bgjflyer

One of my favorite aspects of traveling to other countries is the ability to find fresh squeezed orange juice. I love that shit. Sadly, at home, no one is going to pay $15 an hour for someone to stand around and squeeze out a glass of Oj. Well unless you are paying $15 for said glass of OJ. So I guess I should say one of my favorite aspects of travel is finding a cheap glass of freshly squeezed OJ.

I decided to enlist the help of the young gentleman at the hotel reception desk. I approached and asked “where can I find a glass of fresh squeezed Orange Juice?” Now pretty much everyone here speaks English. Some better than others and I will place the early morning desk guy as the later. His English was broken but he seemed to understand me. He looked back down at his computer screen. I thought to myself “I’m fairly sure it’s not on your reservation page”. He looked back up sort of confused and asked through his thick accent , “you like to have jiizz?”

Uhm, excuse me? I definitely do not need any of that freshly squeezed! Not jumping to conclusions about this gentleman’s intentions I replied, “yes, some Orange j-u-i-c-e” accenting the pronunciation. He again looked down to the safety net of his computer screen. After a few long, quiet seconds he looked back up and said. “Yes. Around corner. I-jiizz. Very good!” After delivering this statement he looked at me, smiled widely and pointed me out the hotel around a corner. “I can get some fresh squeezed Oj around the corner?” I replied. “Yes. I jiizz. It is very good!”

I walked off wondering what I had just gotten myself into, but I wanted that glass of OJ! I exited the hotel and walked to the end of the block. I turned left and started walking down a back alleyway. Now I really started to worry. I thought to myself. “Where is a juice bar or restaurant down here?” I was committed so I continued on down the street. Not knowing if I had just set myself up on a clandestine rendezvous, a mugging or I was in fact going to find that elusive, cheap, fresh OJ.

As I turned the last little bend in this small alley. I saw it. It wasn’t a juice bar, or a restaurant. It was this…..

I.JOOZ. A machine that squeezes you fresh OJ. Now had I been in Tijuana I probably would not have tried it, but Singapore why not?

It was fantastic! $2! I need one of these machines at home!

Sometimes you just have to trust your instincts and go for it. Sure you don’t know if you are gonna be standing in a back alley in a really awkward situation, being beaten down or being rewarded with what you seek, but if you don’t try, you won’t get the juice!

As I fight through the gathered crowd at the gate for my flight to LA I can’t help but wonder does no one read my stuff? Have they not learned in the previous 30 seconds that they aren’t supposed to do this? To wedge together like an NFL offensive front, intent on blocking anyone from boarding prior to themselves, despite the fact that they are group 7? I thought the Internet was viral?? You know a picture of a smiling monkey or a blue/not blue dress can get a hundred million hits in a day type thing. So surely my wisdom has to have spread throughout the world by now? I guess my 1 follower hasn’t done her job yet. Come on mom you can get this thing viral! Wait you do realize viral doesn’t mean the flu right??

Having survived the push through the crowd, and making it onto the plane I am struck with a fact. Half of the seats on the plane are already occupied and almost all of the overhead bin space is gone! I was group 2! How many people are in group 1?? Hey AA. If you give everyone special access it isn’t special anymore! No wonder everyone piles up at the gate. Everyone has priority access!

As I make it to my seat, I’m in luck! Still enough space to squeeze my 1 bag into the bin. I’m happy I have an aisle seat. Which means, on a full flight, I’m going to have to get up 2 more times to let people in. Thus blocking loading progress further. Here is an idea. If you are giving everyone priority access anyways, why not board as follows. Window seats first. Then middle then aisle. No one has to get up. Shimmy out of their seats and stand in front of everyone else trying to board. It seems to me it would be orderly. But I digress. They haven’t made me president of AA yet, so I will just have to do my best impression of a turnstile and get my aisle mates in as fast as possible.

As I sit there pondering who will be sitting next to me I realize it is like a game of Russian roulette. You know it, everyone who has been on a plane knows it. The bullets are fat people and kids and we all desperately want to dodge them. How many times have you been in your seat and you spot a 300lb man, walking sideways down the aisle, and you begin to panic. As you look at the middle seat open next to you. Praying. Dear god. Not him. He slows as he approaches your row, looks at your open seat. Looks at you and then CLICK! He walks on by. You won that round of Russian roulette. Someone else got the bullet!

The flip side of the Russian roulette game is the hot girl lottery. Or hot guy lottery depending on your preferences. Well wait. If there are any millennials reading this your preferences could float to all sorts of LGBTQ binary, non binary whatever, no judgement. Whatever floats your boat. But you get the idea. When you see one of them coming down the aisle you begin to preen like a peacock. Sit up straight. Straighten your shirt. Smile. Make eye contact. If you are flying Southwest Airlines (one of my least favorites because of this exact thing. You are literally dancing the dance hoping to entice them to sit next to you. When they avoid your eye contact. Looking up. Looking down whatever so as to not notice you trying to sell them on the seat next to you. It’s too much rejection. Hey if I want to be rejected by a hot girl. Let me do it the proper way by asking her out and getting turned down. I don’t need that experience 10 times in a row while waiting to take off. ). However, on AA it’s predetermined by the seating gods. Will she sit next to me or not does not depend on my salesmanship. She is stuck w me regardless! That doesn’t mean I don’t want to look good and make a good first impression! So back to my primping and preening as I see a very attractive girl coming down the aisle.

I try and make eye contact with the attractive young lady, but she is too distracted with her 3 carry on bags to see me. I shall overlook her 3 carry on bags sin because as we all know pretty girls get leniency on all rules. She is slowing. There is a chance! She looks over at the seat next to me and points! I have won the lottery! The seating gods have rewarded me! My Uber hell has been rectified. I’m going to spend 3.5 hrs sitting next to the hottest girl on the plane! As she struggles to get her 2 bags into the overhead bin I notice no one helps her. I stand up. Chivalry time. I lift the bag wedge it in there somehow and politely wave her by me into her seat. She slides past me, as I hold my stomach in trying to stand as tall as possible, and I notice she still has a bag in her hand. It’s a rather large bag to be wedging under a seat. I look down at it and to my horror realize. She is carrying a fucking dog!

She has broken too many rules! No matter how hot she is I have received the fools gold of the seat lottery! She is the Venezuelan Bolivar of currencies. A $100,000 bill and its worth $1! Well, maybe she will be nice and her dog will sleep??

God I hope so.

As I approached the TSA checkpoint my luck was looking up. The precheck line was empty! I love the TSA. As a pilot I can tell you it is an absolute facade. 20 people standing around, one “highly trained” professional watching a screen and 19 others doing god knows what. I saw an FAA study where they were able to sneak something onto an aircraft with like a 90% success rate. As I always say, if you want something done right let the government do it!

But today I was happy for their “efficiency”, not to mention that I was probably 100% over my allotted capacity of liquids. But hey who cares about that? Certainly not them. I breezed right through.

The airport was packed. Holiday travelers were everywhere. There are few things more enjoyable in life than people watching and an airport is one of the best spots for it. If you pay close attention you can see the spectrum of human existence. The kid traveling home from college, the businessman trying to get to his next meeting. The family going to visit grandma. The lovers going on holiday. The church group going on a mission. The mourners and the celebrators. They are all there together. Occupying both ends of the spectrum in the same place simultaneously. Lastly if you look hard you will see the escapee, the lost soul trying to find themselves somehow somewhere (saw that guy in the bathroom mirror).

As I had so efficiently moved through TSA I now found myself with extra time. I decided to find a great seat facing the mad rush. Perfect observation deck for the human parade. Now if they would throw some beads at me it would be a proper parade! But alas they all shuffle by talking, rushing, texting or internet surfing. Not a single bead to be had! As all these people move about frantically to and fro something hits me. Where the hell did all these dogs come from?

When I began traveling, uhm a FEW years ago, you might fly 20 flights before you would ever see a dog and it was a legit seeing eye dog. You know a ahighly trained canine that could guide a person through an entire city. (On a side note I had a friend in college that had gone blind and had one of these dogs. One of the most amazing animals I had ever seen. So smart. Would walk him to all his classes and just lie there quietly until time for his next class. I bet it could have done better on some of the tests than my classmates. Anyways he didn’t lose his eyesight until he was already an adult and he had an old drivers license. He showed it to a girl in class, wanting to prove to her that he had one once and that he knew how to drive. She looked at it. Looked at the dog. Looked at him. Looked at me. And then asked in all seriousness, “I don’t get it. How does the dog know which car is yours and find it in the parking lot?” I love that story. I still laugh about it all these years later). But back to the point at hand. Where did all these “service animals” come from. I mean I don’t think buffy’s 4 lb chihuahua is doing much of anything other than barking and looking ridiculous on his leash w his pink rhinestone collar. They even have a dog park in the terminal. It was packed. All sorts of useless animals barking at each other. I just kept wondering when did it become ok for me to pay good money for a plane ticket to listen to your dog whine and bark for 3 hours? I guess people just don’t care anymore. Selfishness has taken over everything.

On that note I think I will throw out a refresher on Airport/airplane etiquette because clearly many need a refresher. Let’s start with the airport.

First. don’t take your damn dog to your friends for a weekend trip. Your friend doesn’t want it there. The 200 people on your plane don’t want it there. The dog doesn’t want that stress. It’s called a kennel, look it up.

Second. walk to the right. What are we all British? If you are walking directly at someone carrying their 4 carry on bags. Go to the right!

Third. when you approach TSA in a long line, be ready. Take off your shoes and belt. Ladies take off the 20 metal accessories you are wearing. Take eveything out of your pockets! Get your computer out and pay attention. When the agent says move. Move! Remember though you may have plenty of time the guy behind you may be rushing to make his flight in hopes of getting home to see his dying parent before it’s too late and missing his flight because you are too lazy to be prepared is unacceptable.

Fourth, when occupying airport seats. Your bags do not need a seat of their own. Nothing like watching someone sit there listening to their music, legs hanging over one seat, bags on another and a little old lady has no where to sit in the waiting area. She can’t walk to the next gate. Decency people.

Lastly, When they call group one. It does not mean everyone move the the gate and clog up the entry. This one will always perplex me. We will begin boarding does not mean let’s all make a mad rush to the rope barrier. It means be orderly people.

Now on to the confined space we all have to share. The airplane.

First, Do not and I cannot say this enough. Do not bring stinky food in the damn plane!! I’m sure your grandmothers home made kim chee is amazing but smelling it for the rest of us is literally hell. If you are going to eat it. Don’t smack your lips. Don’t slurp it up and for the love of god don’t lick or suck on your fingers!! It is worse than fingernails on a chalk board!

Second. Don’t carry on five fucking bags. I know the gate agents can be lax sometimes, but that does not give you license to carry your entire apartment with you. One bag. One purse/backpack/briefcase. That’s it! You don’t need the kitchen sink. There is a sink on the plane.

Third. When you are boarding pick up your bag and carry it down the aisle. If you have two many please refer to 2! Nothing more enjoyable than walking behind your ass trying to figure out the physics of a bag 6” too wide to drag down the aisle on its wheels. I know it doesn’t roll sideways. That’s why you pick it up!!

Fourth. When you reach your aisle. Step in. Lift your bag into the overhead and sit down. Don’t stand and chat w your kids. Don’t ask your wife to grab your coat. Sit down. You can get it when we take off. Preferably on time Because you sat down.

Fifth. What the hell ever happened to chivalry? When you see a woman trying to lift her bag up and struggling. Standing there w a stupid look on your face does nothing. Pick up her bag. I see this one more and more these days. Did no one teach most millenial men that you can still be chivalrous? Or even how to be? No wonder studies show millenial women date older men because men their age have no idea how to be a man. Wait, on second thought just stand there and look dumb. I will lift her bag.

Sixth. Seat etiquette. Window seat you lean towards the window. Aisle seat you lean towards the aisle. Poor soul in center seat sits straight and gets both armrests! As for reclining if it’s a short flight. Don’t. Long flights. It’s acceptable. When you get out of your seat. Do not grab the seat back in front of you. Who loves getting yanked backwards at breakneck speed? No one! Lift yourself up using the arm rest. Seat back tables, open it softly and deploy it by hand. Flicking the latch and letting it drop like the mic after a rap battle is not cool.

Seven. Shoes. They are to remain on your feet at all times. And don’t wear sandals or flip flops. We don’t want to see your foot fungus, crazy ass toenails or smell whatever the hell died in your shoes. If you have a long flight and want to take off your shoes bring a pair of sleeping socks!

Eight. Snorers. If you are a snorer and know it, don’t take an ambien on a long flight. Few things are more annoying than listening to 10 hrs of a chainsaw.

Nine. Speaking of annoying. Talkers. Ever heard of an inside voice? If you want to gossip for the next 5 hrs that is fine. Just do it a a decibel level that doesn’t carry 20 rows.

Ten. Kids. I understand they are kids. Do your best. I hear bennadryl works wonders. Bring ear plugs and hand them out around you if the kid starts screaming.

Eleven. Kindness, Respect and empathy. Remember we are all on this little tiny cylinder together. Think of your seat mate and the others on your plane. They aren’t you. They may not like all the same things. Come to think of it. That pretty much translates to the world outside the plane as well. Can someone please pass that message on to my ex wife??

Now that we have established our simple etiquette and common decency rules. Let’s get moving. Plane is boarding and i already see the mass forming at the gate! Good thing most of them only have 3 carry ons!

Onto the next step. Flying time!

Get Outlook for iOS

As my triumphantly won uber ride made its way to the airport, Richele had one more surprise in her. She again looked at me in the mirror and asked “You going to the airport? You traveling somewhere?” Surmising that my destination and luggage were not sufficient evidence of this fact to her, I looked up and stated blandly “yes”.

Now normally I’m a very talkative Uber passenger, but this ride was different. I was starting a journey of excitement, adventure and enjoyment and Richele had put me off on the wrong foot. I just wanted to get to the airport unscathed. I did not want to journey down the rabbit hole that was her life. Maybe, if I was a bit short and rude with my response, she would get the hint and just drive. Not a chance!

She again looked at me and began talking “you like to fly?” I shrugged a little and threw out my most put off “sure”. Hoping she would get the hint, stop looking in the mirror at me, and stay focused on the road! Her driving, vision, hearing and attention skills were already highly suspect. Could she navigate, talk and be trusted not to get us lost or kill us? I was doubtful.

She continued “I don’t fly, it’s too dangerous. Planes crash. People get sucked out of them. Sometimes they dissapear. Terrorists want to blow them up! Nope, not me. I’m staying on the ground where it’s safe!” As she finished her statement, she again looked to me in the mirror. Now I always appreciate good eye contact in a conversation, but dear lord. Not from my driver! Besides, my attention and eyes were focused intensely on the yellow light ahead.

Holy shit. She didn’t see it! It would be very red by the time we got there. I knew it. She was distracted! All I could think was “I’m gonna get T boned on the way to the damn airport! I didn’t have to worry about a plane crash. I was a goner two miles from my house!”

As I processed my impending death I reached up, pointed and exclaimed “red light. Red light. RED LIGHT!” It made no difference. She was not about to stop looking in the mirror at me wondering what my response would be to her profound statements about aviation safety. We blew through the red. She never even slowed down.

As I looked back at the crossing traffic,now In the intersection we just blew through, I began to wonder if i had entered some new level of hell i was unaware of. The dreaded 8th level of hell. Uber hell. Maybe I hadn’t awoken that morning with the new found super power of invisibility. Maybe I never awoke at all?? Did I pass away in my sleep only to transition to this hell? Was I to live an eternity in a 10 yr old Accord with grimy, dirty seats and 300 lb demon as my assigned tormentor?

At this point every nice bone in my body was gone. I had just escaped them alll being crushed by mere seconds. I had to say something. In my best forceful voice i calmly stated ”can you please focus on the road, i would like to not run any more red lights!” To which she deadpanned back “what red light?” She never even saw it!

Mercifully we only had a few more miles to go and no more lights! Somehow she managed to navigate us unscathed to the proper terminal. I almost didn’t wait for her to stop before I got out. I even pondered the old tuck and roll, but thankfully I didn’t need it. She stopped. I slid out, bag in hand,and I was free! I had escaped the 8th level of hell!

As I walked into the terminal, I wondered if there was a support group for victims of Richele? Where they slowly reintroduce you to the dirty back seat of a similarly faded gold Honda. You start by opening the door. Then putting a foot in and immediately pulling it out. Cold sweat down your back. Flashbacks taking over! Staff members that had been through it, softly telling you it will be alright. You can get two feet in next time!! I would have to look at that when I got back. But for now onto the next step. I had TSA, 20 hrs of flying, two airlines, three airports, Customs, immigration a hotel and South East Asia waiting!

Half way around the world by tomorrow. So why not!

Every journey starts with that most important first step. The step out the door. Mine took me into the brisk, Texas winter evening. It wasn’t a huge step. Only to the curbside. But I arrived there excited, brimming with anticipation. The long journey ahead occupied my mind fully. So many variables. So many places to get to. The logistics were incredible and daunting. But I will share w you a lesson I learned long ago. The journey is never what you think. You rarely arrive anywhere unscathed, ontime and well pressed. This journey would be no different, but I would enjoy it no matter what!

As I tracked my inbound Uber I had no doubt that Richele and her late model Honda Accord would easily deliver me to the next step. I saw her approach. I made eye contact with her, I smiled, she smiled and drove right on by!

Did she not see me? How many other people were standing curbside bags in hand?! I guess she could have been distracted by the traffic. I did see a car pass by a few minutes earlier. Perhaps it had distracted her? So I stood there and watched her drive off as my Uber app mocked me, telling me my driver was arriving now!

I watched her avatar get further and further away. No doubt proceeding around the block for another pass! This time I Was sure she would see me. I would stand closer to the road and waive at her to get her attention.

I needed to assure I would get her attention. The evening was cold and damp and standing curbside in it was not the most enjoyable activity. I pondered my waive techniques. I could go with the “welcome to Costco, I love you” waive of idiocracy fame or I could go with the Forest Gump on his boat greeting Lt Dan waive.

Forest Gump it is! Now I didn’t want to look like a retard standing there waiving, Because everyone knows you never go full retard, but I was going to seriously commit to this waive. As I saw her avatar coming around, I inched closer to the curb. As she approached I committed! It was no Queen Elizabeth in a carriage waive. It was two arms frantically flailing, I’m about to jump off a boat, waiving. I was confident a passing airplane could see me!

Oh no! My worst fears, I saw another car coming the other way! Sure, it was a quarter mile away, but she had already proven she was unable to handle a distraction. Would this hurt my chances? No, she would see me. I waived harder, i flailed more after all it was getting cold and starting to rain.

Unbelievably, she failed to see my best Forest Gump and drove right on by! Now I was starting to wonder. Was I somehow invisible? Had I woken up with a new super power I was unaware of? Sure that would be excellent if I were at the Ms Universe Pagent, but not while standing on the side of the road trying to catch an Uber.

Speculation of my new super powers aside, I began to question her eyesight. Was she related to Mr Magoo? (For those of you too young to know him. It’s called google.) Surely she had to have some sort of eye exam to be qualified as an Uber driver?

As I, again. watched her Uber avatar pull further and further away I decided to do the one thing that is most dreaded. I decided to call her. No one wants to call their Uber driver. It is one of the least enjoyable activities I can think of , but I had no choice.

Ring……ring……. ring…… ring. “Hello I ain’t available leave me a message”!! Are you kidding me. Was she not only blind but she also deaf? Is my Uber driver some sort of EEOC hire where you have to fill a quota and they hadn’t hired enough blind, deaf drivers? I had no choice. Next time around I had to really commit. I mean lay down In the road, throw myself in front of her style.

As her avatar rounded the block I moved myself and my bag into the road. She was going to stop or Uber was going to have a death on their hands. As her late model accord sped towards me at a breathtaking 20mph or so I saw it. A car following her!’ Oh no! Would she be too distracted by the car a quarter mile behind her? Would she be so worried about it in her mirror that she would run me over? It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to let my journey half way around the world end on my front curb. I went for it!!

I threw myself into the street, employing my best Forest Gump waive, doubling down on my previous plan. Thankfully, just then she looked at me and slammed on the brakes! Thank you baby Jesus. She stopped!

Cold, damp and out of breath, I tossed my bag into her car and triumphantly slid into the seat. As she accelerated towards the airport she looked back at me and ,dead serious, said “you know next time you order an Uber you should try and signal them as they pass!”

Get Outlook for iOS

Life is always challenging. Every time you think you have it figured out, it proves you wrong. It recently demonstrated to me that not only did I not have it figured out, but that I wasn’t even in the neighborhood.

Though i may have been drastically wrong about certain aspects in my life, I have always been right about one thing. That life is short and you have no excuses for not doing everything within your power to enjoy it. To go and see. To experience and learn. When life decides to do a drive by on your reality why sit around in your own depression? You can walk down the block. You can take a drive. You can meet a friend. You can literally be half way around the world tomorrow! There is just so much out there. Life is short but the world is endless.

That being said I have always been an adventurer. A traveler. I have been blessed to have had many great experiences. Recanting those adventures has always been a staple with my friends and family. They always enjoy my story telling. Or at least they tell me they do!!

I am by no means a writer. In fact most of my English teachers and writing professors would probably tell you an untrained, drunken monkey could hammer out a better story than I could! Guess what? They aren’t here and I’m not being graded! This wonderful medium with 500 million professional everything’s, known as the internet, allows me to say any damn thing I want! No one has to read it or enjoy it, well except my mother. She will always read anything I write. I think that is required somewhere in mom school? I’m positive she still chuckles to herself deep down when she thinks of some of the stories i wrote as a kid. Sort of that “when I read his stories I just thanked the lord he was good at math” type thing.

Regardless of my writing prowess, I am going to write this blog for the voice in my head. That dude never shuts the hell up! He drives me crazy! No, not the “I should mail bombs to people” crazy. The “psst hey!! It’s 4 am what’s going on?” Type crazy.

In a lot of ways I hope no one reads it. It won’t be politically correct and it won’t be well written. It will however be adventurous, fun, drunken and laden with rants and randomness and it hopefully will give that 4am voice some peace and quiet.

So mom, proceed with caution!