Monthly Archives: August 2006

Thanks for a whole lot of nothing.

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Thank you, everyone at work, for making today go as smoothly as possible.

I know I sent out countless emails last week letting you know that certain parts of the System would be down today and that there was nothing I, or anyone in the building could do about it.

And still you called. You called me all day. You asked me questions that had already been answered time and again. You assumed that I had some super secret special access that did not exist and acted lilke petulent children when I told you that, like the laws of physics, some things can not be changed.

Some of you pouted, some of you got angry, some of you were merely confused.

All of your questions were already answered. Answered on Thursday or Friday. But you didn’t read those emails. You admitted as much in exactly those words. And you laughed about it, as if I write informational emails simply because I have nothing better to do.

So thanks, coworkers for making today a finely coreographed waltz of….  naahhh, fuck it…

It was a mosh pit of ignorance, a conniption fit of I-want-it-my-way now.

Even when your way simply wasn’t possible.

And you should have known that.

Girls Gone Wild: Route 100 & BW Parkway Edition

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Sometimes, as you’re driving to work and still half-asleep, you imagine things that may or may not have happened. Did I just run that red light? Did I just cut that guy off? I did remember to turn off the iron before I left the house, right?

Today, however, was a little different.

As I pulled in to a parking place at work I thought, “Was that the Girls Gone Wild bus parked out on the street? Turns out it was. There were, however, no girls (wild or otherwise) in sight. Apparently the GGW crew travels in style. If by style you mean ‘a skeevy-looking winnebago with an overnight at the finest Red Roof Inn that Hanover, Maryland has to offer.’

Weird.

My bag travelled more than I did.

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In what I’m sure will come as no surprise, the flights out and back went absolutely fine.

I travelled extremely light, as far as carry-ons go. Normally, I have my shoulder bag filled with all manner of magazines, books, my shaving kit, and whatever-else. This time though, for efficiency’s and simplicity’s sake, I packed it all in the checked bag and walked on the plane with my nerdy book about Rome. That was it.

Served me fine on the way out and the way back. I read some and napped some and everything went smooth as an appropriate analogy.

Until we got back to Baltimore.

And they told us our bags were in Charlotte.

Our bags. Were in Charlotte.

In fact, every bag that should have been on our plane went to Charlotte. This wasn’t a complicated flight – no crazy connections. It orginated in St. Louis and ended in Baltimore. Literally, the baggage handlers from American Airlines put our bags on a Charlotte-bound plane and their bags on our plane. Nice move.

All is well; I drove over to the airport at lunch and picked up our bags. They took a scenic detoir through Dallas, but we have them now and that’s that.

Still though, it was wierd to leave the airport last night with nothing but an 800 number and a promise that we’d see our bags soon – promise.

And now? Now it’s home to change and then over to Golden West for some half-price burgers. And beer. Lotsss of beer.