This is why you read this stuff

Beep Beep Beep.

It’s Monday, let’s go to NJ.
I got out of the house with little fanfare and was on the road before 5:30. I rolled up to RDU and observed that the parking deck was less full than usual. Applying logical thinking, I figured this trip would be easier than last week’s.


5:55 AM:
I got up the escalator and saw that the security queue was about half full. It was going to add 10 minutes to the adventure, but I was OK. I walked past the usually-teeming US Air counter. Delta was also packed. This piqued my interest. Delta’s never crowded like this. I kept walking and saw the mass of humanity that was Continental. Oh boy. Looking at my watch, I figured that even if things went crappily, I’d still have time.

I was wrong. Checking in (and blocking the whole situation) were 4 families. 2 of them white folk, 1 set of Koreans and 1 set of Chinese people. Among all of them; 14 words of English and Zero time spent in airports. They had the whole thing screwed up. One family of 4 had to have 12 bags. I could not understand. The 2 women behind me started arguing about the line and where they should or shouldn’t be. After a few minutes of this, I turned around and showed them my boarding pass.

“Do you have these printed?”
(Looking at me like I’m a alien) No.
OK…it’s easy. When you get to the kiosk, just type in your confirmation number and it does all the rest.
Can we go there (pointing at the large Blue Rug emblazoned with “Elite Access” and the sign that says “Elite Access/First Class Only”)
Not unless you’re in First Class. Are you?

They kept arguing about the big blue rug and why they should or should not be allowed to use it. Finally, one wandered off to seek help.

I finally checked in and headed back to security. The line was moving, so it wasn’t horrible…at first.

I got to the check in and grabbed my 2 gray plastic bins that hold your laptops and shoes and loose items while they go through X-ray. Now, the bins are known to kinda stick together. They stack tightly, so I think a little suction forms that you have to break to separate them. So, when you grab them, you have to give them a few seconds to loosen or else you’ll end up dragging a 4-foot tall stack of bins. I grab my 2 and wait a beat for them to loosen. A hand reaches out from behind me and grabs the bins and starts wrestling them away from me. I spin around and this weird looking dude is there. He barks at me “One or two?” I tell him I need 2 and kinda pull them back, and clutch them close to my body; they’re my bins after all. I kick off my shoes, put them in one bin and put the laptop in the other. While I’m doing this, he keeps like pelvic thrusting against me. It made me feel icky.

I get through the screen and hurry to the gate. As I arrive, half the plane is already boarded. I walk on the plane and start yet another chapter in this adventure.

I had my favorite seat; 14F. This is the one that has no seat in front of it because it’s in an exit row. I sit down and plop my bag at my feet. I grab my magazines and mp3 player and am ready to push it forward to the seat in front of me (In row 11 (there is no 13) (There’s a gap in front of me of about 4 feet))

At this moment a guy sits in 12E (middle seat of the row in front mf me (He’s got no seat to his right). He plops his bag down and slides it under 11F (In front of him and to his right).

“I’m sorry sir; I need to put my bag in there”
(blank stare)
“I’m sorry…but my bag needs to go there (pointing at the space under 11F)
(Blank stare)
(Irritation rising in my voice) “My bag (points)…That seat (making a sliding motion)”
“You mean you need to put it there or you want to put it there?”
“Excuse me?”
“You want to put it there or you need to put it there?”
(Oh yea…it’s go time, my friend)”Well, it is where I am supposed to put my bag”
“Well, you can’t”
“Excuse me?”
“You know…what it is going to take to make you happy”
“Sir, on this the finest of Mondays, whatever makes you happy will make me happy”
“Well with that tone, I’m not letting you put your bag anywhere”

All the while the Mewardess (Male Stewardness) is looking on in mild horror. I just look him dead in the eye and start reading SI. The guy in front of me spends the next 5 minutes muttering to himself.

“You think you can put your bag there. I’m in an exit row; I can put my bag wherever I want. I’m gonna show you where my bag goes” And so on.

I was fully prepared to be scolded by the flight crew. I had my answer all planned. “His bag is under the seat where mine goes. Please have him move his bag and everything will be fine”

Finally, he gave up the fight and moved his bag.

Now, I love my backpack. It took me years to find it. One of the great things about it is that it has a lot of back padding; it makes it a very sturdy bag. As an added bonus, it slides very well. Since I sit in 14F a lot, I know exactly how hard to kick it to get it to perfectly slide into place under 11F.

He no sooner moved his feet when the bag shot through the open spot on the floor and nestled under the seat. He recoiled in chock at the sight of the bag whizzing by.

Does stuff like that happen to other people or is it only me? I mean, come on. This all was happening at 6:45AM. That’s too damn early for anything.

We took off and all was well. I even dozed a little bit.

We got to EWR and my luggage too forever to come. I got it and caught the monorail to National.

I walked down the aisle, looking for a car with XM. I couldn’t find one. I grabbed the next car I saw and loaded my crap. I sat down, got ready and tried the key. Nothing. The car was dead.

I unpacked and found another car. Same thing.

I got a 3rd car, left the lot and checked out.

No sooner than I pulled out and got up to about 20MPH, the car made a horrible sound. It was like a body was being dragged under it. I gave it a few more yards and determined I had to go back. Hanging an incredibly illegal U-Turn, I went back to return the car.

“Hi…I just rented this car literally 1 minute ago and it’s making a bad sound”
(Blank stare)
The car’s not working right
Did you rent it?
Yes…and I just hung a U-Turn to come back
Did you leave the lot?
Yes…and now I’m back.
We can’t help you. You have to go inside


I unload the car and walk to the desk. Now, it’s a good walk to get back to the office. I go inside and tell my story.

“Well, do you have new keys?”
Why would I have new keys? The guy outside sent me here.
Oh…you need new keys?
As in select a new car?
Yes…did he not tell you that?
Well, I don’t have the keys to the new car with me, do I?


I walked off with my stuff and grabbed the fist car I could find.

I got back to the office in time to wait behind a family from Japan who was trying to rent a car…with a Japanese driver’s license. Having rented them a car, the lady helped me again. I got my paperwork done and went back to my new car…and walked past a line of XM-equipped cars.


I drove up here and today, apparently, was “Follow the Speed Limit Day in NJ”. It was unnerving.

But I’m here and I can’t wait to see what happens to me next.

Again, it’s my life. You get to watch it.

The Gods (or I) must be crazy

Well played, Travel Gods. Well played indeed.

Just when I thought the luck and good karma I had developed last week in Boston and Philadelphia had maybe opened up a new door of opportunity for me, you reminded me who’s really in charge.

See, folks, the Travel Gods always win. I can’t really complain about this morning’s trip to EWR, we left on time and even arrived a little early, but I was reminded nearly every step of the way who makes the rules to this game.

5:55 AM: I arrived at RDU for my 6:55 flight. I’d gotten my typical spot in section 3U and all seemed well. I went up the escalator to the main level and saw something a man should not have to see at such an hour; a security line at RDU.

Normally, I need all of 10 minutes to clear security at RDU. There’s no line downstairs and usually the upstairs line has about 20 people in it. (Side note: I’m having a very hard time typing on my laptop today. This is not going well at all). Well, the entire queue area downstairs was filled and the line was spilling down the concourse towards the baggage claim. If this were EWR, things would be fine. I allow a week and a half to get through security up here. In Raleigh, I allow about 10 minutes. So, I checked in and got on the line. It was a little after 6:00 by now. Unless things went well, I could potentially be cutting it very close to board the plane.

Fortunately, this was just a tease from the Gods and I was through security and re-shoed by 6:35. I had time to walk to the gate and take in the scene. And what a scene is was. For some reason, the flight had an abundance of foreigners on it; foreigners who had never been to an airport before. A particular group of Chinese men were blocking the entrance to the Jetway and just fucking up the whole boarding process.

It was finally my time to board, and I started down the ramp. I got on the plane and it was packed. There was nary an inch of overhead space to be found. Anyone want to know why? Because our plane had 5 life rafts. They were in the overhead bins. I was happy knowing that I could have used one of the rafts in the event that we found ourselves flying over the mountains of India (stay with me people, this is a Temple of Doom reference) with Kate Capshaw and Data from the Goonies.

I found a space to shove my laptop bag into and disturbed the 2 idiots already seated and buckled into my row. Morons.

I got in my seat and noticed that the 3 Chinese Nationals were directly in front of me; yelling at each other in Chinese. Then, I was nearly rendered unconscious. The man next to me (also of foreign descent) must have been smuggling a dead cat under his jacket. I can’t think of any other reason why he would have smelled so bad. This was the kind of odor that you could taste. It was thick. And, the plane had shut off the air system, so things were getting stuffy. I tried to sit as close to the window as possible and stay far away from the stink cloud. Again, the Gods were sending a message.

We took off and got underway.


The dude in front of me slammed his seat back into my lap. Then he raised it. Then he lowered it. Then he raised it. I could go on repeating those 2 sentences for an hour, or you could imagine what it was like. For the next 65 minutes this guy kept rocking back and forth. Usually during the up swings, Mr. Stinky would lean over towards me and envelop me in his foulness. I’d say it’s an hour and a half that I want back, but I get the feeling that’s not happening any time soon.

So, here I am in NJ. The crew is crabby. It’s a lot of fun for the whole family.

I never saw the movie “48 Hours”, but it had to be more fun than this


The alarm sounded, and I’m pretty sure I was still drunk. This was bad. I was in for an epically bad day.

Somehow, I showered and got dressed. I all but crawled downstairs to the classroom. AG was on the scene and we just kinda looked at each other and laughed. We exchanged a lot of “Did that seriously happen” and more laughs. I tried to nurse some water and wanted to go back to bed or die. Either would have been better. JN appeared, also looking like shit, and we gave him “The Nod”. He refused to say anything about what happened after we all left the room. He’s a smooth customer.

Before we started, one of the trainers came up to me and asked how her “Favorite overachiever” was doing. I guess my kickass presentation from the day before had wowed her. I told her that she really didn’t know me all that well because I was no overachiever.

Class started and something was said. I think it was about the type of work that I do. After the session, we split into teams for a quick exercise and presentation. Of course, because we were working in my “area of expertise”, I had to lead the team. I crawled into another room and tried my best to lead a meeting. AG and the infamous JP were in the room along with 2 of our older coworkers. The 3 of us were mostly dead. AG and I were the only ones who seemed to have a vague grasp on what was going on. I get the feeling that had I been alive we would have had a great presentation. We threw together some notes and went back to the main room.

AG looked at me and asked “Do you want to present”

Me: Dude…I can’t even stand up right now.

AG did a good job on the presentation and I chimed in with additional comments from under the table. I had crawled up into a ball and was shaking.

We had another session I think. By now, I was burping and farting a lot and had the shakes. It was not a good morning.

Lunchtime mercilessly came and I made my way to my room. I took off my pants, nearly crapped myself, and took a nap for 40 minutes. I woke up feeling a little better. I went back downstairs, ate something and went back to class. I was able to participate this time and annoy the presenters with my thoughtfully crafted question. M also annoyed the presenters, but mostly by asking things like “WHY DO TREES HAVE LEAVES?” (All CAPS because he yells a lot).

Then, 3:00 came. It was Partay time!

Mind you, it was about 38 degrees outside and apparently pouring. A major storm was in the area. So, what do you do with a meeting room full of people? You take them on a small, poorly ventilated bus and drive them to downtown Boston and abandon them! That’s what you do.

The bus ride was torture. We got to the city and were dropped near Quincy Market. I needed some air and to stretch my legs. M insisted on following me around. I did all I could to ditch him, but he was relentless. He kept asking questions like “WHY DOES THERE HAVE TO BE SO MUCH RED SOX STUFF?” and “ARE YOU BUYING ANY SOUVENIRS?” and “WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF PICKLE?” I was cold and wet and doing all I could to not shit in my pants.

I bought Shmuppie a little wooden lobster and made my way back to the drop point. We had a 90 minute trolley ride to take before dinner. This was epically bad. I guess Boston is nice, but I was trying not to crap. I’d let out a wee little pffft of a fart and hope no one died from the smell.

Trolley ride done, it was dinner time. We went to the Chart House. I was able to eat a little but the food sucked cock.

Then, it was awards time. I’m ashamed to say that I won an award and was again called an overachiever. See, we had to read all this shit and take a test before we got there. I convinced M to take the test. He failed, but sent me his answers and marked which ones he got right. Using the magical “find” feature in Acrobat, I found all the answers and aced the test. I was the only one to do so. Which means H is a dipshit because I sent him my answers and he somehow failed to ace the test. In fact, they’re all dipshits for not acing the test. The questions were pulled straight out of the reading. All you had to do was print the test and use the find feature to fill in the answers. So, I now have a $100 certificate to buy dinner in Rochester NY.

We went back to the college and my night got a lot better. And by better, I mean really bad.

I went to my room and logged into the American Airlines website to get my boarding pass. It didn’t work. I tried again. Nothing. It kept saying my flight wasn’t scheduled within 24 hours and I had to wait. I checked my papers.


I wasn’t scheduled to go home until Friday the 20th. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

I was in a panic. I needed to get home and knew the weather was destroying the airport.

I called American. They had nothing. I called the travel company who booked the meeting: closed. I called RedCompany travel: swamped with people trying to get flights that had been cancelled. There was no option to hit “7″ for “If you’re a fuck and booked your flight wrong”.

I went to Expedia and found a flight on US Air that would take me through Philly and get me to Raleigh at midnight. It was amazingly only $125. A quick check of the US Air website showed me the same flight for $500. I broke every travel rule at RedCompany and booked through Expedia. I had a flight, but the odds of me arriving home in one piece did not look good.

I still felt sick. This was to be a better day than Monday.

We had a little bit of classroom stuff in the morning. Then, we were to go back on the bus to Boston and the On Demand/AIM Tradeshow. The bus, again, was horrible. Not as bad though. I’d been able to eat breakfast and hold down some water, so I felt a little better. We arrived at the show and had 4 hours to walk around. M, naturally kept yelling at me about things like “HAVE YOU SEEN DIALOGUE YET?” “WHAT DO YOU WANT TO SEE?” “I SAW XM PIE”.

This is how the XM Pie discussion went:
Oh…what’s it do?
I know…what’s it do? I’ve heard of it.

At one point, H called me on my cell because he was looking for me. The call went this way:

H: Hey dickhead, where are you?
Me: I can see you.
Where are you?
Dude I can play this game for the rest of my life (I was ducked behind a pillar). Go to your left…no right…look up…no down…
Fuck you
This is more fun than anything else we’ve done all week
(He was about 12 feet from me so it made hiding all the more funner)

I wandered about, spent time at the RedCompany booth because I figured I should learn what my company does other than the obvious thing that you all know us for doing. I met some people who I’ve known only on the phone for a while, saw XM Pie and was blown away by it.

(Imagine being able to combine the design elements of Adobe InDesign with a powerful Variable Data Publishing engine. I mean…fuck…variable data elements being displayed as graphical elements with things like drop shadowing and texturing, not just as text. It’s stiffy time for me)

Anyway…back on the bus and back to Babson. We wrapped up and drove to Logan. I checked in and got to the gate at 5:00 for my 7:30 flight. It was still marked on time, so I had hope. I had a 1:42 connection in PHL. My only fear was that I really only had 1 hour of that time. US Air won’t let you connect if you’re inside a 40-45 minute window. I only had so much delay built into my schedule.

At about 6:30, they moved the flight back to 8:00. It was getting tight, but I’d be OK. At 7:45, they moved us to 8:20. I was nervous. I needed the following to happen: a timely boarding, a quick departure (no sitting in line at Logan), a quick flight, a cooperative group of passengers and a cooperative PHL. I needed a miracle.

We started boarding and it was chaos. People, as usual, had no clue. The gate agent’s scanner wasn’t working so he had to key everyone in manually. We finally got on the plane and took off within 15 minutes. It was 8:30 and we were airborne and headed south. I’d gotten through checkpoints 1 and 2 and looked almost OK. I slept for most of the quick flight and woke up on approach.

Now, don’t ask me now we landed north to south after having made 2 left turns. That would have implied that we flew northward to get from Boston to Philly. In any event, about 2 minutes before we landed, a woman was up in the aisle. The waitress ran to her and yelled at her to sit down.

For some odd reason, I had an empty seat next to me. I was in an exit row on the window. The aisle was taken and the middle was empty. So, this strange lady kinda flopped into the middle seat. She looked nearly dead, was clutching a fistful of napkins and a plastic bag. Aisle guy and I had a full conversation with our eyes.

Me: She’s got a bag and napkins
Him: I fucking know
Me: She pukes and I’m killing her
Him: DUDE!

We landed. It was 9:50. I quickly called US Air and heard that my RDU flight was delayed until 10:55. I had some time. Not much though. We got near the gate and stopped. “Hello and Welcome to PHL. Your gate is NOT ready” FUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

Now, before we landed, the waitress had asked all passengers who did not have connections to please remain seated so those who did (me) could exit quickly. We hit the gate and I sprang up. Barf lady was dead and Aisle guy let me out. A kindly man got my bag out of the overhead (it was a row behind me) and I got into the aisle. Ahead of me were a youngish woman (20 or so) and a middle-aged woman. First class emptied. Then, the 12 rows ahead of us all stood up and started unloading.

Young Girl: Oh no. I have 10 minutes
Me: (loud enough for only us to hear) Come on folks…let us off
Woman: I’m never going to make it
Me (to them): Want me to yell? I have a loud voice.
Them: (Looked horrified)
Me (To the entire plane) (In my stern voice): We have connections. If you don’t, can you please sit down and let us pass.
Nothing happened
Me: For the love of all humanity, can you all let us pass? We have tight connections.
Entire plane: Laughter.

And, like that, they all sat down.

The 3 of us bolted off the plane. It was 10:00. I was still OK, but the young chick was nervous. We were at gate B4. We had to get to the top of the terminal, cross to Terminal C, get to gate 16, get on a bus and ride to terminal F. As we took off, the lady lagged behind. I felt bad for a nanosecond. I dialed US Air again and checked the chick’s flight. She was also delayed, so we had a little time. I told her and we slowed our pace a bit.

So far, things had broken for me. I was able to put away all my hotel cards. I had been fully prepared to call Marriott, Hyatt and Hilton to try to find a room for the night. But, it looked like I was going home after all. I got to my gate, and waited a bit for the flight. H had gotten back to EWR, having “stood by” for an earlier flight. M Was in a later flight out into EWR.

Now, this is where the story turns on us.

What’s the one thing about this blog and me? Yes, I’m a dick. That’s it.

Watch this.

We board our tiny plane and take off. The guy next to me strikes up a conversation about Raleigh. He’s headed down for training. He mentions that he needs to get to the Hilton but the shuttle bus stops at 10. Folks, I volunteered to give him a ride. I mean, I pass the Hilton on the way home, so it wasn’t a big deal. But, I went out of my way to help someone. And, I had just helped the chick track her flight and guide her to Terminal F.

We got to RDU and I drove Matt the generator salesman to the Hilton. My rationale was thus: I’d gotten lucky when I booked the ticket and even luckier when everything broke for me. I was home. Sure, it was late, but I was home. I felt I owed the Travel Gods a sacrifice. It was the only decent thing to do. I got home at 1:05 AM.

So, here I am. I’m home and I’m still fucking exhausted. I head to NJ on Monday for a week of fun. I’m there the following week also. Good times for me.

Do you have the rest of the week? Let’s get started.

Where do I start? I guess the beginning is as good a place as any other.

I got to RDU for my 5:00 flight to Boston. I was confused on many levels. First off, it was light out when I was arriving at the airport. Seeing the airport in daylight is always unsettling to me. Similarly, because it was Saturday, a whole new crew was working. I know I’m sad on many levels. Add that I know the staff at RDU by face and sometimes name to the list. Plus, I was flying JetBlue, so that was an entirely new experience.

The flight up was fine. JetBlue rocks. The seats have extra legroom and have personal TV’s. So, I got to watch 2 episodes of The Most Dangerous Catch while sneaking peeks to my left where an old dude was watching the Sawks. We made great time going up, and were rewarded for our efforts with a half-hour stint on the tarmac waiting for a gate to clear. While sitting there, I saw the plane from Newark that was carrying M and H up for the week. We were supposed to meet up and head out to the site together.

We finally got off the plane and headed to baggage. They were waiting for me. 45 minutes and 3 separate baggage carousels later, I had my bag. Yay Logan Airport! We got to the car and promptly got lost at the airport. We made our way out to Wellesley and got lost several times. By some miracle, we found Babson College and got to the conference center.


H is 42 or so, and has spent like 20 years in printing. He’s, in his words “A fat Jew”. We get along very well and have since the start. We don’t behave well when we’re together.

M is also 42. M has one volume and it’s LOUD. He’s also an idiot who has no sense of the moment. It’s hard to describe, but he’s kinda like having a toddler with you. Albeit a grown toddler with an odd-shaped head. He’s annoying as all shit. Don’t quote me, but I think he may actually be retarded.

We arrive, get to our rooms and head straight to the bar. I am in need of drinks. We’re wandering the center looking for the bar and griping about how RedCompany gave us no itinerary or anything when someone walks up to us and says “RedCompany?” We introduce ourselves to Terry from Tampa and head for beer. Several beers and games of pool later, we trudged back upstairs. Class was in session, on a Sunday, at 8:00 sharp. Good times.


Class is in session. Whoopee. We got our agenda and saw that our presentation was right after lunch. Oh good. We were hoping for the following day so we could maybe think about preparing for it.

In advance of class, we’d been sent a buttload of work to do. We had a few hundred pages to read, a test to take, meetings to attend and a whole host of shit. I did very little of it. Actually, M took the test and forwarded me his answers. I went through it, corrected his errors and submitted a test with a perfect score (more on this to come). I wrote our presentation deck. H did nothing. He was happy about that.

We did some shit or another in the morning. Honestly, I can’t remember any of it because it was not at all applicable to what I do. I mean I have notes like this from Sunday:
“How do we drive color?”
“How do we get to do our jobs?”
“IW leads to specific things that need to change. This turns into a KEW -> BIA. This = $$ for RedCompany. KEW->BIA does not = a pilot”

Anyone got a clue what that all means?

We presented and I was awesome. I killed. My slides were awesome and I was awesome. The trainer tried to tell me I’d done things wrong. I told him he was wrong. He agreed.

We did something else, and then wrapped up.

This is where it all starts getting fuzzy.

We had a reception from 6-7. There were tubs of beer and wine. I had a few beers. We went upstairs to eat. We went back down to the reception room and saw that they were about to pack up. We went to grab a few more beers (because we didn’t have to sign for them) and the waiter-man said we could take as much as we wanted. Well, I eyed the huge plastic tub the beer was in, looked at H and we took it. One of the people in the group happened to have a room down in the basement level, so we took off with about 70lbs of beer and wine.

The remainder of the night was very strange. The mantra of the evening was “What happens in 101 stays in 101″. Well, I know you all like a rambling yarn.

Here’s what happened in 101.

In the room: Me, H, M (prone to yelling), JN (we were in his room), JP (the lone female), AG (From Tampa), CC (A guy who I knew from the fall) and SC (One of the presenters)

We got caught with the tub and had to return it. We filled JN’s sink with ice and beer. Realizing we lacked space, we filled his garbage can with ice and beer. We drank a lot. We griped that we were in town on a weekend.

After a while, CC and SC left. They had just flown in and were tired. This is where it got weird…and awesome.

JP started to bitch a lot about being there on a Sunday. In her words “Sunday is my fucking day. I get naked and I fuck all day long. I need to fuck.”

She then got out the Yellow Pages to find herself an escort, or dancer, or whore (not listed in the phone book in Wellesley MA by the way). She was serious. Deciding that we could not likely find an escort who took American Express, and that we could not likely expense the services, we went back to the drinking.

JP continued to bitch. She also got horny. She took off her sweater. In doing so, her tank top (no bra underneath) nearly came off. Someone commented that she was not wearing a bra and asked what kind of panties she had on: thong or bikini.

From this point forward, things really went downhill…Like, we all need more training from HR about how to behave when on company business.

AG, the comedian of the group, realizing where this was headed, just said “Hell, let’s ask the good question…Trimmed or not?”

JP: Shaved

Us all: (The “I can’t believe she just said that” face)

JP: I’ll show you.

Off went the pants.

Us all: (Same face) Several “Holy Shits” could be heard. JN was just sitting there, on his bed next to JP, with one of those “I’m getting laid” grins on his face.

JP put her pants back on (she was indeed shaven) and proceeded to tell us that on Sundays, she’s been known to fuck men or women. More of the “Oh shit” looks from the guys. And, again, that she needed to fuck….NOW!

Someone handed her an empty wine bottle and she humped it (pants on, but the effect was there). We were all astounded. This was Girls of RedCompany Gone Bad. After several more drinks and pelvic thrusts from JP, H and M left. I was not going anywhere. The show continued with her crawling around on the bed and cursing the phone book for not having an entry for Whores.

Finally at about Midnight, AG and I left. We gave JN the nod that guys give each other and wandered out into the hall. We just stood there and kept saying “Did that really happen? I mean…that happened, right?”

Now, did we behave like the idiots that a bunch of drunken people can? Yes. Did we perhaps take advantage of a very drunk young woman? Maybe. I’ll state that nobody touched her and it was her idea to take her pants off. We just watched. It was hilarious.

Tomorrow, I’ll talk about Monday.

I had the hangover that they modeled the term hangover off of.

For the 49 hours after I went to my room, I was punished in every way imaginable. I was punished for my sins. I have paid my penance and did nice things to strangers to make up for it.

It’s a good story.


I’m sitting in Logan Airport. Because I’m an idiot, I have to fly to Philly before I can go home tonight.

I’ve had quite a week. I have to come up with words for all t hat has transpired up here since late Saturday night.

I’m not entirely sure that what happened actually happened