This trip is getting funny. Last night I checked
into a hotel (Soohaa and Ulfhednar from the board were unable to meet up with me
at the airport but I did talk to Ulf on the phone), messed around a bit on the
Internet, and went to bed. This morning I had a voice mail message from Carolyn
at National Headquarters, asking me if we all had our Red Cross ID cards. So I
called her back and found out... Wee ja! This weekend they are expecting
protestors against the IMF (the International Monetary Fund or whatever; those
people who are always getting violent about the World Bank) in DC, so we'll need
ID cards to enter the neighborhood because of security.
Got to the airport; found John drunk
and Ray sitting around, and ensured they both had ID cards. John threw his new
one away, but he had one from the 1960's, in which he looks like the guy who
killed Kennedy. Good enough for me.
Let's see... called Carolyn; confirmed
we all have ID cards (didn't mention John's is from 1960-something, but oh
well), and also talked to Sheila about the assignment to Fort Drum. I think
that's all taken care of. We'll talk more about it this weekend. She also
promised to try to find me a bottle of mead if I'll give her my blue Red Cross
polo shirt, and if so will leave it at the hotel for me.
In the air on the way to Atlanta right
now, and hopefully while I'm there will be able to get all these damn entries
posted.
Hope everybody''s doing well;
leave me comments and let me know.
Oh
wait! I forgot to talk about John falling in love at the airport. Apparently
while he was belly-up to the bar, he met a blonde. Former Air Force, now
medically discharged. They apparently shared the love of the terminally drunk,
and she asked him to run away to Connecticut with her. Oh yeah, and they kissed
and stuff. The moral of this story? If you're drunk and in an airport, you can
get some even if you're 65 years
old.
He then followed me to get lunch
at a little food court thing, and sadly thought he could keep up with my
appetite. So he told the person at the counter he'd have the same thing as me
-- 2 chicken sandwiches, 4 chicken tenders, and a huge bag of chili cheese
fries. Sadly, most of his went into the trash. Happily, one sandwich of mine
is still in my backpack because the plane got called. mmmm....
sammidges...