Sunday, January 13, 2008

I'm at Huntington Beach! aka Brian fumbles and bumbles his way through life...again.

Let me preface this by saying that I have only traveled twice (now thrice) since 9/11, but I have never gone through the horseshit that I had to go through to get a puddle-jumper to John Wayne airport.
First of all, all of your liquids and toiletries have to be in plastic ziploc bags. I didn't have to do this before! So now I have to yank all my crap out of my bag and re-organize it. All this -- in line! I threw away my hair spray can (which was nearly full) because they would'nt let it onboard without checking it in, as well as my normal size tube of Crest toothpaste, forcing me to buy another tube from the concierge at my hotel. In doing all this, I misplaced my hardbound book "The Pope and The Heretic" about the inquisition of Giordano Bruno. I would love to see the look on the person who found that book just lying around....
Then I had to pull my laptop out of its bag, remove my shoes, all metal on me, my coat, my iPod, everything, and put them into these grey, plastic barfbuckets. Then they get destroyed through the x-ray machine and you get them back. Now you're taking another 15 minutes getting all your shit back together and hope you didn't forget something. In fact, while I was waiting for my flight, I heard the intercom rattle off four times about someone missing a belt, a watch, a key ring, and a cell phone.
The flight to the OC (God, I hate that term, let's call it what it is... Orange Fucking County) did not involve my passing out (like the trip to Seattle did) or getting sick (like the trip to Kansas City did) but upon debarkation I was stone deaf for about 30 minutes. I am of the opinion that it is the pressurization of the cabin that affects me more than the motion of the airplane. However, I did get a window seat and the view was fantastic.
It was a fabulous day when I arrived at John Wayne. It was like summer! Here I was in my coat and I had to instantly remove it. I swear you would not know it was January here. Right now I have my patio door open and can hear the fountain playing outside near the pool. Weird.
I am to share my apartment (hotel room doesn't quite do it justice) with another employee, but he has not arrived yet. But I have one more faux pas to add before I close...
The concierge told me that Happy Hour was from 5pm to 7pm at the bar. So at 5:15 pm I saunter over to the bar and notice a congress of people watching the big screen TV Chargers game (it was already over, they were highlights on Fox). I noticed there were cheese and crackers and a vat of pasta nearby. So, I get a plate and dig in. As I sit down to eat, I notice that no one is being overly talkative or social. Well, that's normal where strangers meet. I kept looking for the complimentary beer. Where is the beer? These guys had Heinikens and Guinesses. Where are they? I finally found four Heineken cans in a sad looking tray with a smattering of melted ice within. Just as I reach for one, one of the guys call out to me (This just proves the old adage that you can touch another man's food, but NOT another man's beer). "Hey! Those are our beers!" What? I then retorted apologetically, "I surmise that I also ate your food." "Yeah." he replied. After I turned red and apologized for five straight minutes, I ungracefully left the scene. They were cool about it, though. I did tell them before I left that the concierge informed me that Happy Hour was from 5 to 7pm. "Yes," they added, "but only on weekdays." You see, today is Sunday. A small point that the concierge omitted to my chagrin.
So, I sheepishly left and decided to write about it on this blog. I'll let you know how my week at Huntington Beach goes as it progresses.


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