Sitting in an airport terminal for two hours waiting for a connecting flight can be brutal. That is why I will record my thoughts in the form of this running blog to entertain myself.
Quick memory: My first flight to Minnesota made me realize that perhaps karma does indeed exist. After finding that someone was in my seat I asked to see the guy's ticket. Apparently this request was over the top because he became annoyed when he had to reach all the way in his pocket and pull out the ticket. Then, realizing that the airline had f'd up his seat and put him in mine at the last minute, his douchiness let fly. He began ranting to the flight attendant about the inherent unfairness of life, love and politics and that since I was probably still drunk from the night before (in the interest of full disclosure, I was NOT still drunk, really f'ing hungover, but not drunk) that I should have to move my seat. I stood there, amused at the whole situation and taking full advantage of his douchebaggery to endear myself to the (rather attractive) flight attendant by saying I would move my seat to make things easy. I knew somehow I would win in this when she told me to hang out with her in the food prep area until they calmed slapnuts down. Just so happens that the seat that opened up was first class. As I walked past the d-bag, I smiled and promptly crop-dusted him just for good measure.
(The greatest flight crew ever assembled)
5:35 - I just spent a good 20 minutes trying to pay for wireless access, capitalism at its best I tell you.
5:40 - Coffee has been secured, although i'm not sure why I want to be awake right now.
5:42 - I'd like to take a moment and thank God for my Ipod. Without it, I would be subject to crying babies, mindless banter from middle aged business women and probably stabbing my eardrums with a sharp pencil because the girl next to me is preparing to be the next reject Simon Cowell brings to tears on American Idol based on her musically induced
tourettes.
5:59 - I think Sean Salisbury is sitting across from me, ok maybe not, but even if it was Salisbury, I'd tell him to mind his own fucking business because its a computer and I'm pretty sure you've seen one before.
6:00 - Looking around here and seeing some of the people waiting for arrivals makes me wonder if
CSI: Minneapolis could work...
6:03 - I find it upsetting that Northwest Airlines can have "NWA" prominently displayed on all of their planes and I may be the only one to find this amusing.
To be fair, Ice Cube is probably pissed too.
6:05 - My bracket is totally f'd I'd like to thank espn, and especially, speaking of tourettes, Dick Vitale for f'ing me over on that one, although I don't know why I thought Dickie V was all of a sudden going to pull his head out of Coach K's crotch, but anyway...
6:08 - Observing my fellow passengers I'm convinced that the real threat to start the next civil war is Midwesterners. Southerners may be over the top, but if you so much as look at Jesus the wrong way these people are up your ass faster than strippers on
Pacman's rain display. This also makes me think that Colorado will be the first battle ground with the rednecks versus the godless
hippies in a battle for the Rockies. Why you may ask? Because Colorado is the place that gave you both the
tank guy and the
String Cheese Incident.
6:15 - I decide to check on my seat given the last debacle, apparently part of the desk job at the gate doesn't include helping customers, because the woman seemed shocked and annoyed at such a request.
6:17 - Just got back from a preemptive bathroom trip, thanks to Snakes on a Plane I freeze up like
Laura Bush at a dance club in plane bathrooms.
6:20 - Listening to some of the conversations, it strikes me at how uninformed many of our fellow citizens are. For instance, apparently the Senate and the House are not included in Congress, and that Barack Obama is the first african american to run for president. Seriously, stop talking from your ass, I don't think even
ESPN News can cure this phenomenon.
6:23 - Further listening to conversations makes me want to punch all self-aggrandizing middle managers in the face. No one cares what you do, you work in an office probably not unlike the one that employs
Peter Gibbons, no one cares that Bob from upstairs does not have the confidence to present the project in an effective manner and no one cares that you have completed your TST, AKA, FOB training faster than anyone has before. Bottom line, you are fungible, get over yourself Mrs. Samir Nada...nalha...not gonna work here anymore that's for sure.
6:30 - Time to board, hopefully this post was worth $7.49
Who the fuck cares. She doesn't play tennis anymore. She retired at 24. And I'm pretty sure if you don't watch tennis you wouldn't know her because her name isn't Anna or Maria. Sounds kind of like Columbus' fleet. 
Not only must you know yourself, and know enough to stay within yourself and not overthink your moves, but you must know your opponent what they have a propensity to throw, if they like to lead with say, paper, or if they're as surprised as anyone as to the shape their hand takes as "shoot" is called. (I could never understand those people who threw on "three" or "scissors" during the cadence, it just feels wrong). For those of you who are not familiar with the RPS hierarchy (more like a cycle), here it is.
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