Missing: one N8ivWarrior
I missed an entire day of blogging. How dare I! What could possibly draw my dedication to the Xanga community away? Work and travel. So, a little catch up.
Part 1: Leaving on a jet plane…
My wife (QueenSuchandSuch) dropped me off at the airport for my flight to Tampa. I am attended a work conference in Clearwater. The day started off well. I managed to get my e-ticket upgrade so I don’t have my knees in my throat and on top of that, it is in the first row…GOAL! It doesn’t happen often that I am in the front row, let alone the window seat.
I proceeded to my gate, B19 and waited for my plane to start boarding. About 15 minutes before we could board, a large amount of people appeared and started getting in line…to board my plane. Apparently, the Las Vegas flight was stealing out plane. The announcement came over the PA system, “For those of you waiting for your flight to Tampa, your gate has moved to B18.
B19, B18…close to each other right? Nope. As I started on my ¼ mile OJ Simpson run through the airport to my new and improved gate, I am a bit disappointed when I arrive. No plane. 10 minutes before takeoff, and there is no plane. I am thinking that is why the gamblers stole my plane.
So, I wait…and wait…and wait.
The plane pulls in 15 minutes after we were suppose to leave. As I am waiting for the plane, I notice there are little kids everywhere. Great…a plane full of kids. Then I notice one of the parents getting the bottle of children’s medicine out and begin to dose the kids. They look healthy…(the light bulb lights)…drugging the kids. Every family did it. I thought I was the only one to do that.
The plane begins to load (now 30 minutes late) and after the premier seating people take their seats, my group begins to load. Did I mention first row window? I am still a little miffed about being late, but I have the window seat. I board the plane and a very large man is standing in my way, huffing and puffing while attempting to stuff his bag under the seat.
He stands there with the line to get into the plane continuing to rise. I pardoned myself and informed him I have the window seat. He doesn’t here me. OK, maybe he is deaf. I wave my hand so he can see me and again inform him I have the window seat. The crowd behind me begins to pull out their sabers to chop off a head (mine or his). He steps back into the entranceway so I can take my seat.
He then sits back down and everyone behind him gives us the “look.” Meanwhile, the guy is not able to fully sit in the chair. He keeps trying to move the unmovable arms up so it is not squeezing his hips. Everyone finally takes their seat and the late-comer is the lucky individual to sit in the seat between me, and the big guy.
It is this point when the big guy asked if there was another isle seat further back he could trade someone. The flight attendant (who was very helpful) asks if someone would swap and they found him another seat in the exit row further back. He walks the 10 isles and attempts to take the seat. Nope…no luck. He trudges back to the front of the plane to take his seat back. The guy next to me muttered, “damn.” The flight attendant mentioned the middle guy may want to take the isle seat the bigger guy couldn’t use. Excellent idea! He takes it.
The flight attendant looks at me and I give him the “OK, better check out the big guy” look. He looks at him and has a sudden look of terror on his face. The big guy’s walk from the middle of the plane has caused him to sweat profusely and turn a dark shade of red. The flight attendant asked if he was OK and the big guy responded with “I have diabetes, I will be fine. Just need a glass of water. Hmm…we haven’t left the gate yet and this guy needs water.
Finally, we are out of the gate and heading down the runway. I keep checking on the big guy and think to myself. OK, I know how to do CPR on him, and I am sure, I can get the compressions down. I am not sure I can get him out of the chair and onto the floor. This may be an issue. The flight attendant I would guess was thinking the same thing.
Later in the flight, he had to stand to help his circulation, he had to ask for a glass of water 8 times, and ate a pack of M&Ms. OK, I know a little bit about how diabetes is treated and that anytime you have to eat chocolate, you are in a little bit of trouble. Great, I can see him slipping into a diabetic coma right there on the plane and we would have to land in Kentucky (again I managed to get Kentucky into my blog…without the KY).
Basically I watched this guy during the whole trip. We made it to Tampa 15 minutes late and everyone disembarked alive. Oh, and I didn’t hear a sound out of all of those kids on the flight.
This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). We manage to drug our kids (and sometimes ourselves) to keep them calm on the airplane. We should knock out certain people on the plane. The rowdy flyers, the shoe bombers, the person who keep kicking the back of your seat, the person who placed the seats 2 inches from each other making it so you have to eat your knees, Mr “T” all need to be drugged. Some people are just not meant to fly. If you are big guy on a plane to Tampa with diabetes, take a train next time.
Part 2 later.
Part 1: Leaving on a jet plane…
My wife (QueenSuchandSuch) dropped me off at the airport for my flight to Tampa. I am attended a work conference in Clearwater. The day started off well. I managed to get my e-ticket upgrade so I don’t have my knees in my throat and on top of that, it is in the first row…GOAL! It doesn’t happen often that I am in the front row, let alone the window seat.
I proceeded to my gate, B19 and waited for my plane to start boarding. About 15 minutes before we could board, a large amount of people appeared and started getting in line…to board my plane. Apparently, the Las Vegas flight was stealing out plane. The announcement came over the PA system, “For those of you waiting for your flight to Tampa, your gate has moved to B18.
B19, B18…close to each other right? Nope. As I started on my ¼ mile OJ Simpson run through the airport to my new and improved gate, I am a bit disappointed when I arrive. No plane. 10 minutes before takeoff, and there is no plane. I am thinking that is why the gamblers stole my plane.
So, I wait…and wait…and wait.
The plane pulls in 15 minutes after we were suppose to leave. As I am waiting for the plane, I notice there are little kids everywhere. Great…a plane full of kids. Then I notice one of the parents getting the bottle of children’s medicine out and begin to dose the kids. They look healthy…(the light bulb lights)…drugging the kids. Every family did it. I thought I was the only one to do that.
The plane begins to load (now 30 minutes late) and after the premier seating people take their seats, my group begins to load. Did I mention first row window? I am still a little miffed about being late, but I have the window seat. I board the plane and a very large man is standing in my way, huffing and puffing while attempting to stuff his bag under the seat.
He stands there with the line to get into the plane continuing to rise. I pardoned myself and informed him I have the window seat. He doesn’t here me. OK, maybe he is deaf. I wave my hand so he can see me and again inform him I have the window seat. The crowd behind me begins to pull out their sabers to chop off a head (mine or his). He steps back into the entranceway so I can take my seat.
He then sits back down and everyone behind him gives us the “look.” Meanwhile, the guy is not able to fully sit in the chair. He keeps trying to move the unmovable arms up so it is not squeezing his hips. Everyone finally takes their seat and the late-comer is the lucky individual to sit in the seat between me, and the big guy.
It is this point when the big guy asked if there was another isle seat further back he could trade someone. The flight attendant (who was very helpful) asks if someone would swap and they found him another seat in the exit row further back. He walks the 10 isles and attempts to take the seat. Nope…no luck. He trudges back to the front of the plane to take his seat back. The guy next to me muttered, “damn.” The flight attendant mentioned the middle guy may want to take the isle seat the bigger guy couldn’t use. Excellent idea! He takes it.
The flight attendant looks at me and I give him the “OK, better check out the big guy” look. He looks at him and has a sudden look of terror on his face. The big guy’s walk from the middle of the plane has caused him to sweat profusely and turn a dark shade of red. The flight attendant asked if he was OK and the big guy responded with “I have diabetes, I will be fine. Just need a glass of water. Hmm…we haven’t left the gate yet and this guy needs water.
Finally, we are out of the gate and heading down the runway. I keep checking on the big guy and think to myself. OK, I know how to do CPR on him, and I am sure, I can get the compressions down. I am not sure I can get him out of the chair and onto the floor. This may be an issue. The flight attendant I would guess was thinking the same thing.
Later in the flight, he had to stand to help his circulation, he had to ask for a glass of water 8 times, and ate a pack of M&Ms. OK, I know a little bit about how diabetes is treated and that anytime you have to eat chocolate, you are in a little bit of trouble. Great, I can see him slipping into a diabetic coma right there on the plane and we would have to land in Kentucky (again I managed to get Kentucky into my blog…without the KY).
Basically I watched this guy during the whole trip. We made it to Tampa 15 minutes late and everyone disembarked alive. Oh, and I didn’t hear a sound out of all of those kids on the flight.
This brings me to my point (as I almost always have one). We manage to drug our kids (and sometimes ourselves) to keep them calm on the airplane. We should knock out certain people on the plane. The rowdy flyers, the shoe bombers, the person who keep kicking the back of your seat, the person who placed the seats 2 inches from each other making it so you have to eat your knees, Mr “T” all need to be drugged. Some people are just not meant to fly. If you are big guy on a plane to Tampa with diabetes, take a train next time.
Part 2 later.
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