Doing Disney

If it seems like I've been slacking a lot lately, it's only because it's true. I've been in vacation mode for a bit. And will be in vacation mode for a bit longer. Until about Labor Day, I think.

Why? Well, I've been focusing on vacations. I do Disney World a lot. Not just me and Wife, but taking grandchildren too. I live less than four hours away from the parks, so I could do a day trip. I don't, because I'm not as young as I used to be, but I could.

My trips have been mostly one or two-day affairs. I have made a couple of trips longer in the past year, but only a couple. Most have been single day or two-day trips to Disney World.

Being an annual pass holder means I don't have to pay as much per visit to the parks, and I can do multiple parks in a day if I so choose. I've even done all four parks in a single day, but only once.

Since some family members are well aware of how often we make the trips to Disney World, they do wonder if it's actually more affordable than they imagine. It's not, as this video blogger will tell you.


[The YouTube]

Now, I don't spend that much money when I go to Disney World. As I said, I have an annual pass. I also shop around for hotels and don't mind staying at cheap hotels, as long as they're clean and comfortable. And I'll pack a lunch in a heartbeat. And, I'll drink that awful-tasting water from the water fountain. Because I'm cheap.

I recently renewed my annual pass. Sort of. Long story for another time. But I'll be going to Disney World more in the next year.

Getting thrown out of Disney World

I've only been thrown out of Walt Disney World once in my life.

Now let me pause for a moment and say that I suspect that statement may surprise people, but for different reasons. Some may be surprised that I was thrown out of Walt Disney World at all. The others may be surprised that it has only been once.

When did this happen? Why recently. Quite recently.

You see, I normally wear a hat and coat. The hat keeps my delicate skin from being ravaged by the sun. Actually, it's partly due to a really bad episode of sunburn I received in Kuwait. So, lately, a hat has been a part of my wardrobe. Not a cap. A hat. A grown man hat.

When you wear a hat, you also should wear a coat. Looks better. Plus, a coat is great for concealed carry, as I'm not a fan of open carry.

I've had a shoulder holster for a bit. My first one actually broke. Not sure why, but it broke. So, I replaced it, but my new one didn't come with a place to hold an extra magazine. I've been carrying the extra magazine in my coat pocket.

Well, as I mentioned, I went to Disney World recently. They don't take kindly to carrying weapons inside -- although a Leatherman is okay -- so I left my .380 in the car. But, I forgot I had the magazine in my coat pocket.

I was reminded of it when I took emptied my pockets at the gate to enter the Magic Kingdom park. They called all kind of security folks, including a bunch of deputies, to look at it.

They wanted to see my ID, my carry permit -- Georgia and Florida reciprocate -- and had a few questions. Then they said I could leave. So, I left.

I put the magazine in my luggage and went back to the park and had a good time. Maybe I'll tell you more about the trip, but you've already heard the best part.

If I get thrown out again, I'll tell you all about it, though.

My GPS tried to kill me

Last week, Wife and I spent a few days in North Carolina: 2 days at Asheville, and 2 days in a cabin near Chimney Rock.

Barely.

Because between Asheville and the cabins, the GPS decided it wanted to kill me.

The cabins weren't actually at Chimney Rock, but off Clear Creek Road, which is off Chimney Rock Road, which between Chimney Rock and Hendersonville. Sort of like this:



The safest way to leave the east side of Asheville and reach the cabins would be to take US-74 to Bat Cave, then take Chimney Rock Road toward Hendersonville, then make your way to Clear Creek Road.

But, the GPS didn't want me to do that. It had another route in mind. And, since it's a fancy GPS machine that uses satellites and everything, I put my life in its hands. It decided to send me up Grant Mountain Road. Which looks okay for the first half-mile or so. Then, it really gets ... like a mountain road. Like you can see on this actual photo of the GPS screen:



And it was like that for most of the 5 miles we were on that road. But, thankfully, we made it to the turn-off to another road.

A one-lane gravel road:



We finally made it through that, and got to the cabins only 15 minutes late, as opposed to 30 minutes early (which is what I thought we would have done).

The next day, the GPS was still copping an attitude. We drove into Hendersonville to so a little shopping (Wife was there, too, remember?). We just drove what we thought was the correct route. We made it without using the GPS, but I realized I took a wrong turn and ended up taking longer than we needed to. So, when we headed back to the cabin from Hendersonville, I fired up the GPS again.

The GPS found a different way back. Including roads with names like Beehive Road. Only, it found a shortcut. It took me off Beehive Road onto Laughter Lane and Canary Lane. Only, Laughter Lane and Canary Lane aren't really roads. They're more like paths that run through people's yards. Really.

Imagine a gravel road. A one-lane gravel road. That hasn't been maintained. So now grass is growing up in-between what are now gravel ruts. And the grass is in bad need of cutting. And this gravel-rut road runs through people's yards. Beside clotheslines and Big Wheels and such. And people sitting on their back porch looking at you trying to remember if the shotgun is loaded and which of the kids to send after it.

It's sort of like that. And by "sort of like" I mean "exactly like."

We made it back safely. Mostly by not taking any more side trips anywhere so the GPS could have another opportunity to kill us.

Chicago blows

Spent several days in Chicago this past week.

The whole trip began as a trip to a Jimmy Buffett concert at Alpine Valley, Wisconsin.

Alpine Valley is pretty much equidistant Milwaukee, Madison, and Chicago. So, to get to Alpine Valley, it'd mean flying in to either Milwaukee, Madison, or Chicago.

So, where to fly to?

Well, when I think Chicago, I think pizza. Or steak.

When I think Milwaukee, I think beer.

When I think Madison, I think ... our 4th President.

So, since I don't drink beer, and I do like pizza and steak, Chicago was the choice.

Flew in to Chicago last Saturday, rented a vehicle, then drove to the hotel, then to Alpine Valley for the concert, then back to Chicago.

Went to a White Sox game on Sunday. Ate pizza for supper. Chicago style pizza, of course.

That left Monday and Tuesday for sight-seeing in Chicago.

Silly me. I had a vehicle. And figured I'd drive.

Like I said, silly me.

First thing I noticed was that drivers in Chicago blow their horns. A lot.

Thought it was at me, at first. But then, I realized, it wasn't me. Seemed like nearly every driver was blowing their horn.

Then I noticed a pattern.

They only blew their horns when there was a vehicle in front of them. Or behind them. Or beside them. Or in the lane traveling the other way. Or when the sun was out. Or ... well, you get the idea.

I imagine when folks learn to drive in Chicago, lesson one consists of blowing the horn. There is no lesson two.

Anyway, they drove like that on the interstate.

But I made the mistake of driving downtown.

What was I thinking? I wasn't.

It had to be one of the most nerve-wracking experiences I've encountered. But, as bad as it seemed to me, who was driving, it was worse on one other person: The Wife.

I didn't raise my voice. I didn't make any gestures. But I wasn't happy about everything. The Wife? She was very unhappy. Cars traveling fast when they could, hitting the brakes when they had to, running red lights, blocking intersections, and blowing their horns. Blowing and blowing their horns.

After a visit to one sight downtown -- the Hancock Observatory -- she was ready to leave downtown Chicago. She'd had enough of the traffic. Me, too, to be honest.

So, back to the interstate and back to the hotel.

Only, of course, the other cars on the roads there were mostly locals. Which meant that not many had to stop and pay tolls. They had I-Passes. So they'd move quickly through the toll booths. Me, though, I'd have to pay the toll.

The toll workers were all polite, smiling, and not at all what one might expect from someone doing a thankless job -- taking money from people who were paying to get in horrible traffic, then taking money from the same people who were paying to get out of that same horrible traffic.

No, the toll workers were the one bright spot. At least, the toll workers we encountered.

But the other drivers ... the Asses with I-Passes ... were often aggravating.

Blowing them horns. Flipping other drivers off. Yelling at other drivers.

I'll never complain about Atlanta traffic again.

Casino clientele

While in the Chicago area, The Wife was surprised to find a brochure for a Casino. Actually, a couple.

One was for a casino near Milwaukee ... about an hour and a half drive from the hotel.

The other was for a Casino in Elgin, the Grand Victoria.

Since it's closer, that's where we went.

The Wife likes casinos. She'll sometimes head over to Shorter, Alabama for a visit to Quincy's. She's likely to go with her mother or others, not me. I'm not that big a fan of casinos, you see.

Anyway, to Elgin we went.

Now, there was nothing wrong with the place ... but it's a casino. And, like I said, not my favorite place to go.

Didn't stay there long. We really didn't plan on visiting any casinos, so we didn't pack a lot of cash to lose.

Let me offer this bit of advise: If you plan to gamble, don't ever gamble more than you an afford to lose; because, odds are, you will lose.

Anyhow, I did some quick math, and figured if I lost $60, I'd be okay. Could lose more, but didn't want to. So, I had my limit.

The Wife reached into her casino stash that she always has hidden away -- that is, she thinks it's hidden away, but I know about it -- and got out her mad money. Also, only about $60. Like I said, she wasn't planning on hitting a casino, so she didn't pack any extra cash, just what she has squirreled away a little bit at a time.

After about 30 minutes, we were down 12 cents. That includes the $60 I had already lost. So, combined with her $59.88 in winnings, we were down 12 cents.

That's when I decided I needed a Coke.

Since it's Pepsi country, I had to settle for a Dr Pepper.

In a little bit, she came out, having lost all her winnings, and having reached her limit on losses.

But, while she was finding new and clever ways to lose money, I had the chance to watch the others in the casino.

I noticed that some of them were young women, usually in pairs or threes, who all went to the restroom a the same time. But those were the only young ones I noticed, other than employees.

Others were old cripples. Many of those included folks with walkers. And there was this one old fellow on crutches, whose right knee bent backwards when he walked. In mid-step, his legs formed the silhouette of a house.

I wasn't the only one who noticed him. Near where I was sitting, a man spoke to his wife, mentioning the man with the backwards knee: "You see that poor guy? His knee bends the wrong way!"

He said that through breathes from his oxygen tank. And he said it to his wife in the neck brace.

Others were of advanced age, many were my age, but most all had physical problems.

Oh, and then there was the other type of casino visitor. That's the folks that had lost all there money, and had nothing else to do than look at others in the casino.

I didn't see any of them.

But the others there did. I wonder what they thought of me.

Cubs win ... but we were at the White Sox game

While on vacation in Chicago, I just couldn't resist going to a baseball game.

The second-oldest professional baseball team resides in Chicago: the Cubs, who have played since the founding of the National League in 1876. Of course, they were the original Chicago White Sox (actually, the Chicago White Stockings), before becoming the Colts (1890), and then the Cubs (1906).

Only, the Cubs are out of town.

But, the White Sox (the minor league team from the Western League that became a major league team in 1901) were in town. So, we caught a game at Comiskey Park.

Only, it's not called Comiskey Park any more. New Comiskey Park (opened 1991) goes by the name "US Cellular Field" (since 2003).

We had a good view of the field.

The entire field.

Which can be seen from way up high.

Where we were.

Way up high.

If we'd have been any higher, we'd have been at a Jimmy Buffett concert.

We were so high up, that when we looked over the edge of the stadium, we saw the tops of other buildings.

Okay, okay. That's not a picture from the top of US Cellular Field/New Comiskey Park. It's actually from the Hancock Observatory, on the 94th floor of the Hancock Center.

Still, our seats at the ball game were pretty high up.

But we did get to see some action. Some good, some not so good.

Before the game, the White Sox unveiled a statue honoring Harold Baines, who had his number retired by the Sox several years ago.

Among the good, was witnessing Jim Thome get his 2000th career hit, a double to the corner in left field.

Yes, 18 active players have more career hits. As do 251 players overall. But, considering how many players have played the game since 1876 (the earliest "official" records), that's not a slight accomplishment.

But not all was well for the White Sox. They lost Jermaine Dye in the 4th inning when he was hit by a pitch.

Oh, and, unlike their cross-town rivals, the Cubs, the White Sox lost on Sunday.

The Cubs won their game in Houston.

Despite the loss, the White Sox kept their lead in the AL Central. And with the Cubs winning to stay up on St. Louis in the NL Central, Chicago has two teams in first place.

Anyway, now that I've been to a White Sox home game, I've now been to games in Chicago and Atlanta.

Only 28 more teams to visit.

The Wife is all excited over that.

She's already said that when I'm ready to go to see a major league game in another city, she'll help me pack. Of course, she'll also change the locks while I'm gone.

Buffets

When we were in Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago for vacation, we ate a lot. Okay, truth be told, we eat a lot regardless of where we are. But, one of the things Las Vegas is known for is the relatively inexpensive food.

Only, we found out, it's not all that cheap. At least, not on the middle and south Strip.

When we went to Vegas four years ago, we found out first hand about how cheap the food was. But we were staying in the older part of town, on Fremont Street. And the buffet at the Golden Nugget (where we were staying) ... as well as the buffets at the other nearby places we visited ... were rather cheap, we thought.

But this trip, we stayed at Harrah's, on the Strip. And the food there ... and at other places on the middle and south Strip ... were more expensive. Almost twice as much as what we encountered downtown.

Now, one thing about me is that, well, I'm cheap. Okay, not cheap. But I'd rather pay under $10 instead of over $15 for the same thing, if possible.

So, after a day or so, we decided to shop for cheaper food.

We found some. At the Sahara.

The Sahara, an older hotel-casino, is up on the north Strip. The Las Vegas Monorail ends its north run at the Sahara. So, after a less-than-stellar dining experience at Harrah's that first morning, we sought out other places to eat. And one of the first we visited was the Sahara.

The breakfast buffet there was $8.99. And it was good. But it was also interesting.

They had a sign saying they had a two-hour limit on eating. I don't know about you, but it would be really, really hard for me to eat for more than two hours at one sitting. But apparently, they've had issues with that. So much so, they had to put up a sign.

And I believe it. At least, based on what I saw while I was there.

For example, some little girl that looked like Sherman Klump's niece was wandering around the buffet with a plateful of donuts. She apparently had found what she wanted for breakfast, and was wanting more. Her mom (I assume that's who that was) was offering her other items on the buffet. But Klump Girl just wanted donuts. And apparently more than a plateful, because she already had that.

On the other end of the spectrum, Olive Oyle was at the buffet, too. Like Olive, this woman I saw was so skinny she barely cast a shadow. I was torn between believing that she had to be hungry, since it looked like she hadn't eaten in a month or so ... and thinking that the tapeworm she was feeding was hungry. She was hitting the buffet, and she looked like she needed a meal for sure.

And, the food at the Sahara was pretty good. We went back.

But one place we didn't go back to was the Imperial Palace.

The Emperor's Buffet at the Imperial Palace was ... well, I guess it was okay. But if you go to Vegas and decide to eat at the Emperor's Buffet, be careful you don't chip a tooth on the breakfast pancakes.

Yes, the pancakes. I needed a saw to work my way though them. So, if be warned.

But most of the places we ate were pretty good. None were perfect. But most were good. Some were more expensive than others.

And keep an eye out for relatives of stars. Olive and the Klump Girl are probably still eating there, despite what the sign says.

Mystery solved

While we were vacationing in Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago, I noticed something that didn't make sense.

Now, I realize that saying something in Las Vegas didn't make sense isn't saying a whole lot. But still, something caught my eye.

We were staying at Harrah's, and they had signs up all over advertising the shows and events going on there. One of them was for comedian Rita Rudner.



Notice it says she is "Comedian of the Year." Remember that. Click the picture for a bigger view, if you need it.

One of the places we went to while we were in Las Vegas was the Sahara. And, just like Harrah's and every other place there, they had signs up all over advertising the shows and events going on there. One of them was for comedian The Amazing Johnathan.



Notice it says she is "Comedian of the Year." Click the picture for a bigger view, if you need it.

Now, that seems to not make sense. Two different comedians who are comedian of the year.

Unless ...

Follow me, now. I've never seen The Amazing Johnathan and Rita Rudner at the same place at the same time.

I'm thinking they are really the same person.

Sure, they look different. But I think that's just an act. It is Vegas, after all.

Bad luck

One of the things about Las Vegas ... where we vacationed last week ... is that everyone knows that they are going to lose money if they gamble.

Okay, not everybody. There are the occasional winners. But, considering how few they are and how many people go to Vegas, odds are that if you gamble, you'll lose.

Bad luck seems to run rampant is Las Vegas. Comedians mention it in the shows, people talk about it on the buses or while in queue, and everyone knows it's a fact.

But, while we were there, we saw one fellow that seemed to be having a streak of bad luck ... and no casinos were involved.

While riding one of the buses to ... I don't know, somewhere ... there was this one fellow that sat down across from us. We were on a side-facing seat, facing the side exit. This fellow was on a front-facing seat, next to the side door across the aisle from us. And this other fellow was standing forward of the door, facing the back.

Number Two was just standing there, glancing at Number One. Number One was just sitting there, staring out the window. I'm merely observing. And so is the Wife.

The driver announces the stop, and it's ours. It's apparently Number One's and Number Two's stop, also. Number One stands up, takes a step forward, holding on to the pole at the door. I stand up, holding on to the pole opposite the door. The Wife stands, too.

Number Two suddenly looks all surprised, and calls out a name (I forget what he said). Number One looks up with surprise, answering hesitantly, with that look ... you know the look ... the "Do I know you?" look.

Number Two asks how "C.J." is.

Number One answers, "He ran away."

Number Two is sorry to hear that. "So, how's the wife?"

Number One responds, "We're having issues right now. She has a girlfriend, and ..." He trails off.

Number Two knows about this place that's for a good price. Number One accepts the information, writing it down. On the back of the resume he's carrying in his hand.

So, to summarize. Looking for a job, wife left him for another woman, someone (son?) ran away.

Suddenly, our luck didn't seem so bad.

More public transportation

Last week, when I wrote about the little run-in with a sawed-off little runt on the Las Vegas bus system, I may have left the impression that the incident soured the Wife on riding the buses in Las Vegas.

It didn't.

What did, was a later trip, where we sat behind the guy that was carrying a hunting knife and a map to the psychiatric hospital.

We had to pick up some supplies, and the hotel and other downtown shops didn't have everything we needed ... at anything near a reasonable price.

Of course, that meant a trip to ... Wal-Mart!

The Las Vegas bus system does run to Wal-Mart. It runs to just about all of the Wal-Marts in Sin City.

But the Wal-Mart closest to the Strip ... as best as I could tell ... was the Super Wal-Mart on Charleston. Which meant taking the Deuce to Charleston, then taking the 206 to Wal-Mart. And, of course, reversing the route when we're through shopping.

So, we did.

The Deuce to Charleston was easy enough. We got off at Charleston and walked over to the 206 stop, on that block. There was someone else that walked up right as we got there.

We sat down, looking at our paperwork, trying to make sure we were taking the right bus and everything. While we were doing that, the fellow got up from the other bench, walked past us to the trash can, rummaged around inside, pulled out a Powerade or Gatorade bottle, emptied it, then sat back down on the other bench.

When the bus came, he got on before us and sat down in the first empty bench, though not the first empty seat. We sat in the next empty bench (two seats). And the bus pulled away.

After just a little bit, I noticed the Wife's eyes get wide. I wasn't sure what she was looking at ... because there was quite a lot to see. Not anyone that looked like John (actually, Joseph) Merrick, but some interesting characters nonetheless.

She was calm for a minute, then got all wide-eyed again. I figured I better ask, so I leaned over.

She informed me of the hunting knife the fellow sitting in front of us had. She could see fine at an angle, over the seat from about 225° ... and that I couldn't see because, well, I was too close.

She also informed me of the paperwork he had in his hand. It was a printout of directions to the Rawson-Neal Psychiatric Hospital.

We got to Wal-Mart before he go to the hospital, so we left him on the bus.

When we were done at the Wal-Mart, we hopped the 206 back to the Strip, and took the Deuce back to Harrah's.

It was the last time we took a bus off the Strip.

And it will be the last time we ever take a bus off the Strip. At least, if I enjoy life, she told me.

Singled Out

Although we got back from vacation on Friday night -- okay, Saturday morning -- there were a couple of things that happened on the way back that were of note.

Okay, not necessarily of note, but, well, I remember them.

For example, did you know that you can't take a bottle of water through security? But you can take knitting needles.

Really. I blame Michael Vick.

We left out of Las Vegas around 1:00 PM PT, for a US Airways flight to Phoenix. That's the itinerary Orbitz picked, anyway. And we went along with it.

When we got our boarding passes, the US Airways lady couldn't print out our Delta boarding passes. So, we went to Delta. She said she couldn't print them.

Now, before we left the house to go to Las Vegas, I printed out our boarding passes on my computer. I guess Delta doesn't have terminals that advanced.

Anyway, that meant we had to see the Delta counter once we got to Phoenix.

There were 61 minutes scheduled between arrival and departure on the Delta flight from Phoenix to Atlanta. Which would have been enough ... maybe ... if we arrived at Phoenix on time. We didn't.

But, we didn't arrive that much behind schedule.

But, to get to the Delta gates from the US Airways gates, you have to take the bus.

That means going outside the "secure" area, and going back in.

And that means dealing with the clowns at the TSA Circus again.

Now, to be fair, not all of the TSA folks are clowns, idiots, morons, or a**holes. Not all of them. But a lot of them fall into one or more of those categories.

We got our boarding passes for the Delta legs of the flight, then headed to the gates. Now, I knew things weren't going well when we saw the long line at the TSA checkpoint that we had to go through to get to the Delta gates.

Things got worse when the grumpy old guy that looks at our ID and boarding passes pulled out his trusty red magic marker and drew a big red diagonal line across my boarding pass. Oh, and wrote "S.S.S.S." on it. No idea what that means.

Well, I know it means "take this guy aside and give him a real close looking at." I think that's what it means, because that's what they did.

I was a little worried when they had me step over to the side and pointed me to this guy that was putting a rubber glove on.

Turns out, he was just not wanting to make skin contact of any kind, because he didn't pull out any KY or anything. Just had me stand with my arms outstretched, while he ran a wand all around me. Like on the intro to Monk.

They gave my computer a real close looking at too.

I'm not sure what made them decide to flag me. Perhaps it was my Southern accent. Or extremely white skin. Or grey hair. Or clean-shaven face. I mean, if all that put together doesn't say 20-year-old Muslim extremist, I don't know what does.

Anyway, we made it through security only a few minutes after our plane was scheduled to take off.

The good news, sort of, was that the Delta flight was late. About 90 minutes late. So, we got there in time, after all.

The flight was fairly uneventful, as was the wait in Atlanta. That flight was delayed, too. It was supposed to leave at 10:36. Which was about 20 minutes before the Phoenix-to-Atlanta finally arrived.

Of course, the bad weather in Georgia that night meant that everything was late. Including the Atlanta-to-Montgomery flight. Good news for us. Bad news for the other 48 folks waiting for it.

It finally took off around 2:00 AM, and we got to Montgomery.

But our luggage didn't. But we covered that fact earlier. Oh, by the way, one bag finally ended up in Montgomery. And the other bag was sent to Columbus. So, we got that bag Sunday afternoon. They have now sent the other bag to Columbus, and I'll pick it up at lunch Monday.

Anyway, I'm done flying for a bit, I think. Not that this is putting me off of flying. We just don't have anything scheduled that far away.

But when we do fly, I think I'll get to the airport way early. Way, way early. Like a day or two early. Just to screw with them.

I mean, turnabout's fair play, right?

Update: It turns out that I got to the Phoenix airport too early. You see, I didn't mention that while we were in that big line, between my getting the big red slash and being pulled over to the side, someone came strutting through, calling out "Airport employee!" and telling folks to move over to let them through. We had to move over to the left to let him through.

Oh, this happened twice. A group of three came through a few minutes later. We had to move to the right that time.

No, I didn't see if they got screened or not.

Just how many times can the same luggage be lost on one trip?

Our flight back from Las Vegas was uneventful.

Except for getting flagged by the TSA in Phoenix.

And the delay of the second leg of the trip back.

And the delay on the third leg of the trip.

Oh, and our luggage being lost. Again.

Our luggage was lost on the way out to Las Vegas. The details were here. Of course, that story got all complicated, before the luggage was finally delivered, and then the reason for the delay discovered.

Well, when we got to our final destination -- Montgomery -- we went to pick up our luggage. And it wasn't there.

Yes, the same luggage that went missing for two days on the flight out to Las Vegas, has gone missing on the trip back.

It's early, yet, I suppose, but 9 hours after landing, they don't know anything yet:

We're sorry; we have no updates on this bag and are still trying to locate it. Please check back again.

And, yes, I'll be checking back. Unfortunately, I have the feeling that I'll be checkig back often.

Waiting

It's a little after midnight, and we're sitting in Hartsfield airport in Atlanta.

Delta emailed me 30 minutes ago telling me that the flight we had just got off ... was going to leave late.

More on this joyful day later.

The good news ... sort of ... is that we're nearly back to the house. One more flight, then, if the luggage is there, we'll drive back to the house. Or try to, anyway.

I've been making notes about things to blog about, but just haven't had the time.

But I'll make time.

Later.

A chili dog and a Carrot Top show

Yesterday was our 10th anniversary. And we celebrated in style.

For our anniversary, I took the Wife to Las Vegas for a chili dog and a Carrot Top show.

No, really. Well, sort of.

For our vacation, which normally coincides with our anniversary, we went to Las Vegas. And, while in Las Vegas, we saw some shows. Not many, but a few.

But one we saw was Carrot Top at the Luxor.

Now, yes, I know, some people really think Carrot Top's humor is silly, sophomoric, and lame.

So?

It's funny. At least, to me it is. And we got tickets to see Carrot Top. Back in March. That's when we got the tickets, I mean.

Anyway, we go to the Luxor in plenty of time to pick up the tickets that were waiting on us.

And, before the show, we stepped over to the Food Court at Luxor, and at at ... Nathan's Famous.

So, for our anniversary, we had hot dogs -- she had a chili dog -- and saw Carrot Top.

Okay, I'm a little better than that.

You see, we've been eating twice a day, what with the buffets and everything. And, after eating a big breakfast yesterday, we skipped lunch. Sort of.

We ate an early dinner. Steak and shrimp. And it was good, but not quite as big a meal as one could eat on the buffets.

So, when we go to the Luxor, as show time approached, we got a little bit hungry. So, we went to the food court, saw what they had, and decided to get a hot dog.

Then, we went over to the show and sat on the front row.

The show was fun. And funny.

What you'd expect from Carrot Top. Silly, sophomoric, and a little raunchy. Just a little. Oh, and the spraying water and soap suds on the audience. Like I said, what you'd expect from Carrot Top.

Like I said, my kind of humor. And, apparently, the Wife's too. She got a t-shirt that said "Carrot Top made me wet."

Public transportation

The first time the Wife and I came to Las Vegas, we rented a car. Now, the problem with that was, my driver's license expired between the time we left the house and arrived in Las Vegas. You see, we stopped over in Atlanta for two days. And, while in Atlanta, the license expired.

So, when we got to Las Vegas last time, the car rental place wouldn't let me rent a car. Something about needing a valid driver's license. Go figure.

Anyway, the Wife ended up renting the car. And she drove while we were here. She didn't like it.

This time, we didn't rent a car. We figured we'd be able to take the Monorail everywhere we wanted to go. Well, the Monorail and/or the city buses.

So, we've been getting bus passes or Monorail passes when we needed to go somewhere that wasn't walking distance. Or that we realized wasn't walking distance -- since most everything here isn't really walking distance.

Anyway, the other day, we took the Deuce (the double-decker city buses) somewhere (all-day pass) and decided it wasn't that bad.

Well, it wasn't that bad because it was morning.

That afternoon, when we went to the ballgame, we took an afternoon bus.

That's when it wasn't quite as pleasant a ride.

The ride started out unpleasantly enough when we just missed the northbound bus. No problem, though. Another would be by in just a few minutes. Or so said the schedule.

A southbound Deuce soon appeared, so that was a good sign. Then another southbound Deuce. Then another. And another.

Finally, after 4 southbound buses had gone by, another northbound bus finally appeared.

And it was packed.

We got on board, and stood in the doorway while the driver went to the next stop.

Since he told me I was blocking the door from opening, I stepped around the Wife (who was in front of me) and went as far as I could down the center aisle. Which was one position, the person, apparently, who had departed the bus at that stop via the side door.

As I got as far as I could, still near the front of the bus but facing the back of the bus, I heard a very unpleasant voice behind me. I turned around, facing the front of the bus, and some sawed-off little old Casper Milquetoast-looking fellow wearing a $20 suit was pointing at the Wife, running his mouth.

He was telling her to move back.

She was up against me, and I was getting way too friendly with the person behind me. And it was like that all the way back. Or at least as far as I could see.

He kept on running his mouth at her, and she had her fill of it in just a few seconds, and said she wasn't going to do anything he said since he was talking like that.

He got even more unpleasant, asking where she was from over and over. She asked him where he was from. Of course, he was from Manhattan.

She told him she wasn't moving, and that he could go to the back of the bus.

He muttered something as he walked by, and just as he passed her, shouted, "BITCH!"

Now, if you've been following along, just past her was ... me.

It took me a second to realize that he had indeed just called my wife a bitch.

So, since he had, by the, shuffled past, I gently placed my hands on his shoulders and spun him around to face me.

He looked me square in the chest, and ... then looked up.

I'm towering over this little old pipsqueak, and when we made eye contact, I informed him that it wasn't a good idea to say such unpleasant things about my wife.

Only, I didn't use exactly those words. And I may have raised the level of my voice a notch or two.

I politely informed him that I didn't know who the hell he thought he was, but he wasn't going to speak to my wife that way.

He wasn't sure who the hell I was, but I kindly related the fact that I was the husband of the woman in question.

As he backed away, he informed me that he would have me arrested. Of course, since I had my cell phone with me, I offered to call the police for him.

The Wife, by this time, had dug her fingers into my arm and was guiding me back to the front of the bus.

It seems, by the way, that suddenly, for some unknown reason, those in the back part of the bus found a way to make room. A couple of seats even came open. Hmmm.

Anyway, he kept running his mouth as he moved further to the back of the bus.

He stuck up friendly conversation with a fellow in the back. His new-found friend tried to inform him that the other fellow (me) was a lot bigger than he was, but Casper didn't seem to care. Liquor will do that to a man, by the way.

Casper's friend said if blows had been exchanged (I would not have struck him ... first ... by the way; he was just an old drunk in a bad suit), that, in the friends words "both of you would go to jail."

Casper said something back, and the friend said, "It doesn't matter who you know. You could know the Pope and you'd still go to jail."

Casper replied that he did know the Pope. And, about that time, lost a friend.

The rest of the passengers were beginning to feel the tension lift, especially after I asked the Wife, "Now, aren't you glad we didn't rent a car?" Or, possibly, the mood lightened with her look back at me.

Other passengers chatted up, laughing about it, though still a little nervous laughter. They may have thought I was going to kick Casper's ass or something. But I wouldn't. Like I said, I was a lot bigger ... and a bit younger ... than he. And I have no desire to harm an old drunk, loudmouth though he may be.

But I didn't appreciate him saying what he did.

Since that day, we've taken the Monorail every day, going to different places. But the Wife hasn't been too anxious to ride the bus.

My Wife, the terror suspect

When the Wife and I got to Las Vegas on Sunday afternoon, we had no luggage.

And had no luggage until this morning, when the bell desk brought it up.

I had blamed Delta. And then Northwest. But it turned out neither was to blame.

It was the TSA.

You see, when the bags arrived, and I opened the first bag, the smaller of the two, I found a notice inside. A "Notice of Baggage Inspection."

But only in one bag.

It was the one that contained most of her stuff.

Bras. Panties. Shoes. Personal care items.

Oh, sure, I had a couple of things in there. But most of my stuff was in the other bag. The bag without the notice of inspection.

Her bag was the one searched. Or so it seems.

I'm not sure what about her made them decide to go into her underwear to search for stuff. But they did.

She was real happy to realize that some overpaid government worker got to run his ... or her ... hands all over her intimate articles.

If she gets her hands on whoever was rummaging through her underwear, I'm thinking they'd rather have encountered Mohammed Atta.

I hope she hits a big payoff at the slots today. If she's in a good mood, she'd probably only cripple the TSA worker for life.

My apologies to Delta and Northwest Airlines

I owe two airlines an apology.

I wish to apologize to Delta Airlines, who I first thought lost my luggage. I was extremely frustrated by the fact that our luggage ... containing all our toiletries and underwear, among other things ... didn't arrive. And I expressed my displeasure.

First, I didn't like the luggage going missing. Then, I didn't like the scant information about them finding the luggage and having it delivered.

But, I think I understand why they couldn't tell me more than they did.

I also wish to apologize to Northwest Airlines, who ended up with my luggage.

I was very unhappy that an airline that I didn't even fly on ended up holding my luggage.

But, I think I understand how they got involved.

You see, when the luggage finally arrived, and I opened the luggage, I found something. Something that just might explain it all.

More on that later.

For now, to Delta and Northwest: I'm sorry.

Look who finally showed up

Our errant travelers have been found. And delivered.

A little after 6:00 AM, I went to the phone, saw the flashing red light, and pressed the button to recover our messages.

"You have no voice mail."

That was odd, I thought. Then what's with the flashing light? Then I noticed the voice was continuing.

"You have one text message."

Okay, that's odd, too, I thought. But the machine said I could retrieve my text message by pressing a button. So I pressed that button.

"We are connecting you."

And I was connected. And told the nice little lady that I understood I had a text message. She located it, and read it to me.

"Contact the bell desk."

That was the message in its entirety.

"Would you like me to connect you?"

I would.

A pleasant young man answered.

I spoke. "This, is..."

I didn't get to finish.

"Yes, sir. We have your bags here. Would you like us to bring them up?"

I would.

And, in just a matter of a few short minutes, came the knock on the door.

I asked him to leave them there because the Wife was still in bed, not yet awake.

He agreed.

I gave him his tip, and we both departed happy. He had the easiest luggage delivery ever. And I had my luggage.

And then I found the reason for the delay.

That's a story all in itself.

So, just how did an airline we didn't take lose our luggage?

I mentioned a little while ago that an airline we didn't fly on lost our luggage.

You might wonder how that could happen. It hadn't occurred to me that such a thing could happen. But, apparently, it did.

Here's the deal.

This afternoon, after finding the same thing up on the Delta Web site saying they had found our luggage and were sending it to the airport, I decided to call them.

I spent 55 minutes and 55 seconds on the phone with them. It would have been longer, but Verizon dropped the call.

But, before the drop, I found out some little tidbits.

Let me say first that I can be just about as passive-aggressive as the next guy. More so, from what I hear.

And, one of the things that really aggravates folks about me is that, if something I'm told doesn't fit together just right, I'll keep prying. And, if I don't like the answer I get, I'll keep prodding.

I don't always get my way. But I usually get my point across.

Anyway, this nice lady from Delta ... Melissa was her name ... answered my call and checked on things for me. She checked a lot. Kept putting me on hold to check things. Partly because she was updating me on what she was trying to do, and partly because of my questions to her that she had to put me on hold to check on.

Anyway, after just under 56 minutes, I found out that, according to her research, the airport in Montgomery didn't put my luggage on the flight I was on. Instead of putting it on a Delta flight, they put it on a Northwest flight.

Now, I don't know where that Northwest flight was going. But apparently, not Las Vegas.

Because when I changed planes in Atlanta, the luggage didn't make the transit to the Delta plane. I don't know what happened to it. Melissa from Delta doesn't know what happened to it. But she knew (she said) that Northwest had been notified of the situation, had acknowledged the situation, and was sending the luggage our way.

It's not here yet.

But, the good news is that the notice on Delta's Web site has changed, and looks promising:

We have located your bag and it will be delivered to you within the time frame shown below:
12:30am...12:30pm, July 17, 2007

It's just after 12:30 AM in Las Vegas. So the phone could ring any moment.

I really need a change of clothes. I think so. And the Wife sure thinks so, too.

But It's A Dry Heat

One of the things about this trip to Las Vegas that is not too pleasant ... other than an airline we didn't take losing our luggage ... more about that later ... is the heat.

I know Las Vegas is in the desert. Heck, everyone knows Las Vegas is in the desert. And the desert gets hot.

But, still, it is Las Vegas ... and all the activities of Las Vegas make up for that.

However, you just can't get away from the fact that ... well, doggone it ... it's hot.

For example, since we're in Las Vegas, that means we're going to succumb to the temptations of an addiction that we suffer. Actually, truth be told, I'm the one that has the addiction. The Wife will give in to temptation, but if I wasn't in her life, she'd not be giving in like this.

Yes, that well-known addiction that can be satisfied in Las Vegas: baseball.

We went to a Las Vegas 51s game. We had the chance to see 4 former Columbus Catfish (nee South Georgia Waves) players play tonight. 3B Andy LaRoche, SS Chin Lung Hu, RF Delwyn Young, and LHP Wesley Wright all made it into the game.

LaRoche hit 2 home runs, driving in 4 runs, as well as making a couple of fine plays at third. Hu had a couple of outstanding plays at short, also, as well as getting 3 hits and scoring 2 runs. Young had 2 hits and scored twice. Wright pitched the 9th inning, striking out two. It was not a save situation.

Yes, the 51s were hot tonight. Heck, they're the hottest team in the Pacific Coast League, having won 6 in a row. Delwyn Young is hot, too, being named PCL player of the week.

But the temperature was hot, as well. It was 106 at game time.

It did cool down, though. The game ended at 10:21 PM (PT), and 10 minutes later, according to the sign outside the stadium, it had cooled to 104.

But it's a dry heat.

You know what else is a dry heat? The inside of your oven.

I'm not too worried about the airlines losing our luggage. I don't think I'm going outside ever again.