Friday, June 26, 2009

Karma for the Day

You can tell a great deal about people in a long line. At 2:00 pm, I watched a sharp dressed man go through security excusing himself all the way through-asking each person rudely if he could move up in front of them as he was “late” for his flight. Being the good person I (think) am, I allowed him to pass me to only catch a glimpse of his ticket and departure time of 4:18 pm.

I tried not to show my disgust as I wouldn’t call out a complete stranger, but I thought I’d at least shoot a shot over his snobbish brow.

Assuming he was only anxious to spend time in the First Class Lounge, I sort of mentioned to him as he passed, “Please go ahead and I hope you make your flight, but at least you NOW don’t have to be disappointed the Continental President’s Club is closed for renovations”.

He quickly reversed his path past all the same people and excused himself mumbling about how he forgot something in his car and left the security area. Ironically, minutes later, I walked past the President’s Club and it WAS “close until further notice”. So, did I do the right thing because of the outcome or was my intent still the driving factor of my karma for the day?

Friday, June 12, 2009

Sleeping with the Fishes

In boardroom when a potential vendor came in to pitch an innovative idea. One of their female partners who sat across from me fell asleep on and off for 30 minutes during her associates' presentation.

I tried to ignore the silent disruption and focus on the material but if you know me at all you knew this wasn't going to help their case as my attention was observing the slumping executive drooling on the table.

I turned to the female Rip Van Winkle and asked her during one of her conscious moments, "Would you like someone to get you some coffee or a soda?" She replied like an early wake up call from a hotel operator, "No, no..I'm so sorry, I'll be fine but I have to tell you that I happen to suffer from Necrophilia."

GULP!! As the other 10 people struggled not to gasp for whatever oxygen still remained in the room, I, BEING the calm ocean of reason during this shocking admission replied with a straight face, "YOU ARE TELLING US YOU SLEEP WITH DEAD PEOPLE?"

"NO, OH MY GOD, NO!, I meant to say I have Narcolepsy..Narcolepsy..not Necrophilia."

Now that the whole room was finally AWAKE, I proceeded to jump on this like a wild dog with raw meat as I just couldn't allow a moment like this to pass me without savoring the moment.

"First," I blurted out while holding back my tears of laughter, "If I had your misfortune to suffer from such a debilitating disorder, I would learn how NOT to confuse it with a class 2 felony. Secondly, I might even tattoo Webster's definition on the names of sleep disorders on my hand to forever preclude this ever happening again."

The apologies were abundant from both Sleeping nonBeauty and her fellow Knights of Boredom. But I wasn't finished. "Perhaps you all should go back to your funeral home, I mean office and figure out a better way to sell your ideas on exciting, innovating programs as I too, was starting to fall asleep after seeing your one slide of 250 words without a graphic being read to me. As I forgot to tell you, I suffer from 'TIREDOFSEEINGSAMECRAPOLEPSY'." However NOW, I will never fall asleep in a meeting that I am aware someone like YOU might mistaken me for a corpse and I'd come out of my slumber being violated by an awakening Narcoleptic who doesn't even know her own diagnosis."

I thanked them for an eye opening presentation that had no equal as I had to move quickly on to my next vendor presentation on newly discovered orgasms...I MEAN, organisms.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

A Fight of 20 Questions

NOTE: I do love kids, all children..TRULY. just not THIS one particular child.

On a long flight home, I had the privilege to be seated next to a precocious 7 year old boy (although he kept telling me he was 7 ½, but I’m not giving him even ONE extra day) while his parents-BOTH of them sat behind and on the other side of the plane from us.

I like to be social and I don’t mind answering questions, but how many times can I tell a HOME ALONE misfit, “I don’t want to hear the alphabet again while you hold your nose.”

This child who DYFS wouldn’t even bother to register wouldn’t stop asking untactful questions about anyone on the flight…”UM, I just don’t know why that big sweaty guy keeps going to the bathroom every 10 minutes, but I am sure he doesn’t appreciate you announcing to the entire flight by saying, ‘Did you wash your hands mister?’”

Yes I’m traveling with Andy Dick’s MiniMe without the rap sheet.

“ONE more time kid, the orange button brings the nasty flight attendant who thinks I’m your daddy and the yellow one is the light that you pushed so many times I feel like I’m at a strobe light concert of the Snow White's long lost dwarf, Chucky.”

“No, I truly don’t want to see what it looks like to have 10 pieces of bubble gum in your mouth.”

“Seriously, didn’t your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?...NO?...then I will..Don’t talk to me. My first and last name is Stranger.

After having quite enough adventure for a lifetime on a flight to nowhere, I decided the best way to stifle this inquisitive flight to a playground hell was:

First, get my money back from my BOSE noise cancellation headset that didn’t silence the grade school Beavis one decibel and second, turn the questions back on little Bobby Brady and entertain myself as I can’t read, listen to my music or sleep with a SpongeBob Tshirt talking in my ear.

“Hey kid, how come your parents don’t love you enough to have asked me to SWITCH SEATS?” I mean, they either sleeping or watching a movie while I baby-sit for free. Little boy, can you spell abandonment?”

“Why do they dress you like that? Were you a ‘surprise’ child and were they expecting a hamster?”

“Did you know that orange button is the plane’s ejection button and if you hit it one more time, I’ll have to tell your parents to start looking for you somewhere over South Carolina”. OK are right. I didn’t say that one out loud.

Amazing how quiet a child can become when they fear asking questions and more importantly, don’t even care for the one critical question that every child asks. However, I repeatedly asked it ever since I heard the pilot say, prepare to take off….”ARE WE THERE YET?..HUH?...NOW? ARE WE THERE NOW? PLEASE!