Flying Again



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...

Gotta go!

Posted: Thu - April 22, 2004 at 03:10 AM          


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