A Long Time Waiting

It's been awhile.

Ironically, nothing drives me crazier than visiting a blog I love and finding no updates. So, today I turn over a new leaf. And sadly, a new keyboard -- I spilled coffee on it this morning, and spat water out all over it this afternoon. Good times.

Summer -- which used be "down time" in NJ to offer Jersey girls and guys maximum opportunity to visit the beach -- is actually just as busy as any other season here da South.

So, what did I do on my summer vacation? Ooh, ooh, I'll go, I'll go! (Flashback to 3rd grade, tipping forward in your desk/chair combo and assuming that the closer you got your hand to the teacher, the more likely she was to call on you -- yeah, that was me.)

Traveled a lot this summer -- learned a lot this summer. Namely, no matter how much I mumble under my breath people will still continue to try to board a plane before their row is called. Damn, that pisses me off.

We traveled West to Portland, OR for my dear friend Patrick's wedding. Portland was
fabulous and apparently even "green" cities have transvestites, homeless and meth-heads. On the upside, I got to see Patrick and watch 4.5 consecutive hours of Food Network programming on the flight there.

Next stop -- Bermuda. "Good morning, confirmation number please." I slide our confirmation and passports across the counter. "Great, we do have a number of seats available in First Class, do you care to Uh --". Me: "Upgrade? Yes, definitely yes!"

And, that is when I became a snob. Ok, a born again snob (who am I kidding?). It didn't matter how many people clammered to board, I was the first one on the plane and the first one off. (And, of course I got free Heineken to boot. Well, 4 Heinekens divided into the $300 to upgrade. Ok, I got 4 $75 Heinekens. Best I ever had.)

A short jaunt to Birmingham, AL for business and finally a trip to Washington, DC last weekend for Aunt Madeline's 80th birthday party and my travels for this year are over.

Two coasts, two countries, a half a dozen airports and one thing always remains the same. People don't listen. If you are in Zone 6 for boarding, don't board until they call Zone 6. Why is this so hard to comprehend?

Since bitch-slapping is against some crazy airport etiquette policy, what recourse do I have?