there is nothing like a good swaddling...

Day two, 3/4

Nagano

Ski day.  Enough said…oh wait…there’s more.  Greg woke me up at 7am.  Between the onsen and a solid sleep I felt like a hundred dollars.  Breakfast was at 7:30 sharp and then we’d catch a shuttle for the mountain.

Breakfast.  Not quite your standard Grand Slam or Moons Over My Hammy.  Rice, smoked salmon, miso soup, udon noodles, seaweed, tuna, and a bunch of other shit that I had no idea as to what it was.  In keeping with my grandma’s advice I tried everything at least once though, no matter how crazy it looked, and for the most part it was all good.

Full, but not stuffed, we geared up for some skiing.  The ride up was about 25 minutes and was beautiful.  I had decided not to bring my skis as I was heading to Hong Kong later and didn’t really feel like lugging them around.  I hoped this wouldn’t be an issue.  At the rental place I was presented with a pair of 160cm Head skis circa 2002.  For reference, I ski a 186cm.

After some nodding, smiling, and hand gesturing I decided to just go in back and check out the goods to see what else they had.

What I found looked like Glen Plake’s garage from 1984.  The biggest pair I could find were 174’s and I think they were the first “shaped” skis made, but they would have to do. 

Keeping with the zero prep schedule I hadn’t looked at a trail map of the area we’d be spending the next few days conquering.  In general, I don’t like trail maps.  Whether I’m in the states or half way round the world I follow one simple life motto:  “Push forward and drop in”.

In my estimation it’s the best course of action, whether on mountain or in life.  Hey, is that Tony Robbins?

So that’s what we did.  And what a day it was.  Blue bird.  Not a cloud in the sky and the snow was fantastic.  We tore up a few runs and quickly realized the Japanese tend to stay in the middle of the runs leaving nice little stashes of untracked along the sides of most runs.  And then we found it, a beautiful gladed area that hadn’t been touched.  Thankfully the warning signs were in Japanese.  Greg later told me they basically said area prohibited, but they also said ski at your own risk.

What we found in amongst the trees was knee deep in most areas and waste deep around some of the large trees.  My skis let me down a few times, the skinny tips didn’t provide much float so they were swallowed every now and then and I took some pretty good diggers, but the landings were soft and I was having a blast.

We broke for lunch and then decided to explore a bit.  Shiga Kogen, the ski area, is pretty damned expansive as it turns out.  We broke ground on several valleys and quickly realized we had barely scratched the surface. 

We packed it in around 4pm, resolved to see the full spoils of what the rest of the mountains had to offer the following day.  Plus, I had a hankering for a beer and the shuttle was picking us up at 4:30.  The après scene is pretty non-existent.  What Japan does have, however, is an abundance of vending machines and most have an assortment of beers.

So we grabbed a couple, found some seats outside, and toasted a great first day.

I had crossed Asia off my list!

The shuttle arrived promptly and we made our way down the mountain.

It was onsen time.  It turned out to be a little busier at 5 in the afternoon than 11:30 at night.  I’ve never seen that many naked Japanese men in one place.  Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one naked Japanese man.  Some were reserved, holding their washcloth in front of their junk as they walked around while others walked around with a lot more bravado placing the folded cloth on top of their head.  Greg explained this was the custom.  Being the only two foreign devils in there we stuck out like sore thumbs especially since I decided to swaddle my junk with my washcloth.  I got some odd looks, most were envious.

Most of you, yes you, know that a hot tub feels great after a hard day on the mountain, but an onsen…holy shit!  Maybe it was the natural spring water, the nakedness, the view, who knows, but it felt fantastic.

Back in the room I sat down and thought I was going to pass out.  I was that relaxed.  Really.

Speaking of the room…I should probably give you an idea of what to expect should you decide to go…and you should.  Yes, you.

You enter though a door.  No really.  You enter in to a little room with a step up to another room, a rack for shoes and three doors.  Behind door number one is the crapper, door number two is the shower, and door number three is the main room.  The main room is actually pretty good sized and depending on the time of day it’s configured one of two ways.  There are a couple of western style chairs over by the deck.  There is also a big floor table made for midgets.  Actually, it’s a “kneeler”, but whatever.  Cram it dwarves.  They also had a couple of floor chairs.  Basicially dining chairs with no legs.  There is also a TV, a closet, and a little sink in the corner.  Pretty bare bones, but nice.  This was the day configuration.  While we were at dinner they would come in and push the midget table against the wall and pull a futon mattress out of the closet, throw it on the floor and make it up for sleepy time.

For Greg and I there were two separate futons, you perverts.

After the onsen we headed down for dinner.  As we found out, most hotel guests just roll around in the robes the hotel provides.  So for the next few days I lived in either ski gear or a robe.  Which is really how it should be all the time.

After dinner we asked about nightlife and was informed the hotel had a nice bar, but that was about it.  So we headed that way and found that we were the only ones in the joint.  The bartender looked like a Japanese Steve Winwood from his Roll With It days so we stayed and had a few beers.

***I had originally planned on detailing the rest of the days…but I’m going to skip ahead to the last day.  I’ll add some of the funnier bits from the other days though...

does anyone have a copy of Kilroy Was Here that i can borrow?

March, 2011

Seattle to Japan to Hong Kong to Seattle

Finally, I was going to cross Asia off my list of continents to ski.  I’ve had a goal for a few years to knock them all off by the time I’m forty and now I would only have Africa to go. (which will happen next year in case anyone is interested)  And to top not only tackling another continent, I get to do it with one of my best friends that I’ve known since kindergarten.

Greg is currently living and working in Hong Kong, but he’s going to meet me in Tokyo and then we’ll journey to Nagano.

It should be noted at this point, I don’t speak a lick of Japanese, nor have I ever been to Asia.  Thankfully, Greg has both covered.  He’s fluent in Japanese and actually lived there for a semester of undergrad and two years of graduate school.  Without him I’m not sure this trip would have happened.  Needless to say, I’m stoked.  That’s right, “stoked”, Spicoli.

We’d been talking about this trip for quite a while, but it kinda snuck up fast.  I actually booked my flights about a week before my departure date.  So not a ton of prep was done aside from deciding what gear to bring.  Look at a map? Nah.  Maybe check out a guide book? No way.  How about a peak at the weather?  Your joking.  I’ve got gear for all conditions, a passport, and a credit card.  Let’s roll.

Day one, 3/3

SEA to NRT

A straight shot.  My intent was to try and sleep.  My excitement got the better of me.  As soon as I settled in to my seat I was bouncing off the fuselage.  I was emailing and texting anyone that would listen and even those that wouldn’t.  This would be a fitful flight.

I left on a Thursday at noon and arrived on a Friday at 4:00pm.  Somehow, it seemed like it took a couple of hours, really.

Greg was waiting outside baggage claim and we were off to Tokyo by train.  We were going to meet his buddy from grad school that still lives there for dinner, then off to Nagano.

We met for sushi in Tokyo station.  You might be thinking, “sushi in a train station?”  I was thinking the same thing, but it was fantastic.

I came to Asia with an open pallet in mind.  I’m fairly reserved when it comes to sushi; mainly sticking to rolls and things I know.  But I decided to throw my inhibitions out the window and follow my grandma’s mantra; “try everything on your plate at least once.”  So I let my compatriots do the ordering.

It was awesome.  I ate stuff that I never would have and for the most part I liked it all.  I’m not going to try and kid you that everything was great, but I gave it a go.  I had a bunch of sashimi; octopus, eel, scallops, tuna, shrimp, and salmon and a number of different rolls with varied ingredients.  I decided I’d ask after the fact what it was I just ingested.  It turned out to be a solid plan.

Tons of great food and a few beers later Greg and I were bound by train for Nagano.  In the meager amount of prep time for this trip I’d talk to friends or co-workers about my upcoming vacation and the conversation was typically the same:

Me:  “I’m off on vacation to ski in Japan.”

Lawrence:  “Really, you can ski in Japan?”

Me:  “Yah, I’m going to Nagano.”

Lawrence:  “Where?”  (sometimes it was, “never heard of it.”)

Me:  “They had the Olympics there.”

Lawrence:  “Really?”  (sometimes it was, “oh yeah.”)

…and scene…

Back on the train to Nagano and you’d think sleep would catch up to me.  Nope.  With feet on the ground, so to speak, and sometime to catch up with my pal, I was doubly stoked.  At Nagano we hopped on a local train to the mountain.  I was actually too excited to sit so we stood for the forty five minute ride.

Along the way a nice looking gentleman got on.  Actually, he looked like Nick Nolte in that infamous mug shot except his face was bright red.  A tell tale sign for most Asians.

Had I had this pre-disposition to the outwardly visual effects of alcohol I think my mom would have sent me to seminary when I was a youth.

Back to my pal Henry on the train.  At one point he was teetering on the edge of his seat, swaying back and forth  and I honestly thought he was going to topple.

henry

Stick figures don’t do it justice, but instead of falling he decided to puke.

That’s right, puke.  But being the kind, courteous gentleman that Henry is, he cupped his hands ala the Allstate guy from the commercial and chundered in his makeshift cup.  Unfortunately, his cup runeth over and the vomit began to ooze out on to the floor.  He held strong though, and kept those hands pressed together for several stops.  And one by one all of his surrounding riders began to move to the back of the train as the stench became more and more potent.

Fueled by embarrassment and probably a need for another drink, Henry stumbled off at the next exit.  Sadly, for Henry, his feet betwixted one another when he hit the pavement and he went for a tumble.  I’m not sure why, honestly, but for some reason Henry decided to protect his treasure and thusly, opted to land on his elbows instead.  The end result however was a face full of vomit as his grill plunged straight in to this cupped hands of goodness.  Gravity and too much sake is a bitch.

A few stops later and we had arrived at out destination that would be home base for the next few days.  It was about 11:30pm as we found our way to our hotel.

We were staying at an all inclusive, of sorts, hotel.  They provided breakfast and dinner, but the best thing about this place was the onsen.  An onsen is a Japanese bath fueled by a natural hot spring coming from within the mountain.

Upon checking in we headed straight for the onsen.  Along the way Greg explained the rules:

onsen

1. The only suit allowed is of the birthday variety.
2. Only the small washcloth is allowed in the bath room.
3. The washcloth is never allowed in the bath water itself though.
4. You must thoroughly bath at one of the bathing stations.  (s stool with a flexible shower hose and a variety of soaps.)
5. Dripping water on the tatami (the floor of the changing room) is the same as pissing on it.  In other words, don’t do it.

So after a long flight, multiple train rides, and no sleep the onsen felt unbelievable.  I thought I was going to pass out right there in the tub.

Back in the room I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow.  I haven’t fallen asleep that quickly in a long, long time.

 

Tomorrow we ski.  Tonight, I’d sleep and dream of you.  Yes, you.

i am the lizard king

Lounges

Airport lounges can be tricky to sneak in to, but it’s worth it.  They are magical place filled with free food, free booze, comfy seats, private washrooms, free internet, and personal assistants…ok they aren’t nirvana, but they are a nice place to get away from the rabble.

There are a couple of tactics below to consider if you are going to go for the sneak.  All have worked for me with varying success.  Sometimes you have to call an audible once inside the frosted glass doors and you see what you are dealing with.  And of course you shouldn’t attempt any of these if you are wearing jammies.  Unless they are Prada jammies or something like that you should try to look business like.  You don’t have to be suited up, but jeans and a puffy won’t fly.  Jeans, a top coat, and some non-athletic shoes will work just fine.  A North Face backpack isn’t good for anything and they especially aren’t good in this situation.  A North Face fleece isn’t good for anything, period.

The bull rush – This one is all about confidence.  Once you push open the doors you don’t break stride.  It is imperative to locate the front desk position and determine the interest level from the attendant.  Ideally there is only one person and they are helping someone.  In this case don’t even look in their direction.  Eyes on the prize.  If they are alone you need to give them the “what’s up” head nod and slight smile.  And it can’t be the douchy night club head nod.  Think to yourself, “Oh hey, there’s Janet.  It’s been a while.  How have things been?”  But don’t look too long or she’ll try to place you.

The hop along – This one takes a bit of planning so you might have to mill around outside the lounge until the right opportunity presents itself.  The idea is to tag along with a member, but the key is to do it without them noticing.  Ideally you go in with a group.  As they are getting checked in with the desk look at the group as you walk past and say, “I’ll see you in there; I’ve got to hit the washroom.”  Don’t look anyone in particular in the eye.  Try to look at or past the group.  Don’t do it right away.  Wait until the first person checks in so the clerk is busy.  If you are over eager they might stop you.  If they do stop you don’t sweat it.  A simple, “I’ve got to hit the washroom, but I’ll swing back by after.”  That usually does the trick.  Then find a seat as far away from that group of people as you can.  If needed, chat up the bartender or another traveler for a little while.  The second ideal situation is someone entering while on the phone.  Politely stand behind and hopefully the person at the desk will catch your eye.  Make some yackity yack gesture with your hands mocking the person, but be quick.  Ideally they stay on the phone and enter the lounge.  Hang back and then apologize to the person behind the counter.  Something along the lines of I hate it when people do that.  They might ask for your credentials, but just say, oh I work with him or her.  “He or she said they could bring me in with them.  Is that alright?  I’m not really sure how the lounge thing works.”  And you’re in.

The red headed stranger – I’ve actually had the most success with this one.  Similar to the bull rush in that you need some confidence, but basically you walk in, look around for a quick second, then nod and wave at someone in the back of the room.  A nice added touch is to pretend you are on the phone with the person.  Accompany the nod and wave with, “yeah, I see you.”  And actually pick someone or a group of someone’s with an open seat next to them, preferably far away from the front desk, but not too obvious.

The hail mary – If your first attempt fails you are pretty much screwed.  As a last ditch resort you can come clean and try for the hail mary.  Sometimes they let you in to be nice.  Depending on the airport you can try to use the sob story, “the terminal is absolutely packed and I was just hoping to find a spot to sit down for 10 minutes away from the chaos…” or you can try the dumb guy approach, “I just started traveling for my new job and wasn’t sure if I should buy one of the lounge memberships.  What are the benefits?”…or the looking for the colleague bit…”oh sorry, I thought my colleague was in here” and look at your phone…depending on their reaction you can either cut bait pretending you got a text that he or she decided to head to the gate instead…or you can pretend the text says they got held up at security, but they are on the way.  If you choose the ladder say, “I can just wait outside for them.  Sorry about that.”  They will either say “ok” or “you can just wait inside, just be sure to come back up to check in when they get here.”  In some cases they will offer to let you wait by the desk.  At this point you are hosed so make up some excuse about needing to use the restroom or having to get a book or something and get out of there.

Now, if you do get in this is important…find a seat as quickly as possible and settle in.  I don’t mean settle in to your seat and hunker down.  Quite the opposite actually.  Pull out your laptop, your book, your phone…throw your jacket over the chair and then head for the bathroom.  Don’t give someone a chance to come around.  After the bathroom get some food, even if you aren’t hungry and get something to drink.  Then you can hunker down and you should be golden.

Ah, I see you’ve played knifey spoony before!

I travel a fair amount, for those that don’t know, and therefore I’ve pretty much seen it all.  So I’ve compiled a list of tips and suggestions to help the casual traveler, and maybe even the most hardened traveler.  Actually, it’s more of a rant after re-reading it, but there are some good tips mixed in there somewhere.

Security

• Captain Morgan pirate boots – I know Jerry Seinfeld tried to jump start the whole pirate movement with the puffy shirt thing, but ladies please, pirate style boots are not the best choice when passing through security.  Same goes for you, urban cowboy fellas. 
• Oldies, especially the fellas, that three pounds of change you’ve got in the piggy bank you call a trousers pocket will get detected.
• Back to the ladies…you don’t have to wear every piece of jewelry your man buys you when traveling.  I know you don’t trust the bag monkeys down in the bowels of the airport, but honestly, you can put some of it in your carryon.  Better yet, just plan ahead and put them all in your carryon.  The chances that you’ll see someone you know between the five minutes you get out of the car and you get to security are pretty slim.  And really, if they do see you they’ll probably think you are some sort of trend setter.  Or that you look heinous without your jewelry on.  And speaking of looking heinous, if you think the troglodyte TSA representatives will look down on you for not wearing your gaudy Zsa Zsa Gabor jewels I wouldn’t worry about it.  They are busy staring at your feet to make sure you’ve taken your shoes off, which brings me back to point 1.
• Toiletries.  In general, these do need to come out of your bag so again, plan ahead.  Don’t bury them in the bottom of your bag.  I don’t want to see you dig through your unmentionables in the middle of security…unless you are hot.  If you are hot you can ignore this one.
• Any top that zips up or buttons up will need to be removed and passed through the security whole, technical term.  So plan ahead.  Fellas, maybe you don’t sport the wife beater underneath the hoody.  Ladies, maybe throw a top on underneath those ugly, long sweater jacket things…unless you are hot.  If you are hot you can ignore this one too.
• I know there are a lot of hippies out there that like to pack along water bottles.  Water bottles are fine to go through security as long as they are empty.
• A leatherman may be an essential tool on your Batmanesque utility belt along with your pager and cellphones, but it won’t pass through security.  Anything with a serrated, bone cutting instrument is generally not something the FAA wants passengers whipping out on a transatlantic flight.  And really guy in Tulsa who tried to pass through an eight inch Bowie knife ala Mick from Crocodile Dundee. Come on.  On a side note, did you know the Bowie knife was originally named after David Bowie?

Plane etiquette

• If you are sitting in an aisle seat and you are the first one to sit in your row don’t seat belt yourself in and drag out all your shit.  The chances that you won’t have anyone sitting next to you are pretty slim. 
• Speaking of slim, if you have a wide carriage try to be cognoscente of it.  I enjoy getting smacked in the shoulder every time you walk by as much as the next guy…wait, no I don’t.  And I’m pretty sure I don’t have a target on the back of my shoulder.  I usually have the stewardesses check when I get on the plane.
• And unless there is no one sitting in front of you don’t use the back of the seat to hoist yourself out of your seat.  It’s annoying.  And if you do it more than once I scoot the back of my head as far up my seat as I can so the next time your talons are likely to grab a chunk of my scalp and/or hair and I’ll scream like a little girl.  I’ll do it.

The terminal

• I know there is a sub-sectional of the population that insists on getting to the airport 3 to 4 hours early, to each their own, but could you do me a favor and pick a path.  I realize you are trying to kill the time by aimlessly meandering through the terminal, but zig zagging to and fro is frustrating.
• Terminals are pretty depressing places by and large.  Never have people paid so much to do something they loathe.
• In general, sunglasses worn inside are not a good idea, especially if you are in an airport unless you are Tom Berenger, have a white sport coat, jeans, and cowboy boots.  Then, and only then, you can pull it off. 

The Stews

Aside from scamming free beers and calling them stewardesses I don’t ever give these guys and gals a hard time.  In my estimation, from the folks at the gate, to the check in counters, to the stewardesses, they have a shit job.  They have to deal with grumpy, rude, frustrated assholes all day every day.  Always, and I mean always say thanks.  Even if they can’t get you in that aisle seat or closer to the front of the plane at least they looked.  If you are running late and your frustration is getting the better of you remember, it’s not their fault traffic was horrible or security lines were a mess or you were just a dumbass and didn’t plan well.  Even if they end up charging you six bucks for a can of beer say thanks.  It goes a long ways.

Me:  “Hey, do the pilots still give out those little wing pins?”

Me:  “Is there a co-pilot on this flight?  If yes, do you think I he or she would want to switch seats with me?  I hate middle seats.”

Me:  “Have you ever seen the movie Airplane?  Do you know if any of the stewardesses have a guitar?”

A little levity to an otherwise schmuck filled day goes a long ways...

For those that travel a fair amount chime in and help the masses.

Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic

I’m a nerd.  Actually, I think I’m more of a geek.  I think nerds are supposed to be smart.  Basically, I’m whichever one really likes gadgets. 

For the record, I generally keep to myself while traveling.  My head is not on a constant swivel looking for someone to engage in conversation with, but when it comes my way I try to make the most of it.  I’ve been asked this question over 20 times in the last two months while traveling...how do you like your iPad?  For the most part I smile and politely share my feedback because I truly do like it, but at some point…and I don’t really know how to put this…I don’t reach my bubbling over point or get fed up or anything like that…but at a certain point I decided to have a little fun.

I’ve changed the names to protect the innocent, but here are a few of my conversations:

Montgomery:  “How do you like your iPad?”

Me:  “I can’t stand it.  It’s hard to type on and there is no camera”  (As if I would ever hold up an 8X10 rectangular object to snap a photo.  Might as well give me one of the old timey accordion looking cameras with the hood/cape dealy.)  “I can’t make phone calls and they don’t have a Words with Friends iPad app so I have to use the stupid iPhone one.  Do you want it?”

Montgomery:  “Really?”

Me:  “No, I’m just kidding.  I’ll probably just use it as one of those digital picture frames.  Have a nice flight.”

-

Timothy:  “How do you like your iPad?”

Me:  “Oh, this isn’t an iPad, it’s just one of those digital picture frames.”

Timothy:  “But I saw you checking your email.”

Me:  “Are you spying on me?  How dare you.”  (And I wrapped my arms around my iPad to hide it in a similar fashion as a fat kid with a pile of candy after Halloween).

-

Alfred:  “How do you like your iPad?”

Me:  “It’s great.  I really like…oh, hold on, I gotta take this.”  And I stand pretending to take a call.  I pace around the guy for a bit and a lot of “uh huh’s” and “no way’s” and then I sit back down and continue to my sentence…”I really like traveling with it.  The battery lasts forever.”

Alfred:  “I didn’t know you could receive phone calls on it.”

Me:  “You can’t, I was just messing with you.”

Alfred:  “What are you, some kind of nut job?”

Me:  “Yes.  Hey can I get your picture for my blog?”

-

Mary:  “How do you like your iPad?”

Me:  “Oh, it’s not an iPad.  It’s the new version of an Etch-a-Sketch.”

Mary:  “Really?”

Geoff:  “Yes.”

-

In addition to the iPad I also travel with a little Bluetooth keyboard that is flexible and actually rolls up so it’s easy to travel with.  It’s a little harder to have fun with people, but I give it a whirl.

Shirly:  “Is that a little keyboard?”

Me:  “No.”  And I got up and went to the bathroom.  She gave me the death stare when I got back.  When we landed I asked her if she wanted to grab a drink.  She said no.

-

Matty:  “Is that a little keyboard?”

Me:  “Yes, it’s the coolest thing every.”

-

Cords.  Can’t stand them.  Never have so I found a pair of Bluetooth headphones.  They are fantastic.  They hook up to my iPad and iPhone without wires and from time to time I get questions about them.  The real problem I have though is not the questions about the headphones themselves, but that the questions come in while I’m wearing them.  I realize this makes me sound anti-social and I don’t disagree, but if someone has headphones on they clearly aren’t interested in chit chatting or giving you their opinion of their iPad, however important that question seems to be.  At first I thought it might the size of the earphones.  I used to travel with the little white apple ones.  I thought that maybe people didn’t see them.  I’m a benefit of the doubt guy.  So I got a pair of those big ear muff Princess Leah sized ones.  Like I’m a DJ.  Like I’ve got two Big Macs covering my ears.  Like I’m…I got nothing else.  But even these, clearly noticeable from space, headphones didn’t deter the onslaught.  I tried ignoring their questions by pretending I couldn’t hear them.  I’d start nodding to the song I was listening to, but I’ll give it to my fellow Americans…they are tenacious.  Next up always comes the shoulder tap.  If it comes to that I generally pull my headphones off, politely answer their question, and bide my time. 

I wait until a movie comes on and hope they start listening to it.  I’ll wait until there’s about 10-15 minutes left and I strike up a conversation about the movie in question.  I can idly chit chat with the best of them.  “What do you think of the movie so far?”  “I think it’s really good, but it’s kind of hard to follow.”  Who’s that guy?”  “Oh, and why is he [insert on screen action here].”  “You know, I saw him/her in another movie.”  “Did you see that one?”  “What did you think of it.”  “I thought it was”…and I can easily keep it up for ten minutes.  And when they try to answer my first question abruptly and quickly try to put their headphones back on.  I give them about 30 seconds to get back in it and then give them a tap on the ole shoulder. 

But my favorite is when they fall asleep.  I wait for their head to start a noddin and then politely tap them on the shoulder and ask them “how they like their nap”.  It’s fun for me.  It annoys the crap out them.  And I’ve yet to have someone put two and two together.  That makes 4.

Usain Bolt and Mohamed Atta

A while back I wrote about the conditioned Pavlovian response to the ding you hear when a plane arrives at the gate alerting the passengers that it is now safe to retrieve their bags…I’ve subsequently dubbed this the HUAW factor…well, I feel like I’ve seen it all until a recent trip to Boston.  I’m sitting towards the back of the plane, in an aisle seat, and upon touching down the plane taxis.  As many of you know a plane may pause a time or two on the way to the gate to yield to service vehicles or other planes or maybe just to piss off travelers.  As mentioned, many of you are aware of this and you wait for the familiar “ding”, but on this particular day, on this particular flight, there was a fine young gentleman sitting somewhere behind me who wasn’t aware of these pauses.  Actually, he wasn’t really that young and probably not that fine.  He was probably closing in on forty.  Save your comments oldies. 

Anywho…at the first plane pause he makes a break for it.  Apparently determined to be the first one off the plane so he’s sprinting as fast as he can down the aisle with this big Jansport backpack swinging to and fro and smacking the seats and passengers as he passes.  The reaction of the passengers reminded of that moment when a bride enters the church…the audience hushes and everyone turns their heads in progressive order starting from the back of the church to the front.  A sort of wave of adulation and astonishment.  A collective “she looks beautiful, but is she really wearing white”.  Well, it was sort of like that in that it started from the back of the plane and moved forward, but in this case the heads swiveled the opposite way.  And everyone had the same thought, although in this case it was, “what the fuck?”  Everyone except me that is…I’m convinced this guy is Al Qaeda, but I’m thinking he might have that narcosleepy disease and he slept through the whole flight until the landing jarred him awake.  And suddenly he’s panicking because he’s going to fail his mission, burn in hell or wherever, and become Osama’s bitch boy.  Bin Laden that is, not Barrack.  So now I’m off flying down the aisle chasing this maniac with a plastic fork.  I’m not really sure what I’m going to do with the plastic fork unless he has a fruit cup or something, but I’m chugging down the…just kidding…I didn’t really chase him down.   

So this jabroni is almost to first class and the plane starts moving towards the gate again.  Everyone is looking on wide mouthed in wonder…will he come back to his seat, will they let him sit in an open stewardess seat or maybe first class, or will they just stop the plane until he comes back to his seat.  No movement.  Just an announcement over the intercom reminding passengers to remain seated until the plane has come to a complete stop and the captain has turned off the seatbelt sign.  A little passive aggressive, but maybe it will have the desired effect.  Still, no movement and then a second pause of the plane.  This time I’m sure the guy will be sent back to his seat, but after a few moments we start rolling again.  Finally, we pull up to the gate and I’m thinking this guy is on to something…and then we hear the captains voice…ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at our gate, but do to FAA regulations the jetway cannot deployed until every passenger is in their seat.  Still, no movement.  Then, one of the stews from the back hurriedly moves down the aisle to collect this wayward passenger.  As he makes his way back down the aisle the same bride entering the church head swivel is happening only this time it’s starting from the front to the back and instead of happy, joyful thoughts everyone looks on with disdain and contempt.  “How dare you cost me 45 extra seconds.”  It should be noted we arrived 15 minutes ahead of schedule, but not being one to stray away from the herd I let out a boisterous, “Thanks Jerk” as he passed and stuck my foot out causing him to fall on his face, much to the delight of my fellow passengers.  There was laughter, cheers, and applause. 

And then it happened, the fine young fellow struggled to his feet with tears in his eyes and I realized he was a retard.  At this same time my fellow passengers realized the same thing and there were boos, hisses, and thumbs down signs.  How quickly the rabble turns.  Retard trumps everything I guess.  Defiant, I pushed him down again and called him Mary…just kidding.  He wasn’t a retard…well, I guess someone that makes a mad dash for the front of the plane at the first sign of stoppage has to have a bit of retard in him, but he seemed fairly normal and was oblivious to fact that he was tripped.  He made his way to his seat and bided his time. 

Ding, goes the seat belt sign and up flies everyone due to the HUAW factor including the track star behind me.  But now his path is impeded.  I’ll give him this, it did not deter him.  He did his best Bode Miller slalom impression and weaved his way through the crowd at a fairly rapid pace knocking people around with his massive backpack, undoubtedly filled with organ transplants of some sort. 

I shrug it off and figure he has some tight connection he’s trying to make…that is until I’m making my way through baggage claim to catch a taxi and see him calmly standing there waiting for his bag.  It was actually a pretty funny scene.  He had about a fifteen foot radius between him and the next closest passenger.

So now I’m figuring he has that fear of enclosed places phobia, nutzophobia.  So I head over to him and politely ask him if he has ever been to Carlsbad Caverns?  He quizzically peers at me and says “huh?”  Honestly, I didn’t have the energy to wind this guy up so I just ask him flat out, “What the fuck is wrong with you?  Why did you sprint to the front of the plane like that?”  He said, “Oh, I have claustrophobia.”  “They can give you penicillin for that”, I replied and walked off.