that I better hurry onto the plane. She has made my night!

I’m going home! Woohoo! I have no idea what I’m going to do when I get there, but I’m going to be there tonight. I stumble into ‘home’ at around 10:00 or so. I knew I had to get out so I went downtown to see what was going on. That’s the beauty of living in Austin, on any given night of the week, you can go out with $4 in your wallet, and catch a great show somewhere. Tonight was no different. I saw PubCrawler at BD Riley’s on 6’th. I know all the guys in the band and I always have a great time seeing them. Being a part time musician has it’s benefits in this town.

I don’t play with anyone anymore, my last band got tired of me being out of town all the time so I was replaced. I don’t blame them, they were a lot more serious about it than I was. Music was just something fun I used to occupy my time. I actually got a chance to catch a set of theirs this weekend. It is a very strange feeling watching someone else play your songs. Kind of cool in a way to sit back and listen to, but can be a bit personal at times. I remember all the things that were going on when I sat down one night while staffed in a project in Dallas to write it. How appropriate that I hear it tonight, it smells like winter outside, and winter smells like memory.

How appropriate that I hear it tonight, it smells like winter outside, and winter smells like memory.

An enjoyable report altogether, but the last clause took my breath away.
And I'm listening to Josh Groban by candlelight.

Rita

After an hour in DFW, I took what I think was someone else’s seat into Austin. Fortunately I was not in row 31 this time. The gate agent must have bumped someone for me to make this flight. I don’t think I would have gotten the seat if I didn’t strike up a conversation with the nice lady. I asked her if I could get on stand by, so she starts banging away at the key board for what seemed an eternity. Just as she was looking up at me to say something, I comment on the pin she was wearing. United States Coast Guard. I comment to her that I am active USCGA and it is nice to see someone wearing the ensign on their uniform. She squints her eyes, looks down for a second, looks back at me with her mouth cracked open like she wants to say something, looks back down and starts typing away again. Out spits a boarding pass. She picks up the microphone, and calls for a passenger “Michael Something, please see the gate agent at gate C31”, and hands me a boarding pass for seat 18D, winks at me, and tells me that I better hurry onto the plane. She has made my night!

Do they really do this? I will confess to not being in the know one way or the other, but it seems strange they'd pick a specific person to kick off. What do they say when Micheal arrives at the poduim: "Ah, Micheal, we needed your seat for a more important passenger, so we have to confiscate your boarding pass and kick you out of your confirmed seat. We'll, uh, put you on standby for tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy your night sleeping on the airport floor.".

At the very least, seems like they'd 'overbook' the flight and then call for volunteers...

-----

P.S. 1993gt40, great report as always. Keep 'em coming. Sorry you're sitting in 31F from CLT, not 1A from FRA or MUC. :-(

Do they really do this? I will confess to not being in the know one way or the other, but it seems strange they'd pick a specific person to kick off. What do they say when Micheal arrives at the poduim: "Ah, Micheal, we needed your seat for a more important passenger, so we have to confiscate your boarding pass and kick you out of your confirmed seat. We'll, uh, put you on standby for tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy your night sleeping on the airport floor.".

At the very least, seems like they'd 'overbook' the flight and then call for volunteers...

-----

P.S. 1993gt40, great report as always. Keep 'em coming. Sorry you're sitting in 31F from CLT, not 1A from FRA or MUC. :-(

Yes they do this, and it has helped me in the past as well as it has hurt me. If I had to guess as to what happened, I would imagine that he did have a boarding pass for the seat I was in. But, I would also think that he was coming in on a delayed flight, maybe he would have made it, maybe not, I dont know. For all I know he was waiting with the rest of the pax in the waiting area. But I'm sure there was some reason he was chosen and not randomly selected. But like many things with the airlines, there appears to be no outward rhyme or reason to it. Maybe thats what we love about air travel so much, it's just kind of a mystery how it all works.

As much as I dont like seat 31F, I was happy to be in it and not CLT! Although, seat 1A FRA-MUC sounds much better :). Maybe next time.

Do they really do this?

I don't believe they do. Could be another mendacious exaggeration.

And what does "I am active USCGA" mean exactly?

Z

I don't believe they do. Could be another mendacious exaggeration.

I know I'm not the only person who this has happened to.

...Or an Auxie as some would call it...

Ok, that rings a bell. Thought you might be a USCGA grad ;) . USMA grad here :p

Z

USMA grad here :p

Z

Ahh well,. I should have known,.

1993gt40, now you have certainly given me an idea of what some of my friends do. Whilst I work in my family company, sometimes I feel like a consultant - particularly the flying to one of the capital cities in Australia to brief the senior exec team of my major client about their superannuation (translation for you is a 401K plan) or Group Salary Continuance membership. I can relate to the hours and the back to the hotel routine after a long day...I'm just lucky most of my trips are only 2-3 days long.

Hope you do catch up with prncess674 someday (or have already), I had the pleasure of meeting her a year ago in New York when I organised a FT get-to-gether. She is a darling...you won't be disappointed as your lives are similar.

Do you work for Accenture ?

How about a report on that vegas trip when you get a chance?

1993gt40, now you have certainly given me an idea of what some of my friends do. Whilst I work in my family company, sometimes I feel like a consultant - particularly the flying to one of the capital cities in Australia to brief the senior exec team of my major client about their superannuation (translation for you is a 401K plan) or Group Salary Continuance membership. I can relate to the hours and the back to the hotel routine after a long day...I'm just lucky most of my trips are only 2-3 days long.

Hope you do catch up with prncess674 someday (or have already), I had the pleasure of meeting her a year ago in New York when I organised a FT get-to-gether. She is a darling...you won't be disappointed as your lives are similar.

I am finding a lot of people that have a similar lifestyle. I am glad you enjoy the read.

As for prncess, I am still trying to convince her to let me take her to dinner, ;). we did run across each other at LAX for an hour once. I agree, a darling. I'll let you know how it turns out. :)

How about a report on that vegas trip when you get a chance?

I will hopefully have that up in the next 7 days. I am currently working on my X-mas post that I hoped to have up yesterday. But from the way that my x-mas went, it has turned into a monster post. 4 pages and I'm not even done writing it yet. I am just now getting to the part I intended to write when I started it. As a teaser, If anyone in IAH had been watching the news the past 2 days I was on it both X-mas eve and X-mas day on all the major channels. Just in the background for the most part, but I was doing something news worthy. :) stay tuned.

I have to say Thank You to all of the people in this community. When I joined I never thought that I would be a part of it in any significant manner, and for the most part I am not, but it has certainly had an impact on me. I am a member of several internet ‘communities’ (www.corral.net, www.offshoreonly.com are the places I spend most of my time at other than FT) where for the most part I lurk. And even here, it’s mostly my Trip Report that I post on and lurk everywhere else. This is part of the reason my user name is so cryptic, but I’ll disclose why that is in a bit. But I digress,…

Thank you FT, thank you for supporting me when I needed support, thank you for the friends I have made here, thank you for providing me a soap box to share my miscellaneous musings and travel related ups and downs. That being said, Merry X-mas, happy Hanukah, Kwanza, Winter Solstice, or what ever it is you celebrate in the winter. What ever you call it is not important but the message is. Please everyone hug someone you love, please hug someone you don’t, please hug someone you don’t know, they may need it.

I don’t usually include a PSA with my posts but I feel it’s fitting. Just about 36 hours ago, I was in Charlotte North Carolina, getting up from my desk and walking into a meeting. In route my phone rings with a number I do not recognize. Interesting I think to myself, so I answer it “Good day! This is Mike”, “Hello Mike, this is Amy with American Airlines I wanted to inform you that your flight to DFW has been canceled”.. . . Ok, so my day has taken a turn for the worst now, I can handle it. Ok, actually, I was a girl about it, but I was just being dramatic. She tells me that there is a flight at 2:20 she can book me on if I can make it. Oh I’ll make it, I’m not staying here for the night! I spent Thanksgiving on the road away from my family, I am NOT doing the same for Christmas. Right there, just as the meeting was starting, I stood up and said that I had to go, RIGHT NOW! I shoved the crap on my desk into the briefcase and off I was. Up the Billy Graham highway to CLT. I turn in my car at 1:30 or so and hop onto the Hertz shuttle. The trip to the terminal is very short and I am there in under 5 min.

I swipe my card at the self service kiosk at the AA desk to see what awful seat I got stuck with. 21 E to Dallas, and 20F for DFW-AUS. Well, it could be worse, I could be in 31F again, at least 20 and 21 are exit rows on a MadDog, but it’s the E part that bugs me. For the first time ever in my life, I have a middle seat. Worse things have happened I suppose, at least I get to go ‘home’ right? So off to gate A-9, thinking I am going to board by the skin of my teeth since the monitors show ‘On Time’ still. I should have known that this would not be the case. The 2:20 flight was delayed, and delayed, and,… . . delayed. At 4:30 I boarded the plane and settled into my seat between two lovely seat mates.

Hmm, my original flight was scheduled to leave at exactly the same time this flight IS leaving. I don’t care, I’m just happy to be here even IF my upgrades did vaporize, coach happens. I was seated between a college student and an advertising exec who were both great people to travel with. I’m not sure they can say the same for myself, but they were nice. The flight was very rough until somewhere around Memphis. It actually provided me much entertainment at times. While traveling with the holiday crowd is always more hassle than it is worth, the amateurs provide a kind of comic relief that is unobtainable anywhere else. Every bump and jostle was met with white knuckle enthusiasm, a collective breath and significant puckering. The college student remarked to me about how much she hated to fly. I assured her that she would live to survive her paradoxes.

Coming into DFW was yet again, a welcoming sight. Through heavy cloud cover, the Ad exec and I were glued to the scenery out the window. It was white! It was Snowing! I could’nt believe it, it was white on the ground, in Texas! The city I am sure was brought to a screeching halt. I told the Ad Exec next to me that I love to watch the ice build on the wing, it always forms the most interesting patterns in the extreme wind. Unfortunately he did not like to fly either. He never did look out the window again.

We landed and got to the gate after a nice wait on the tarmac. We came into gate C22, my 7:30 flight to Aus was at A-15 and delayed until 9:30. I had plenty of time to make it so I was in no hurry to make the trek. After the leisurely stroll to A-15, the monitors shows the flight at gate A-10, and by the time I made it to A-10 it had changed to A-9. No big deal, actually this was an opportunity, an opportunity for Cocktails! Woohoo, my favorite! So to the SkyBox I went and sucked down 4 or 5 Crown on the rocks to kill the time and my sense of well being. Nothing will drag you down more than wondering why exactly it is you want to get home so bad (as someone so kindly pointed out to me). So at about 8:50 I stumble out into the terminal and look at the Departures. Flight 2319 to Austin was now at gate C22. How nice. Back across the airport to where I started. This time it was the A-C marathon.

I made my flight and the thin air in the cabin did wonders for my buzz. I cant believe they let me sit in an exit row in my condition. The flight itself was rather uneventful. But landing in Austin was strange. I have never seen so many people here! Where did they all come from?! And what were they doing here? We are trying to keep it a secret about what a nice place this is to live, obviously someone let the word out. The baggage claim was a mob of amateurs, every one feeling the need to read the tag on every the bag since they can not remember what their luggage looks like. For some reason I always find it amusing when the person in front of you grabs your bag thinking it’s theirs just before you free it from the sea of others. I knew it was my bag because a laminated business card with my name on it was dangling from the handle, so I yanked it off and started to walk away. Just then I was tapped on the shoulder and was told by the guy who was in front of me (who had already examined my bag and made the determination it was not his) that he thinks I had his bag. I of course did not, but that did not stop him from making a fool of himself.

At about midnight I made it home. Happy to be here, the dust bunnies were getting lonely. I turned on the heat because it was 20 outside and not much better inside. Were just not equipped to handle this kind of weather here in Texas, I’m freezing! So in the cold, I unpack my bag, and repack it because I leave again in the morning. And the morning came all too soon.

It’s STILL freezing in here! The damn heater is broken. Lucky me, at least I will not be here tonight. So I make a few calls to get my heater fixed and off I am heading for IAH. I drove the 2.5 hours and had a great time doing it. Windows down, music up, foot in the throttle where ever I can. (remember, big V-8 American sports car)

Friday morning was brought onto me like a ton of bricks. At 8:00 am my sister unleashed her two kids to go get Uncle Mike out of bed. They rather enjoyed it, I did not. They were jumping on the bed and screaming and kicking me, shouting “Uncle Mike get up it’s Christmas Eve!”. I was not as enthusiastic about the morning as they were, but I got up to play with them since they were so adamant (and clearly were not going to let me sleep in). 10 minutes later the phone call came.. .

My sister is works for a realty firm here in Houston. They own about 10 or 15 apartment complexes, and manage a few others they do not own. This morning one of them was on fire and burning down. I was drafted into working for her company again (I had worked there for a length of time before). She was going to be orchestrating the operations down there and I was to work with her equal on logistical issues and in and around the physical disaster area. I figured this would devolve into 3 parts, Search, Rescue, and Humanitarian. Having search and rescue training I knew I would be digging in the wreckage.

Fortunately for me there was very little search and rescue. Actually, no rescue at all. All residents made it out and were safe. We did do a search of the disaster area and were happy to discover nothing but some minor cuts, bumps and, bruises. The main emphasis of the day was humanitarian. I spent my Christmas Eve with 35 families who had lost everything. It was awful to see and really had an impact on me. I remember at one point stepping out of the charred building and looking at a single mother with 3 crying children standing in the snow wearing their pajamas because the only things they had when they left were what they had on. In Spanish tongue they knelt down and prayed.

Unfortunately not a one of them had insurance and truly lost everything they owned on Christmas Eve. It was a miracle that they all were safe and there was no loss of life, not even minor injuries. The outpouring from the community was amazing to see. Way before it was on the news, or word was wide spread we had people coming down to donate items to the family or help in any way that they can. We were happy to accept them but were first trying to find a warm place for all the families. While we had no obligation to do anything for any of the families, that was not an acceptable option for the company my sister works for. Some would call them a ‘faceless corporation’ but that could not have been further from the truth. It is run by people with hearts and families of their own and would not think of letting people go with nothing. I have to admit, they did a great job under the circumstance. By then end of the day every family had a warm place to sleep and the overwhelming majority had a new apartment that would be theirs permanently. Every family had food to eat, water to drink, a roof over their head and some cash in their pocket to get them through the night. Every last one their basic necessities met and as well taken care of as we could have possibly done. We worked into the night accepting donations and doing all we can to get them back on their feet. Not too bad for the work of 5 people.

Christmas morning I woke up and had a hurried Christmas celebration with my own family so that we could provide as much of a Christmas to the burned out families as we were able to. The incoming donations were unbelievable. We had SO much stuff to give out that it became a logistical nightmare sorting through it. We spent the first 4 hours of the day just sorting it out into piles. Men’s jackets, women’s jackets, children’s jackets, clothes, shoes and, everything else. We were able to distribute to the families all the clothes they wanted. Some of them came away with a whole new wardrobe. There was more than enough to go around.

Everyone had a new pillow and blanket to keep warm. Every family got a ton of canned goods, dry goods, water, tea, and all the trimmings, enough to keep them fed for at least a week. We even made sure that they all got a Christmas Ham. But the part that made me feel the best about giving up my own Christmas was the kids. We were able to give all the kids a brand spanking NEW bicycle for Christmas. The joy on their faces made the whole event worth it. Of course we also gave out a bunch of other toys, foot balls and basketballs, and all sorts of various and sundry nick knacks, most of them new with the tags still attached. I am sure that they were not as personalized as what their parents may have given them, but we were happy to give them.

In the midst of all of this another man about my age emerged from the crowd. He was there by himself and introduced himself to me. I wish I remembered more about him but in the chaos of the day I was not able to spend much time with him. He was on a toy drive of his own. He told me that he and his father were the only people doing it and they had a very small organization called “Little Dolls for Little Girls” in memory of his mother. I really wish I could have gotten the whole story from him but I did not have the time. Near as I could tell the entire operation was financed out of his pocket. He gave the little girls brand new dolls for Christmas, wrapped and everything. It was awe inspiring and heart breaking at the same time. I can only imagine what tragedy or series of events would lead this man to such selflessness and kindness. He told me that the big shelters had turned him away since he was not part of a major organization and just wanted to be a guy who handed out dolls to little girls. He did just that, all of the girls got dolls, and he was gone.

Another man at the end of the day showed up and introduced himself to Lois and wanted to meet each of the residents personally. Naturally we were somewhat reluctant, but once his intentions were known we made sure that he was able to meet with as many as possible. He described himself as a professional Grandfather and was there to give out cash to the residents who had lost their homes. He handed each one of them a crisp one hundred dollar bill and chatted personally with each one. He wanted them to know that things will be okay. He had said that he had lost his home to a fire, a flood, a hurricane and a tornado all at different times. And each time he recovered, he rebuilt, he moved on. There is no doubt that it is difficult, but in 10 years this will be such a distant memory. The residents looked eased but still uneasy. I think the overwhelming help they received from the community will go further than the things they were able to furnish.

(had to edit - Reached the 15,000 character limit)

Taking part in all of this made me think about what it was I was doing last year and what it might be that I’m doing next year. Which is really where I started this post, so please go hug the people in your lives, they will not be here forever. In the casual reminiscing in the back of my mind I reflect on all the events that have unfolded in my life and where everyone is today and was a year ago.

It seems that my friends have off’ed themselves at an alarming rate recently. Once upon a time in a former life, I drove a race car. It was a rare beauty, a 1993 Mustang Cobra and most of my friends were ‘car guys’. In my college days I would meet with all of my friends at home where we all grew up during the holidays and the summers and we would kill the time and do stupid things with each other. It seems that I was the only one in the group that ever did anything with my life. Sure, they were all doing ‘something’ but you can only work as a mechanic while you went to school at night, or joining the Army Reserves for the GI bill, or be ‘getting your dental certificate’, or be working on your real estate license for so long before the rest of us start to wonder. I went to college, I even took a victory lap when I was done and spent a few years in the work force, but I’m not really sure what they were doing all this time.

Most would say that I grew up in a ‘privileged’ area, Kingwood Texas. For those of you around Houston know that it is certainly not a bad part of town. While I may not agree that it is ‘Privileged’ I can not say that I feel like I was ever at a disadvantage. Unfortunately I saw most I know squander any advantage it may have provided. It was about this time of year that a lot of us would hang out and make a ‘fun run’ to various close by cities in our ‘toys’ (cars). It was me in the Cobra, a Grand National, an Olds 442, a Vette or two, various and sundry F-Bodies, a ’69 Camaro, and an assortment of other Fox Bodies, trucks, and V-8 powered rear wheel drive relics of America’s past.

This year it was me. Me and Me alone. One of them drove his truck into a tree while extremely intoxicated (thank god it was just him), One was T-boned by someone else who was extremely intoxicated, one got married and fell off the planet. Two others thought it’d be a great idea to knock off a liquor store, one got away, the other one never will. One was killed in Iraq, another Afghanistan. And the others just seem to have vaporized. Maybe I’m just the fortunate fool.

So hug your friends, you never know what their lives may bring them in the next year, you also never know where your life may lead you in the next year. Also, be sure to hug your family, they can just as easily be taken from you. Or, as in my case, not know who you are. It is my biggest fear that my father will not know who I am a year from now. Alzheimer’s is an awful affliction and painful to watch. I am watching the signs show up in my father and the thought breaks my heart. One by one they rear their ugly head.

So consider yourself incredibly fortunate to be wherever you are and with whoever you are with. You could have lost everything in a fire or the people you love and know could have been taken from you without your knowing.

Ok, enough of that.

On another more personal note; I had an almost date the other day. Ok well actually it was cocktails for a few hours but I rather enjoyed it, and I think (hope) she did too. So there is an ‘ingot in the fire’ as some of the partners in my firm would say. I’ll address this more as things unfold, but I don’t want to say too much, I know she reads this (I wish I were afforded the same luxury ;) ). As a matter of fact, everyone I know reads this. All of my friends who wonder what it is I do on the road all the time check this thread for updates frequently.

I am at home in Austin tonight and got to go out and catch some more live music. Nothing to write home about but it was nice to go wander the streets here for a day. For the 2 weeks I have off for the holidays I am only able to spend two nights at home. Tomorrow I drive back to Houston for dinner with my family tomorrow night and Thursday I am driving into New Orleans for New Years to meet some of my best friends for some alcohol induced silliness in the Big Easy. It’s sure to be a great time. Unfortunately, my friends are married to each other and I will be the training wheel. I’ll be at the ‘W’ Poydras Street if anyone wants to get together feel free to PM me.

Per request, I will write the Vegas story next. I’m not sure I have gotten over that yet (I KNOW my liver has not). So stay tuned if you ever wondered what happens if you lose the keys to a rental jag (high security key) and have your luggage locked in the trunk after a night of intense drinking with other FT’ers.

Excellent writing, as usual. I really enjoyed it. Between this and the Tsunami posts, I'm nearly weepy-eyed today, all thanks to Flyertalk! Have an excellent New Year's Eve. I am partying in San Francisco, and I'll be sure to tip back a glass of champagne for you.

Cheers,

Chris

EDIT: My first car was a 70 Mustang Mach1, and I've always had an affinity for fox bodies. 93 cobra was/is a cool car! Recently, I've turned to more modern muscle - e36 m3, and an 05 STi. I love the m3, but the STi is a monster; 300hp, 300ft-lbs of torque, with AWD. It's a blast to drive!

stichris, I agree wholeheartedly with your sentiments - between UnitedSkies thread and this one, it brings out how fortunate most of us are.

1993gt40, I'm sure that prncess674 will acquiesce to that dinner. The hardest thing will be finding you two in the same city for dinner!!

1993gt40, I'm sure that prncess674 will acquiesce to that dinner. The hardest thing will be finding you two in the same city for dinner!!As a side note I was the one he met for drinks in IAH. I happened to be connecting via IAH on my way to GIG. I told him I would be happy to have dinner with him in GIG anytime this week. Unfortunately you need a visa to visit Brazil. Maybe I can convince him to meet me in AMS next month while I am vacationing.

As a side note I was the one he met for drinks in IAH. I happened to be connecting via IAH on my way to GIG. I told him I would be happy to have dinner with him in GIG anytime this week. Unfortunately you need a visa to visit Brazil. Maybe I can convince him to meet me in AMS next month while I am vacationing.

My arm could be twisted. ;)

What a wonderful thread! 1993gt40, you are a talented writer. When you decide to get off the road, this may hold some promise for you. And thanks for the heartwarming X-Mas story.

I've worked with 100's of consultants in my life, and they all seem to have one thing on common; they complain a lot about how "tough" their lives are.

The one thing I still don't understand is why they put up with the lifestyle, most of the ones I ran into had no social life, few active contacts with friends, no real place to call home and not much else going on in their lives.

What drives someone to live like this for years and years, I know what most of them make a month so that can't be it...

To be honest, for me, the attraction was being able to travel around, see new places, all on the company - that and constantly meeting new people. Sadly for the last three months I've been desk-bound and tearing my hair out. Some people are destined to work in offices and enjoy it but for others, like me, it's loathesome. So if any of you are looking for a Business Continuity/Information Risk consultant, UK based but will happily travel anywhere, I'm currently looking!

What a wonderful thread! 1993gt40, you are a talented writer. When you decide to get off the road, this may hold some promise for you. And thanks for the heartwarming X-Mas story.

Keep your eye's out for the paperback. :) J/k, maybe one day... I know I'm over 7 days now (sorry), Vegas will be up soon.

Ha! I was just thinking that earlier today -- if you keep this up long enough, you could turn it into a book.

Ha! I was just thinking that earlier today -- if you keep this up long enough, you could turn it into a book.

According to MS Word I'm at almost exactly 13,000 words (just in my actual reports and not stuff like this). Which is technically more than enough for a short novel.

Sorry for the delay in the posting of this report, I know I promised to have it out the week of Christmas, but ran into some unexpected Holiday events (see previous post). Enough things have transpired since that time to fill it’s own Trip Report but I will not make my loyal readers (which I estimate to be somewhere between 3 and 15) wait any more. I am currently in route ‘home’ for the ‘weekend’ aboard AA flt 2319 from CLT – DFW.

For the first time in a month I got an upgrade. Actually, for the first time in nearly a month I am flying in something other than a Regional Jet. I almost forgot there was a ‘First’ class. AA has a very small presence at CLT and US Scare has NO presence in AUS so I get a choice of Crap and more Crap when I book my flights out here. I digress,…

About 6 weeks ago now, I was staffed in L.A. and enjoyed everything the West Coast had to offer. We were doing an XP migration for a multinational mortgage lender and while the hours were long, the atmosphere was very relaxed and I really enjoyed the guys I worked with out there. The week of November 15 we were all hard at work to wrap up some outstanding work so that we could take all of the next week off for Thanksgiving. We worked like idiots around the clock. During the daytime we had non-stop meetings with the client and at night we worked non-stop on deliverables. During that week I worked two 26 hour days. 6:00am Monday to 8:00am Tuesday, back in the office at 3:00pm Tuesday until 5:00pm Wednesday, 6:00 am Thursday 12:00 midnight Friday, Get on a plane at 9:00am Friday flight 1696 LAX-AUS direct, to be home by 2:00pm CST. To say that things were hectic would be a gross understatement.

Also, as luck would have it we were not able to get everything done that we needed to before the Holiday. So, being the one single guy with ‘no family’ I was voted to stay at work for the Holiday. Which was the biggest crock of $hit I could think of. Because I am not married or have any children does NOT mean I am not someone’s son, brother or, Uncle. But like the good lemming I am I altered my travel plans to fly home on December 1.

This left me with the burning question; ... am I going to do for Thanksgiving? Well I knew I was not going to spend it in L.A.! It was a little too late to get a flight anywhere else so I was grounded and knew I would be driving anywhere I was going to go. This meant one thing and one thing only, Jaguar. So I make a call to the Hertz location at LAX and request a Jaguar XJ8 in Silver with Satellite radio. They were more than happy to accommodate my request. This would later come back to bite me in the ..., but damn it, I was going to drive in style.

Well, a multitude of ideas whirred and whizzed around my head while I was trying to figure out exactly what it was I was going to do with 6 days of time on the road with no where to go, nothing to do, an expense account, a Jaguar and no friends for a thousand miles. They went from mild to wild. At first I came up with the brilliant idea of driving all the way up PCH 1 to Canada or to wherever the F^ it goes. Then it was to San Francisco and back via Las Vegas, then it was San Diego to Las Vegas to San Fran to L.A. I changed my mind on an hourly basis because no one option sounded great or more appealing than any other. At the bottom line I knew I was just killing time no matter what I did. Then one night in FT Chat DebUA1K invited me over for Thanksgiving in Las Vegas and that drove the stake in the ground!

There was the human interaction I knew I would so badly need over the course of the next week. That ‘drove the steak into the ground’, if nothing else, I KNEW I’d be in Vegas for Thanksgiving. On top of that, I would finally meet a FlyerTalker! A first for me at the time. (wow, I just drank my flight out of Crown Royal) Then it seems everyone was going to be in Vegas for the weekend. Missy tells me that ORDGuy and Prncess674 were going to be in town and that she might come out. So I think that this is going to work out great, I’ll get to meet a bunch of people and have a great time in Vegas. Monday November 22 I PM’ed everyone to find out what was going on and who will come out. If you scroll back in this thread to can go back and see some of this unfolding as bits of it were played out in this thread. DebUA1K lived here, OrdGuy was coming on Friday to do some partying, Missy waffaling on the issue and Prncess674 wanted to stay home (no matter where I promised to take her to dinner).

By Wednesday night a basic plan had emerged. On Thursday I was going to drive to Vegas and have Thanksgiving lunch/dinner with DebUA1k, Friday OrdGuy was going to come to town, maybe missy and maybe Prncess674. Mike and I were going to do N9ne Steak House for dinner then go to checkout the GhostBar and end up at Rain on Friday. It was planned that Mike and I were going to get a Cabana at Rain for Saturday but that was still in the air.

So I call Kabul, my co-worker Wednesday night to chat with him and get some information about the drive. I feel it necessary to state that Kabul is a much Bigger man than I will ever in my wildest dreams hope to be. While we are both of average build and height, but, Kabul is 100X the man I could ever hope to be, let me explain. When Kabul was 21 or so he had a kid and got married. Great for him, He loves his son and thinks his son’s mother is crazy (I don’t disagree). But that is another story in and of itself. For you see, he felt that one offspring was enough, or at least his (then) wife convinced him this was the case and therefore got a vasectomy. They did this so that, well you get the idea…

Fast Forward to a week ago, Kabul tells me that his new wife wants to have kids and he is going to get his vasectomy reversed. So I pause for a minute to let this sink in. I am trying very hard to put myself in his shoes. SO I have a kid, get married, let someone cut into the ‘boys’ sew me up and go about my merry way. Ok, I can see this so far. I may have acted in a similar manner (fortunate for me no wife or kids; illegitimate or otherwise). But now, I am going to let someone open me up, for a second time, and tinker with the boys AGAIN?

It was very humorous watching this unfold over the course of a month, until he finally got the surgery a week and a few days before. He had gone to numerous Doctors and hospitals about this issue trying to find the best price. Which to me was laughable, had it been *me*, I would have been looking for the most competent nut doctor this side of the iron curtain. I guess we all have our priorities. Most doctors in the states wanted somewhere between $6,000 and $10,000. Which Kabul was NOT going to pay. So where else do you go when you need something cheap? Thaaaaaats right! MEXICO!

So Kabul steels himself up one fateful November Saturday and makes the drive to of all places, Tijuana. Where, for the reasonable sum of $1,800 US, a Mexican doctor is going to rearrange the boys into some sort of functional manner. Mind you now; the hospital had no address, no one spoke English and even Kabul describes it as ‘somewhat clean’. Much to my shock, he did receive real anesthesia and was put under for the surgery. I had envisioned him taking a shot of cheap tequila and biting a bullet while beads of sweat built on his forehead, maybe I was romanticizing a bit.

He never did return to work after that before I was rolled off of the project. For the next few weeks I spoke to Kabul as he was ‘working from home’ to get updates on the progress. I want to state for the record, that if any of you are thinking that tinkering with the boys in Tijuana for medical reasons (or otherwise) that it is NOT a good idea. Infection, swelling and daily bleeding for a month on end is not what I would call a good vacation! I remember very vividly about three weeks after his surgery he commented that they were still the size of a ‘baseball’. I quickly remarked back to him that some of us have to live like that all the time but he did not find it as funny as I did.

Anyways, enough about Kabul’s inner workings I digress, I had called him to find out how long it’s going to take me to get to Las Vegas from Pasadena early Thanksgiving morning. He said it was going to take me at LEAST 6 hours due to traffic if not more. I knew I needed to be there by noon because one of DebUA1k’s daughters had to be at work by 3:00. So therefore, I must have to leave at 5:00am. The prospect of getting up at 4:30 was painful as it was already 11:00pm and I was in the wine bar in Pasadena having a great time fraternizing with the locals. At about midnight I poured myself into the Westin to get some rest before the weekend of epic debauchery.

Just a few hours later the alarm was screaming it’s call for my attention at the lovely hour of 4:45 AM. I frantically beat upon the top of the bedside table to bring about an end to the relentless wail of the retched electronic agent of consciousness. Begrudgingly I get up out of bed and into the shower to wake me up. The coffee brewed quietly on the counter in the living room while I washed away the remnants of the alcohol induced slumber. By 5:30 I was on the 210 heading out of L.A. on my way to Las Vegas.

- More soon. I have this whole report done, but I think it would be best if I didn't post it all at once since it is HUGE (22 pages in word). More to come soon.

I could'nt resist,. have another.

Hands tight upon the wheel of the Jag, foot firmly on the floor letting all 8 cylinders breathe deep the breaths of a cold Southern California morning. I only wished they had an XK8 Convertible available at Hertz for me to rent. Visions of ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’ were whirring around my mind and it may have been fun to make the ride with the top down no matter how cold it was outside. But the hard top would have to do it today. I wish I would have left a little later so that I could enjoy the scenery of the drive coming out of L.A. I could tell by the moonlight that I was in the mountains but I had very little concept of distance and I had visions of flying through narrow mountain passes although I knew that this was certainly not the case. The mountains were covered in snow since the week before had brought about an unusually early snow fall and I could imagine that the drive would have been beautiful at sunrise. Once again, windows down, music up and, my foot in the throttle where I can (big V-8 European Luxury Sedan this time).

One by one I blew through the quiet towns of southern California that dot the route to Las Vegas.

I was making GREAT time watching the sun rise over the desert. Broad strokes of pastels reached down from the skies to paint the snow covered mountain peaks in pale pinks and purples. Mile after mile the color grew more and more pale until only the stark white reality of mountain snow remained by the time I made it into Barstow.

I was really making unbelievable time,. While I am sure that sustained driving in excess of triple digit speeds had something to do with it, I certainly did not expect to get to Las Vegas when I did. I was on the outskirts of Sin City by 9:00am. I was not sure what I should do since I was WAY early. Too early to check into the hotel, too early to have cocktails or, enjoy any of the libations usually associated with Las Vegas. At 9:15 I was taking the exit at Tropicana Blvd and calling DebUA1K to figure out where it was that I was going. I punched it up on the NeverLost and it got me close enough so that DebUA1k could wander out and find me standing by the curb.

I showed up early, but it worked out for the best. Thanksgiving lunch was planned for noon so that one of her daughters could make it to work at 3:00pm. DebUA1k’s other daughter was working frantically in the kitchen to get everything together in time for Dinner at noon. It was not long before Deb and myself were roped into kitchen duty. We were both frantically peeling sweet potatoes, chopping vegetables, making muffin mix, unclogging drains, picking up hot things, setting them back down again, clearing the table, mixing things in bowls and anything else you could think of to get ready for the afternoons festivities.

We were having an all organic Thanksgiving all the way down to the organic free range turkey. Everything was made fresh from scratch and it really made a difference. I really cant say enough about how great Thanksgiving was. I’ve never even SEEN cranberry sauce that did not have ribs from the can on it, much less had the pleasure of enjoying such a fantastic treat. For the first time in as long as I can remember I had food that was made in a kitchen and not purchased from a restaurant or room service. It had probably been at least 6 months or so. A good time was had by all and I heard no complaints about the food.

After Thanksgiving we relaxed for a bit and let everything settle for a few hours. It was nice to be a part of Thanksgiving and I felt very welcome and included even if it were not my own family. We killed an hour or so with stories and laughter. Eventually I made it outside to call my own family and wish them a happy Thanksgiving.

Everyone at home was having a good time enjoying my mothers Turkey and stuffing. I wished I could have been there with my own family no matter how hospitable other FlyerTalkers are. My niece and nephew just couldn’t understand why Uncle Mike wasn’t home for Thanksgiving. My niece was really upset and it broke my heart. Once I was able to push my heart back down to somewhere near my midsection again, I re-joined everyone inside.

Everyone was setting up to play a board game; ‘Rat Race’. I got a crash course in the rules and the game began. It was a modernized version of ‘Life’ centered around financial dealings and trying to work yourself into a position where your investments exceeded your income on a monthly basis. Fortunately for me I was doing much better in real life than I was on the board. I just could’nt catch a break and did miserably. I was feeling a bit sluggish by 4:30 or so and decided that some sleep would do me wonders. I guess the tryptophan was setting in, well that or the 4 hours of sleep I had gotten the night before. I profusely thanked everyone for their kindness and amazing Thanksgiving dinner before I left.

I headed down to the strip where I was going to stay for the night. I had booked a room at the Aladdin since it just became a Starwood and they had a rate of $179/night. After parking the car I wandered into the building looking for the front desk. Now I know that these places are designed to be confusing so that you wander aimlessly and hopefully spend some money in the process but this was by far the most confusing structure I have ever had the displeasure of carting baggage through. I pride myself on my amazing sense of direction and navigation abilities (Sailor remember) but they were not going to cut it here. I asked for directions, TWICE! And I’m a guy!! Finally I make it to the front desk to check in.

Somehow in the uber efficient planning stages of this venture there was a minor oversight. I had made my reservation to arrive yesterday. !%#@!! I begged and pleaded in a vein attempt to avoid the no-show charge to no avail. $179 down the drain with nothing to show for it. Honestly, if that was the worst loss I endured for the weekend, I would have gotten off well. So I pony up another $179 to stay tonight and off to the room I go.

They gave me a great suite with a view of the Bellagio,.. . from my hot tub that was HUGE. This thing was built for having fun. It was GIANT and took forever to fill up. Now I just needed a few strippers or Vegas showgirls and I would have really been set. But that’s just not my style so I settled into the tub to relax and enjoy some ‘me’ time. I had turned on my laptop to listen to some tunes while I soaked. Almost like a movie, just as Dean Martin poured out from the speakers, the water show across the street at the Bellagio started just as my foot pierced the surface of the water. The ‘BOOM’ from the jets of water at the show rang out down the strip as the ripples in the water from my submersion radiated out from me. I didn’t need any showgirls, I needed a lover to share this with.

I spent about an hour or so in the tub enjoying the quiet serenity of cold loneliness. Spending holidays away are never easy. I was out and walking the strip by 10:00 just looking for something to do. Nothing really felt right tonight, I was not in the mood to gamble or drink or live it up, I just wanted to go ‘home’. By 11:30 I was in my room again wondering what it was I was going to do tomorrow. I had loosely committed to ORDGuy to go to the clubs tomorrow, Missey may or may not come down, and Prncess was still sort of up in the air about dinner. But ... was *I* going to do? I had no reservations for the next day, all I knew was that I was not going to pay the astronomical rate for this place on a Friday night. So where else do you go? The Internet!!

I have a philosophy when I travel, you either go to the top and do it right, or you go to the bottom and do it cheap! I had a feeling that tomorrow was going to be cheap since I had already spent $179 on a room I did not stay in. So I booked the absolute cheapest place in Las Vegas I could find online and not be out in the sticks. For $69/ a night, I had a room at the Frontier. It was grossly overpriced.

But I had finally driven the stake in the ground, I knew what I was going to do. I should have felt better, but I just felt uneasy instead. I knew deep down inside I was just killing time until I could go back to work and finally back home. Stomach in knots, I finally fell asleep around midnight.

I woke the next morning at 10:00 wondering just what exactly I was going to do all day since I had neither a plan or a clue this morning. I took a shower and cleaned myself up, I knew that whatever happened tonight would be epic as my liver began to brace itself already. As I stepped out of the shower into the suite I could not help but think of what a waste this place was on me. Just a single guy for one night, I had not even seen half of the suite yet. I never did. I packed up and left the Aladdin.

By 11:00 I was in the Jag again cruising the Blvd when an unrecognized number rang my phone. Missy was in town. She took a random standby flight from SEA just for the afternoon. I picked her up at the airport and we headed for downtown. One of the few things I had on my agenda for me to do was to go to the California and have Saimin. Being Hawaiian, it was a nice treat to enjoy some of the flavors of home. I had soup and Passion-Orange juice. It was great.

Missy and I spent the day playing various table games with little success. We never really lost our asses but I certainly was not going to recover the $179 I had spent before I ever made it to Vegas. At about 5:00 I decided that I should check into the Frontier. I park the Jag in the lot and decide that I’m not going up to the room so I’ll just leave the luggage in the trunk and get it in the morning. Oh and what a glorious establishment the Frontier is. I liken it to a polished turd.

I stood out like a sore thumb here. I was traveling in true over the top Vegas style and this place was traveling back in time. One patent leather black and white wingtip in front of the other I make my way across the casino in a black double breasted Italian suit. As I stepped up to the desk clerk I took off my Maui Jims and handed her my Corporate Amex so I could check into whatever crap pot they gave me. It must have been quite a sight. I took my room key and headed straight for the bar. I was bent to not spend another second in this town sober, and intended to remain intoxicated until the moment I left. I was on track so far. Missy and DebUA1K were at the bar drinking already so I pulled up a chair and ordered my standard fare; Double Crown on the Rocks. After a few of these I could not care less where I was staying.

At 7:00 Missy and I met ORDGuy at N9ine steakhouse for dinner before the full on frontal liver assault. We ordered a bottle of wine while ORDGuy and I made acquaintances with each other. This was my 3’rd FTer in 24 hours and I was still getting used to the idea. They were great company! Dinner was good, actually Dinner was great. I had the Filet and Lobster which was superb. When I ordered the waiter asked what I wanted for a side, I told him to ‘Surprise me’. He did good. I had mashed potatoes with Lobster Bisque on top. I highly recommend it as it was delicious. I bought them dinner since I was in essence a stranger and they were so warm and friendly to me. I really appreciated having the company, I was lucky to have such great company. (Prncess never did take me up on that dinner)

After dinner we all hopped up to the GhostBar for a few minutes to see the view since Missy was minutes away from grabbing a cab to the airport. What a great bar this is, the view from the top of the Palms is awesome at night. You could see for what seemed like ever, you could really get lost in the skyline. After about 20 minutes we all made our way back downstairs and Missy made her way to the airport.

ORDGuy and I went to the bar in the middle of the Palms and ordered a drink while we waited for things in Rain to warm up a bit. We were waiting for a good line to form so that we could grab a chica or two out of line since we would not have to wait in it (What FT’er waits in lines?). So we had some RedBull and water and wandered the casino for an hour or so just killing the time. The line to the club was growing and eventually began to wind it’s way throughout the casino like a writhing human snake.

Two girls tapped me on the shoulder and asked if this was the line for Rain since I guess I looked like I worked there wearing a suit coat and all. I cracked a smile and introduced myself. I told them that this was the line but it was their lucky day and they were not going to have to wait in it. Off the four of us went to the door and quickly up to the VIP section upstairs. We got a round of drinks and perched ourselves on the railing to watch the chaos down below.

Chatting with the girls turned out to be interesting. One was a nurse, one was a school teacher. Both attractive young single women. Jackpot. Right? They were from Scottsdale Az. Celebrating one or the other’s birthday or something. We spent the entire evening hanging out with them up in the VIP section watching the events unfold down below. I am not a big fan of clubs or ridiculously loud obnoxious music, but I am a big fan of cocktails, a good time and cool people so I was having a blast. If you ever have a chance to enjoy VIP status with one of the clubs in Vegas (esp Rain) you should most definitely go for it. The downstairs area looked unbelievably packed. There was NO room to move around or get from one end of the club to another. It looked uncomfortable, hot and humid with the alcohol sweat of ten thousand strangers. Not really my thing.

So what else was a guy to do? I turned around to the bar and got us all another round of drinks, Goose and Tonic for all. My bar tab was climbing like a Pacific Islander up a coconut tree. It didn’t matter we were all having a great time. Back to the Arizona girls. While we had done incredibly well at roping two great girls into hanging out with us, I think we had roped the only 2 Mormon virgins for 500 miles. It didn’t matter we all had a GREAT time just hanging out and drinking into the weeeeeee hours of the morning. At some point around 4:00am I was feeling a mix of lethargy, stuffiness, exhaustion and, extreme intoxication. I decided it best to make my exit and call it a night. ORDGuy and I agreed to meet tomorrow afternoon whenever we crawled out of bed. I caught a cab back to the luxury and glamour of the Frontier and crashed out in the room without so much as turning on a light or taking any clothes off. Some may have called it ‘passing out’, I’d rather say that it was motivated sleeping.

Enjoyed your latest update. Reading your stories reminds me of my past life when I was a Road Warrior. Ah, those were the days. But as one gets older one finds that the excitement wanes and the notion of one woman, one town, and some roots start to take on greater meaning.

Thanks for letting me relive my younger days, keep the chapters growing!

US1@ORF

keep it coming 1993gt40 !

can't wait to find out what happens when the Jag key goes AWOL.

cheers!

I think we had roped the only 2 Mormon virgins for 500 miles. It didn’t matter we all had a GREAT time just hanging out and drinking into the weeeeeee hours of the morning....

Drinking til the wee hours of the morning... I guess only selectively Mormon... LOL :D

Drinking til the wee hours of the morning... I guess only selectively Mormon... LOL :D

See... when you stop drinking you get your sobriety back. But when you stop, um, xxxx, you don't get your virginity back. :o

Keep it coming 1990gt40.
Rita

See... when you stop drinking you get your sobriety back. But when you stop, um, xxxx, you don't get your virginity back. :o

Keep it coming 1990gt40.
Rita

Shhhh,. Just dont tell them that. ;)

Sometime around 1:00pm I woke up with all my clothes on sporting a wicked hangover. It felt like I had been square dancing in a blender the night before. For the first time I turned on the lights and got a good look at the innards of a Frontier crap box. Needless to say, I was not impressed.

I spent a few minutes looking for a glass so that I could drink some water and begin what was sure to be a lengthy re-hydration process. Apparently glasses were in high demand in Las Vegas this week so I took to the ice bucket like lush I am. This probably worked out for the best. It took two ice buckets of luke warm tap water before I felt like I could stumble around on my own. I am really wishing I had brought my baggage back up to the room last night. I really do not want to go down to the car to get them now.

Not really having much to do today or having much motivation to become mobilized any time soon, I laid down in bed to watch some TV and let the ice buckets of water work their way back into my head since all it seemed were up there were little men with big hammers. But finally, I could not put it off any more. With enough Vodka pouring out of my pores to sedate a horse I arose to make the journey to the parking lot. I put my shoes and coat on and started out down the hall.

Groping about my pockets, much to my shock and horror, I discovered I don’t have the car keys. My heart began to beat a little faster now. I went back to the room to look for them there. Unfortunately they were not there. No where. I turned the place upside down looking for these things. I pulled the bed from the wall, emptied all the drawers, turned all my pockets inside out, checked the ice bucket, turned everything upside down. They were lost like Paris Hilton in a book store. I REALLY wish I had taken my baggage out of the trunk now. I was in a full fledged panic now. I had no idea what I was going to do.

I started out by calling the lost and found at the Frontier. No luck. I called the Palms, N9ne, Rain and, GhostBar. Everywhere I had been since I had lost them. No one had seen them. I knew they must have fallen out of my slacks when I was in a cab. So I open the phone book and begin calling every cab company listed in it. This took quite a while and was as frustrating as it was fruitless. Many of their ‘lost and found’ departments were closed for the weekend since it was a holiday, and a Saturday at that. It was really sinking in that I may not find them at this point. That thought really worried me for some reason. Normally I am super laid back and it takes a lot for me to perk an ear or get my stomach in knots, but this did it.

Begrudgingly I picked up the phone and dialed the number of last resort. Hertz 24 hour roadside assistance. I must admit, these are the nicest people you could hope to deal with. They were willing to do anything to help me out. I proceeded to describe the situation to the nice lady on the other side of the phone. She asks for the license plate number so that she can pull up the rental contract. I read it to her and listen to the silence that follows. I must have only been about 5 seconds but it seemed like an eternity before I hear ‘…. Uhhh….. Oh no’. Oh no? This cant be good. ‘Sir, That is a high security key’. Uh, high security, this cant be good. ‘Let me look at the manual’ uh, manual, this cant be good.

‘Sir,.. I can call you a tow truck’. Tow truck?! It’s official now, it’s not good. I put off getting the tow truck for now in the romantic hope that the keys may again one day re-unite with me. Of course this was merely fantasy on my part but I was not ready for the tow truck. I took some of her advice and called a few lock smiths to see if I could get a key cut. After the 10’th locksmith told me that it is impossible to cut a key for the Jag because it is ‘High Security’ I had to break down call the Jaguar dealer.

The dealer said that they could cut a key for me today!! WOOHOOO!!!! I was jumping up and down in my hotel room ecstatic about the great news! Unfortunately the dealer forgot to mention a few minor details. The first being that I had to tow the car to the dealer. OK, no big deal. The second is that I had to prove that I owned the vehicle. Ok I could deal with that, I’m sure I could get Hertz to call and authorize or something. Oh yeah, and by the way, It’s going to cost you $2,500!! Holy $hit mongers batman!

Now that I know the key costs $2,500 dollars I contemplated setting it on fire in the parking lot for a few minutes before I came to my senses and did what I should have done an hour ago. I called Hertz 24 hour roadside assistance again and told them I will take them up on the tow now. I just wanted to get it over with and put it all behind me. I reluctantly ask the lady on the other end of the phone, ‘how much is this all going to cost me’. She answers with ‘Well, it’s $96 for the tow, and whatever the key costs to replace’. My heart sunk and my rectum began to quiver in anticipation of what my Amex bill is going to look like. I had no other choice so I told her to do it.

I went down to the Jag to wait for the tow truck driver. It was the wait of shame sitting on the trunk of a perfectly road worthy 2005 Jaguar. This was painful and I could feel the Amex Card in my wallet smoking. It must have looked like I bet it all and lost to all of those walking by. Remember that my bags are in the trunk so I am still wearing my ‘out on the town Vegas clothes’ when the tow truck driver arrives. Fortunate for me, it does not take the tow truck long to arrive.

A delightful squatty man steps out of the truck to greet me and says ‘You got a Jaguar needing a tow?’. Yes sir, as a matter of fact I do, it’s right there. Wasting no time the driver circles around the back and says ‘aww Fu,…’. Oh no, this cant be good. He said ‘This is an all wheel drive car, I don’t have a dolly to tow this onto the flatbed with’. So he gets on the radio and calls tow truck headquarters asking for a dolly. Headquarters says ‘Just drag it up the ramp’. So he says ‘well, they told me to, do you mind?’. No sir, I don’t, not one bit.

Shortly there after the Jag was chained up and ready to be dragged onto the tow truck. Mr. Tow truck man grabs the lever, looks at me, shrugs at me with a small smirk and brings the winch to life. The Jaguar was NOT happy about this. Out from under the car comes sounds that I would not associate with ‘healthy’ as all manner of pops, clicks, grinding, screeching and finally one commanding ‘snap’ before there were fluids involved. But he *did* get it on the truck. Just moments before he says ‘You got insurance right?’ Well, yes, thank god I did.

As we rode to the Hertz location at the airport I could not help but wonder exactly how he was going to get it back off of the truck. I’d find out soon enough.

We pulled around to the back to the maintenance area since it was obviously not fit to return. I met the maintenance manager who was very friendly. I thought these guys would think I was a complete idiot but according to them ‘we’ve seen it all, this is nothing’. Which actually made me feel a LOT better. Once they figured out where to put the immobilized car I stood by for the show. Getting it ON the truck was nothing in comparison to getting it off.

The driver started out by washing down the whole bed of the truck where the car was. I could see where this was going. Once sufficiently saturated he lowered the ramp down to the ground but the Jag was not moving anywhere. This was obviously going to require some physical persuasion. Working the sticks like a drummer in a metal band he had the Jag violently rocking back and fourth until it finally began to squeak, pop, clack, and bounce it’s way down the bed. All was going well until the rear tires were near the edge and the violent rocking eventually slammed the ... of the Jag into the concrete with sufficient force to flatten a tailpipe and do some body damage. I cringed in horror, but Mr Tow Truck man didn’t seem to mind one bit. As a matter of fact he said ‘Well, that went pretty well’ once it was resting again on all fours. I didn’t care to argue, I was more concerned about my luggage in the trunk.

The maintenance manager signed his papers and Mr. Tow Truck man was off to go wreak havoc on someone else’s car. This left me with two outstanding problems still. One; How was I going to get my baggage, and two; would they give me another car after this? Well, one at a time, I needed my bags before I needed a car. My laptop was in the trunk and there was no way I could go back to work on Monday without it. The manager said he knew a lock smith who could ‘pop’ the lock to at least get us in then we could open the trunk. So after a few phone calls we had said ‘locksmith’.

While he did have an authentic looking magnetic sign on the side of his trunk, I refuse to believe he was a ‘locksmith’. Something tells me that if I wanted this car to disappear, this would be the man for the job. I really didn’t care at this point. 30 seconds, my last $40 cash, and a coat hanger later the driver side door was wide open. Well worth the $40 if you ask me. I started to think that things are really starting to come together now. Unfortunately that thought was short lived.

There is NO trunk release button in a 2005 Jaguar XJ. !%$#@$!! I was ready to melt down at this point. If there would have been no one around I would have ripped the decklid off with my bare hands by now. But for some reason the Hertz people wanted their car back intact. I looked at the manager and said ‘I’m not leaving without my briefcase, I don’t care if I have to sleep in the car until you can open it with a sawzall, I’m not leaving without it’. Something in my tone or the look in my face must have told this man I was serious because he knew I meant it. (More on this in a bit.)

Before long we were all tugging and pulling on the back seat trying to get it out. We spent a good 45 minutes tugging and pulling before someone tried pushing and lifting. That did it. The part that one would sit on in the back seat was now resting on the roof. We only broke a few clips and tore the leather in inconspicuous places in the process. I didn’t care anymore, I just wanted to go back to the Frontier (of all places). Unfortunately the vertical part of the backseats would prove to be more of a challenge. Before I knew it we would have a whole assortment of tools out disassembling various and sundry bits of Jaguar guts before we had successfully removed both partitions and I could crawl in and pull the emergency release from inside. I could not help but think to myself about all of the times I looked at the glow in the dark plastic tag and thought ‘What freaking idiot needs this?!’. Well my friends,.. Today I stand before you a ‘Freaking Idiot’, I actually had to legitimately use the emergency trunk release. I’m so ashamed.

But, on the upside, I had my baggage. The maintenance manager looked curiously into the trunk to see what I was so concerned about. Just a suitcase and my briefcase. I had not put two and two together by the time I opened my briefcase to take out my camera. As soon as my case opened the manager let out a big sigh of relief. As I looked up at him he said ‘I thought it would be full of drugs or money, we all thought you were in the mob’. In hindsight I can see where he was coming from. Mid-20’s guy, flys to L.A. rents a Jag, drives to Vegas, wears a black double breasted Italian suit, black and white wingtips, collar open, hair combed back, a day unshaven, all I needed were some gold chains.

The maintenance Manager walked me into the rental office and wished me luck as he handed my old contract to the guy behind the counter and walked out.

The desk agent was clicking keys on the keyboard at a feverish rate. It would come in bursts, clack-clack-clack, read-read-read, clack-clack-clack, read-read-read, clack-read-clack-clack-print-print-print. He hands me a new rental car contract and points me in the direction of my new car. He was a man of few words so I wondered what Hertz gives you when you bring the last one back on a tow truck. As it turns out, another Jaguar! It was an S-type, but for all I cared, it could have been an S-type Yugo I was just glad to be done with the lost key incident.

At about 10:00 I finally made it back to the Frontier, and happy to be there now. Suddenly $69/night sounded like the best damn deal I was going to get all weekend! I had never been so happy to change out of my clothes and take a shower. By 11:00 I was showered, changed and in party mode again. Actually I just wanted to drink heavily to put the day behind me. I called ORDguy to see what the plan was and by 11:15 I was in a cab on my way to the Palms. This time I left the car keys in the room. ;)

-More soon.

That is rich! Crazy story, hopefully you took some photos of the Jag torn to bits! Post them up!

That is rich! Crazy story, hopefully you took some photos of the Jag torn to bits! Post them up!

As a matter of fact, I do. I'll get them up somewhere soon.

Ouch! That was very painful to read. What was the final damage to your amex? I imagine it has been resolved by now. The amex ldw should have covered all that, I hope! ;)

I however can feel your pain. Last fall I very stupidly drove my BMW over a median in FL destroying both driver side wheels and popping a couple side airbags.

A week later after being out of town I flew into FL rented a car from Avis, to replace my BMW in the shop, and drove away in convertable Eclipse. About 20 mins outside the airport I was in traffic and got distracted and slammed into the back of a Land Rover. Needless to say the Land Rover did not have a scratch but it did drive its tow hitch all way up through the hood into the engine compartment doing about 3 grand in damage.

I was close enough to the exit I could have got it off the road. However the Land Rover guy with no damage insisted on waiting for the police in 90 degree heat just so I could get a ticket. I sent that car back to Avis. Still trying to resolve who pays for it.

What a gruesome story. Anyone can commiserate with you. But, like those of us who slow down to see the accident, we are enjoying your "trip report"

Rita

Man! That was ROUGH!

I would think the rental office would keep a copy of the key in a safe somewhere.

Can't wait to see before and after pic of the Jag!

A great story, and some fantastic writing too. ^ ^ Hunter S. Thompson had nothing on you! :D

Why is the optimist in me still hoping for a happy ending? Something like the rental agent who accepts the car back will be so hung over he doesn't notice the damage... or that the cost of the key turns out to be dirt cheap, or something like that.

All this while I await all the final, gruesome details.

Rita

Awesome report. And thanks for the kind words... You were a great help!

Lesson for everyone else, if you get invited to dinner at my house, be prepared to cook it yourself lol

Awesome report. And thanks for the kind words... You were a great help!

Lesson for everyone else, if you get invited to dinner at my house, be prepared to cook it yourself lol

Well worth it! Thank you for inviting me into your home with your family. :)

I just found this thread and I'm hooked! I can't wait for the next installment of the adventure.

Just to let you know, 1993gt40, I've been following this since it started. Addictive. :) I laugh at how you digress from planes into a coworker going to Tijuana for help "down under". Seamless!

Keep it coming....

whilst I was howling inside at the sheer thought of being in your shoes, it's another great episode and sure to be a learning experience you won't forget...

Well, I told you GT I am a man of my word and I have indeed, as promised, read this absolutely GREAT report. My jet lag from Singapore has kept me awake, and this has been a great read for the night here. You've got a GREAT way with descriptions, from being spackled to the window to being awakened by the relentless wail of the electronic agent of consciousness. Hilarious! Hopefully you're snagging some correspondence course in writing while you're on the road, to further sharpen the sword on your already great tale-telling skills. I remain glad to see you've been able to maintain the high-road wisdom of your ealier, uh, "hotel incident." :D

You've truly cheered the days of a few F/Ters here, and you've obviously brought comraderie to your "I've flown a mile in your shoes" to your fellow road warriors!

I hope that wherever you are this day, you're enjoying good company, timely flights well stocked with Crown Royal, good health, good plans for a fun date later this evening, and that you know where your car keys are :D.

Meanwhile, I'll be waiting for those mp3s! :D
--Skye1

At about 11:30pm I was having the first meal of the day with ORDGuy in the Café at the Palms. It was nothing like the dinner we had last night but it was perfect for how I was feeling as well as my new-found financial situation. I must have looked wrecked still, I know I felt like it. I was having a hard time not thinking about the events of the day and it was really weighing me down. I needed a drink, fortunately this was Vegas, and drinks were never that far away.

At about midnight ORDGuy and I had already cruised the line at Rain (or the lack there of), it seems that Mormon virgins were not in our future tonight. Fine by me really, I couldn’t afford women tonight, I bought a Jaguar key today. We had a good time in the club for the most part. It was not as hopping as it was last night so the attitude was a little more subdued. This actually worked out well and I got to cruise the dance floor and explore all the little nooks and crannies of the club. There were a few small rooms and a few VIP areas. It was nice to have my run of the place and come and go as I pleased from various areas. ORDGuy and I had a few drinks got a decent buzz and then decided that Rain was not happening tonight so we needed to move on. By like 2:30 we went to another club that was actually on the strip. It was not happening either. And at some point we ended up at ‘Drei’s’.

This was nice. Lots of people, a good atmosphere, somewhat reasonable drinks, and before long we had crashed someone’s table reservation and were seated in a primo spot. As it turns out that the guys whose table reservations we had crashed lived down the street from my parents’ house in Hawaii. They were all from Hawaii Kai which is where most of my childhood memories are from. So it was nice to spend some time with the local boys and hear Pigeon again.

We were seated in a nice nook near the dance floor having a great time with our Vodka Tonics watching the chaos around us. 6 weeks later as I am writing this my memories of the night are somewhat spotty, but I do remember being ripped out of my gourd and talking to anyone and everyone who would have me. I met all manner of character. There were the bartenders just off of work, various and sundry people connected to the gaming industry, High Techs, college students, drug dealers, pimps, prostitutes, lounge lizards, dental assistants, school teachers, and strippers. The cross section of character was rather mixed. I fit right in.

Somehow in the middle of all of this I managed to find myself in conversation with a lovely woman my age. We recessed ourselves into the nook for some conversation where we didn’t have to scream over the music. Turns out she lives in Pasadena California just blocks from my client site. Things were working out well. She’s a dental assistant who ‘wants to go back to school in the evening to finish her business degree’. We must have talked for an hour or so and just generally had a great time. Her name was Sandra and she was the typical L.A. woman, blonde, green eyed, well sculpted and not quite all there. I figured she’d make a great pet while I was staffed in L.A. We exchanged numbers and had agreed to have dinner the following week.

I finally catch back up with ORDGuy around 6:45am. We were both rocked and decided that it was time to turn in. We left Drei’s at 7:00am in search of Taxis. I got outside and it was LIGHT! I thought I would incinerate on the spot, the foul galactic orb was pelting me with photons relentlessly. I cringed in horror, but I knew the assault would not cease. ORDGuy and I shook hands, wished each other well in our travels and parted ways. I was headed back to the Frontier, and I was in dire need of rest as I knew I was driving back in the morning. Sometime around 7:15 I was out like a light.

At noon I awoke to one very angry lady from maid service screaming something about check out time being at noon and I was late or something of the sort. I looked at her and decided it was best to get out of bed and get moving before she put me in Frontier Jail or whatever horrid thing they do to you if you don’t check out on time here. I had a hard time believing that they really needed my room, but I also knew that I had to go back to Pasadena and had to get moving soon. Hadn’t these people heard of ‘late check out’? I must be spoiled.

I clamor around for my pants and shirt so as to not offend my lovely and uninvited house guest. Next time I will do better at locking the doors before I pass out. She was doing nothing for my hang over so it was back to the ice bucket and tap water routine again this morning. Two of those and I was off! I would not be missing this place, and honestly, I’m happy to see that they are tearing it down. At $69 a night it was grossly overpriced.

By 12:30 I was in Jag version 2.0 heading out of Las Vegas,.. with the rest of SoCal. This was unbelievable! I have never seen traffic like this before and had a hard time believing I was going to make it back by mid-night. It seems that the advice I received regarding the traffic was in part correct, there is in fact a lot of traffic heading INTO L.A., not OUT of like I had been informed! I fail to understand what was going on. How do you have a traffic jam in the desert? I mean there is nothing out here! It really breaks your spirit when you look out ahead of you and you can see the road go in a straight line all the way to the horizon and all you see is traffic. Thank god I had brought with me a lot of music or this would have driven me over the edge.

After a few hours it finally lightened up enough so that I could use cruise control and enjoy the drive. It never did lighten up enough to permit sustained triple digit speeds, but 80 was more than sufficient after I had spent the previous 2 hours under 10. By now all of the snow had melted leaving only the dingy dusty rock of the mountains in it’s wake. It was not nearly as beautiful as the drive in was. That coupled with the fact that I did not have near the wide eyed enthusiasm today as I did when I was going into Vegas made for one very long boring drive. I was no longer captivated with the romance of road trips across Southern California, scenic mountain passages, new and interesting places, or anything of the sort. I just wanted to be ‘home’ in Pasadena so that I may rest my weary head. Unfortunately that would not come for several more hours.

There is an interesting thing about the drive back that can only be had in places like Southern California. I was not familiar with the road so prolonged sustained optimism dominated my mood in that I kept telling myself ‘If I can just make it past those mountains right there I’ll be in Pasadena’. Unfortunately every ‘band’ of mountains would reveal more mountains. How frustrating. I knew that there were only mountains to the East of Pasadena so no matter what, I would always have to drive further than any mountains I could see in the distance. Which was not bad until you got close to L.A. and your moving 20 MPH in traffic with more mountains on the horizon with only a trail of break lights to guide your way.

At about 8:30 I handed the keys to Jag 2.0 to the Valet man at the Westin Pasadena and checked into my room reflecting back on the events of the weekend. Wow, it was crazier than I had anticipated. Which made me all that much more happy to go back to work tomorrow. Besides, I have a date this week with Sandra so things could work out well for me, or so I thought. Unfortunately two days later the project came to an abrupt end and I took the first flight back to Austin.

At the time this was going on I was happy to be leaving L.A. I had been there for quite sometime and needed some time away more than I realized especially after the weekend. On December 1 I left out of LAX and have not been back since. I very much enjoyed the bench time and soaked up the zero-responsibility time that I got to spend on the bench for the next 2 weeks. Not long after I did realize that I missed the people out there very much. I never saw Kabul again after his surgery and left without saying goodbye to those who had become my friends. I miss them and hope that I will get to work with them again in the future. I never did call Sandra.

For those of you wondering, What exactly does it cost to lose a Jag key? After being very nervous for a week or so not being able to get the $2,500 price tag out of my head, the day came where I had to turn the car back in. I stopped the car in the lines at Hertz LAX awaiting a person to print me a receipt. When one arrived she gave me the usual spiel; “How was the car Mr Gt40?”, ‘Fine’, “Was everything satisfactory?”, ‘Yes’. Just as she looks down at the hand held computer she stops mid sentence. “I’m glad you enjoyed,.. Wait, it shows here some additional charges, can you tell me what these are from?”, to which I replied ‘I’d rather not’. After the song and dance about the key incident she prints me a receipt for about $1,000. Not bad at all! 11 days in a Jag, full insurance, loss/damage stuff, $96 Tow fee, and a $95 lost key fee. I was a giddy as a school boy and made quite the scene as I pumped my fists in the air right there in the parking lot and did a little happy dance. Silence from everyone else emanated outward from me as everyone just had to stop and look at the crazy person.

So my friends I will say this; It may not be today, or next week, or even a month from now, but I will guarantee that one day, in this very thread, you will read about me totaling a perfectly good road worthy rental automobile. I no longer fear the rental car company and what they can do to my Amex. Go fourth, take the insurance, and cause havoc.

Back to present day, a lot of the same has been going on as of late. Back and fourth from Austin to Charlotte every week, the excitement is overwhelming. If any Ft’ers in Charlotte want to get together sometime I am very open to the idea, I cant figure out what it is that people do in this city. I am having a hard time finding anything of noteworthy value to spend my time doing here, so maybe a local could help me out. Downtown seems to be deserted by 10:00 pm. Up until this point I had been staying in a different hotel every week trying to find something decent. To date I have stayed in the Residence Inn on Mint Street, Renaissance Inn, the Hampton Inn, and hopefully I will be settling into the Westin for the duration of the project beginning this week.

The Hampton inn was one of the more odd rooms I’ve stayed in for a while. I had a hot tub in my living room! The only thing I could figure is that this room is frequently rented to film the now infamous hotel Porn. The entire corner of my bedroom was mirrored with a hot tub in the corner. I could dive in from the bed. It was rather unusual.

Rental cars at Hertz in Charlotte are nothing to write home about either. I have had a Subaru Forrester, Buick Century, a Matrix, a Carola. All of which seemed just short of disposable. All in all mediocrity has been the theme for this project so far.

I have jumped ship from (bend over and say) AA(h!), at least for the time being. I am now flying on UA for the next few weeks. They have comped me Premier Executive status and I hope to clear 22,000 EQM with them by mid February (on top of the 9k I have already cleared with AA). Making 4 ridiculous segments a week does great for earning EQM. I am frequently flying AUS-ORD-CLT, on occasion AUS-DEN-CLT. Both routes are WAY out of the way but that’s how they want to route me. At this rate, clearing top tier status on two airlines should be no problem this year, hopefully I will be well on my way through a third as well (CO).

I’m bound to have some great stuff to post soon, I have some really bizarre travel coming up. Today I am flying out of Austin on what is certain to amount to a 3 week bender across 2 continents, and 3 US states. The current Itinerary I am flying on reads: AUS-ORD-CLT-ORD-AMS-IAD-CLT-MSY-CLT-ORD-AUS. It breaks down to working in Charlotte during the week, spending one weekend in Amsterdam, one in New Orleans, 2 days in Charlotte working, and 3 days in Chicago ‘training’. I’ll be at the Palmer House Hilton in ORD if anyone wants to get some cocktails the week of the 8’th.

I feel my liver bracing itself for the upcoming events. In four days I leave for Amsterdam which has me very excited. A beautiful woman has been kind enough to upgrade my itinerary to Biz for me with some expiring SWUs. Thank god, flying an airline I (at the time I booked) had no status with was a little scary. Nightmares of trans-Atlantic flights in Y were keeping me up at night. So long as the people I am going with don’t want to throw me in the canals things will be looking very good (I hear they are a rough crowd ;) ).

So, stay tuned for the details of the uber trip.

For those of you who know me, I am taking suggestions for the next installment. Pick a story for me to back fill, I need to come up with something to do on my way to AMS.

So my friends I will say this; It may not be today, or next week, or even a month from now, but I will guarantee that one day, in this very thread, you will read about me totaling a perfectly good road worthy rental automobile. I no longer fear the rental car company and what they can do to my Amex. Go fourth, take the insurance, and cause havoc.

Hopefully, we will not be reading about your untimely demise as a result of this accident! I have a friend who used to manage an airport car rental branch and he has some amazing stories of cars that came back in all manner of disrepair. One of my favorites was the young girl who rolled the call 7 times down an embankment and then expected him not to charge her for the damage when she didn't take the insurance! :D

Cheers!

Hopefully, we will not be reading about your untimely demise as a result of this accident! I have a friend who used to manage an airport car rental branch and he has some amazing stories of cars that came back in all manner of disrepair. One of my favorites was the young girl who rolled the call 7 times down an embankment and then expected him not to charge her for the damage when she didn't take the insurance! :D

Cheers!

I always take the insurance!! Hopefully my crash will be similar, but maybe I can get it to burst into flames as well!

I always take the insurance!! Hopefully my crash will be similar, but maybe I can get it to burst into flames as well!


Wouldn't paying with AMEX automatically cover the insurance? (I have the Platinum card)
Rita

Wouldn't paying with AMEX automatically cover the insurance? (I have the Platinum card)
Rita

I'm not sure, but since I'm not paying the bill anyway, I go ahead and take the insurance.

I always take the insurance!! Hopefully my crash will be similar, but maybe I can get it to burst into flames as well!

I hope you'll at least have the decency to videotape your encounter with the desk agent when you return the car, a la "Jackass." :D It would be a shame if you went through all of that and didn't at least get a FT posting with video out of it!

I hope you'll at least have the decency to videotape your encounter with the desk agent when you return the car, a la "Jackass." :D It would be a shame if you went through all of that and didn't at least get a FT posting with video out of it!

Well, I can tell you from experience that they dont even bat an eye when you bring one back on a tow truck. :)

Bravo! 2 new Jags for less than $100/day, and the firm's paying for it, right? :)

I'm pretty sure if your AMEX or whatever CC has CDW, then you don't need to buy additional insurance from rental co. And you don't have to pay for any damages to the car. At least that's the principle I'm operating on . . .

Any chance of posting picture of the car post tow trucker driver abuse and emergency trunk pop?

Great stories! Have a blast in AMS.

gt40,

I didn't know you were from Hawaii? Notice my s/n? HNL born and raised on a UA plane somewhere between here and LAX. I want to know, what's up with you and Prncess? Sounds like a bell...that every now and then rings. I'm totally hooked on ur thread, it's reading like a soap opera...I love it.

Bravo! 2 new Jags for less than $100/day, and the firm's paying for it, right? :)

I'm pretty sure if your AMEX or whatever CC has CDW, then you don't need to buy additional insurance from rental co. And you don't have to pay for any damages to the car. At least that's the principle I'm operating on . . .

Any chance of posting picture of the car post tow trucker driver abuse and emergency trunk pop?

Great stories! Have a blast in AMS.

I'm sure I'm covered by my Amex, but until someone tells me to cut it out, I will continue to take ins since it does not matter to me in terms of financial impact. I am erring on the side of caution. Better to have it and not need it kind of thing. I'll get those pics of the jag up. They were shared recently in an e-mail circle and I'll have someone host them for internet sharing purposes.

gt40,

I didn't know you were from Hawaii? Notice my s/n? HNL born and raised on a UA plane somewhere between here and LAX. I want to know, what's up with you and Prncess? Sounds like a bell...that every now and then rings. I'm totally hooked on ur thread, it's reading like a soap opera...I love it.

Yup, may entire Moms' side of the family is still there. I swear I am related to 1/2 the island of Oahu. Prncess, thats another story in and of itself. Ingots, fire, whatnot. :) I'll let her answer that one. ;)

I'll keep posting to this thread as long as people keep reading it. Glad to hear you enjoy it.

I’m bound to have some great stuff to post soon, I have some really bizarre travel coming up. Today I am flying out of Austin on what is certain to amount to a 3 week bender across 2 continents, and 3 US states. The current Itinerary I am flying on reads: AUS-ORD-CLT-ORD-AMS-IAD-CLT-MSY-CLT-ORD-AUS. It breaks down to working in Charlotte during the week, spending one weekend in Amsterdam, one in New Orleans, 2 days in Charlotte working, and 3 days in Chicago ‘training’. I’ll be at the Palmer House Hilton in ORD if anyone wants to get some cocktails the week of the 8’th.

I feel my liver bracing itself for the upcoming events. In four days I leave for Amsterdam which has me very excited. A beautiful woman has been kind enough to upgrade my itinerary to Biz for me with some expiring SWUs. Thank god, flying an airline I (at the time I booked) had no status with was a little scary. Nightmares of trans-Atlantic flights in Y were keeping me up at night. So long as the people I am going with don’t want to throw me in the canals things will be looking very good (I hear they are a rough crowd ;) ).
I want to know, what's up with you and Prncess? Sounds like a bell...that every now and then rings. Well let's just say that the Princess lives in MSY and she also has a ticket to AMS. You be the judge. ;)

Well let's just say that the Princess lives in MSY and she also has a ticket to AMS. You be the judge. ;)

Well, this should be another excellent Trip Report then - perhaps you could share the reporting duties in the one thread...I can see the view count going through the roof on that thread.

Should we start a contest on what the title should be?? Perhaps something like:

The tale of Two Consultants...prncess674 & 1993gt40 in AMS
or
The Princess & 1993gt40...72 hours in AMS

A beautiful woman has been kind enough to upgrade my itinerary to Biz for me with some expiring SWUs.

I have always said she is a beautiful woman...now she is spoiling you, 1993gt40. Make sure you spoil her back...that dinner is looking good!!

Well let's just say that the Princess lives in MSY and she also has a ticket to AMS. You be the judge. ;)

ohhhhhh, do we have a potentially (or already) great FT romance story here? Who needs cable when you've got this thread?? Seriously, some nights I don't even turn on the the TV in the hotel room. Instead, I just dive into FT for good reads, and this is definitely one of them.

Please keep us updated, you guys are all too great!!!

If there's room on the list of sober / fully-clothed pursuits in AMS, the Anne Frank House is remarkable. I expected schlocky; it's anything but. Lines can be long, but it's worth the wait.

You can also climb to top of steeple at church across from AF House, for view from highest vantage point in AMS. Might be a little too time-consuming on an all-too-short weekend in such a cool city! Have a blast -- we voyeurs will be waiting at our terminals for the dirt. :cool:

This trip report, already interesting, just got a whole lot more so :)

(waiting on next instalment ...)

Can't wait to hear more...one of the most interesting trip reports!!

Be sure to taste Bol's while you're there!

Back to present day, a lot of the same has been going on as of late. Back and fourth from Austin to Charlotte every week, the excitement is overwhelming. If any Ft’ers in Charlotte want to get together sometime I am very open to the idea, I cant figure out what it is that people do in this city. I am having a hard time finding anything of noteworthy value to spend my time doing here, so maybe a local could help me out. Downtown seems to be deserted by 10:00 pm.

Yeah... that's pretty much it. I lived there for about 8 months, right when I got out of college. It's sad. It's hard to find a place that will deliver pizza after 10 pm, much less a decent bar.

When I first moved there, someone told me, "The only thing to do in Charlotte is get married and have babies." Since I had no plans to do either, I got out of there as quick as I could.

BTW, I love this thread! I'm thinking of starting my own about my travels...

Ironic. I started out reading this thread thinking it would be interesting for me, a born-and-raised Texan (or hapa-Texan, to borrow a bit of local pidgin) who was transplanted to Honolulu, Hawaii, to read about a high-flying Austin based IT consulant -- only to find out that 1993gt40 is a born-and-raised Hawaiian transplanted to Houston & Austin (where I have plenty of relatives) at about the same age I moved to Hawaii.

Our paths in life are kind of an inverse mirror, except that I had almost no opportunity to snag a similar exciting and lucrative IT consultant job here on the island of Oahu :)

I spent a bit of time in CLT a few months ago on a couple mileage runs -- didn't find much excitement there in the way of drinking and hanging out at night with good live music or anything like that. For me the most interesting thing about CLT was to simply soak up the local charm (although I was mesmerized by a not-so-charming loud-mouthed "redneck" sports guy/anchorman on one of the local tv station's newscast), and to drive outta town and do some hiking so as to get up and close to the kind of wildlife and trees that one doesn't find on a tropical Pacific island.

Well let's just say that the Princess lives in MSY and she also has a ticket to AMS. You be the judge. ;)

I do hope you two have an excellent time in AMS :cool:


We were seated in a nice nook near the dance floor having a great time with our Vodka Tonics watching the chaos around us. 6 weeks later as I am writing this my memories of the night are somewhat spotty, but I do remember being ripped out of my gourd and talking to anyone and everyone who would have me. I met all manner of character. There were the bartenders just off of work, various and sundry people connected to the gaming industry, High Techs, college students, drug dealers, pimps, prostitutes, lounge lizards, dental assistants, school teachers, and strippers. The cross section of character was rather mixed. I fit right in.


You can't beat the ambiance at Drai's where the opening conversation of most of the crowd usually includes the phrase "what are you into" :D.

Plans are underway for another Vegas excursion soon, I just need to get a date nailed down. Due to a snafu at Rain on NYE, I have a comped Cabana and other goodies coming my way.

Great post. A lot of interesting reading.

I leave the country for 2 days and look at what happens!

Well, this should be another excellent Trip Report then - perhaps you could share the reporting duties in the one thread...I can see the view count going through the roof on that thread.

Should we start a contest on what the title should be?? Perhaps something like:

The tale of Two Consultants...prncess674 & 1993gt40 in AMS
or
The Princess & 1993gt40...72 hours in AMS

I have always said she is a beautiful woman...now she is spoiling you, 1993gt40. Make sure you spoil her back...that dinner is looking good!!

:) Well, I'm not sure if we will have some sort of intellectual property right agreement for who writes this report, I'll leave it up to her. Yes she spoils me, but she gets pleanty in return! I learned a valuable lesson; Princess is not some cute title she came up with on a whim!

If there's room on the list of sober / fully-clothed pursuits in AMS, the Anne Frank House is remarkable. I expected schlocky; it's anything but. Lines can be long, but it's worth the wait.

You can also climb to top of steeple at church across from AF House, for view from highest vantage point in AMS. Might be a little too time-consuming on an all-too-short weekend in such a cool city! Have a blast -- we voyeurs will be waiting at our terminals for the dirt. :cool:

We did make it to the Anne Frank house! It was not ALL beer, food, RLD and coffee shops! We were somewhat cultural!

Be sure to taste Bol's while you're there!

We did try some of this, but perhaps our sample was skewed. While it was good, it was more like 'fried soup' than anything I had ever heard of.

Ironic. I started out reading this thread thinking it would be interesting for me, a born-and-raised Texan (or hapa-Texan, to borrow a bit of local pidgin) who was transplanted to Honolulu, Hawaii, to read about a high-flying Austin based IT consulant -- only to find out that 1993gt40 is a born-and-raised Hawaiian transplanted to Houston & Austin (where I have plenty of relatives) at about the same age I moved to Hawaii.

Our paths in life are kind of an inverse mirror, except that I had almost no opportunity to snag a similar exciting and lucrative IT consultant job here on the island of Oahu :)


How ironic! There is a good presence of 'Big Blue' on the island. They have a nice consulting division you may want to look into.

I do hope you two have an excellent time in AMS :cool:

You can't beat the ambiance at Drai's where the opening conversation of most of the crowd usually includes the phrase "what are you into" :D.

Plans are underway for another Vegas excursion soon, I just need to get a date nailed down. Due to a snafu at Rain on NYE, I have a comped Cabana and other goodies coming my way.

Let me know when the new Vegas dates are, I'm hooked!! Looking forward to hanging out again, I had a blast!!


Stay tuned, one of us is bound to report on the european jaunt for the weekend. :)

I leave the country for 2 days and look at what happens!

We had to do something in your absence. FT'ers can't wait...

Well, I'm not sure if we will have some sort of intellectual property right agreement for who writes this report, I'll leave it up to her. Yes she spoils me, but she gets pleanty in return!

Hmmm, the mind boggles :rolleyes: :D, but I'll leave that one alone...

I learned a valuable lesson; Princess is not some cute title she came up with on a whim!

Definitely don't cross her :mad: ...she'll throw her tiara at you and give you the eye... ;) and you'll be looking for a rock to crawl under to escape her wrath.

Now seriously, I think she is using the correct handle. She'll enthrall you and you won't want to be released from her grasp...then she's got you exactly where she wants you :o

Stay tuned, one of us is bound to report on the european jaunt for the weekend

Well, I hope you didn't miss out on the NW miles and credited them somewhere!!

:) Well, I'm not sure if we will have some sort of intellectual property right agreement for who writes this report, I'll leave it up to her. !He can write the trip report since I took the photos. :)Yes she spoils me, but she gets pleanty in return! I learned a valuable lesson; Princess is not some cute title she came up with on a whim!I warned him!

Thread-readers poll: Should we start taking guesses as to what music selections would need to be included on the "soundtrack" for the AMS trip reports/pictures ??? :D
And, for the yet-to-be-announced rental car incident?

This is an awesome read, and am looking forward to the next chapter.

So where's the AMS trip report? I am interested to find out what I did on my vacation... :D

I'm still writing it, hope to have it up before I head to MSY tomorrow afternoon. I'm somewhat surprised, your going to let me just out and post it. I figured you would exercise editorial control. This should be good. :)

I'm still writing it, hope to have it up before I head to MSY tomorrow afternoon. I'm somewhat surprised, your going to let me just out and post it. I figured you would exercise editorial control. This should be good. :)

Life is too short for editing, go ahead and post ^

I personally do not post any part of my Trip Reports until they are 100% done, but since executive control on this one is out of my hands, here is the first installment:


Once upon a time in the not all too distant past my greatest joy and passion in life was a four wheeled symbol of a time gone by of Americas’ past. Forged in the foundries of Deerborn Michigan it was born. Like any red blooded young American man the object of my desires between summer romances, apple pies, starry nights, and cool evenings of the south was an automobile laced with sex appeal that only a young single man could appreciate. It was a 1993 Ford Mustang Cobra, the very same that my user name springs from. I will finally settle the mystery of what exactly 1993gt40 stands for.

1993, the year she rolled off the assembly line. She was number 4993 OF 4993 and currently worth a fortune. The VERY last Fox bodied Cobra to roll off the assembly line ending forever a line of V8 rear wheel drive Mustangs that saved the line from front wheel pacifism. The Fox chassis was out and the new SN-95 chassis was to grace the show rooms of Ford dealerships all across North America in the late months of 1993.

GT40 was the engine package of the very limited edition Cobra. For the previous 6 years only 2 basic engine configurations could be found between the strut towers of any given Fox Mustang, a 4 cylinder or 8 cylinder. While the Cobra (GT40) package was not a radical departure from the standard V-8 at the time, it did mark a nice departure from the standard run of the mill street car of the day. While it made a respectable 20% more power than a standard ‘C’ package V8 (as in C engine code [1FACP….]) it was the culmination of many other minor tweaks that really made a Cobra desirable.
Useless features were discarded including things like cruise control, and in some cases the back seat, radio and air conditioning (not mine), subtle but tasteful tweaks were made that really gave the car nice curves and clean lines, and finally a decent break package was offered.

So when I first started on internet message boards they were car related and the user name 1993gt40 made sense. I realize that it must be cryptic in the current setting to say the least. So I hope that the mystery is solved for most. During the time of ownership I was in college and could barely afford to keep such a beast as daily transport and upon graduation it was sold in favor of a brand spanking new Mustang (V8 of course).

Around the same time I had begun tinkering with other transport powered by another V8. Guzzling the physical memory of distant reptilian relatives was the one and only thing I could think of that had more sex appeal than the Cobra. A Cigarette.

Cigarette boat that is. The only thing I could think of that was more stupid, more expensive, more time consuming, frustrating, and dangerous than racing cars was racing boats. It was a natural progression for some of us.

So a few weeks ago when invited on a random weekend trip to Europe for an even more random first ‘date’ with a woman who I had only met in airport lounges, never twice in the same state, who was I to decline? And so the plan for Amsterdam was roughed out. I was to buy my ticket, charge it back to my clients, she would upgrade it with some SWUs of hers and somehow the rest would fall into place. As it turns out, this was one of the few times in my life where such a plan would actually work out for me.

While it did not really become a ‘first date’, I am sure that many can appreciate that I was up until late into the night on the evening before my departure. I was up until 2:00 am taking care of last minute business details, making sure my travel arrangements were in order, tending to the thread monkeys and trying to force down the emerging pangs of anxiety. I spent some time carefully packing my bag trying to take only the things I would need as I had been warned that if I needed to check luggage I would be left at the airport to fend for myself, and the last thing I wanted to do was make an ... of myself upon the first encounter with her friends. In a general sense I tend to try and wait until the second or third time to do such things.

At 6:50 am Thursday January 27 my day started not unlike like any other here in Charlotte. I showered, shaved, and made myself only as presentable a monster like myself can be. Sometime near 7:30 I stumbled downstairs to the restaurant here at the glorious 4points Charlotte where I enjoyed my standard breakfast fare. Sometimes establishing a routine with those who you come in contact with on a daily basis is very beneficial, either that or they enjoy the constant stream of revenue I provide. If you ask me, it’s the latter as most of you have not met me in the morning. ;)

Sitting down with my Wall Street Journal in my ‘usual spot’ 2 glasses of orange juice and a cup of coffee accompanied with a toasted bagel and the requisite cream cheese appear sometime between the indictment of executives and loss of life in Iraq. Business as usual on the red pages of black and white journalism this morning. A few stock quotes, some tech news, a corporate merger or two later my mostly cooked veggie omelet arrives. It seems that my own impatience can only be rivaled by those who cook eggs for me, regardless I ate most of it before I slung my briefcase over the shoulder and forged my way through a cold Carolina morning to the plastic, composite, and alloy chariot which would deliver me into the office this morning.

As one might expect productivity was through the floor this morning. I just could not concentrate on anything other than the fact that my outbound flight was at 2:30 this afternoon and I was going to Europe for the weekend in Business class with a beautiful woman and staying in an excellent Starwood property. Seriously, anything that could have been expected from me that day would have been overly optimistic as my mind was anywhere but work. Finally it got the better of me and at 12:00 I was off and on my way to the airport entirely all too early for my flight two and a half hours later. I wound up spending an hour plus in the US Scareways lounge in CLT killing time before my flight to Chicago.

It seems to be the same scenario every week when I waltz myself into an airport lounge. Near as I can tell I am the least important person to hold such a membership. I am grateful that they were so gracious enough to accept my money and let me into such an elite and secret society for I have no unbelievably important business phone calls to make that necessitate such a loud exchange of words that would leave no pax in relative vicinity left out. Certainly there must have been a mistake.

I was content to watch the air traffic with a cup of coffee and US Air Biscotti. The wait was tolerable and for the most part what I would expect from an airport lounge, they all seem to be about the same. Sometime around 2:00 the lounge and I made our separate ways as I grabbed my briefcase and roll aboard to make my way to gate A4 at CLT where the epic journey would shortly disembark from. For the first time in many years I was flying First on UA and was eagerly anticipating the experience. I settled into my seat at 2D next to a very chatty steel salesman.

He was nice, don’t get me wrong, but he would just not shut up. At times I could not help but wonder if the steel he was selling came in the condition of ‘like new’ but somehow used and sitting on a lot in close proximity to others in ‘nearly mint’ and ‘pre-owned’ condition. Maybe his steel came with a 124 point inspection, I don’t know. In either case, I dare not ask a question in the few brief moments of joyous engine noise, I was content to embrace them without my all too well informed seatmate.

The 737 of UA flight 947 touched down in ORD with little fanfare. Such an insignificant event as it were one of oh so many on any given day, which suited my desires well as I tend to prefer my landings of the unremarkable variety. Fortunate for me there was one person who took notice of the landing. Standing with her shining smile at my gate was the Princess with Kokonutz and Dianne in tow. A quick cursory exchange between lovers and new introductions were made before a quick run into the Red Carpet Club in ORD for some pre-pre-departure cocktails. Each armed with two drink coupons we made our way to the bar to get the trip started on the right foot.

Crown Royal and Becks were flowing as freely as the conversation as we whiled away the hour and a half or so before our flight to AMS in a blissful alcohol haze. With every jar that hit the bar the conversation got friendlier and just that much more elevated. I should have known, but 10 cocktails between the four of us would be nowhere near sufficient and soon the Princess had her pink travel wallet out producing an endless supply of RCC drink coupons just as soon as we emptied Koko’s supply of technically expired coupons. They were obviously very out of date as they were the wrong color, but somehow she convinced the bartender that they were still valid. Well that or she threatened him with her tiara and the ‘eye’. None of us really cared. Shortly we would all be stepping off the continent and onto another many hours later but our conversation and attitude would yield no clues to those who did not know us. Outwardly we were like any other business traveler on their way home for the weekend, but in reality we were headed for a destination far more desirable than anyone on a domestic itinerary. With unspoken enthusiasm and vibrant confidence the last cocktails were resting empty on an otherwise abandoned table as we made our way into the busy C concourse of ORD.


(More soon, stay tuned. ;) )

If it's possible to fall for a thing such as one's style of writing, I'm completely smitten with the OP's flair for vibrant descriptions of otherwise mundane events that would go unnoticed by most.

Keep up the good work, 1993gt40, and thanks for the brilliant reads!

If it's possible to fall for a thing such as one's style of writing, I'm completely smitten with the OP's flair for vibrant descriptions of otherwise mundane events that would go unnoticed by most.

Keep up the good work, 1993gt40, and thanks for the brilliant reads!

Thank you, I take that as a high compliment! I really strive to make the reader feel like they were actually part of the experience. :)

As one might expect productivity was through the floor this morning. . . Seriously, anything that could have been expected from me that day would have been overly optimistic as my mind was anywhere but work.


lol. I've had a few of those days! ;)

Excellent writing, as usual. Eagerly anticipating more.

A momentous prologue, 1993gt40, of what transpired thus far...and you haven't even made the Gate, let alone the flight! We, your loyal readers, await the shennanigans (free, of course, from any executive control) on the pressurised metal cigar to AMS..

A momentous prologue, 1993gt40, of what transpired thus far...and you haven't even made the Gate, let alone the flight! We, your loyal readers, await the shennanigans (free, of course, from any executive control) on the pressurised metal cigar to AMS..

Well, you certainly have nicer language than I at times. Usually it is refered to as the 'Big Silver Dong' in my group of friends. :) Congrats on post #3000 btw.

ahem, a friendly bump.

and then.....? Some of us are waiting on "the rest of the story". ;)

ahem, a friendly bump.

and then.....? Some of us are waiting on "the rest of the story". ;)Heck I was on the AMS trip and know how the story end's and am patiently waiting too. I will give him a pass on this week since he has been at a work conference this week, but I know for a fact that there he has plenty of material to write about from AMS and MSY.

Heck I was on the AMS trip and know how the story end's and am patiently waiting too. I will give him a pass on this week since he has been at a work conference this week, but I know for a fact that there he has plenty of material to write about from AMS and MSY.


Prncess, maybe you should give us a little teaser, you know, the insider's look, just to hold us over until the next installment. :)

Fortunately the trek to gate C15 was short and we were able to pour ourselves into the waiting area with relative ease. We had really planned things well as we were only waiting for a minute or two before we were required to produce our boarding passes on our way down the jetway. My ticket read something like 8F, but all I knew was I was next to the Princess so I followed her through the front end of the internationally configured 767. Arriving at our row she thrusts the handle of her Tumi rollaboard down and turns to look at me with slightly cocked head and great big blue eyes. I knew she had the name ‘Princess’ for a reason and I knew exactly where this was going. But who was I to say anything, she was just too damned cute. I nearly ruptured my spleen lifting said luggage over my head into the bin but we got it all worked out just in time to take our respective seats in time for some fine airline Champagne. After all, it’s all about the cocktails right?

And then it happened; I did not realize the significance at the time, but as the fine plastic champagne glass were transitioned to rest and I looked up at the person who had so graciously provided the pale yellow portion of airline intoxicant, it was her, ‘Deeva’. She went relatively unnoticed by me at first as she was in theory not unlike the many Flight Attendants I had before her, but she would soon stand out from the crowd. As a matter of fact MOST of us took little notice as we were caught up in the settling in, readying our reading materials, MP3 players, laptops and other agents of diversion as well as the lively conversation between us that did not so much as pause in the midst’s of the chaos of boarding.

Everyone has their own pre-departure ritual that they go through before a flight and we were all well into our own sequence of events when the Princess let lose a yelp of excitement that caught everyone’s attention and brought an otherwise boisterous conversation to a screeching halt. For it seems that scrawled onto the pages of her in flight magazine was a message from another Flyertalker. For those of you who are not aware (as I was not); the practice of writing your FT handle into the ‘Hemispheres’ magazines on the first page of the article ‘Voices’ on United flights has been a long standing tradition for the Princess and I guess some other FT’ers as well.

I caught a glimpse of the text from the corner of my eye, I could see it started with ‘Dear Princess,…’. This could have been the work of only one person; Mr. Nutz. Sure enough, once I looked over at Koko and Dianne it was obvious that they were making a valid attempt at being serious but doing a poor job of it. As it turns out, Kokonutz and Dianne flew into ORD on the very same plane we would be flying out on in the very seats now occupied by Princess and myself. A little creativity and good planning on his part made for a great practical joke that got everyone laughing. This really set the lighthearted tone for the entire trip.

Soon the conversation died down between the two groups and Princess and I were relaxing in our business class transport units discussing all manner of things ranging from business, to clients, to how crappy Charlotte is, to our dinner selections, to where else we wanted to go this year. For the record, business is good, clients suck, Charlotte REALLY sucks, we were both having Pork, and we would be traveling a lot together. As it stood, we already had a lot planned to in the near future. After Amsterdam we were planning on New Orleans for Mardi Gras, Miami for the Miami International Boat Show, and Monarch Bay for the heck of it. All of this within the next 6 weeks.

Our travel plans for the year were still up in the air but we have a good idea of what they may be. It looks like the only FlyerTalk event we will both be attending is the Düsseldorf DO shortly before we head to Italy for a week or so as soon as someone knows when the Düsseldorf DO actually IS. Potential weekend jaunts may also include Tokyo, the Caribbean, Cabo and will most certainly include Puerto Rico and London. Not to mention all the trips between Austin and New Orleans. This is certain to be a crazy year.

I digress,. The engines of the 767 chariot roared to life to lift this flying beast and deliver us to our overseas destination. It would seem that not a one of us did notice the event as the conversation never paused to designate an official demarcation. No celebration, no big deal, just like any other flight any one of us had taken before. It was obvious to me that I was not nearly as used to the idea of weekend travel to Europe, or at least not nearly as much as my dear seat mate. Externally I just grinned a slight grin at the thought, I may not be used to it, but I can certainly learn to embrace the thought. The fleeting synaptical notion was short lived.

Soon the libations would resume as cocktails were once again available courtesy of United. I wasn’t driving this mechanical beast so, who was I to turn down another cocktail? For lack of Crown Royal, the Canadian Club and ice would be gracing my longing palette. It’s a wonder they served us at all, we were obviously having an extraordinarily good time and some of us were rather flirtatious with Deeva our lovely flight attendant. As a matter of fact I am quite certain that we would have her convinced to come out with us in Amsterdam. She was getting along quite well with someone in our party and described herself as ‘Very Single’, it would not take a Consultant to figure out where this was going.

Honestly, she would have made a great catch for most of my single guy friends I know. There was some debate among the group about her condition in regard to her endowment. I still maintain that they were bolted on, but that’s just me. She was quite tall and an attractive woman in her own right but dumber than a box-o-rox. I am not entirely convinced she had 2 brain cells to rub together. It was only when she had told us that she learned to speak Dutch because she wore wooden shoes once that I realized that she could not have been more than a bottle of peroxide away from catatonic.

It would be another cocktail or two before dinner arrived. Dinner itself was about what one would expect to be served from an airline ‘kitchen’. To it’s credit I must say that it did satisfy my hunger as I had forgone lunch in favor of cramming in some last minute dealings with my clients a few hours earlier. I was rather satiated by the time that our main course was cleared from my tray table. The meal process for an international business flight can often take over an hour as your meals are served in ‘phases’. After the main course both Princess and I enjoyed a nice glass of Port before dessert was offered.

I was not particularly hungry for more but knew better than to turn it down as I know that the decision was never mine to make to begin with. So when Deeva asked whether I would like Ice Cream or a fruit plate my only response was to look at the Princess. Neither of us had spoken a word of the unofficial arrangement but instinctively she knew that the decision was hers to make to suit her own desires and somehow I intuitively knew and understood this to be the case. Things just tend to work out a lot better when we are all in agreement. Well,.. Either that or I just let the Princess be a Princess.

Minutes later I would have a fruit and cheese plate in front of me while Princess was presented with a small bowl of Hagen Daas Ice Cream. I picked at the cheese and had a few grapes, a bite or two of ice cream but our dessert went largely uneaten between the two of us. It was obvious that the preferential after dinner entrée would come in the form of a liquid. The two of us were drawn into our conversation with youthful exuberance discussing all manner of things young intoxicated lovers would care to address. Neither one of us would notice but somehow our Port glasses had remained full for the duration of the meal service matched only by the flow of discourse. I could not have been more pleased with the way things were going to this point. The conversation had endured a tenure far surpassing the lifespan of endless port and at some point the glasses would vanish along with any apprehensions either of us held for the other.

About an hour or so after dinner I had noticed that Princess was squirming a little trying to get more comfortable so I thought she must be getting a little bit tired. While yes, she was in fact tired, she was actually ringing the Flight Attendant Call Button but getting no response. Soon she would be ringing mine as well, and soon after both simultaneously. I am convinced that if she could reach call buttons in other seats and rows she would have rung them too. Not that this had stopped the conversation or even so much as paused it, but it was painfully obvious that she would need service of some variety in short order. As it turns out the empty cocktails in front of us would certainly not suit the likes of my seatmate. From the corner of her eye she spotted Deeva about to pass us by painfully unaware that her highness had a desire. Not being one to let this happen the Princess turned her torso and grabbed Deeva with predatorial accuracy and speed. Before the Flight attendant could even ask, the Princess had lodged her request for Port and inquired as to what I would like. Having now been partaking in adult beverages constantly for several hours now my desire for another had waned so the response to her question in the form of ‘No Thank you’ was short, concise, and clear. So naturally it made perfect sense that she order me a Canadian Club on ice to accompany her beverage for reasons I may never understand.

Content that she had finally made her drink request she turned to me and smiled in accomplishment. We shared a small chuckle at the preceding events. Deeva could not have so much as made it to the galley before the Princess had breathed deep a sigh in embrace of unconsciousness. While I may never fully understand why *I* was in dire need of a cocktail according to her, it is even less likely that I will ever come to grasp her desire for the same as she obviously had no outward intention of one either. Maybe it is the thrill of the hunt she enjoyed so much, I may never know.

With the Princess soundly sleeping the cocktails arrived with little fanfare. Deeva chuckled a bit at the preceding scene and it’s outcome and left the drinks on the armrest between us. Unfortunately things become devastatingly boring for the next several hours as I have problems sleeping on airplanes. I was wired, a little bit intoxicated, somewhat uncomfortable, kind of delirious and terminally bored for the next 3 or 4 hours until I FINALLY get to sleep somewhere over the Atlantic. Surprisingly looking out the window of the 767 over the black ocean of night was how I spent most of the time. It was a strange journey into introspection, and rather scary at times. Apparently I had a lot more on my mind than I thought and I had an opportunity to work through some of it in the cold hours of engine noise.

Finally I succumbed to the warm embrace of unconsciousness. I must have needed it dearly as I had not slept but 4 hours the night before, and 6 the night before that. Perhaps I could say more about it but it is difficult for even myself to make sleep sound interesting.

Regrettably it was short lived. Deeva woke *ME* up less than an hour later asking if we were done with the Princesses cocktails. Neither of us had even so much as touched the glasses that contained the liquid sedative and I found it difficult to not appear wasteful at the whole incident. With as much fanfare as they had arrived, the cocktails were removed along with any hope I had of getting any sleep on the flight. I was genuinely irritated at this point. Maybe it was more of just general grumpiness from the sleep depravation but in either case I was miffed. There was nothing more that I needed or wanted than just to go to sleep but restlessness and an inability to get comfortable prevented such things.

But I was up now and I would need to come to grips with that fact as it was beginning to get light outside and I could see the UK from the small window of the 767 just as breakfast service was starting. It was just about this time that the Princess was waking up from a nice transatlantic nap. She was stunned at the fact that I had been awake for nearly the entire flight. We were served breakfast and some of us began to clear the morning fog from our minds, others of us were getting lost in the pea soup of delirium and sleep depravation. We would be landing soon and the excitement of the event was getting the group moving and the conversation began to rise much like it was shortly before departure.

There was playful back and fourth between Kokonutz and the Princess as breakfast service was occurring. Well, at least it started that way. Somehow, most of Kokos’ breakfast ended up on the Princess. Unfortunately it came in bits and pieces, literally. Not unlike watching my 5 and 7 year old niece and nephew it all started with a single crumb of bagel that had become airborne somehow from Mr. Nutz’s gourmet plate only to land on Princesses’. Not being one to accept such things, soon the bagel bit in question would be on a return trip. It was on after that. The exchange of bagel, fruit, and all things edible was furious. I was taking refuge near the window in a vein attempt to avoid the incoming servo. The onslaught was merciless, as the siege was elevated as neither party was willing to accept defeat, nor could either claim victory until the battle progressed to things non-edible. Soon napkins, tablecloths, salt and pepper shakers, assorted condiments, forks, knives, and a variety of miscellany would be forged into battle as projectiles.

At this point the battle could no longer be concealed as nearing parties took notice. Although they remained neutral in the exchange it was obvious that they were concerned that collateral damage was imminent. Princess, not being one to be outdone, formulated a brilliant plan. Soon she would be collecting the incoming rounds from her attacker building a stockpile of arms in her corner. This was a brilliant plan on her part as her adversary would soon be plagued with supply chain management problems and wind up without a suitable supplies and ammunition to further wage battle. It was obvious that she emerged the victor as the balance of arms was clearly in her favor.

All things being equal I would say that it was a superior plan to Koko’s plan of Shock and Awe of continued aggression as ultimately it was just not sustainable. Given that they had both started with the same materials it was clear who had the better strategy. Perhaps in the next skirmish Koko will adjust his plan of attack accordingly, but as Donald Rumsfeld would say “You go to war with the Breakfast you have, not the Breakfast you wish you had”. Deeva would soon come by to pickup the wounded soldiers spread across the field of battle, in this case the field came in the form of Princesses’ Breakfast tray.

Conversation was vibrant and friendly amongst all parties again as attention turned to Kokonutz as he had roped Deeva into a conversation about his books. They were somewhat off-color instructional books adult in nature, which did not shock me one bit. What DID shock me was that Deeva could read. Not only that, but she could write! Well, sort of,. Koko asked her to sign his book which she was more than happy to do. It took her nearly 5 minutes to scrawl the single sentence response into the cover of his ‘Self-Help’ manual. For the life of me I can not remember what she wrote as I tried hard to expunge the memory from my mind only because I could not for the life of me understand what she was trying to say. The one sentence was so wrought with misspellings, incorrect grammar and problems with the tense I could not derive the meaning. What else should I expect from a woman who claims to have learned to speak Dutch by wearing wooden shoes?

Soon the Captain would announce our descent into Amsterdam and illuminate the fasten seat belt sign once we were on final approach. I could not help but be drawn to the window, unfortunately it was all overcast and cloudy out so my first glimpses of the Netherlands would be through patchy holes in puffy clouds. I would guess that the practical ceiling was near 2,000 feet because by the time I got a good look at the landscape was not that long before landing and obviously lined up for final approach. I’m not sure why I thought it might look different than anywhere else I had flown into but I was somewhat disappointed when I realized it looked a lot like the Midwest plus canals. Mostly farmhouses, green fields, rural roads and whatnot until very near the airport. Than again, I may be mistaken because as it turns out I can be quite certain that we actually landed somewhere near Luxemburg as we must have taxied from somewhere between inner and outer Mongolia. We must have spent at least a half hour taxiing to the gate in all seriousness.

Upon arrival we all gathered our belongings eager to disembark the flying machine for a weekend in a city with streets of red both in light and history. Since not a one of us had checked bags we would soon be on our way to the Pulitzer once we got through Customs. For the most part we were silent in the queue as we were among the first there. Dianne went first followed by Koko, and Princess. I, on the other hand, would have some problems. It seems that nothing in my life ever goes quite right. I am infamous for it among those who know me. I have the WORST luck known to man. Princess can attest to that fact.

Both myself and the man in the queue next to me would advance to the passport checkers at the same time. 10 seconds later he left as the man looking at my passport studied it carefully. Soon it was obvious to me that there was a problem as every line was moving at a brisk pace with the single exception being the one I was standing at. The man was very carefully looking over my passport and would soon tap the passport man next to him. Unfortunately they were speaking Dutch and I did not understand a word of what they were saying. I could see them waving it under black light and checking the reflections printed across my information in the light. I was starting to worry a bit at this point. Then the nice man holding my passport picked up the phone and called someone. I was really sweating now, the smile on my face quickly faded into the stark look of seriousness and concern. I had not been in Amsterdam for 5 minutes and I may already be leaving.

After a few minutes he would hand my passport back to me and explain that it was incorrectly printed by the US Government. I too was shocked that they are capable of error, but it is true, my passport is indeed printed about 4 degrees crooked. I had to ask him to stamp it since he was content on just letting me pass without an entry stamp, for me this was unacceptable. Finally I was allowed to pass through the metal gates and into the unsecured part of the airport where I met the rest of the group. After everyone had a glance at my deformed entry documents we would be on our way to the ATM for some Euros as none of us had any and soon thereafter out into the streets.

Stepping outside I was greeted with typical European weather. It was cold, probably about 35 or so, but not cold like it is in the states. It was a kind of cold you could walk out into and not really notice at first but after a few minutes you would think to yourself, ‘Hey, when did it get cold?’


Ok, I usually do a better job of ending a segment, not I just need to get the next one up a little faster. :)

[QUOTE=1993gt40] Perhaps in the next skirmish Koko will adjust his plan of attack accordingly, but as Donald Rumsfeld would say “You go to war with the Breakfast you have, not the Breakfast you wish you had”.

That was really funny. You certainly have a way with words.

Another accomplished writer in FT.

This past week, in FT, we have posts by Seat 2A, fromMaine(truly unusual post -tales from the high seas) and yourself

Really I dont need to find something to keep my evening occupied.

I can get my dose of humor, sentiment, adventure, knowledge right here on FT.

Please keep it coming.

hsubbu

1993gt40, finally Part 2 is amongst us, after prodding and coersion from your fans and prncess674. Truly, you are forging your own path in the annals of FT Trip Reporters and taking us along for the ride.

Is there no end to the antics of you four?? Is this love at 35,000 feet between you and prncess674 :-: ? Indeed, we await with eager anticipation for the next tension packed episode...

Is there no end to the antics of you four?? Is this love at 35,000 feet between you and prncess674 ? Indeed, we await with eager anticipation for the next tension packed episode...

You're not the only one waiting in anticipation! If I can't have my own FT romance, I want to at least experience it vacariously through another!



...So a few weeks ago when invited on a random weekend trip to Europe for an even more random first ‘date’ with a woman who I had only met in airport lounges, never twice in the same state, who was I to decline? And so the plan for Amsterdam was roughed out...

While it did not really become a ‘first date’, I am sure that many can appreciate...

Does this mean it wasn't a 'first date' because it really didn't go that way, or because it became much more than just a first date? ;)

Inquiring minds want to know! :D

But regardless, this trip sounds like a blast already, and our dear travellers have barely stepped off the plane!

Well we know which way one of them is headed:

...turns to look at me with slightly cocked head and great big blue eyes. I knew she had the name ‘Princess’ for a reason and I knew exactly where this was going. But who was I to say anything, she was just too damned cute.

Oh goody ^ , more Trip Reports from these two, according to this comment:

...and we would be traveling a lot together. As it stood, we already had a lot planned to in the near future. After Amsterdam we were planning on New Orleans for Mardi Gras, Miami for the Miami International Boat Show, and Monarch Bay for the heck of it. All of this within the next 6 weeks.

Our travel plans for the year were still up in the air but we have a good idea of what they may be. It looks like the only FlyerTalk event we will both be attending is the Düsseldorf DO shortly before we head to Italy for a week or so as soon as someone knows when the Düsseldorf DO actually IS. Potential weekend jaunts may also include Tokyo, the Caribbean, Cabo and will most certainly include Puerto Rico and London. Not to mention all the trips between Austin and New Orleans. This is certain to be a crazy year.

Why don't you slip in Australia as well (I think it's about the only country you haven't mentioned) :rolleyes: ?? May 27-29 for ozfest #2 is looking good (http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/showthread.php?t=336631)....

You're doing just fine here, 1993gt40 ;) ^ :

I nearly ruptured my spleen lifting said luggage over my head into the bin but we got it all worked out
and...

Neither of us had spoken a word of the unofficial arrangement but instinctively she knew that the decision was hers to make to suit her own desires and somehow I intuitively knew and understood this to be the case. Things just tend to work out a lot better when we are all in agreement. Well,.. Either that or I just let the Princess be a Princess.

If I were female, my tissues would be out by now, gently dabbing the corner of my eyes...


The two of us were drawn into our conversation with youthful exuberance discussing all manner of things young intoxicated lovers would care to address.

Ah, the L word....the highlight of the passage. Doesn't that just make your knees go weak and your heart flutter and skip a beat???


Maybe it is the thrill of the hunt she enjoyed so much, I may never know

Indeed it is - hook, line and sinker, but I'm sure you will know. Just remember to fight a little when & if she starts to reel you in. Enjoy those fleeting last moments... :D :D

Oh my, it's quite the monster I have created now is'nt it?

That was really funny. You certainly have a way with words.

I can get my dose of humor, sentiment, adventure, knowledge right here on FT.

Please keep it coming.

hsubbu

I am glad that people understood the quote. :) I laughed out loud when I wrote it on a VERY crowded ERJ from ORD to AUS. There are MANY reports coming still I am SO far behind!! I still have 2 days in AMS to write about PLUS Mardi Gras in NOLA where I met the Fam. We are also doing Miami next weekend so there is SO much more coming!

Does this mean it wasn't a 'first date' because it really didn't go that way, or because it became much more than just a first date? ;)

Inquiring minds want to know! :D


http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/showthread.php?t=312304

We were able to sneak away for a weekend in San Antonio 2 weeks before AMS. :) As for the second half of that, I hold pretty much nothing back from my posts but this IS a family friendly site. ;)

Well we know which way one of them is headed:

Oh goody ^ , more Trip Reports from these two, according to this comment:

Why don't you slip in Australia as well (I think it's about the only country you haven't mentioned)

If I were female, my tissues would be out by now, gently dabbing the corner of my eyes...

Ah, the L word....the highlight of the passage. Doesn't that just make your knees go weak and your heart flutter and skip a beat???

Indeed it is - hook, line and sinker, but I'm sure you will know. Just remember to fight a little when & if she starts to reel you in. Enjoy those fleeting last moments... :D :D

Yes there is a LOT more coming from the two of us. :) She takes the pictures I write the story. It works well. We DID do Mardi Gras in MSY last weekend where I met her Fam. I survived so things must have gone well. ;)

As for Australia, we did talk about it and it may be in the cards for this year. Official requests can be made here: http://www.flyertalk.com/forum/private.php?do=newpm&userid=6739

Ah, the L word....the highlight of the passage. Doesn't that just make your knees go weak and your heart flutter and skip a beat???

Nothing gets by you guys (and gals). Well, "Young Daters" just did not flow well,. But I think I'm close to the mark. Your going to ask her though. :)

Well this FT love affair appears to be progessing well 1993gt40...a weekend in SAT (just whether you were in two beds in that Junior Suite is in question :eek: ;), meet the family in MSY (and you importantly survived that milestone and moved on to AMS)... and still we are barely "warming up".

Bring on the rest of this story...and the rest to come!! You'd better crack out the speed typing course notes...

Request for Down Under MR has been duly sent.... ;) ^

Nothing gets by you guys (and gals). Well, "Young Daters" just did not flow well,. But I think I'm close to the mark. Your going to ask her though.

Well, how could I ignore this comment. prncess674, may I be so bold as to ask you how you see things are going between you and 1993gt40?? Would you care to elaborate after your IAH meeting, as well as MSY weekend, SAT and AMS trips together (did I miss any?? :D ). I really wish you both all the best in exploring your commonality...

I never even had a chance to notice before we stepped into the cab to take us to the Pulitzer only after we spent the requisite time in traffic. It may have taken less time if we took the train, but I think the extra time and expense was well worth the path of least resistance. The cab would drop us off right at the front door of the Pulitzer. I handed a cab driver a crisp 50 Euro note to cover the fare of 46 and gave the universal ‘Keep the Change’ hand gesture to no avail. He handed me some hard stuff which I can only assume totaled something roughly approximate to what I was owed.

From the outside, you would never know the Pulitzer was a hotel if it were not for the awning. It looked identical to all of the row houses connected to it that went on for as far as the eye could see down the canals. This was my first real look at Amsterdam, I was in love. Everything was uniformly unique and delightfully presentable in the dreary overcast of a typical January morning in the Netherlands. The canals were an awful shade of brown, but other than that it had a certain feeling about it unlike anywhere I had been to. I think the distinguishing factor to it is the canals themselves. They force a certain kind of openness by design in areas that would otherwise have been crammed with unplanned development several hundred years earlier.

Three paces from where we offloaded the baggage from the taxi we would be walking through the revolving door of the fine Starwood establishment. It was about what one would expect; dark woods, red velvet couches, small doorways, narrow hallways, and itty bitty elevators. The front desk staff was nice, spoke better English than I did, and were very accommodating. I had booked the rooms on Starwood Free Weekend Night Awards. 2 Rooms for 2 nights. Princess booked one room for two nights. Of the three rooms only one was available at time of check-in. I was not surprised really since it was 9:30AM still even though we did request early check-in. The one room that was available was one of mine and was a standard room, the other room I was to be given was an Executive room. Princess was also upgraded to an Executive room. There was some playful back and forth between the two of us as to who Starwood valued more in that who would be given a nicer room. Unfortunately we would not know for at least a few hours as neither Executive room was ready. So the four of us went to the standard room to rest some before the day would officially begin.

I slid the key into the lock of room 511 and opened the door to the standard room to reveal a space roughly 300 square feet mostly consumed by bed. It had lovely exposed wooden beams as all rooms in the hotel do but did have a nice view of the brown canal out front. It did have all the amenities one would expect as well as a nice but cozy bathroom. In any case, I wouldn’t be staying in this room so I didn’t care too much about anything in it. More than anything else I wanted to lay down in the bed and close my eyes for a bit. Soon all four of us would be laying in it trying to rest. Interesting thing about the bed tough, while they did describe it as one king, perhaps a more accurate description would have been “two singles pushed together and dressed as one to appear like a King but with a hard stripe down the center”. Very Odd I thought to myself.

Still I just could not sleep and after 15 minutes of tossing and turning the Princess and I decided to forge our own way of it in the cobblestone streets of the city in search for some breakfast. Fortunately we found it only a block away in a nice corner café. We were presented with menus printed in both English and Dutch as we ordered something to drink. We both ordered coffee, but upon arrival I thought that perhaps caffeine was just not what I should be having this morning. So I ordered Orange juice and gave Princess my cup of coffee. The juice would take a minute to prepare and bring out, but in that time I got to watch the Princess prepare her coffee. She digs in her purse for a minute to produce a small blue packet of Equal. She is particular about her sweetener as it absolutely MUST be Equal, who was I to say anything? Once sufficiently sweet she would drink the coffee and eat the sugar cubes that had been brought out with the coffee. In all likeliness another mystery I may never understand.

Soon my orange juice would arrive with breakfast. The juice was fresh squeezed. And when I say Fresh Squeezed, I mean it, I watched our waitress cut an orange in half stuck each half in a press and fill one glass exactly. It tasted like I was eating an orange. It made a perfect compliment to my mushroom omelet. Princess had an egg and tomato sandwich that looked downright tasty for hardboiled egg slices with tomato on a bun. Overall breakfast was good and about what I expected. I’m not sure what it cost but I can not imagine it was more than 15 Euro.

Soon we would step out into the cold streets of Amsterdam again trying to kill a little time and work out any remaining restlessness I may have had. This was a superb plan, we would get out, walk around, see a little bit of the city, stop by a grocery store pick up some stuff and be back at the hotel in an hour or two. Or at least that was the plan. We made our way to the city center which was bustling with people this Friday morning. Don’t these people have jobs? I mean it was seriously packed with people. We wondered around hand in mitten like tourists for a while just seeing what was going on in town. We made it all the way to somewhere near the train station before we turned to head back.

As things would have it we would soon be lost. Fortunate for us, we were given a map on our way out the door of the Pulitzer, we would seriously need it. Unfortunate for us everything was in Dutch and made zero sense to me. For all intents and purposes it was like playing ‘Memory’ as the street signs may as well have been hieroglyphics with neat little pictures printed on then as I spent most of my time trying to figure out what exactly they said. It was then that I started to hatch my theory on Dutch linguistics. We will get into this in much further detail later.

We wandered the streets for quite some time thinking we were going the ‘right way’. Well, Princess thought we were going the right way frequently, I had no clue. We did get a good tour of the back alleys and canals in the process as I think we covered much of Amsterdam in the process of going the ‘right way’ which sometimes crossed the same spot in opposing directions. It is actually very nice to wander the streets lost from the perspective of a tourist. Inevitably you pay attention to what is going on around you and see a lot of places you would otherwise never see or notice.

In the midst of our aimless wandering of foreign streets we did make it into a grocery store for the Princess to pick up some supplies. She would be purchasing two liters of water and thought it necessary to consult me on the transaction. Standing in front of the water section of the itty bitty grocery store packed with unrecognizable consumables in unrecognizable packing printed in a language I could not read she asked me if she should get one or two bottles. I look down at the price at the bottom and see 0.45 and chuckle. I said “it’s only forty-five somethings, get two”. She thought this to be very funny and proceeded to laugh out loud at me in the grocery store. While I did know it was .45 Euros, I’m not sure what that equaled in American dollars as I was not about to do math in my state of delirium.

I have to say that the Europeans are great about re-cycling in that everything that was on the shelf was in an obviously re-cycled container. This was nice to see as the American idea of recycling is very different. We will collect the plastic bottles in a recycling center, melt them down and make ‘new’ plastic bottles and repeat the process. Hardly seems worth the effort if you ask me. ACTUAL recycling like the Europeans do makes a lot more sense both fiscally and ecologically, but hey, what can I say, I’m just an Ugly American.

We did eventually make it back to the Pulitzer sometime around 11:20AM or so. We both walk up to the front desk at the same time to check on our Executive rooms. There was much banter between the Princess and I about who the hotel liked more (who would get the nicer room). Neither of us are sure who won really but I hear that room 503 have a nice canal view. By 11:30 we were in Princesses room trying to take a nap. I finally got to sleep sometime near noon.

Sometime near noon-thirty we were waking up and taking turns showering. I desperately needed the sleep even if it was only 30 or 45 minutes of it. The room was nice and comparable to what one would expect to an American Westin in size and amenities. Although the minor touches were what made the difference and gave it nice old world charm. The exposed beams on ceilings and the use of dark wood in contrast to the white walls gave the room a nice warm feel. A real solid wood armoire and TV cabinet were very nice touches that separated the Pulitzer from the cookie cutter clutter of hotel life. Well, that and the fact that getting to your room is more of an adventure than anything else. It was possible to get to our room via a new path every trip even if you stayed for a week.

I found this to me one of the things that makes the Pulitzer an interesting place to stay. Hallways had random stairs in the middle as no ‘floor’ was a floor in the traditional sense. Here the word ‘floor’ only means where the elevator stops and has no actual bearing on the position of your room in relation to the ones above, below or around it. One of my rooms, 511, was about 5 feet higher than the room next to it, 510, and my other room 503 which is about 30 feet away is about 12 feel lower than 511, but 6 feet higher than 502 and 501. Truly odd indeed.

By 1:30 the Princess and myself were cleaned up but running slightly late so we would meet Kokonutz and Dianne in the square to kick off the festivities. I had no idea what to expect of tonight as I have never spent any time with the group before today but if the plane ride over here was any indication I would be in for a night of serious self-abuse and as it turns out, I would be correct.


I'm determined to finish this report but unfortunately I am leaving for MIA right now. Stay tuned, it only gets interesting from here. We have not even started drinking or 'visiting the coffee shops' yet. :)

I absolutely love this thread. I am addicted...

I absolutely love this thread. I am addicted...
You may get a Cameo again soon! There are unconfirmed rumors of LAS in my future. ;) I'll keep you updated!

prncess674, may I be so bold as to ask you how you see things are going between you and 1993gt40?? Would you care to elaborate after your IAH meeting, as well as MSY weekend, SAT and AMS trips together (did I miss any?? :D ).

??
(ahem)
??

??
(ahem)
??I would say things are going well. Our first "real" date so to speak took place in Austin over an entire weekend. I was a bit nervous about spending an entire weekend with someone I had only talked to on the phone for hours at a time and had only met for brief stints in airports. It was a fun weekend that I am assuming will someday be part of the long thread. Our next official "date" was in AMS which you guys are reading about now. My friends can be hard critics and I had warned him of such. Luckily he passed the friend test with flying colors.

I now owe 1993gt40 my undying gratitude and respect. The weekend following AMS he flew to MSY and met all my hometown friends (unlike my crazy frequent flyer friends who jet across the globe with me) and THE PARENTS. I know he was a bit nervous about that weekend. It was Mardi Gras weekend and we were planning on going to a Mardi Gras ball so it was a jam packed weekend. My mom even sent me a detailed itinerary for the weekend. The step that stood out the most on the itinerary for Mike was when my mom put in that while I was getting my hair done 1993gt40 would take a ride with my dad and go pick up his tuxedo. Mike had images of Tony Soprano and some threatening conversation about no one is good enough for daddy's little princess. I assured him Dad was NOT the one to worry about, but the one he needed to worry about was all my uncles, aka my dad's college frat brothers that we would be meeting Saturday afternoon at a party. The "uncle's" grilled him and he took all in stride. Luck was on his side because the "brothers" gave the stamp of approval. Whew, I was worried he may be voted off the island!

I am sitting in CLT now waiting for him. I must really be in love. Instead of taking the non-stop F class flight on AA I decided to take the USAir flight via CLT (where he is working) so we could both take the same flight CLT-MIA. I will post more after the weekend.

The weekend following AMS he flew to MSY and met all my hometown friends (unlike my crazy frequent flyer friends who jet across the globe with me) and THE PARENTS.

Man, meeting the parents already! Things must be moving quickly. :-)

Congrats, you guys. Keep the reports coming...

I am in my mid 20's and strongly desire to live in another country. I am currently employed in the public sector; involving finance, budget & fiscal policy. Previously, I worked for a large international airline, which required about 30-40% travel. I would love to work for an international company giving me access to travel 75% or greater to other countries or live in a foreign country for a period of time. Does anyone have any tips or know of any opportunities. My background includes bachelor's in Mathematics and Post Bac Studies in Statistics. I am currently learning Dutch.

It took her nearly 5 minutes to scrawl the single sentence response into the cover of his ‘Self-Help’ manual. For the life of me I can not remember what she wrote as I tried hard to expunge the memory from my mind only because I could not for the life of me understand what she was trying to say. The one sentence was so wrought with misspellings, incorrect grammar and problems with the tense I could not derive the meaning. What else should I expect from a woman who claims to have learned to speak Dutch by wearing wooden shoes?

Here is the precise inscription on the title page of my copy of Jay Wiseman's Erotic Bondage Handbook:

[handwriting 100% "girlie"]
"WOW! [exclamation point is 3-D rendering]
You Where
and are all that and
a bag of Chips.
Love Always [sideways heart]
Deeva
[her station code] (although I fear her anonymity may already be compromised :eek: )

BTW, while Mike's description of the facts are approximately 100% correct, his take on Deeva is completely wrong. She was not "dumber than a box-o-rox," rather she was simply a delightful blonde! And as for her endowment, take it from me: they were real, and they were SPECTACULAR!

Here is the precise inscription on the title page of my copy of Jay Wiseman's Erotic Bondage Handbook:

And as for her endowment, take it from me: they were real, and they were SPECTACULAR!

:eek:

Spectacular and a Erotic Bondage Handbook? Wow baby. Do tell.

I absolutely love this thread. I am addicted...

Me too. But I'm also drunk. Go figure.

Nice writing. It's fun to read about someone else's experiences that are similar to my own. It lessens the pain somehow!

I'm a consultant too, and I love it for the most part, but it definitely does have its downsides. One of them being the competitiveness of other consultants. I recently got "backstabbed" by a consultant who has a reputation for doing this, unbeknownst to me at the time. Sure this happens with employees as well, but I bet it happens more amongst consultants.

Working with employees can be difficult as well, as many can be jealous of the $ you are making. They wouldn't want to work the same hours as us though, as you point out.

But overall, the benefits outweigh the negatives by far (for me). I love that I can pick and choose who I want to work with, and what I want to work on. And I do like the travel, although it can get old if you have back to back trips all the time.

Great to read prncess674's post #137...that almost had me in tears. Rachel, I'm ecstatic to hear your side and how well things are going...that must be love (not taking an F seat direct to MIA)...

Now has there been any further developments to your expected travels??? Did my PM plea move you??

Next instalment please 1993gt40. and thank you for both sharing your life. I have one that I am formulating now...

You may get a Cameo again soon! There are unconfirmed rumors of LAS in my future. ;) I'll keep you updated!
Very cool! looking forward to seeing you again!

So we made it to MIA. It is just heaven on earth to be on a warm sunny beach in the middle of February. We made it to our hotel safe and sound. Upon check in they wanted to give us a no view, no balcony regular room. I used my "princess powers" and magically an ocean front villa suite opened up. ^ :D We slept till "noon o'clock" this afternoon. Now we are off to the Miami Boat Show. Just what he needs another boat, let's not even get started on the TWO boats and TWO cars he already owns. Now he needs a yacht.

Since we already have a "Hire a Flyertalker" thread, why don't we start a "Match a Flyertalker" thread?

For the single boys and girls in this forum, this could work :) I for one could use a couple of dates :p

At least matching up UA and AA flyers won't be as bad as that Michigan-OSU couple on the ESPN commercial last year :D

btw, GO BLUE

A few non-sequiturs:

Michigan-OSU couple on ESPN? I really am missing out without cable! That's right up there with Carville and Matalin. I earned FF status for the first time largely through travel to A2 (via DTW). Go Blue!

In all my travels, I hoped to cross paths with a fellow traveler the way Princess and GT have. Congrats to you both, and thanks for letting us live a little vicariously -- and a little voyeuristically.

Match a Flyertalker would be a welcome change from the responses I've heard from some prospective dates:

"You're going WHERE?? [Dublin, Prague, Amsterdam, London, Paris, Edinburgh]
"For the WEEKEND?? [Of course]
"Wow. Is there something good to do there?" [geez, maybe . . .]

You know, the sort of conversation that precludes any prospects of advancing to ACTUAL date status. :D

I don't know what's in store for the two of you, but I sure hope it's a great future. This is what FT is all about ^

Awesome thread, mind if I pitch the story to the networks? :)

A great story, and some fantastic writing too. ^ ^ Hunter S. Thompson had nothing on you! :D

Truely a sad loss today. The architect of Gonzo Journalism has died today of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Hunter S. Thompson had spawned an entirely new writing style, one that I have adopted; Gonzo Journalism. Journalism where the writer becomes part of the story and the story contains excessive amounts of the writers opinions.

Mr. Thompson, most famous for writing 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', was a fantastic writer and I encourage everyone to check out his books or at least see the movie. Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail is also another great read detailing his following and sometimes influence of the 1972 Election as Dr. Thompson moves with the campaign and it's candidates.

"The Edge... There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The others --- the living --- are those who pushed their control as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later." -Hunter S. Thompson 1965

Http://www.gonzo.org

"When the going gets weird, the Weird turn pro." -HST

Well it seems to be taking 1993gt40 a long time to write the report, so I will post the photos!

AMS Photos (http://public.fotki.com/prncess674/tt/ams2005/)
New Orleans Mardi Gras Photos (http://public.fotki.com/prncess674/ff/holidays/mg05/)
MIA Photos (http://public.fotki.com/prncess674/tt/mia/)

Truely a sad loss today. The architect of Gonzo Journalism has died today of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Hunter S. Thompson had spawned an entirely new writing style, one that I have adopted; Gonzo Journalism. Journalism where the writer becomes part of the story and the story contains excessive amounts of the writers opinions.


"When the going gets weird, the Weird turn pro." -HST


Wow, that is tragic. He was a true legend in his own time. Glad I saw this so that I can notify my crew.

Thanks for posting the photo's link, Rachel.

You two do look the part in the first photo in Mardi Gras (in your finest!!) and are looking THE COUPLE :cool: . Then I came across Tonsil Hockey and :D - we know this FT couple are getting on well ;) ^

Come on Mike, what's with the delay?? MIA was last week...

Come on Mike, what's with the delay?? MIA was last week...

I'm on it, I'm on it!! These things take time to write! I have most of a bottle of crown in my suitcase and plan to write a LOT tonight (as you can tell my Thompson influence runs deep!). You can probably already tell that I am very wordy in my writing and it takes a lot! I've already used 35,000 words in my TR according to MS word (thats more than 100 printed pages!!).

And the pictues, well,.. I think this one sums it up; http://public.fotki.com/prncess674/ff/holidays/mg05/mardigras0011.html

Rachel, a cocktail, and the rest was a blur. :)

Thanks for all the great reading. As a fellow road warrior with similar stories it is great to see it put so eloquently in print. I truly wish you and princess the best.

Come on Mike, what's with the delay?? MIA was last week...

Work is kicking my butt lately! Expect an installment before Monday!!

Work is kicking my butt lately! Expect an installment before Monday!!

I think what Mike doesn't realize, is that his superiors at work have been reading this thread and have determined that he's having an altogether too good of a time with his latest travels and have decided to pile it on so that he maintains the proper PGR (pleasure-to-grief ratio) for a road-warrior consultant. :rolleyes:

I've been bedridden with a nasty respiratory infection all week. I'm starting to feel a bit better though, and I've taken advantage of the time to catch up on this great story! More content please! :)

We walked the streets of Amsterdam like any other searching out something to wet our appetite for lunch, we wandered from street to street, alley to alley, bar to bar. Like Russians in the streets of Stalingrad our collective eyes peered into doorways, shop windows, dark alleyways, and into the faces of those who walked the streets against us. None of us knew exactly where we were going, what we were looking for or even where exactly we were but that was a point irregardless of our aimless wander for one does not require a destination when locked in the depths of a three day multi-continent bender.

Few words were spoken in the group we were all casually taking in the surroundings and enjoying the air as none of us had yet noticed the cold. With Princess mitten in hand I never so much as formulated a sentence or even perhaps a coherent thought as I struggled to take in all that my surroundings would surrender to the hazel glass of my eyes. Regrettably only so much can be committed to memory at once and the experience became more collective than anything else, strange places adorned with strange signs in a language enamored with the wanton disregard for the use of vowels crowd my mind in the spaces that occupy the experience.

I am not sure how long this went on for but soon enough the unofficial pact of silence would be broken when the words rang out for food from someone in the collective experience with me. We had a mission now, direction of sorts. It was universally agreed by all, but never discussed, that the merchant of our desire would come in the form of a tavern, pub, or bar of some sort. I can not say why, but we all knew how things were, none would officially say the words, like instinct it was given that copious amounts of mind altering fluids were required what ever the scenario.

Soon we would find ourselves at the door of a bar on some side street too small to drive a car down but big enough to contain our curiosity for it’s contents. The four of us stood side by side looking into the small glass windows of the double doors of an unknown watering hole on the back streets of Amsterdam, it was perfect and all wrong at the same time. Officially we wanted something to eat but when we discovered that the establishment did not serve anything but cheese and beer our decision was not swayed in the least. A round of exotic brew the name of which I never bothered to learn occupied my portion of small back alley wooden table. Had I cared to learn, the logo on the glass would have easily disclosed the secret but it could not have been further from my mind. The red brew was delicious and more than sufficient at lubricating the conversation mostly dominated by Koko and Princess with brief interjections from Dianne and myself. No topic was off limits within the group although I could sense the slight apprehension about the newcomer to the group, although being that newcomer I felt nothing less than welcome. It was as though Princess was waiting for their approval and they were waiting on hers.

A number of cocktails later two plates of cheese would arrive marking our official ‘lunch’. While we were in fact hungry the sound of empty glass clanking would suit our desires more than any dirty plate could. Then it happened, the ‘OLD’ Koko emerged from beneath the expensive obnoxious Burberry shirt that adorned the torso of my table mate. Koko dawned the football jersey like the ‘Ugly Americans’ we all were. He personified the people that none of us would be until many cocktails into the evening later. None of us cared good times were being had by all as we kept the shine on the table with the sleeves of our coats. The cheese would disappear one triangle at a time until it was all gone and the cheque arrived. We didn’t need to wait anymore, we knew what we needed to do next.

With a distinct new sense of acceptance I joined my fellow travelers on the narrow stone streets in the cold European air watching a new crowd traversing in opposing directions. Unsure of where we were heading I felt the restless anticipation to arrive as my curiosity had been piqued and my appetite wet to experience all things new and unique with the new partners in crime I had acquired.

Mark Twain once wrote in his book ‘Following the Equator’ “Be good and you will be lonesome”, this could not have applied anywhere else more than Amsterdam. It was obvious that none of us intended to be good in any sort of a conventional sense, but rather in the ugliest American sense we sought merely to traverse the streets in search for the next best thing. In the natural progression of things we would wind up in another purveyor of fine spirits and sundry fermented fluids consuming the latter under the guise of the search for sustenance. It was the strong desire of the Princess to have something completely and wholly American; French Fries.

Koko and Dianne had a seat as the Princess and I chatted with the barkeep about what to eat and drink. We did order her the French Fries complete with Mayonnaise and a side of Ketchup, but also the Dutch treat of Bols. Our good producer of intoxicant described it as ‘Fried Meatballs’, I would rather describe it as ‘Fried Soup’ as the innards of the breaded fried/toasted balls seemed to have the consistency of a very thick soup and sorely lacking in the meat department. Not that any of us cared much, they were tasty and we were hungry. We were not so much hungry anymore, but none of us had eaten anything even remotely similar to a meal, the combination of alcohol and light snack satiates one adequately when not paying attention.

Someone had formulated a brilliant plan nearing the end of our time in this pub, I think it started with something like “when in Rome”. I would soon find myself two blocks away walking into a small establishment titled ‘Kandinsky” according to the door. Kandinsky was small, much smaller than anywhere else we had been to yet, but it was not in the business of selling its size. We had come to partake in some of the libations often associated with this city. It was very down to business, all they served was what was on the menu and the menu only measured it’s contents in grams. None of us having any preference for one particular item or another voted that Koko would be best to handle this and soon we launched him onward toward the ‘bar’. A few minutes later he came back with the ‘stuff’ and suggested that we go across the street. Apparently the man at the counter suggested that Koko take himself and his “American Friends across the street, you can drink beer over there”. If I remember correctly his response was “Thank you, my Canadian friends and I will do that”.

All this time I had thought Canada was merely a cute accessory to the United States, I had not realized that Americas’ hat would come in handy when dodging thinly veiled insults from foreigners. It all worked out well, ‘Eh?

Soon my Canadian friends and I would find ourselves across the street at ‘Kandinsky”, the bar this time. It was not nearly as confusing now as it would be in a few minutes. It seemed we were all a bit apprehensive to just up and consume our ‘stash’ right here in the middle of this bar so we would put that off for a minute in favor of a round of beers. Once they arrived Koko decided that our stash would go unconsumed no longer and soon it was in circulation among the group. We were lightweights. Half of it rested in the ashtray but we were all rocked from its’ affects. Much like I remembered from college everything was kind of silly, my fingers felt a little fatter, and I really had to pay attention to what someone was talking about for me to understand it, and even then it was spotty at best. Wow, they know how to do it here in Amsterdam. Not 10 minutes after arriving we would be walking out the same door. Now I was confused, everyone was talking, but little of it made sense and all I knew for sure was I was on a tiny street standing between Kandinsky and Kandinsky both having identical signs on the doors and I could not remember which one I had just come out of. This was more than I could handle and I took note of the event for further digestion as I could in no way attempt to figure out what was going on now. I patiently waited for someone to start walking because I had no idea where we could possibly be going now.

It is amazing what goes through ones mind in moments like these. I am quite certain that I solved most of the worlds’ problems only to forget the solutions as quickly as they were formulated. Unemployed people building homes for the homeless is a wonderful notion to those in the grasp of the Kandinsky vortex. I did come up with an intriguing linguistic theory that could potentially solve communication problems for generations to come. While the Dutch language was delightful and entertaining to listen to in my state of controlled delirium, it was causing much confusion in my tiny mind. I would really try very hard to make sense of what was being said even though I rationally and intuitively knew that I had no hope of deciphering the cryptic tongue. It then occurred to me what the problem was. They employ the use of entirely too many vowels. Particularly A’s and U’s. They obviously have a Vowel Surplus as I deemed it. Or, conversely a consonant deficit. This is obviously a roadblock to great linguists everywhere and a situation that MUST be remedied at once, or so I thought at the time. Why this works out all to well, their not all too distant neighbors the Germans seem to have a consonant surplus and a Vowel deficit, prime for a international linguistic trade agreement. It all made perfect sense to me at the time and I am quite positive I had worked out all the nitty gritty details somewhere on those dirty back alleys streets of Amsterdam. I was really quite proud of myself mostly because I could not hear what an idiot I sounded like at the time. In any case I merely grinned and probably chuckled at the ground breaking border smashing revelation.

Again I would find myself wandering the street with no specific destination. Stopping at little shops on occasion, looking at random restaurants, bars and pubs but slowly we made our way down narrow alleys and main thoroughfares. Soon I found myself looking at a Chinese restaurant that apparently looked appetizing to the rest of the group. Honestly, I think anything would have sounded good to us at the moment as the side effects of our inebriation silently crept up into our subconscious. I know I must have been visibly intoxicated and can only assume that we all looked to be in a similar state of affairs. If the host had known better he would certainly turned us away and not seated the Canadians standing before him. I am quite certain that we must have made a scene but I will never be sure as I never even looked at who was seated around us.

Of course we had to start with some cocktails as it has become somewhat of a tradition now. They could not have arrived any sooner, I was thirsty and in dire need of more bitter intoxicant. Once you have started on the road you would be a fool not to ride it all the way to the end. Those of us who had been up all night nothing else would do, we needed strong drink. Somewhat coherent sentences whirred around me and crept into the narrow crevices and gaps in my mind not already occupied by the less coherent internal garbage being generated by the vortex of my being. I know that the conversation was flowing but only in some manner that may make sense to those of us in similar states of relational disassociation. In any event I was able to shake off some I’m sure deeply complex internal dialog in time to notice Koko reaching for the rose on the table. It is moments like this that make me wonder what awful series of events in my life would lead me to sitting in a back alley Chinese restaurant in Amsterdam desperately trying to hang on to my last cognitive thoughts mere moments before my fellow tablemate consumes the decorative plant life of cheap restaurant atmosphere. Good god, where have we gone wrong I ask It is strange what you pay attention to at times like this but I vividly remember individual petals and leaves falling from the mouth of a man I would only refer to as; Kokonutz. All manner of rose innards would be dangling from the orifice before they were finally consumed, with any luck, never to be seen again.

Dinner was good, actually it was excellent. Now, I understand that it begs the question of would I actually have eaten it were I not in such a twisted state of mind? Well, the best I can say is ‘probably’. I really don’t know. What none of us noticed at the time was that dinner was expensive totaling over 100 Euros. None of us would know this until the following morning when someone found the receipt in their pocket. Funny how these things just don’t seem to matter at times like this.

Once excessive intoxication was slowly replaced with a simmering maintainable buzz which I wore with style as we made our way back down to the street below. It was beginning to get late and it was universally accepted that we make our way back to the Pulitzer. I could not protest, I was still in dire need of sleep and my body was beginning to revolt. It could just not press on indefinitely, soon I would need to give into my mortal requirements.

We were still very much festive and twisted as we made the long trek back from distant parts of the city. I knew that something so simple of course could not pass without incident. No one knew what he was doing at first when Kokonutz walked up to the railing guarding the canal on a somewhat busy and by no means discreet intersection. But I guess when you got to go, you’ve got to go and soon he was goin’ in the canal. Knowing this group public exposure or nudity was no shocker either but this was not something I saw coming, nor could I say it was really out of the realm of possibility either. Princess documented the event for later review, visit her photo gallery for the gory details (sorry ladies, no ‘money’ shot).

We did eventually make it back to the Pulitzer without going to jail or losing any members of the party in the process. It was only natural that we celebrate victory with another round of cocktails at the Pulitzer bar. Some may call them ‘night caps’ but not in the state we were in. Unfortunately we were not the only ones with this idea, the bar was very packed and one could find no available place to sit once we were able to finally secure a round of cocktails. Not one to be dissuaded from such trivial formalities of ‘social circles’ or personal space I found it a perfect opportunity to make some new friends and plop myself down on someone’s couch. Having somewhere to set my cocktail was a godsend as I would have only wound up spilling it on myself or the Princess. I am sure that would have landed me in my own room tonight, a fate which I did not want to tempt.

We talked to some of the locals and other tourists visiting from various other parts of Europe finding few of them to be noteworthy in any way. At some point the Princess and Dianne noticed that Kokonutz had disappeared and had been gone for quite some time. Gathering his coat with the best of intentions a small search party was formed to locate our missing companion but only made it so far as the lobby before we disbanded in search of our own rooms leaving Kokonutz to fend for himself for the evening wherever he would wind up. Neither the Princess nor I would see him again tonight as we retired to the Princesses chambers for the evening.

Simply put Mike, after reading the latest chapter in the tome, your talent is wasted as a consultant. You need to explore your writing seriously...whatever you do, please don't stop here.

Your have an ability (uncanny knack) to make us feel like we are sitting next to you at the tables, walking beside you as you traverse the streets, smoking some "mary jane" (as we would euphemistically call it here in Australia). It allows us to be "part of the action" and understand intuitively what is going on in your head and around you.

Having somewhere to set my cocktail was a godsend as I would have only wound up spilling it on myself or the Princess. I am sure that would have landed me in my own room tonight, a fate which I did not want to tempt.
.
.
Neither the Princess nor I would see him again tonight as we retired to the Princesses chambers for the evening.

Mike, I'm very glad for you both. I think you must have been biding your time waiting for prncess674 to come along and fill the void with a purpose. It might have taken a while, but I'm sure she's been worth ALL the waiting you endured.

When's the engagement?? :D ;) :o :eek:

I agree, Mike. You are totally wasting your talent. Your writing is totally amazing!

and you are making me wish for a weekend in Amsterdam at the same time. On the otherhand, I couldn't possibily function with the amount of alcohol and expect to be able to stand upright for a week!

And it's not because I'm old, I never could consume a lot of liquor. Pity too, because I love the taste. But headaches have a way of taking their toll.

But I do have enough ff miles for 2 business class seats; access to the DL and NWA crown rooms, so I suppose I could replicate your experience.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Rita

Oh, dear sweet Mike: I'll be your 300-pound Samoan attorney anytime! :cool:

When's the engagement?? :D ;) :o :eek:

While I am a virtous man, AND am saving myself for marriage, lets not get tooo carried away just yet. :) :D :o ;) I think things are going well so far am happy going along for the ride right now. But if things work out like that in the long run, you will be the first to know!

I agree, Mike. You are totally wasting your talent. Your writing is totally amazing!

It's these comments that make me find the time to keep writing these. The 16 hour days are killing me, but I only have another 3 weeks on my current project and am counting the days!!

and you are making me wish for a weekend in Amsterdam at the same time. On the otherhand, I couldn't possibily function with the amount of alcohol and expect to be able to stand upright for a week!

And it's not because I'm old, I never could consume a lot of liquor. Pity too, because I love the taste. But headaches have a way of taking their toll.

But I do have enough ff miles for 2 business class seats; access to the DL and NWA crown rooms, so I suppose I could replicate your experience.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Rita

And we've only been in AMS for 1 day so far! I'm 1/2 way through day two in my word doc, so I should have that up soon. We actually did something culturally redeeming! And sober to boot!

Oh, dear sweet Mike: I'll be your 300-pound Samoan attorney anytime! :cool:

Despite your racial handicap, I'd be glad to have you anytime!

You are so very talented! I love your style and look forward to your next excerpt. Maybe you'll have enough down time in the near future to explore the possibility of securing an agent. You are quite gifted and you should share your talent with a larger audience and not just limit it to the 17,000+ views you've already recieved in the FT community. Keep up the GREAT writing!

When is your publishing date????

I love your work... I was a road warrior in the early 90's- some things change, some things don't. You bring back fond memories from my past! Keep up the great work!
LisaFlyer- living vicariously through your entries...

Hi 1993gt40/Mike-

I know many others have been saying this, but thank you for your posts- they are truly interesting and entertaining. You have a great job of expressing what you observe and tying your thoughts and feelings to what you are experiencing.

I hope you enjoy writing these posts nearly as much as many of us are enjoying reading them.

I have a little experience as a consultant for a software company. I traveled quite a bit more in sales and training capacities and am reveling in your experiences. I would have loved to have something like FT when I spent so much more time on the road. It looks like you have made quite a few friends through the site. Your mentions of people like Kabul (I hope he is ok) and the relationships you have had with them inspired me to reach out to a couple of the other consultants, sales people, and trainers I worked with in the past. Reading your thoughts on the nature of the relationships made me realize that I care about these people; even if I haven't communicated with them for 1,2, or 3 years.

Certainly your experiences w/ Prncess give these tales a whole different dimension. It is great to see people who travel so much get a chance to meet and even take advantage of the perks that miles and status can offer.

I happen to live in Pasadena; though I know it wasn't your favorite city, I am curious if you have any places here that you enjoyed spending time at?

I worked for FedEx for several years. I spent weeks at a time in Memphis and even though I haven't been back since 2000, I still remember some of the places fondly. If you ever get placed on a project there, don't hesitate to ask for recommendations.

Enjoy your adventures and thanks again for sharing them!

Kevin

ps- Did the name of company in Pasadena that you worked with happen to start with a 'C'?

Hi 1993gt40/Mike-

I know many others have been saying this, but thank you for your posts- they are truly interesting and entertaining. You have a great job of expressing what you observe and tying your thoughts and feelings to what you are experiencing.

I hope you enjoy writing these posts nearly as much as many of us are enjoying reading them.

I have a little experience as a consultant for a software company. I traveled quite a bit more in sales and training capacities and am reveling in your experiences. I would have loved to have something like FT when I spent so much more time on the road. It looks like you have made quite a few friends through the site. Your mentions of people like Kabul (I hope he is ok) and the relationships you have had with them inspired me to reach out to a couple of the other consultants, sales people, and trainers I worked with in the past. Reading your thoughts on the nature of the relationships made me realize that I care about these people; even if I haven't communicated with them for 1,2, or 3 years.

Certainly your experiences w/ Prncess give these tales a whole different dimension. It is great to see people who travel so much get a chance to meet and even take advantage of the perks that miles and status can offer.

I happen to live in Pasadena; though I know it wasn't your favorite city, I am curious if you have any places here that you enjoyed spending time at?

I worked for FedEx for several years. I spent weeks at a time in Memphis and even though I haven't been back since 2000, I still remember some of the places fondly. If you ever get placed on a project there, don't hesitate to ask for recommendations.

Enjoy your adventures and thanks again for sharing them!

Kevin

ps- Did the name of company in Pasadena that you worked with happen to start with a 'C'?

Thank you for the kind words!

I spent many a night on Colorado Blvd taking in all it had to offer (literally and figuratively)! My favorite place to go grab a beer was "Q's". And of course on Wednesdays it was McGillicuddy's. I swear I have been in every one of those places on Colorado at one point or another. Some of them all too much! But the thing I miss most about Pasadena is having such wonderful cafe's and other places to eat so close! I was a frequent diner at Lovebirds and all those nice places along Lake Ave. as well.

I was never a big fan of Pasadena during my time there now I would give anything to be staffed there again!

Your right about relationships. It was really my first exposure to that phenomenon when I left Pasadena. I had never worked so closely with people as the people out there and did not understand how much I knew them and how much we all got along. There was not a single person out there I did not like or get a long with. When I left without a word to most of them is was harder than I thought it would be. I know some of that comes from the brutal work we were doing and how we all helped each other along the way.

And Princess that's another story entirely! I dont even know where to start but all of it is good. :) She will continue to play a significant role in the things you read here (look for in upcoming episodes: Mardi Gras NOLA, Miami, NYC, and 'something in Asia' soon!).

PS. My client in Pasadena did not start with a C. But you may be onto something ;).

I dearly needed the rest, my body ached and it made no secret of the fact. Rest came easy that night once I committed to it. I had been up for near 49 hours with only a half hour or so crammed somewhere in the middle. I had not seriously abused myself like this since I was in college, and even than I am not sure I have really subjected myself to this much self abuse. I had probably consumed more alcohol and drugs in the last two days than any two weeks I spent at the San Marcos River during my tenure at Southwest Texas State University where the words ‘self-control’, ‘enough’, ‘responsibility’ and ‘class’ were mere suggestions cast about by the weak. How I ever made something of myself may forever go unexplained, although some would argue otherwise. At the time I did not think that I could count on the future to provide such an outlet for such irresponsibility, absolute stupidity and all things not involving sanity; this was obviously before I found out what ‘consulting’ was. In any event, the Luxury Collection king bed was a sight for sore soul.

A mere eight hours later the electronic agent physical awakening would deliver me from my unconscious state into the harsh reality of waking life. Not surprising we were a little slow to get going this morning but things were moving and soon the Princess and I would find ourselves in the lobby of the Pulitzer on the red velvet couches talking to Dianne waiting on Kokonutz. It seemed that all of us were still recuperating from the events of the previous day.

About 20 minutes later Kokonutz would walk up to the group complaining about the coat he had lost the night before. Lucky for him we were on top of this and Dianne was able to reunite Kokonutz and his long lost coat. On that note, we carried ourselves out onto the cold stone of the canal street in front of the Pulitzer. A random direction was picked to head out in search of breakfast. All of us obviously sober and in part refreshed as we made our ways along the canals until we spotted what looked to be a popular street corner café. We were able to take the last available table and were provided Dutch menus for us to attempt to decipher. I had already cowered in defeat of the Dutch language, I am just incapable of dealing with the volume of vowels that this language requires. I was able to formulate what I thought was a brilliant plan and figured I would be a gentleman and let the Princess order first that way I could ask for the same. Breakfast may have been a mystery at that point but at least I knew it would not be something unrecognizable or horrific.

Fortunate for me the waitress was able to produce some English menus. The translation may have been poor but I understood what they were saying. I was able to have some of the delightful freshly squeezed orange juice again this morning and that is always a great way to start the day along with a nice cup of coffee. We all ordered our breakfast fare and settled into discussing the agenda for the day. Princess decreed that we had to do at lest one culturally redeeming activity in the time that we were here. Bent to not spend the entire two days in a drunken stupor she offered up that we could either go to the Anne Frank House or the Van Gogh Museum but we had to do at least one of them. While I did not disagree I could not decide which one sounded more attractive and let group think consume my votes. Soon it was settled, Anne Frank House it was. It was decided that the Van Gogh Museum was just too far away and that it might cut into the drunken stupor time we had blocked out for the duration of the day.

Once we had paid our tab for breakfast I would take hold of the pink mitten of the Princess and let her direct us to the bitter reminder of the human history that belongs in the ash heap of the past. We would find it on a corner next to a canal a few blocks away. Not surprising the building itself looked identical to all of the row houses around it, near identical to almost any other building for as far as the eye could see. Patiently we waited outside in line.

I don’t remember exactly but I think the museum was about 10 Euros, a little steep if you ask me, but I am sure some historians would think otherwise. The tour was nice as it went at your own pace but in a very pre-defined flow. One could not wander about aimlessly, but was corralled from passageways into small rooms, up stairs into other smaller rooms, through the infamous bookcase up a steeper set of stairs, to larger rooms that had television monitors recounting bits of history, background and all manner of miscellany of useful and relevant information. As much of the original house is preserved as possible and presented in a very interactive way. One actually stood in the rooms, looked at the actual walls (some with actual posters and the scribblings of it’s now famous former residents), and traversed the actual passages forever made infamous in one of the most printed and translated books in history. It was really an eye opening experience, I had read the Diary of Anne Frank probably 15 years earlier and remembered bits and pieces of the book as I visited the very places I once read about so many years earlier. It is difficult to not feel contempt for the events as they unfolded some sixty years earlier.

The tour was pleasant for the most part with one notable exception. At the very end of the tour a room was set up to present opposing views of fundamental rights, or at least as I know them being an American. Here in America they are titled ‘Civil Liberties’ and are protected by what we call the Bill Of Rights. While I do not want this to devolve into petty bickering of opposing views of the role of government I must say that while I knew Europe to be a liberal place I had not anticipated it to such an extent. The degree to which those in the museum voted to exchange their rights to Freedom of Speech to avoid offending people was deplorable and frightening. I couldn’t take it, I had to get out of that area quickly. Fortunately I was not the only one to come away from the display with the same opinion, a fact I was relieved to discover.

I was also a little shocked to find a café in the tour. Actually I was not sure if I should feel either horrified or relieved to know that if I really needed a cup of coffee along with my dose of history and culture it was available for a mere few Euro, all without having to deviate from the tour. Also not surprising the tour terminated at the gift shop. It rather resembled a bookstore. But, what else should one expect from a place made famous by a book? I think we all made a cursory pass but would take home no souvenirs.

Sufficiently satisfied that we had served our cultural, intellectual, and historical duty we set off in the direction of the Dam Square. It was slightly colder today a balmy 30 something degrees that we wouldn’t notice for a while to come. Pacing down the canal flanked streets dodging the occasional car with no particular destination was in a way nice as this was mostly a residential area verse the alleys from the night before. It was interesting to get a passing view into the occasional unobstructed window and cracked doorway of everyday life in Amsterdam. I wish I could have caught more of a glimpse of the typical dwelling and residences of average Dutch existence. Everyday life went on around us as it would have if we weren’t there at all.

Dutch monotony would eventually give way to commercial alleys dotted with eclectic cafés, coffee shops, bars, and all manner of oddities along the way. The Dutch have an ability to come up with innovative places for the mundane. Personally I would never put things like a furniture shop 300 meters into an alley only large enough to ride a bicycle though in between two pubs, but I guess at least it was on the ground floor. Perhaps this was the result of a bizarre linguistic mishap, I may never know.

Tired of walking we picked a random canalside pub to stop for some adult refreshments. The four glasses of beer were a mere 8 Euro and were roughly can sized. It was what I had come to expect as a typical Amsterdam bar. It was not so much small as it was cozy but spacious by no means. Perhaps just one too many tables as the sense of personal space seems to be reduced to a shockingly small radius with any amount of people inside. Even at our table for four I could not help but feel like a giant. Walls nearly hidden by what must have been two hundred years of obscure posters, signs, nick-knacks, lifetimes of memories and unimaginable personal history. For a brief minute or two we could see it lightly snowing outside before it finally gave way to a light misting rain. Still for some reason we were not feeling this place and thought it time to move on.

This series of events would play itself out over the course of the next several hours repeatedly. A random pub here, a bar there, traverse a few blocks only to repeat the process once more. With every stop things got more boisterous, upbeat, lose, relaxed. We were all feeling great and spirits were running at an all time high as we ran from one place to the next just generally being carefree and having a great time slowly subduing our sobriety. As the evening began to transgress to night the city felt more and more alive as the streets started to flow with higher volumes of people all enjoying a fine evening out on the town. Or at least so I suspect, I could not understand them but their language just sounded so delightfully complex.

Sometime around 8:00pm or so I would find myself sitting with the group in another pub being served delicious glasses of a bitter red brew enjoying the conversation between us. Soon the conversation would be engaged with the fine patrons at the table next to us. As it turns out they were English just in town for the weekend as well. As things would have it one of them was also a consultant who currently worked in Amsterdam who had flown some family and friends out for a change of scenery. We had a great time talking to them about all kinds of things ranging from how we wound up in Amsterdam for the weekend, to someone in our groups’ ‘uh,.. business’ in London. They were nice and seemed to have a great time talking to us. But like many places before this pub we would soon be on the move again, this time with a destination.

Somehow it was decided that the Red Light District was where we really needed to be so it was off in that direction we headed. Adequately intoxicated we were in no hurry to make it there and took some time enjoying the side alley shops in route. A bodega here, a waffle shop there, the four of us wandered about in aimless wonder of the Dutch oddities. Apparently we had not had enough to drink yet as Kokonutz got cold and felt in dire need of scarf, and thus, the great scarf expedition began. Nearly every street vendor had scarves but this one had to be special. It was a group effort to find the most obnoxious neck adornment in all of Amsterdam. Eventually we would find it dangling on a rack in front of the typical one stop clothing and accessory shop. It was an eclectic sort of place selling all kinds of things I would never want to buy in an alley like lingerie, ‘designer’ jeans, a complete line of hookerware (now with 95% LESS material!), tourist t-shirts, all manner of trendy women’s fashions and assless plastic pants complete with studs. But they did have a THE scarf. A white knit scarf lined on the edges with (big) pseudo-fur. Koko was rockin’ it.

Satisfied that we met the scarf requirement it was only natural that Mr. Nutz drag us into a specialty shop catering to adult recreational supplies. Now I’ve been in these things in the states but I didn’t expect this. And I can be somewhat crazy myself, but I wasn’t sure if I should be shocked, appalled, or fascinated at the scene inside. Just the fact alone that there is enough demand for things like GIANT ,uh, ‘things’, to drive mass production and wholesale pricing bothers me. I can not imagine what scenario I might find myself in where I might find a double ended first suitable for a man of King Kong’s stature useful, but should the day ever come it’s nice to know that I can get one if the need should arise. Not only that but in all shapes, colors and textures! Most of it looked rather painful and I’m quite certain that only part of the inventory was intended to be so. It was really rather entertaining to see what other people are into. I could not have felt more ‘normal’ at any other point this whole trip than I did at this moment. Of course we couldn’t all pass up such an opportunity and Kokonutz would emerge from the shop carrying a brown paper bag. I was not shocked.

Having been nearly an hour since our last drink alcohol levels were falling dangerously close to sobriety, a situation that required immediate attention. The looming demise of our buzz also brought with it hunger and again we were in search of dinner. Everyone had different ideas about what we should eat and it was determined that we would just walk until we find something agreeable. Not 20 paces later we thought we may have found something. The sign read in HUGE letters “Indian Massage Parlor, Indian Ladies”, something about full service, and in about 10 point font read “and restaurant”. Perhaps sobriety was not as imminent as I once thought. This actually sounded like a good idea.

Having come this far, and survived all preceding events I’d be a fool to turn down Indian food in a dodgy Indian massage parlor! The squatty Indian man lead us down a LONG hallway lined with doors about every 10 feet to the second to last door in the back. There was actually a restaurant back here! You would never know it from the front, and from the restaurant you would never know it’s a massage parlor! We had a round of very large beers as we overlooked the menu. Our food order was placed with emphasis on ‘Make it spicy!’ Not long after placing our order the conspicuous brown bag would be in question.

The rest of us should have known better and soon our tablemate Mr. Nutz would be adorned with a stylish pair of silver nipple clamps. This was great, I had to get a shot of this. (see photos for actual pic) Unfortunately as I sat back down in my chair the mighty amber glass in front of me would follow. I was drenched as I had just received round 2 and now rather pathetically wore it about my mid-section. Murphy could not have aimed it any better himself, it poured right into my crotch and formed a rather suspicious looking ‘wet spot’. Fortunately we had not even been served food yet so I would not have to go gallivanting about in public like this. At least not yet.

The food would arrive almost immediately after in prime time to make a fool of myself in front of the entirely too patient waiter. It was exactly how we ordered it, HOT! I am from Texas and have a passion for spicy stuff and this hit the spot! Wow, it was good, or so it seemed at the time. Things were going well and soon I would have to use the men’s room. Up I went, wandering around like a twisted Canadian in search of the facilities. No apparent signage to direct one I bumbled about in vein attempt before I returned unsuccessful to the table. I figured that it would only be a matter of time before I opened the wrong door and found myself in an Indian massage room. A fate which I did not want to tempt after all, this was a massage parlor we were eating in. I just wasn’t that anxious yet.

Really feeling good now we spent the duration of the evening going from pub to bar to pub until the earliest hour of the morning. We laughed and drank and generally had a great time. Most of the evening was spent just off of the Dam Square and in the vicinity of the Red Light District although we never did make it officially. Not that it mattered to any of us as no one had any intentions of partaking in the offerings of the houses of ill repute. Well, not that I know of.

Eventually we had to admit defeat and turn in for the night. Too tired to walk it, and too twisted to find it the Princess decided that we should just take a cab back to the hotel. It was a popular notion. Never had I ever wanted so badly to fit five people into a small Mercedes before. We were able to do it but it was tight and the ride back to the Pulitzer was longer than I had anticipated, good thing we didn’t walk it, we would have never made it in our condition.

There was something both reassuring and refreshing about stepping back into the Pulitzer. Maybe my body was sending me a message, like it knew it had gone too far. Finding new and innovative ways back to our respective rooms we had decided to meet in the morning at 7:00am or so as we had a 10:00 flight back to the states and missing it was just not an option. On that note the party fractured falling into our beds desperate to recover from the days events before the long ride back home. I couldn’t help but worry about my crooked passport as I laid my head down on the pillow. I’ll find out tomorrow what the future had in store for me.

...where the words ‘self-control’, ‘enough’, ‘responsibility’ and ‘class’ were mere suggestions cast about by the weak. How I ever made something of myself may forever go unexplained, although some would argue otherwise.


I wonder that about myself everyday! :)

Thanks 1993gt40 for another great read! ^

Where can I find the pic of the nipple clamps?

Mizike, I'm in A'Dam right now, and its just as abusive as you say...although I still find myself coming here 1x a year...oh well, there's worse things to spend your money on...and...uh...all those things are here!

""Southwest Texas State University ""

Don't you mean Texas State University at San Marcos? :) Gig Ém!

Kokonutz in nipple clamps at a dodgy Indian establishment in Amsterdam: http://public.fotki.com/prncess674/tt/ams2005/imag0398.html

Mizike, I'm in A'Dam right now, and its just as abusive as you say...although I still find myself coming here 1x a year...oh well, there's worse things to spend your money on...and...uh...all those things are here!

""Southwest Texas State University ""

Don't you mean Texas State University at San Marcos? :) Gig Ém!

How I envy thee. Amsterdam is a great place and hope to be back in the not too distant future.

And they can call it "Texas State University at San Marcos" all they want. *I* went to Southwest Texas State, and until Southwest Alumni Assoc asks for money, I dont know where this Texas State place is. Have fun in A'Dam!

1993gt40 -

Before today, I hadn't seen your FT handle, nor had I heard of you before. I'm sure the same is true in reverse. But I'm sitting here at 11 minutes past minute on March 13 in my office chair, eyes blood-shot red from fatigue (and not from being drunk), having sat here without moving for nearly two hours reading your masterpiece.

Without a doubt the most moving and captivating writing I've read in a while! I have great respect for those who can, using whatever instrument they have, invoke such strong and variable feelings in others just by virtue of sharing their experiences and thoughts. Once upon a time, I started a novel without it going anywhere. It would have gathered an inch of dust by now had it not been written on my computer instead of by hand. Maybe I should start again.

I find myself longing for anything that can get me to cry, to laugh or scream. To experience. To dream. To love. Thanks for letting me indulge in enjoying your thoughts and experiences.

1993gt40 -

Before today, I hadn't seen your FT handle, nor had I heard of you before. I'm sure the same is true in reverse. But I'm sitting here at 11 minutes past minute on March 13 in my office chair, eyes blood-shot red from fatigue (and not from being drunk), having sat here without moving for nearly two hours reading your masterpiece.

Without a doubt the most moving and captivating writing I've read in a while! I have great respect for those who can, using whatever instrument they have, invoke such strong and variable feelings in others just by virtue of sharing their experiences and thoughts. Once upon a time, I started a novel without it going anywhere. It would have gathered an inch of dust by now had it not been written on my computer instead of by hand. Maybe I should start again.

I find myself longing for anything that can get me to cry, to laugh or scream. To experience. To dream. To love. Thanks for letting me indulge in enjoying your thoughts and experiences.


Thank you for the kind words! Is these responses that keep me writing when it gets hard. I am being absolutely crushed at work right now and am NOT motivated to do much more. I know I could have done the lest entry much more justice but with any luck the volume and quality will go up after Mar 25!

There is also so many new experiences to write about after AMS, I have flown 20,000 miles since and have 20,000 more miles of stories to write. You are helping re-energize me to get them out, I really appreciate the words, it reminds me that my life is not all 16 and 18 hour days of office garbage.

another kick-a**e chapter of 1993gt40's escapades with three other wild and wacky FT'ers (particularly well scripted after the weekend :eek: ) - although Dianne doesn't seem to get much of a look in, but there's generally one quiet one in a group. Or are you just warming her up for some antics on the return journey??

Is these responses that keep me writing when it gets hard. I am being absolutely crushed at work right now and am NOT motivated to do much more
Just think of prncess674 ...that should help motivate you to continue...(well, I know I'd be motivated in your situation :D )

There is also so many new experiences to write about after AMS, I have flown 20,000 miles since and have 20,000 more miles of stories to write

Okay, a challenge then, I have 3 TR's to do...so who can get them done first (and I don't mean spend all weekend at the computer :p )...

Great reading....Can't wait for the next episode into your life 1993gt40.

OMG!!! Princess, there's a little boy named Martin in one of your Mardi Gras pictures. His dad went to high school with Mr. Kgsd and was one of the reasons we moved back to AUS. In fact, I was over at Martin's (mom and dad's) house for his dad's birthday a couple of months ago. Do you know them?

(Or maybe 1993gt40 does...)

Edited to add: I just looked at the next page and saw Martin with Mari. Spooky...

OMG!!! Princess, there's a little boy named Martin in one of your Mardi Gras pictures. His dad went to high school with Mr. Kgsd and was one of the reasons we moved back to AUS. In fact, I was over at Martin's (mom and dad's) house for his dad's birthday a couple of months ago. Do you know them?

(Or maybe 1993gt40 does...)

Edited to add: I just looked at the next page and saw Martin with Mari. Spooky...Yes, I know Mari & Todd. They were staying at my house from Mardi Gras. I lived with Lane & Paul for a while when I worked in Houston as well. Mari, my sister and I grew up together!

Here's the rest of the Mardi Gras Photos for your enjoyment that my sister took! Most of these pictures were from MG Day. Unfortunately 1993gt40 and myself both had to go to work on Tuesday so we actually missed MG Day and were only in town for the weekend. :(
http://public.fotki.com/buffy475/holidays/mardi_gras_2005/

Yes, I know Mari & Todd. They were staying at my house from Mardi Gras. I lived with Lane & Paul for a while when I worked in Houston as well. Mari, my sister and I grew up together!


That is so weird. It sort've looked like Martin, but when I saw his name in the caption (and knowing that Todd and Mari go to Mardi Gras every year) I figured it had to be the Martin I know.

I assumed it was Mike who knew them, since he has ties to AUS. It kind've looks like a former Austinite, Dan, in one of the pictures, although it's hard to tell if that's him. I know Todd and Mari often see Dan when they go to Mardi Gras. Don't know if you know Dan, but when I got married, Dan gave us a deep fryer (that we'd registered for, and of course never use) and Dan wrote on the card, "Fry like the wind!"

I have not forgotten about my readers. Sorry everyone bare with me as I finish out the last hellish days on this project. But in the mean time, how about another part? Enjoy;

The morning came about all too quickly and before I knew it I was readying myself for transatlantic transport for the second time in nearly as many days. I was able to claim a few more minutes of rest by letting the princess shower before me and I was grateful for it never having really recovered from missing a days sleep two days ago. Obviously wounded from the nights activities we were not moving at record pace but in a general sense getting ourselves in just enough order to wander into the streets on our own. Tee shirts, jeans and track pants were remarkably popular this morning.

I gave our temporary residence of the Pulitzer a good once over just before we made our exit in anything but style. Holding the door for the Princess I would follow her out letting the door ride against my roll aboard behind me. Black canvas free of excessive entanglements leaves the slightly off white and otherwise plain door to rest within the confines of it’s frame making only the sound of striker clearing the latch would close the scene as it’s actors rounded the corner of a distant corridor. Neither of us said a word to each other until we reached the lobby out of sheer resentment for the early hour.

Surprisingly the rest of our party was there, an on time departure from the hotel looked to be a real possibility. Both the Princess and I would advance to the front desk at the same time re-enacting a scene played out by the two of us a mere two days earlier. Unfortunately we were not overflowing with the enthusiasm of arrival but rather bitter in the wake of the charred remnants of the preceding two days of irresponsible self abuse. It turns out that Dianne paid my bill as it was only a few Euro that we had spent in the bar two night earlier. Starwood free weekend night promotions have been good to the Princess and myself.

Gathering at the red velvet couches for the last time we made our exit through the revolving door of the Pulitzer for the final time. We had not even so much as made it out the door before Kokonuts was on the damn crackberry again. I think we all tried to ignore him when he’s attached to the dog leash. He had spent a ridiculous portion of this trip holding the frozen waffle to his face one would have thought he was eating it although one could have only have hoped for such a reprieve from the purple waste of plastic. In any event, the nice doorman of the Pulitzer would have a cab for us in a mere minute or two.

After a few tense moments we were able to fit all of our luggage into the car but it took a little creative packing on our part. Unfortunately when we got into the tiny Mercedes it was all but impossible to ignore Kokonuts and his battery operated plastic lover. I’m not sure what was going on but the conversation from my end was interesting to say the least. As near as I can tell it was a call originating from L.A. where it must have been the middle of the night. I can only assume that large quantities of alcohol had been consumed on the other end of the connection as it apparently made little sense to Kokonutz either as the look on his face said it all. It was all but impossible to ignore in the otherwise silent cab.

The ride was short as there was little traffic at this hour on a Sunday. Expressionless faces told the story of our condition. We were beaten down and defeated by the weekend but most of all, we were beaten down and defeated by the Indian from the night before. Perhaps in hindsight we could have done a better job in our dining selection. If nothing else I know we could have done better with our menu selections, seafood served in an Indian massage parlor sounded like a great idea at the time although the damage has already been done. Every bump and jostle of the car was met with groaning protest from the occupants. In record time the Mercedes arrived at the airport casting out it’s passengers into their native habitat; the terminal.

Dianne and I were flying United today, Princess and Kokonutz were flying BMI into London where the Princess will connect for a flight direct into SFO and Kokonutz will stay behind and attend to some business he had in London at the time. We split into two groups to go check in and planned to re-unite before we would cross security. Check in was quick and painless and I came away with a boarding pass for seat 4C and a club lounge pass. Other than the fact it was a business class seat I knew nothing about 4C. Window, isle, middle, I had no clue and didn’t give it a single thought at the time. I was somewhat pleased to be heading back even if it was to Charlotte I was going to. I knew that if I spent any more time in this city it would surely consume me, a fate which I harbored mixed feeling about but dared not to ponder on.

A minute or two of time would pass before the group was once again re-united in an effort to brave the mob of amateurs at the security check in. While I am not the biggest fan of the rope lines at the airport, I have seen what happens without them and it is a horrid sight. Captains and mates getting testy, absolute chaos in family circles as they try to fend off invaders of personal space and line position, groups of friends clinging to one another to avoid being separated, single individuals trying to make it through in one piece, all being dragged in the wake of the human river snaking its way into the secure side of the terminal like san through an hourglass.

This is when I started to get somewhat nervous about my crooked passport now that I knew it was a problem. I could feel the pangs of anxiety creeping up my spine as I made my way closer to the front of the line. Fortunately my fears went unrealized as all my passport received was a cursory glance before I was waved into the metal detector. It felt great to get through such a disorganized mob of people, really like one had accomplished something monumental. We gathered at the end of security just before we made our way out into the terminal itself. It is here that I realized that I had spent my entire time in Europe being irresponsible and bumbling from pub to coffee shop in various states of enlightened consciousness. Not that there is anything wrong with that but I had forgotten to get something for my niece and nephew. Knowing that this would be unacceptable in the eyes of a five and seven year old I was off in search of some odd trinket or other equally useless tidbit of airport commerce.

Fortunate for me there was the airport equivalent of WalMart only a few paces away. They had all kinds of absurdly priced odds and ends that I would never want to buy in an airport. But here I was anyway buying the junk I never thought people bought. I guess there are enough people like me to support the miniature airport economy. It didn’t take much to come away with something perfect for small kids; Dutch waffle cookies. These things were awesome! Two thin waffle things with some sort of gooey caramel syrupy type stuff in them, almost certain to condemn young children to an early case of diabetes. My sister will love me. 10 Euro later I rejoined the group waiting on me outside of the airport monument of commerce.

Still left with some time to kill we decided to venture up the escalator scouring for nourishment for our ailing bodies. We were all looking a bit green this morning so this was probably the smart thing to do. Not that many smart decisions had been made in the burned out path of destruction that we had burned through the last few days but it was obvious that we were all bracing ourselves to confront the bitter reality of our otherwise mundane lives that seemed to exist everywhere else but this time and place. Perhaps I may have to act like an adult tomorrow, I better prepare today. Winding through the posts at the bottom of the escalator I watched the three before me make their way up the mechanical tilted sidewalk. How silly of me to assume that Murphy would pass up the opportunity to make a fool of me in public again and let me onto the escalator without incident. No, this would not be the case. One foot already on the escalator, one foot advancing to the next grooved black and silver metal step when suddenly and violently I was ripped free of the escalator back into the transport staging area. Nearly severing my flailing arm from my torso in the process. It seems that my roll aboard is mere fractions of an inch too wide to fit through the posts at the escalator. Unfortunately it was wedged into the obstruction with my entire body weight now. Some physical persuasion of the foot would free me to carry it up the escalator where I was met by a few chuckles and strange looks from others who had only seen the part of the incident where I embraced the floor and beat my luggage into submission. A quick inventory of appendages and digits before I was on my way with only my humility held high.

Quickly the four of us found a table among the commoners and designated Dianne to oversee the offending baggage. The Princess and I were off to find something to eat. Generally I have two requirements for post sleep pre-noon consumption; bagels (preferably toasted), and Orange juice. I stared in blank wonderment at the scene before me attempting to figure out how I was going to meet the requirement given what I had to work with. It looked like any cookie cutter mall in America. Sabarro, McDonald’s, Something Wok, Something Unrecognizable, Something else Unknown, and it went on like this for as far as they could fit the cafeteria style fast food boxes. I shudder at the thought of pizza for breakfast as my stomach recoiled in sheer terror as it was still struggling to deal with the abuse that had been forced upon it the night before. It’s protest did not go unnoticed, I knew I had to be nice to Mr. Stomach or perhaps it may incite some sort of revolution and the last thing I needed today was to deal with well armed rebel forces.

Fortunate for me the Princess found that McDonald’s served both bagels and orange juice. And so began the great bagel debacle. Apparently the only way that bagels in AMS come is in some sort of McDonald’s combo meal. After trying to explain that we only wanted McBagel and not McMeal for a few minutes we realized it was hopeless, McPeon was not going to get it. Time to adjust the bagel strategy. Since they would apparently only sell bagels as sandwich glue when bundled with a hash brown small coffee or Orange Juice we would have to order this way. Unfortunately all of their meals that had McBagel involved in some way came with a bunch of McCrap on it. One would logically order it without all the extraneous and otherwise useless bits especially since some of the undesired side effects of McAMS Bagel were gelatinous and I was having no part of anything neither rigid or liquid this morning. It came as no shock that McScientist behind the McCounter did not understand what we were ordering. In essence we ordered a bread sandwich, something that I guess does not happen with any sort of frequency. Finally she says “So you want just the bagel?” YES, give me my god damned bagel before I McHEMMORAGE!

Most expensive bagel ever, I think it costed me 5 McEuro.

I was happy to have it and my stomach was happy to see something vaguely familiar. Conversation amongst the group was at an all time low as we sat and ate that morning. Few words were spoken but the point well understood by all, we were a mess. I think we were all happy to be moving on no matter how much fun it had once been. Soon we would be heading back down the escalator, I was prepared this time and made it out without incident.

This was where the group split, BMI was at the opposite end of the airport than United and each group would have to forge their own way due to similar departure times. Mostly silent goodbyes were exchanged amongst the members of opposing carriers. The Princess and I exchanges kisses and made our separate way of things. This left Dianne and myself to occupy the last renegade minutes of our weekend in Amsterdam. We thought it best to spend them in the Club Lounge rather than amongst the commoners.

Unfortunately Magellan himself with a map and compass would have had a difficult time finding this obscure and way out of the way lounge. I’m not even sure what it was, it was not a Red Carpet Club or anything I had ever heard of. In any case we did manage to somehow find it in all it’s unimpressive and lackluster glory. Needless to say, I was unimpressed with it, and perhaps it was unimpressed by me. It did have free alcohol but not even myself in my finest hour could have taken a drink in my condition although it was tempting. The rebel soldiers lurking about my mid-section most certainly would have sprung into action to repel the invading intoxicant. The sprite I had was indeed a much better decision I think.

Unfortunately I would not finish it as not three minutes after we got there an announcement was made stating that the UA flight to ORD was to begin boarding. In a most surreal scene simultaneously every soul in the lounge would arise in unison. Apparently we were all on this flight. It was really quite eerie. On that note Dianne and I began to make our way to the gate.

It was a long trek to our destination broken only by a quick stop for some postcards. Nearing the gate Dianne stopped at a restroom as I continued on to the gate. I arrived at the Business/First class line accompanied only by my roll aboard and briefcase. The commoner line was long but I was the only one standing in the Business class line so my wait would be short for Mr. Security Man.

I could see some of the others before be going through the process I myself would be going through in a minute or two. It looked like the typical moderately effective security one would expect given the situation. Look at the passport, ask a few questions, check for turbans, x-ray baggage, repeat. Oh wait, what was that passport part again? This might get interesting.

Ok I have the whole report done already but broke it into two parts to make it slightly more readable. Expect round two BEFORE the weekend. :) Hold me to it. Thanks for everyone's patience!

1993gt40, that's got to be the best explanation of jagging oneself between the posts I have ever read!!
How silly of me to assume that Murphy would pass up the opportunity to make a fool of me in public again and let me onto the escalator without incident. No, this would not be the case. One foot already on the escalator, one foot advancing to the next grooved black and silver metal step when suddenly and violently I was ripped free of the escalator back into the transport staging area. Nearly severing my flailing arm from my torso in the process. It seems that my roll aboard is mere fractions of an inch too wide to fit through the posts at the escalator. Unfortunately it was wedged into the obstruction with my entire body weight now. Some physical persuasion of the foot would free me to carry it up the escalator where I was met by a few chuckles and strange looks from others who had only seen the part of the incident where I embraced the floor and beat my luggage into submission. A quick inventory of appendages and digits before I was on my way with only my humility held high.

I can picture you so clearly :o :rolleyes: and I was rolling around on the floor weeping I laughed so hard. Lucky everybody else has already gone home for Easter (the joys of being ahead of you in real time) otherwise my staff would have wondered just what was going on in my office.

Look forward to the next instalment and back onto ground you favour so much more - inside the metal cigar case. As for yoru seat (4C) - I wouldn't know where that is either on a UA jet. I wonder if you and Dianne are sitting together on the return leg?? (not that I expect much talking, I think it'll be over-compensated by the snoring)

I am sooo gald your back! Thanks for providing such interesting reads. Looking forward to the next chapter.

1993gt40, that's got to be the best explanation of jagging oneself between the posts I have ever read!!


I can picture you so clearly :o :rolleyes: and I was rolling around on the floor weeping I laughed so hard. Lucky everybody else has already gone home for Easter (the joys of being ahead of you in real time) otherwise my staff would have wondered just what was going on in my office.

Look forward to the next instalment and back onto ground you favour so much more - inside the metal cigar case. As for yoru seat (4C) - I wouldn't know where that is either on a UA jet. I wonder if you and Dianne are sitting together on the return leg?? (not that I expect much talking, I think it'll be over-compensated by the snoring)


I am so glad to know I am not the only one who has done this. I felt like such an idiot. Unfortunately I did not learn my lesson and would repeat the experience 3 weeks later on an escalator at the Palmer House in Chicago at a company function. Unfortunately a partner in the firm was behind me and I wiped him out too!

I am so glad to know I am not the only one who has done this.
Yes, I could picture it so well from my own experience at AKL last year. It was packed and I fell sideways...picked myself up and made myself not look back at all the people who were probably chuckling to themselves - no bugger had come forward to help me (probably because I wasn't old or appear hurt - just my pride :( )

Unfortunately I did not learn my lesson and would repeat the experience 3 weeks later on an escalator at the Palmer House in Chicago at a company function. Unfortunately a partner in the firm was behind me and I wiped him out too!
and you stilll have a job with the company...amazing :D ;)

and you stilll have a job with the company...amazing :D ;)

Actually, I wiped out *2* partners in one foul swoop! This spill was MUCH nastier as it was not a roll aboard but an actual suitcase that got lodged in the escalaror itself so I fell onto the moving surface and was carted up the escalator as I watched two partners eat it on my luggage. I turned nine shades of red. I still turn red thinking about it.

Actually, I wiped out *2* partners in one foul swoop!

That tops my CLM (career limiting move) list!! :D

Thanks as always for the great read! Keep them coming. And hopefully your next project will be better.

Ok I have the whole report done already but broke it into two parts to make it slightly more readable. Expect round two BEFORE the weekend. :) Hold me to it. Thanks for everyone's patience!

You meant next weekend, right? ;)

You meant next weekend, right? ;)

Well, no I had intended to get it up before THIS weekend but in an odd turn of events I have be yanked from my project and have not connected with my laptop since. I am in Newark heading to Austin right now, as soon as I can get a connection from my laptop I will get it posted. I expected to be in Charlotte right now so needless to say my day has ben somewhat not as I planned.

Well, it's a beautiful day here in Austin, so you should be glad to be here rather than the stormy East Coast today anyway!

Looking forward to the next installment.

I could see some of the others before be going through the process I myself would be going through in a minute or two. It looked like the typical moderately effective security one would expect given the situation. Look at the passport, ask a few questions, check for turbans, x-ray baggage, repeat. Oh wait, what was that passport part again?

Crap, my crooked passport. I wonder if they will give me a hard time about it again.. I got through the first check point with no problem so I am thinking this is going to be a breeze. I knew I would find out in a second as one of the screeners was finishing with another passenger and sending him on his way. I watched his hand grab the maroon velvet rope at the clasp as his head rose to size me up and give me a good look in the eye as he said “Business Class?” Suddenly the nagging notion of my deformed passport would crowd out all other thoughts as the smile quickly fell from my face to be replaced the look of stark seriousness. Something told me this was going to be different.

I replied with a simple ‘yep’.

I handed him my passport and boarding pass in exchange for his smug expression as we approached the podium. I knew then that my feelings were not unfounded, something was up. He carefully studied my documents holding my boarding pass against my passport checking for anything out of the ordinary moments before he was comparing me to the photo in the blue and gold American passport. Everything seemed to be in order, at least it appeared that way on the surface. I patiently stood awaiting the questions I knew were coming.

They started in a low calculated and precise voice with “Where are you going Michael?”
“Charlotte North Carolina”
He asks “Do you live in Charlotte?”
“no”
He asks “Why then, (pregnant pause) are you going to Charlotte?”
“I work there”
He asks “Where do you live?”
“Austin Texas”
He asks “What kind of work do you do where you live in Austin and work in Charlotte?”
“Consulting”
He says “Who do you work for?”
“Xxxxxxxxx”
He sighs a bit and looks back down at my documents again,..

I thought to myself that this was a piece of cake, I got it under control. Unfortunately it was a fleeting notion as the next onslaught of questions would be slightly more difficult and seemingly more random.

He asks “When did you get into Amsterdam?”
“Friday”
He asks “Where did you go once you got here?”
“uhh,.. (thinking) nowhere, I stayed here..
He asks “You did not leave the city”
“no”
HE asks “Where did you stay?”
“The Pulitzer”
He asks “Why did you come here?”
“To visit”
He asks “What did you come to visit?”
“The city, I have never been here”
He asks “Why would you only come for two days, no one buys a business class ticket for two days”
“I just came for the weekend”
He says “No one flys around the world just for a weekend, who did you come here with?”
“My Girlfriend”
HE says “Where is your girlfriend?”
“Flying to London”
HE says “Did you two come together on the same flight?”
“Yes”
He says “Why aren’t you flying back together?”
“She is flying to San Francisco”
He says “Why is she flying to San Francisco?”
“she works there”
He says “Does she Live there?”
“no she lives in New Orleans”
He says ”How did you meet her?”
“work”
HE says “How long have you known her”
“A few months”
He says “A few months and you come to Europe for weekends?”
“Yes, we fly a lot”
He says “Where did your girlfriend stay?”
“the Pulitzer”
He says “With you?”
“Yes”
He says “Can I see your itinerary?”
“uhh, sure, let me find it”

Dig into briefcase for itinerary. No luck, I don’t have a copy, I didn’t think I’d need it. This guy is getting way too personal and I am not enjoying it.

“sorry sir, I don’t have a copy”
HE says “Where did you go when you got to Amsterdam?”
“nowhere”
He says “Who packed your bag”
“me”
He says “Was your girlfriend ever alone with your bag?”
“No”
He says “You didn’t take a shower, or leave the room, or leave it alone at all?”
“no”
He says “Do you know what is in your bags?”
“Yes”
HE says “Is it all yours?”
“Yes”
He says “What is in your briefcase?”
“Laptop, mp3 player, some cables, papers, leather folder . . . ”
HE says “Is it all yours?”
“Yes”
He says “Does your laptop belong to you or your company?”
“Well, my laptop belongs to my company”
He says “Wait here, don’t go anywhere.”

Hmm,. “Wait here”,. I’m not sure exactly sure how well this can be going at this point. Technically he did catch me in a ‘lie’, but I can not imagine that it is all too severe. This is ridiculous, I find the intrusiveness of his line of questioning to be a bit absurd. He knew where I lived, where I worked, who I worked for, what I did, why I came to Amsterdam, how long I was here, where I stayed, who I came with, where my SO was going, where she worked, where she came from, and where she was going. All of this was completely unfounded given that I have given absolutely no reason to be suspicious of me. All of my papers were in order, my tickets are valid, my passport is valid, and my ID’s are valid, there is absolutely no reason to be stopping me and subjecting me to this line of questioning. Himler himself would have been proud. I mean seriously, this guy knows my whole life sto,.. Hey wait,. He’s been gone a while now, where did he go?

A glance over my shoulder would confirm my worst fears. About ten paces behind me stood the offending security agent in question talking to a small group of people as they passed my documents around like sorority girls at a frat party. One man stood out in particular as he was the only man in the gate area wearing a suit. I could only hope that this man was not important but something deep down inside told me that this was not the case. The other two men sanding with them both wore navy blue turtle necks with navy blue cargo type pants, boots, and machine guns (what looked to be shortened
Heckler & Koch G3s as I own one myself).

Hmm, I knew this was not going to be good. At first I thought that perhaps it would be a minor inconvenience but now things look to have gone very wrong at some awful juncture. I could not help but begin to wonder what could be going on over there. It was a slippery slope from that point on as my mind began to construct all manner of awful, painful, or otherwise disastrous scenarios that could be being architected in the small conspiracy brewing behind me. Maybe I had been “Randomly Selected” for the super secret intensive F. U. screening process. Maybe they were locating a latex glove and comparing fist sizes. Oh no, this was definitely not going to be good,.. Well, for me anyways. I can only hope they are gentle, I’ve never been seriously violated like that, I certainly hope that they have some lube or Crisco or something I mean if,…. Oh wait, here he comes.

Of the many scenarios that were playing in my mind the one I had not accounted for or anticipated began to unfold as he folded my boarding pass into my passport. It was like a movie, I could see his lips part as if in slow motion. One upper incisor ever so slightly crooked and stained with habitual use of tobacco, coffee, and all variety of miscellanies that could leave their mark. Light pink tongue dotted with pin pricks of red constructed and pumped out the sound that I at first could either not understand or comprehend. I slightly shook my head as if to say no but rather to orient my aural cavities to better understand his message.

“Enjoy your flight” he said.

Enjoy my flight? All this for ENJOY MY FLIGHT? In a strange way I was somewhat perturbed that nothing happened. I felt as though I had been built up for something monumental, albeit awful, but still monumental in it’s own right and now I have to deal with the shattered remnants of lackluster departure. Give me my passport damn it, I’m going to huff away from this podium in silent resentment for your passive aggressive intimidation.

Four feet later I am heaving my carry ons onto the conveyor belt for the second round of radiation pelting. Laptop out, shoes off, I know the drill. Handing my boarding pass to the nice lady on the other side of the metal detector I saw her look up and at the people behind me, I could do nothing but roll my eyes. I knew what was about to happen, I was not shocked when she said “sir, you have been selected for secondary screening”. Fine then, lets get on with it.

It went pretty much as it would in the states with a few intrusive exceptions. I thought we were on the same page of “just going through the motions” at first as they wanded me all over, looked at my shoes, and did all the normal song and dance of a secondary but when the big Dutch man with cold hands stuck them in my pants I thought that maybe I was the one millionth customer. Apparently I had won some sort of prize. I didn’t know I was going to get the grab and tickle, actually it was more of a fingers in up to the knuckle feel around the waist, but still this could be fun. Although they should have asked me for my preference in screeners because this man would have not been my first choice his big burley hands were somewhat cold. Closing my eyes to imagine it was someone else to make it slightly more enjoyable. Unfortunately, it was over in a few seconds, another let down in my opinion, I hadn’t even gotten warmed up yet.

I’ve decided that next time I come to Amsterdam and have to endure this draconian security process, I am going to come prepared. I will wear break-away pants and a spandex thong, perhaps with an elephant trunk, maybe even some ears. I’ll just put it in with my shoes on the x-ray machine. I think that would make for a superb trip report: 1993gt40 goes to foreign jail. The sad part is, I am seriously thinking about it.

In any event, they hand checked my carry ons and sent them through the x-ray machine twice. Not surprisingly, they did not find anything and I was finally let to pass into the transport staging area with the commoners.

Whew!

Then I met Dianne on the other side but felt awkward about it since when the guy asked who I was traveling with I made no mention of Dianne so that she may avoid the same “security” process I was forced to endure. So now I was nervous that we would be spotted together and the process would start over, but no such event were to unfold. We did finally look at our tickets to see where we were sitting. She had 7F, I had 4A. We could not be much further apart in Business. A quick trip by the podium netted me a seat in 7D. Not exactly next to her but we would work that out once we got onto the plane.

So much time had been wasted at the security desk that boarding began quickly. We were among the first to board and settled into 7E and F. They looked identical to the seats we had three days earlier on our way into Amsterdam. And for all intents and purposes, they were. Soon enough the rightful owner of 7E would arrive and we would claim ignorance and act like stupid Canadians Eh. He was a single so taking 7D was no problem for him and all was right on isle 7. After what seemed like an eternity all were boarded and we pushed back from the gate and began the painfully slow taxi to Luxemburg again. Taxiing at AMS is a rather lengthy process, the runway must be in all seriousness many miles away from the terminal. But there was nothing I could do about it and patiently awaited the departure.

I intentionally took Dianne’s window seat for the take off. The Netherlands were just outside my window and I began to miss them in some twisted way. Surely the city would have devoured me if I were to stay but I think I could handle that. Slowly at first it began to move by my window showing me it’s rich beauty in a linier stretch, soon it would be an impressionist’s blur as the craft gathered speed. Soon Europe would fall from my feet and I could not help but wonder when I would be back to see this wondrous place again.

I guess I was not as done with this as I thought,. I still have some parting shots to take and some antics to tell about. Now that I have some time this week it may be a real possibility. My extension at my current client has not been signed yet so I got a free week of vacation! Woohoo!

Crap, my crooked passport. I wonder if they will give me a hard time about it again.. I got through the first check point with no problem so I am thinking this is going to be a breeze. I knew I would find out in a second as one of the screeners was finishing with another passenger and sending him on his way. I watched his hand grab the maroon velvet rope at the clasp as his head rose to size me up and give me a good look in the eye as he said “Business Class?” Suddenly the nagging notion of my deformed passport would crowd out all other thoughts as the smile quickly fell from my face to be replaced the look of stark seriousness. Something told me this was going to be different.

Although not as annoying as your situation, I have been pulled aside at LHR and SCL because my passport is in crappy condition and has a million stamps on it. What gives just because of the appearance of a passport?

I think they are looking for fakes. I got a new passport in mid '01 right about the time they switched from the harder cover to the soft cover. I went through about a half-dozen screenings where the various immigration agents (both in and out of the US) felt it up before handing it back. One actually said to me that it appeared that I had "washed" my passport. Now I don't get any comments about it and I've seen others like it too.

I think they are looking for fakes. I got a new passport in mid '01 right about the time they switched from the harder cover to the soft cover. I went through about a half-dozen screenings where the various immigration agents (both in and out of the US) felt it up before handing it back. One actually said to me that it appeared that I had "washed" my passport. Now I don't get any comments about it and I've seen others like it too.
Makes sense. Damn, they say mine looks "washed" or "soaked" too. But in reality, it's just simple wear and tear. Usually my driver's license backs it up, but it's still a little scary at times.

Where does everyone want to go to next? I am finishing up AMS and thought that I'd put it to a vote. Choices are

MSY for Mardi Gras,
ORD for business where I wiped out a few partners,
MIA for the Miami International Boat show and South Beach pub crawl,
NYC for Easter, pubs, good foods, Names changed to protect the guilty,

Or we could pick something completely different and fill some back stories:

AZO, What the F^ was I doing in Kalamazoo?
LAX, Mondrian, Sky Bar, Catalina on speed boat. Dollar, Decay and the smell of burnt cocaine.
AUS-CLT and the weekly travel, What is this lifestyle is all about anyways? It's not all leasure flying you know.

Let me know what sounds the most interesting.

Where does everyone want to go to next? I am finishing up AMS and thought that I'd put it to a vote. Choices are

MSY for Mardi Gras,

That's got my vote!


LAX, Mondrian, Sky Bar, Catalina on speed boat. Dollar, Decay and the smell of burnt cocaine.


Although that sounds interesting as well :eek: :D

Where does everyone want to go to next? I am finishing up AMS and thought that I'd put it to a vote. Choices are


AZO, What the F^ was I doing in Kalamazoo?

Having grown up there (and left never to return) I'd love to hear that one.

I'll second the vote for MSY, Mardi Gras and more about the princess and you.

I've thoroughly enjoyed reading TFTR@35K. Please keep it coming. ^ Your writing style puts me right there with you.

I vote MSY. I think I should get TWO votes though!

I vote MSY. I think I should get TWO votes though!

Hear! Hear! For the lady!

I vote MSY. I think I should get TWO votes though!

I bet your vote is worth way more than 2 ;)

Oh no, it looks like MSY is popular. Princess can have as many votes as she wants so we very well might go there next but I will leave this up for another day before I decide.

A random vote for AZO. Another interesting trip, I started this thread the week after I got back from AZO and if you look at post #1 of this thread you will see a hint about that episode.

I really thought LAX would have been popular, another weekend I am lucky to have survived. I will have to tell that story one day, it is just too good to pass up.

Your votes count!

I'll let everyone know what I decide

Just one painfully dumb question:

Will you continue to entertain us with your episodic adventures on this thread, or will each escapade earn a thread of its own?

Please keep it coming! (here would be my preference)

Just one painfully dumb question:

Will you continue to entertain us with your episodic adventures on this thread, or will each escapade earn a thread of its own?

Please keep it coming! (here would be my preference)

Yes, they will continue to be posted in this thread, no reason to make a million threads. I should not be let out into public unescorted you know. ;)

I should not be let out into public unescorted you know. ;)

Would that be for your or our protection? ;)

I bet your vote is worth way more than 2 ;)According to 1993gt40 I have a -80,000 point deficit. I don't think my two votes are going to count. :o

Really any of the stories should be a fun read. I haven't heard the LAX story since this was BP (Before Princess) :D

I haven't heard the LAX story since this was BP (Before Princess) :D

Or the AZO story, but maybe it's better that way. ;)

......I've said too much already....

Would that be for your or our protection? ;)

They tell me that it's for *MY* protection but I know what the voices are saying.

For G*d sake, 1993gt40, put us out of our misery :( :rolleyes:

Why don't you write about them all in order. I agree with prncess674, I want to know some more about what you were like on your own. Then we can see your progression from BP (before prncess674) to your expansive writing WP (with prncess674).

Then we can all see what you have become under prncess674's tutilege.

So, what's up first :D

For keeping me up all night (well, you and a large Mountain Dew at 1 A.M.)

I started reading your exploits last night (early this morning) around 1:30 A.M. Somewhere around 4:30 I became acutely aware of two rather annoying realities....
1. That sadly, I was now going to remain up all night and be dragging my rear all-day today (which in fact seems to be the case)
2. I am now experiencing a physical craving, and need to have another "fix" of your warped adventures!

As has been mentioned many times here before, I find your writing exhilirating. Your myriad adventures both with and without prncess are all at once tantalizing, transporting, and twisted! You indeed have a true gift, and have done one of your muses (HST) very proud. The Gonzo spirit truly lives on in your oft besotted tales of romance and debauchery. Thanks for providing a true highlight in an otherwise achingly normal week. And here's to looking forward to an endless succession of your beautifully told tales. Thanks once again, and indeed, when the going gets weird.....

Having grown up there (and left never to return) I'd love to hear that one.

Ditto for me. Left AZO in 1987, moved to DTW, ORD, SYD, SIN, LHR, AMS (son born there and will return on retirement) and now PHX for 11 yrs.

AZO is the pits. Never used to be, but it went downhill fast in the early 90's.

I am getting the shakes....

Please continue the stories before I die of boredom in my lonely traveless cube!!!
Lisa Flyer

AZO is my choice. Having been there a bunch of times, it would be interesting to hear another viewpoint.

Great storytelling! Once you hang up your consulting hat, you should consider writing.

This is much better than reality tv. And it has all the elements FTers adore: airports, lounges, passports, security checkpoints, hotels, restaurants, bars -- and now, love.

I vote for MSY -- we've already seen the pictures

This is much better than reality tv. And it has all the elements FTers adore: airports, lounges, passports, security checkpoints, hotels, restaurants, bars -- and now, love.

I vote for MSY -- we've already seen the pictures

MSY wins! AZO will have to wait, I'm working on MSY right now and with any luck I will have at least the preamble done.

Thanks for the interest everyone, I'll keep writing them as long as people keep reading them!

MSY wins! AZO will have to wait, I'm working on MSY right now and with any luck I will have at least the preamble done.

Thanks for the interest everyone, I'll keep writing them as long as people keep reading them!


AZO will be a good read in due time. If it's the story I'm thinking it is, major amounts of "respect"/"integrity" points to be handed to 1993gt40 to be sure. :)

AZO will be a good read in due time. If it's the story I'm thinking it is, major amounts of "respect"/"integrity" points to be handed to 1993gt40 to be sure. :)

That would be it :)

This time the flight was heading west and I knew better than to sleep no matter how tired I felt. I would not be getting back to Charlotte until late that night and the last thing I wanted to do was arrive wide awake. It was my goal to use every last ounce of energy in my now frail body and collapse into bed thoroughly used up. Unfortunately this meant that I had to muscle through the next eight or nine hours of flight time by forcing myself to forge onward in a state of pseudo consciousness. There is not much to do on an airplane for eight to nine hours even if you do have some legroom and unlimited cocktails.

I knew that cocktails would do me no good in my situation as if I were even moderately disconnected from my senses I would have been done in for. The IFE was nothing to write home about either as there was nothing of any redeeming value to be played on this flight. The white airplane on blue background channel was popular on this flight albeit painfully boring. The first hour or so of the flight was not that bad. My Shure E2C’s pumped a constant aural river into the recesses of my mind from the Creative 30gb MP3 player connected to it. Random bits of lyrics and tunes would spark even more random memories and thoughts sufficient enough to send my consciousness into fits of nostalgia often bringing back to the surface things that would have gone forgotten were they not to resurface at this moment. Things I never knew I forgot coursed through the synapses of my internal wiring glazing my eyes and dulling all other senses. The state could not have been far from catatonic as all manner of events and ideas from the smoldering past played out in empty sky over Western Europe. Things so real to me as they day they were created were to only play out their useful lifespan leaving only a vapor trail for the next ones to follow before burying themselves down into my subconscious awaiting the stimulation necessary to dust them off again. They all come back to haunt me now.

My god, how long had this gone on for? How much longer could this go on? Do I really have this many memories? I don’t remember being this dysfunctional, certainly some of them must be figments of internal garbage constructing an alternate reality in which I had once existed to some deep dark corner of my mind. No, No, couldn’t be. I’m an upstanding member of my community and an outstanding role model that should be worshiped by today’s youth. Perhaps not but had all of these things been reality? Sometimes we get so focused on where we are and where we are going that what once was of our own being fails to even become a memory but rather a void that fills the characteristics that make us unique until they are a smooth surface on the shiny glass sheen of what we once thought our life was about. I shudder at the thought.

It was only a matter of time before one of those thoughts were to carry me off. With every opening note a new window into the content of my character opened revealing all series of events that brought me to be who I am today. So many microscopic past chapters any one of which could have taken my life in directions I have never envisioned. As vividly as the day the memory was minted I found myself in a place in time somewhere around 1997 but the exact date or even year escapes me.

A young man stood against the quarter panel of a quietly resting late model Mustang Cobra on a warm and humid late summer night somewhere north of Houston Texas. Window cracked open about three inches letting the sound of the radio creep out as four or five of us stood around our cars just to the side of a road that bore the sign “Goodnight Trail”. Most of us just called it “Rankin” because it was the closest major street but in the late nineties it was this doublewide two lane road nestled in an industrial park that bore witness to moderately organized street racing. For those who had no interest in going out to a night club, movie, party, or anything else one would do on a weekend night this was the place to go if you had something even moderately quick or just a passing interest in seeing something on two or four wheels go fast.

These were the days before the Japanese laid claim to their first successful invasion of the American mainland. Nearly everything out on any given night was American made, powered by a V-8 of some variety, and rear wheel drive. You never saw a Honda, or Nissan or anything like that so I guess coffee can exhaust, ridiculous wings, and silly body kits had not been invented yet. Sure we were breaking the law, and few of our cars would pass inspection, but somehow this all seemed to work. Rarely were there problems, and even rarer were any incidents. It was almost surreal at times. Certainly the police must have known we were here and what we were doing since there were nights that I can remember where cars were parked the entire length of the quarter mile on each side two deep. There could have easily been 1,000 people there.

But not this night, it was early at about 11:00PM and there we only a few dozen of us out right now. Racing was fairly constant at about one every few minutes but the majority of us were enjoying the social atmosphere. It was always the same conversations; who had done what to their cars, what times were they running, who was faster then who. I never really cared, I always knew I would never be the fastest out here nor did I ever want to be, but as a result I chose my races carefully, many evening never so much as starting the car.

For some reason I remember it vivid in my mind, the sights, sounds and smells of those late nights. The smell of burnt rubber, burnt race fuel, and fresh cut oranges filled my nasal cavities as the sounds of cammed V8’s idle by, superchargers surged to the beat of an off idle groan, and cars staged at the line in anticipation of marking off the next 1,320 feet. For some reason when Nitrous Oxide burns in the combustion cycle of an engine it produces a strong citrus smell. I may never smell citrus fruit again without the memory.

And on this occasion I decided that today was a good day to put the car through it’s paces and row it through it’s gears in a display of pure testosterone. It was all about bragging rights, a gentleman’s wager. Unfortunately the reputation of my car preceded it and it was thought to be much faster than it actually was. Not that it was a bad thing but I had to pick my races carefully and even then I needed to be on top of it to cut a decent run. The C5 Vettes had just graced the showrooms of Chevrolet dealers all across America this week. The magazines said they would run a 12.9 second quarter mile, which I knew I could beat but I also was not sure how accurate that number was. So when confronted with the opportunity to embarrass a brand new Corvette with the paper plates still hanging off of it I could not pass up the opportunity.

I could feel each pin in the ignition cylinder as the key clicked past them before it gave life to the supercharger fed GT40 engine two feet in front of me. I gave it a minute to let all systems adjust themselves to the state of operation from rest. Both tailpipes pulsed out a Detroit symphony in chorus as the whining fuel pumps played harmonies as they pumped the liquid dinosaur into the powerplant.

Ease the clutch down and bring the stick toward me and forward into first gear. Lifting slowly on the clutch until I could feel the RPMs start to fall, give it some gas and the Cobra would slowly pull out of a dark parking spot into the light of the street. At this low speed a lot of steering input was required to turn the car to the left facing down the impromptu track. Once aligned I would ease it into Reverse to the official start of the Unofficial track. I was in the right lane, my favorite, it always hooked up better on this side. Although I started to have second thoughts as my foot let off the clutch and the car began to ease backwards. 12.9 is fast, I knew I had run faster times than that before but what if something was a little off tonight. While losing would have not been the end of the world, I did not want to tarnish the old girls’ reputation. I was going to win this, I wanted it. I so wanted to ‘Put the Hurt’ on this mans brand new car.

Off the petals and out of gear I let the car coast back before I applied the breaks bringing it to a stop just behind the starting line. Down goes my drivers window to hear what the other driver has to say as the words “I want a link and the move” came across the space between the two cars. What he was asking me to do was to let him move his car out one car length so he will have a slight advantage and he wanted to take off first. Frequently this is referred to as “giving up land”. I am ashamed to say but I was a notorious ******* about this stuff on the street. I blew up instantly and knew I had gone too far when I felt my left hand release the door latch and before I knew it I was standing in the street between our two cars with my head in his passenger side window. I was ripping this guy a new one for reasons I never really understood but something really changed me when I got into this mentality, on the track I was allowed to be different and not the mild mannered 1993GT40 I usually am. It was acceptable here and I felt I need to take full advantage of it of this moment. As vividly as the day the events unfolded I remember the words I said to him.

Of course there were a lot of expletives used but I know I began with “You want land MF? Does my car have a god damned Remax sign on it? What’s wrong with your brand new car? I tell you what,. you crawl out there as much as you think you need!”

The man who must have been my dads age looked back at me with an odd look about him. I’m not sure what it was but I imagine that it was predominantly embarrassment, and confusion with overtones of anger and bewilderment. Words still falling from my mouth at a record pace I climbed back into the car without ever so much as looking away from the man.

One foot over the door sill before the other I sat back down in the cockpit and closed the door around my head because it was busy still assaulting this poor man. On occasion I would scan the dash looking at the gauges to get an idea of what the car was running like. Oil Pressure, Fuel Pressure, Boost and RPM were all that really mattered and all looked well.

Left foot took a sharp stab at the clutch petal freeing the drive train from the abuse of monster in charge while the right foot was turned about 75degrees to the left to cover both the break and gas petal. With a flick of the heel of my right foot the RPMs shot up to somewhere around 4,000 when I dumped the clutch as pressure rolled from my heel to my toe and I transitioned it from gas to the break. All happened in about 3 seconds but I accomplished all I had set out to do. I broke the tires lose and gave them a quick spin on the concrete while not moving the car forward an inch. The outermost layer of tire vaporized into blue smoke across the concrete. This was done to kick any sand or rocks off of them as I wanted to get the best start possible.

Waiting on this man to make up his mind as to whether he wanted to move up or not I got tired of his indecision and staged the car for launch. I was on street tires so I could not be too aggressive so I brought the RPMs up to somewhere just under 2,000, eased down on the clutch, and listened to the sound as I pushed the shifter into first gear. He knew what was happening and I could hear him doing the same thing.

Sliding my foot off the clutch letting it slam closed with all of it’s spring pressure the car violently lurched forward in the first of the next 1,320 feet. I could not have asked for a better launch, the car hooked, minimal tire spin and soon the accelerator was on the floor. I had certainly taken a leap on the Vette next to me as the RPMs began to rise quickly. I could see his headlights were just aft of the port side quarter panel when suddenly the cabin light up with a near blindingly bright yellow light.

I woke up to the cold engine noise in the cabin of the 767 somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. The battery had expired in the Creative labeled white box of illicitly obtained media. Reality was abrupt and harsh. I could not help but wonder how long I had been out for? How long had we been in the air? Where are we?

The white airplane on blue background channel would answer all my questions. I had not been out long as we were just barely west of the United Kingdom. Fortunate for me I had not been asleep but maybe an hour, for to sleep on this flight heading west would almost certainly condemn me to a sleepless night at the Four Points in Charlotte. I detest Charlotte and detest the Four Points even more and to spend an entire night wired in my hotel room was a fate what I am hoping to avoid. Which left me with a burning question, what AM I going to do for the next 7 hours?

I opened the laptop in search of things to do and quickly fell back onto something I keep for flights just like these. With a few clicks of the mouse my MPEG copy of “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas” would blanket the screen of my Toshiba. I watched the first 45 minutes before Dianne woke up looking curiously at my laptop. I gave her an earbud and started the movie over again which worked great for killing much of the time. Sadly the remainder of the flight was mind numbingly boring as I could do little more than watch the miles click by on the screen built into the business class seat.

After what seemed like an eternity we were on final at IAD. I was weary and anxiously anticipating getting off of this aircraft if for no other reason than to just wander around the terminal. Of all the flying I have done I have never flown into IAD and had I known the terror that awaited me in the terminal I would have opted to stay on the aircraft were it a possibility. Although I find it poetic justice that IAD belongs to Washington because only bureaucrats could build something so outrageously inefficient.

Three fingered monkeys with one eye could have designed a better airport. It does not take a rocket scientist to figure out that once you build a terminal people will need to get to it and perhaps leave it, but it seems a gross oversight here. Why someone would design an airport with absolutely no consideration given to the flow of people makes no sense to me much like most things that come from Washington.

Given that IAD’s is a poor design it is only complicated more and, eclipsed by, the poor band-aid of a solution some less than stellar engineer tried to throw at it; the Moon Buggy. This is obviously not an off the shelf solution to airport human dynamics, no these babys were made just for this airport. It’s something between a bus, a brick and, a swamp buggy that is utterly inefficient, slow, ugly and only somewhat to moderately effective. They are probably twice as wide as your average bus and just as long and laid out in a perfect rectangle. The driver sits at either end in a glorified phone booth with a wheel since it can be controlled and steered from either helm station giving it no front or back. Two door are on each end of the moon buggy protruding out from either side of the drivers booth forming a plug of sorts. Once attached to it’s socket both doors are opened to spill it’s contents out into the terminal of arrival as well as absorb a new load of PAX. While this on the surface sounds like a viable solution to interterminal transport let me assure you it is not.

Add to the mix a Moon Buggy Traffic jam and you can get tied up on one of these things with little effort. Not only does this occur at the Moon Buggy socket clusters but imagine the scene on the tarmac with ground crew operating, catering, various and sundry emergency vehicles as well as airplanes and transport by moon buggy can get swamped down by all of the ground activity which is exactly how you wanted to spend your day I am sure.

But before I would have to deal with the sad creation that is the moon buggy I will first have to clear security and US Customs. As we began to disembark the aircraft I could not help but wonder about what kind of problems I will be facing with my crooked passport back at home. I wonder if they will give me as hard a time as I was given in Amsterdam. I really didn’t want any problems this time, I have grown weary from the road and did not have the energy to deal with whatever problems the TSA monkeys could cause me. Dianne and I made our way across the speckled white flooring of IAD pulling our carry ons behind us. We kept walking past the baggage claim since we had not claimed anything which put is first in line to greet the Customs agent a mere 75 feet in front of us. With every step I could feel my stomach turn just a bit more. I live by Murphy’s Law as I know now that he passed no opportunity to cause problems in my life. Not that things are bad for me in any way but my life on average consists of a string of minorly annoying events in rapid, unrelenting, succession.

Although this time, luck was on my side and I had no problems what so ever making it through customs. They barely glanced at my passport and didn’t give me a second look. I’m not sure how this could have happened but I was happy to finally have some trouble free border crossings since just leaving Amsterdam was enough for the one trip. Rarely do things ever go so smoothly, or so it seemed for that moment. In another brilliant move on the part of the TSA upon clearing security you must immediately be screened again. Having now been through three security check points, screenings, interviewed, secondaried and finally accosted by a large Dutch man, I had had enough of this.

Maybe it was the wicked hang over I was nursing, or the aftershocks of back street Indian Massage Parlor food, jetlag, the reality of going to work or just plain angst for the TSA I was not happy about this since I had not left a ‘secure’ area since I came through the horrid clot of imbeciles at AMS. Heave the roll aboard onto the conveyor belt, out with the laptop, turn to walk through the metal detector and get the hand before I even so much as take the first step. The TSA monkey tells me I need to take off my shoes. How did I not see this coming?

GT40: “Sir, my shoes will make it”
Monkey: “Sir you will have to take your shoe off”
GT40: “Which one?”
Monkey: “Both of them”
GT40: “Are we ignoring Rule 1 today my friend”
Obviously ticked off Monkey: “Sir, you will be subjected to further screening if you come through with your shoes on”
GT40: “So we ARE ignoring the rule?”

Meanwhile a nice line is forming behind me as I occupy the single open metal detector.

GT40: “I tell you what, how about I take them off?”
Monkey nods as if I were holding a banana.

So down on one knee I go before the metal detector and begin to carefully untie my shoe. I even unlaced it out of a few holes before I carefully slid it off of my foot and neatly tucked the laces into the shoe as to not get them caught in something as I am concerned for the safety of others. Shoe in one hand and the other still on the foot I stand up and carefully place it onto the conveyor belt so that it may receive the necessary gamma ray bath because I guess it is possible that I may have picked up something I could not take through security in the last 25 or so feet.

Unfortunately this allowed some passengers behind me to escape through the metal detector but I am still really holding things up here now as I kneeled down to untie the next shoe. I did this time leave enough space for people to squeak by as I think they were just going to pull me through and secondary me just to get me out of the way at this point. The man on the other side was obviously starting to become a bit perturbed. Soon the second shoe would be off and on it’s way for a healthy dose of friendly radiation. I turned to face the metal detector now without shoes but just before I was about to go through I hiked a foot up to my knee grabbing it with a hand as I said to the bewildered man in front of me “OH! What about my socks? Should I take those off?” He responded with a simple ‘No’ and was obviously now humored by me at this point so I just proceeded through the metal detector handing the nice man my boarding pass in the process. I think that I have gotten away with enough already and I should just meet Dianne at the other end of security.

I did just that and we rounded the corner away from security together. We didn’t say much to each other as I stepped onto the escalator. Left foot first, followed by my right foot just bringing my roll aboard to rest at my heels when suddenly and without warning the escalator seized as if something were caught in it’s menacing jaws nearly casting me into a horde of people obviously pissed off at me and my security checkpoint antics. I had never realized before how awkward it is to walk down an escalator until this moment as I struggled by with my roll aboard and briefcase. We headed directly to the nearest Red Carpet Club to figure out where exactly it was we were heading to after this.

As luck would have it Dianne and I would be heading in opposite directions. I was heading to G-12 which sounded innocent enough at the time, little did I know the horror of the scene that awaited me there. I would be a part of it soon but first I would say good bye to Dianne and wish her well in her travels before we made our separate ways.

Having never flown through IAD I merely followed the signs that pointed me toward the offending terminal which brought me into a staging area of some sort. I did not know what exactly this was for as I had not experienced the Moon Buggy as of yet. I thought surely this must be the tram right? No problem I thought. I can figure this out, I’m a professional.

Soon the doors parted and the vessel made the exchange of human cargo with the terminal. I was among the lucky to have made it into the,. . Well, ... IS this? Suddenly vague memories of references to moon buggies I had once read about somewhere came back to me. From the inside it looked somewhat like what I would expect it to look like in an aquarium as the dimensions fit but only scaled up for human sized specimens. Except this aquarium must have been intended to transport strippers, and LOTS of them as there were more poles than seats. Apparently it was not show time so I just patiently waited for the stop at my terminal.

Unfortunately it does not stop at my terminal, for that I would have to abandon the stripper buggy in what I can only guess was the “main” terminal. After quite a hike I would arrive at what looked like a closet door in the corner of a room that played host to three or four gates. Certainly this door must have been an afterthought I pondered to myself as I stood before it and all it’s plain brown glory. The single thin window revealed to me a small sliver of the moon buggy induced chaos that reined just outside the small metal framed door, the same chaos I would soon find myself in. I patiently waited near the door to await the transport that would carry me to my final terminal here at IAD. While my wait was not unreasonable I can not say the same for those seated around me.

It began with the buzz of human interaction around the door that soon broke into disorganized clamor for position in the hopes to exit through the door that separated us from the cold February morning outside. Spending my life in airports I rarely position myself in the midst of such chaos but it was difficult to resist the temptation as I was unsure of the capacity of the unknown transport vessel that I so eagerly anticipated and soon I found myself as any other random member of an ever growing ocean of impatient amateur travelers. Soon the door would breech it’s frame setting off a shockwave of chaos that rippled throughout the crowd. Before those inside the building could make their exit those entering the building would have to make their entrance where no provision had been made for the exchange of passengers. The single airport worker was sorely outnumbered and quickly overrun by the chaos as people managed to squeeze by each other in the narrow doorway pushing all manner of things that most certainly would not fit in the overhead bins of the regional jets that all were certain to board. Sadly, I had become one of them.

No moon buggy awaited me on the other side of the door, alas down the stair in front of me waited a plain white bus. I quickly boarded and took a seat near the door along with so many others I was all but certain that any sort of load rating had been greatly exceeded. Crammed into a corner of this white bus I could only imagine that from the outside I looked like the now out of style suction cup Garfield that graced car windows throughout the 80’s. I could do nothing crammed into a tiny corner of an overcrowded bus staring out the window wondering how these things manage to happen to people like me.

Little did I know the awful sight at my destination would be much worse. The doors would part and spill out the human cargo into Terminal G of IAD. I was greeted with the scene of airline travelers’ agony. It looked like a cross between a refugee camp and Disneyland. Suffering and discomfort had exploded and rained down on the masses inside as everyone had an awful sob story to tell about how something was delayed, canceled, or just plain was ignored. I felt it hard to empathize as this was a way of life for me. Planes get canceled and delayed all the time and no amount of passion can change the events as they unfolded and brought you to the bitter state you lay in. Not a single seat was available for the taking and standing room capacity had long ago been surpassed forcing people into the closest of proximities to one another leaving nothing but the vein hope that your flight may be the next one called, but it ever so rarely was.

In all of the flying and traveling I have done this is the most miserable I had ever felt. Standing inches from the man woman and child around me, absolutely lost in the mess of pessimism around me, with nagging back street Indian massage parlor dinner tugging my innards in new and innovative ways completely devoid of anything to do but stand and wait. I stretched the frozen moments into minutes from the boredom that infiltrated the distant corners of my being as it slowly overcame my facial expression leaving nothing but the look of stark glassy disconnection. I am not sure how long I existed in this natural defense mechanism before I happened to hear my flight being called. I nearly needed not to walk as the crowd dragged me in it’s wake to the Disneyland turnstile.

With ticket stub in hand I boarded the ERJ never being so happy to see one.

That would be it :)

Then a good read it shall be, all in due time, and 1993gt40 will have garnered some well-earned "take the high road" praises.


Meanwhile, I remain in 1993gt40's debt for putting into words an experience on a recent flight, LGA-ORD: I went standby on an earlier flight than scheduled, was just about to enjoy the window seat view on my right, and on my left an empty middle seat that wasn't blocking the view of the HOT young lady in the aisle, when this HUGE (and, at 6'6", I'll say this person was indeed HUGE--not fat, not obese, just HUGE) person plopped into the middle seat. I thought, "I am really being spackled to this window" and thought again, "Hey, I've heard that phrase before."
It's in an earlier post in this thread. And, "spackled" is indeed the adjective of choice for that scenario.

Thanks 1993gt40 for another good read. So what happened in that race w/ the Vette?

Thanks 1993gt40 for another good read. So what happened in that race w/ the Vette?

Finally started walking it by 3'rd gear but up to that point it was hanging on fairly well. I am in the market for another Cobra right now I just miss it too damn much,..

...I am in the market for another Cobra right now I just miss it too damn much,..ahem :eek: :eek:

Does anyone here believe that for every really expensive toy he buys himself (boat, car, etc) that I should get a nice piece of a jewelry? I think it sounds like an excellent idea. I should note that he already owns 4 boy toys,2 boats and 2 cars!! :eek: :D :eek: :D

But back on topic. This last installment was great: stripper poles, garfield and all!! ^ ^ :p

[Given that IAD’s is a poor design it is only complicated more and, eclipsed by, the poor band-aid of a solution some less than stellar engineer tried to throw at it; the Moon Buggy. This is obviously not an off the shelf solution to airport human dynamics, no these babys were made just for this airport. It’s something between a bus, a brick and, a swamp buggy that is utterly inefficient, slow, ugly and only somewhat to moderately effective. They are probably twice as wide as your average bus and just as long and laid out in a perfect rectangle. The driver sits at either end in a glorified phone booth with a wheel since it can be controlled and steered from either helm station giving it no front or back. Two door are on each end of the moon buggy protruding out from either side of the drivers booth forming a plug of sorts. Once attached to it’s socket both doors are opened to spill it’s contents out into the terminal of arrival as well as absorb a new load of PAX. While this on the surface sounds like a viable solution to interterminal transport let me assure you it is not.
------------------------------------------

1993gt40

You could not have said it better. First time I landed in IAD, I could not figure out what that vehicle was - It seemed to be something taken off a bad late night sci-fi movie on cable TV.

A gross looking creature, I think it it referred as the people mover. I live near IAD nowadays and a few weeks back, I actually walked underground to the terminal through the walkways. Inexplicable contraption indeed. And ugly to boot.

How nice it would be if only IAD has a nice inter terminal train like many other airports do.

as always your reports are a great read - keep them coming, you do have a loyal fan following on these pages.

hsubbu

ahem :eek: :eek:

Does anyone here believe that for every really expensive toy he buys himself (boat, car, etc) that I should get a nice piece of a jewelry? I think it sounds like an excellent idea. I should note that he already owns 4 boy toys,2 boats and 2 cars!! :eek: :D :eek: :D

But back on topic. This last installment was great: stripper poles, garfield and all!! ^ ^ :pY'know, of ALL the money I've spent in my life, the best purchase I ever made was on a certain shiny bauble for a certain green-eyed blonde about ten years ago....

Probably none of my business. Best thing I've ever done....probably none of my business....

Yes, but the question is prncess674, did he already own them before you two started going out??? If so, I don't like your chances, but if you play your cards right...well, who knows :D

This is much better than reality tv. And it has all the elements FTers adore: airports, lounges, passports, security checkpoints, hotels, restaurants, bars -- and now, love.


This hits the nail on the head...

I haven't gone to bed before 4 AM in weeks.

I'm an FT addict!!! Help me.

ahem :eek: :eek:

Does anyone here believe that for every really expensive toy he buys himself (boat, car, etc) that I should get a nice piece of a jewelry? I think it sounds like an excellent idea. I should note that he already owns 4 boy toys,2 boats and 2 cars!! :eek: :D :eek: :D

But back on topic. This last installment was great: stripper poles, garfield and all!! ^ ^ :p

Sorry for the delayed reply, but having just presented *MY* princess with a nice little bauble in honor of her putting up with me for the past 20 years (the past several of which have been on a heavy travel schedule), I can honestly say that it's a better investment than most toys (although she did tell me to go out and buy the new camera I've been wanting to get....)

D.

It's just a little too quiet in here so I thought I'd give a quick update. No more Charlotte! Now working in SFO. Should be interesting, and for the record, I DO have another episode simmering. :)

Please, please, we are waiting patiently...
(about to go into DTs from TFTR@35K withdrawals.)
(can anyone recommend a 12-step program for FT addiction?!)

It's just a little too quiet in here so I thought I'd give a quick update. No more Charlotte! Now working in SFO. Should be interesting, and for the record, I DO have another episode simmering. :)So where is the next installment? What at least is the topic of the next episode? Even I can't seem to get that info out of you.

According to MS Word I'm at almost exactly 13,000 words (just in my actual reports and not stuff like this). Which is technically more than enough for a short novel.


Too bad you only get one posting credit per thread. @:-)

Either he's scared at the behemoth he's created and doesn't want to release it - or he's been offered a book deal and wants the $$$ so he can quit his consultant life and eke his existance sitting on a porch, with an iced tea, typing away on his laptop....???

Give up the game, 1993gt40. You've been offered a 3 book deal by a publisher, haven't you :D

Either he's scared at the behemoth he's created and doesn't want to release it - or he's been offered a book deal and wants the $$$ so he can quit his consultant life and eke his existance sitting on a porch, with an iced tea, typing away on his laptop....???

Give up the game, 1993gt40. You've been offered a 3 book deal by a publisher, haven't you :D

If you (or anyone you know, or any other FT'er) is in a position to put me in contact with a publisher of books, OR a Literary Agent please contact me. That being said a simmering deal that I once entertained fell apart and I am looking again. As far as the next episode, I'm working on two currently (different episodes) but am having a VERY hard time writing them despite having the time to do so. This happened last time I was in the studio recording my last solo record and subsequently I released something closer to an EP rather than the LP that I intended to record. Writers block sucks and it's killing me right now. Oh and for the record, while I love my job, I would leave it in a heartbeat to be a writer.

The topics I'm writing on currently; Dealing with internal Technical support for a technology consulting firm, and "Los Angeles 'The dollar, Decay, and the smell of burnt Cocaine' -1993gt40 and a friend party at the Sky Bar, hook up with a friend and take a Cigarette boat to Catalina, and just generally be idiots". The second is hard to write because I will NEVER be able to do it justice, well that and my memmory is spotty in some places ;).

OK, I just got hooked tonight. Just finished them all. Very disappointed that I cant span months in 20 mins of reading.


Good work Mike.


Ken in Phx

-amazing how your thread has morphed into something different.

a simmering deal that I once entertained fell apart and I am looking again

That sounds more like you broke up with a girlfriend than lost a deal with a book publisher :o

Unfortunately, in answer to your earlier question, no I don't know any literary agents, or publishers

If you (or anyone you know, or any other FT'er) is in a position to put me in contact with a publisher of books, OR a Literary Agent please contact me.

Words of advice: Keep your day job. The writing isn't that great.

Words of advice: Keep your day job. The writing isn't that great.

Fortunately I'm a much better Consultant than writer, but the thought of sitting at home hammering away at the keyboard is often much more appealing than getting on a plane and living in a hotel. In any event, thanks for the .02 I was just tendering my resignation letter. :rolleyes: :confused:

^ Keep it up your writing is excellent. If other people are jealous that is there problem.
Good luck

Words of advice: Keep your day job. The writing isn't that great.
Ouch, eh?

At any rate, 1993gt40, keep it up. I just spent 2 hours reading about your captivating escapades. Eagerly anticipating the next installment...good writing or not. ^

I have thoroughly enjoyed all of the stories that you have shared with us and I encourage you to keep up the great work. You have made my 4 hour layover in ATL at the DL CRC so much more enjoyable and I appreciate the details that you go into for us.

I too have been experiencing "live on the road" more than ever. Since I scaled back on my practices in NYC, DCA, and BOS the UN has deployed me to several different places around the world -- I'm not use to this kind of travel! And think about getting off an 18 hr flight to Johannesburg and performing quadruple bypass :p

As much as I enjoy reading your stories, do you think it would be a good idea to start a separate thread for each?

I find myself clicking on this thread as it floats to the top thinking 'ooh...another story?' only to find that it's only a post asking for more or commenting on previous entries. :( Plus, the punctuation error in the thread title (which I'm sure was inadvertent) kind of drives me nuts! ;)

I stumbled across this thread because of a link from a randomly clicked thread about tow trucks. I ended up spending several hours reading it. Thankfully I didn't have anything scheduled other than cleaning my apartment this weekend.

It was very entertaining and quite a transformation from a guy talking about not being able to maintain a relationship to someone jetting around the world on dates.

The AMS story was great. I spent a weekend there a few years ago. It is a very fun city.

I think I remember meeting Kokonutz at the FT 2nd Annual Seattle Dinner (That was before Bombardier bought the naming rights and it became SeaDoo). From what I remember of that evening the nipple clips and bondage books do not surprise me.

One last thing, I was amazed that the flaming did not start with this quote.

Her name was Sandra and she was the typical L.A. woman, blonde, green eyed, well sculpted and not quite all there. I figured she’d make a great pet while I was staffed in L.A. We exchanged numbers and had agreed to have dinner the following week.

I too have been experiencing "live on the road" more than ever. Since I scaled back on my practices in NYC, DCA, and BOS the UN has deployed me to several different places around the world -- I'm not use to this kind of travel! And think about getting off an 18 hr flight to Johannesburg and performing quadruple bypass :p


Oh, please... take your time... have a nap. Don't rush on my account. :D

I second that. He or she can read something he or she enjoys.
For myself i am enjoying it way too much ^

Many months ago I had to step into this very thread and spin off some posts so that a few ill-intentioned comments would not derail what I felt had the potential to be a very popular thread. I am glad I did so and left this thread intact, since the rest is history.

Please folks, don't make me have to step in and shut down the thread after so many months because some folks are taking exception to the author and/or respondees.

Thanks
Sean (B747-437B)
Moderator
Trip Reports

[QUOTE=mcrt]I stumbled across this thread because of a link from a randomly clicked thread about tow trucks. I ended up spending several hours reading it. Thankfully I didn't have anything scheduled other than cleaning my apartment this weekend.QUOTE]


I too stumbled upon this randomly. I was looking for a lost baggage thread last night as I had been without my suitcase in Rome for two days and needed to vent. Instead I spent my night drinking Heinekens and reading this thread. It was a much better use of my time than saturating my baggage sorrows.

Interestingly enough...I have stayed in room 503 at the Pulitzer and spent quite a bit of time at Kadinsky's. I am headed back in a couple of weeks...can't wait. I'll need it!!

It was a Thursday like any other at my client site sometime during the daily lull in afternoon activity as I sat at my desk one eye surfing the net and one ear on a conference call. This is frequently the scene in the post lunch hours between the walls of my cube with one exception, today the person on the other end of the phone was a Partner with the firm and we were reviewing my feedback from my previous project in North Carolina. Honestly I should have been paying more attention than I was but these calls all seem the same after a while. It’s the typical rigmarole that any performance feedback session consists of. Where I did good, where I fell short, what to improve on and my overall rating. All of it having more to do with politics than how I actually performed which made my eyes twitch with resentment but all part of how things work here.

Which is sad given what I had done to deliver ahead of time and under budget above and far beyond what we had promised in the contract. Over the course of 5 months I worked nearly 1300 hours but only received payment for 640 of them. I flew out on Sundays and flew home on Saturdays spending less than 40 hours a week at ‘Home’ while working 76 hours at the client site. I was able to deliver by exponential factors beyond what I had promised and somehow managed to net an “Average” review. It really upset me since I was counting on the support to help in my promotion efforts this year as I am up for it but I wanted nothing more than to tell this man what I thought of him and his “management” style that left two of us at work well into the morning hours after we watched him stroll by every afternoon at 5:00 and take off for home on Thursday afternoons while I sat in a dark cube as the lights turned off at 8:00 and I read my technical manuals by the light of my cellular phone and soft glow of pixilated light from my laptop. Coming to a place I could not recognize as home and looking at the faces of people I once knew as friends but could now only see the empty stare of a vaguely familiar stranger in front of me. I no longer lived my life on the road, I lived my life on the run.

It was a hard decision to stay with the firm some days but the road pulls you so hard it stings sometimes, you just have to know what the next project brings. You try to fly but your wings will fail you at the worst times it seems. It had been eating me away from some time about all that was destroyed with just a word. “Average” I learned by now that you never let them know that you think they are absurd so I made my points clearly and concisely which left him no real leg to stand on as far as my rating but even I knew it was futile. Nothing would change no matter how well I make my case.

I couldn’t help but think to myself that ‘Hey, what the heck’, I’m just going to tell this guy what I think of him and what he can do with the garbage he was spouting out to me. I give myself about 30 seconds to think it over and come to the same conclusion again so I start to think about how I am going to word this so that I can extract the most satisfaction I can out of it because I realize that it may possibly be my last time talking to partner because certainly this HAS to be a Career Limiting Move but I just don’t give a good God damn anymore about ‘Consulting’, ‘Value’, traveling, or anything else and I’m going to go out with a bang. Shining with the darkness of Leonard Cohen, and bent to self-destruct with the likeness of Courtney Love-Cobain, I make this decision with justified disdain.

I can tell his nonsensical sentence is drawing to a close as his tone is winding down although no point had yet been made. I briefly wet my lips and drew my lower lip across the top row of my teeth in preparation for what was about to come. I parted my lips and managed to get out “Well,.. (pregnant pause) Let me tell you this,.. I think that…” Before I noticed a shadow in my cube as two people frantically rounded the corner of my cube and asked “Are you Mr. gt40?”. To which I respond “Uhm, That depends”, now wide eyed and somewhat puzzled. My god, HR works fast, I hadn’t even gotten the words out of my mouth yet I think to myself as I hear a voice come across the receiver of the phone still pushed up against my weary face. I tell the partner on the other end to hold on, I had a situation going on here.

The two people standing in my cube were with my client and apparently I violated all sorts of security terms and all sorts of other rules by plugging my laptop into the network. Compound that with the fact that my laptop had a worm and was generating huge amounts of network traffic, the security team at my client site were probably less than impressed with my security testing and may no longer hold me in high regard. Although, how can I fault them, it only took three week for their crack security forces to pinpoint the problem. Be that as it may, I decided to humor them and unplug my laptop and then they tell me that they are here to escort me off the premises for the day although I am expected to return on Monday to keep working. Although severely confused about exactly how this crack security policy was going to do much other than piss me off, I pick up the phone and tell the Partner what is going on and we disconnect from the call. I never did tell him what I thought but I HAD to have e-mail access to finish my days work so I go to the closest place I know has a WiFi connection; Starbucks.

I order my Caramel Macchiato and settle into a nice window seat as I crack open the laptop. I was not in the best of moods to begin with but this certainly did not help my day. No one likes to be treated in such a manner. Bent to get over it I start finishing up the things I knew I had to do today, luckily it was not much as I was not there 5 minutes before my cell phone rings with an unknown number. As it turns out it was the very same people who escorted me off the property not ten minutes ago, this time they are asking me to come back so they can look at my laptop. A shockingly brilliant action plan that my mere consulting mind still cant quite wrap around.

Stunned by the elite security forces at my client site, how could I resist their obviously superior worm fighting tactics? Actually I wanted to tell them to go F^ themselves but being that they are my client and pay my firm a lot of money, maybe I should do as they ask. Why all of a sudden I feel some sense of obligation to my career now I can not say but soon I would be back in the rental Toyota Highlander and on my way back to the building I had effectively been thrown out of not fifteen minutes earlier.

Upon arrival I call the man who I spoke to and we meet to look at my laptop where he (re)determines that I have a worm on my laptop. God Damned rocket scientist he is I tell you. Armed with the Jedi knowledge I put a call into the local tech support office for my firm here in San Francisco so I can make them deal with it. So far so good, they agree to let me walk up to the counter tomorrow and they will take care of it at any time before 2:00pm. Sweet, it looks like I will have it back that afternoon and I can come back to work on Monday without missing a beat.

Unfortunately this is where it went all wrong. The next day I arrive at the Local Tech Support office, not unlike watching a bad movie, I gleefully turnover my DorkBox painfully unaware of the awful turn of events soon to unfold. Since nothing comes easy in my life it would make natural sense that they can not get to it today and it will be Monday afternoon before they can even look at it. Not deterred by the minor setback I return Monday morning.

The Bright Eyed budding young Consultant I am promptly arrives on Monday morning ready to hand over the closest thing I have to a best friend to the care of an otherwise total stranger. It was a little sad, the poor thing had been all over with me, through good times and rough, literal and figurative highs and lows, work and play, only now to be gutted and wiped out but by the cold unfamiliar hands of some other geek.

The sadness was short lived as I had a day to kill, no meetings, nothing due in the morning and an expense account. I spent the day wandering about the sidewalks, café’s, and little shops of San Francisco. It was a nearly surreal experience, I had nothing to do amid a sea of busy professionals buzzing about the streets below the concrete centers of Commerce and Trade. I’m just a simple boy from Central Texas who should have never been here at all. I don’t belong here, I certainly should have never been given this job. Not that I don’t think I can do it but rather I think that I will never perform to the degree that I see others performing at. The firm is full of wonderful and talented individuals and I cant help but look around and wonder how *I* wound up here. I never set out to be a Consultant, or a Road Warrior, or anything of the sort, this was certainly some kind of mistake but I am determined to make the most of it.

I wandered the streets watching people go by me who actually do things. People who have lives and families, jobs that make sense, two cars, perhaps a house, substance. They went passing by me wearing suits that cost more than my first car, while I put one scuffed wingtip in front of the other wearing clothes I dug out of a suitcase this morning. I have nothing I thought to myself, I spend everyday killing the time that is killing me. Sometimes I wish it would hurry up.

Scuffling across the sidewalk running in front of the building that houses the office of my firm my phone rings with an unknown number. Having no better course of action I am forced to answer it despite my disdain for human interaction this fine Northern California morning. Pressing cold plastic to my face I hear the faceless plastic cold voice of the man before my laptop.

He asks me if I realize I have 6 gigabytes of data to be transferred off of my laptop. Shocked that it was such a small number I reply with a simple but questioning ‘Yes?..’. He answers back with “Do you realize that 5 gigs of that is music and personal data, pictures and what not?”. A bit miffed now I reply with “Ok?”. To which he replies “I am not going to save this data, you are going to have to do that on your own”.

At what point do things become so absurd that it no longer makes cognitive sense? How can the very people who ask me to travel the way that I do be so out of touch with the things they ask of me? Certainly the Powers that Be have some notion that a life lived on the road is not really a life at all but somehow those of us who do this make it work. Because my DorkBox required maintenance and that meant some stranger would be molesting my silent silver lover in violent and intimate ways. It was difficult but I finally came to accept that fate for my beloved LapTop and brought it to the poor soul who would have to deal with not only the mess I bring him but me as well and now he wants to get picky about what he will and will not do.

Being tech support for a technology firm must be a difficult position and I can only hope that we pay these guys well because those of us in the field do not make their lives very easy at times. It’s a wonder I did not bring it in as a smoldering heap, a fact which he should be happy not to deal with, but I have to draw the line at only transferring business related information when performing service to my workhorse of enterprise.

Luckily this man called me first and did not just go ahead and wipe out all of that data for this text would have been lost forever (including un-edited versions, outtakes and lost episodes) as well as a significant amount of my recent music collection. Not to mention that I would have ripped his still beating heart from his chest in time to show it to him shortly before his lifeless body collapsed on the floor. Luckily he was able to avoid this fate simply by picking up the phone.

I reply to his statement with a carefully worded response leveraging every ounce of my being not to unleash the inner demons haunting me onto this man but somehow manage to spout out something that struck a chord with him. I tell him that the data in question is the most critical data on my machine and that if nothing else he is to ONLY transfer my personal files. My laptop is my best friend when I have no friends, it keeps me company in the cold quiet dark hotel rooms when I am lonely, it shows me my family and friends when I miss them, it is my link of communication to my loved ones when I am away, it entertains me when we are on long flights and hellacious layovers, it faithfully and reliably serves me and my clients aiding me in turning over quality deliverables, it is an outlet for my frustration and knows all of my most deepest darkest secrets as they play out in this document , some of which are shared with the world. This is not A laptop, this is MY laptop and you WILL transfer that data or I will fix it myself. A simple “Yes Sir” came across the line and the conversation ended.

Several hours later I picked up my laptop complete with all personal data and all was well with the world again before I spent the evening re-moving into it in the quiet hours of my hotel room that evening.

hurrah another tale from the road begins ^