The bro'


Meet my brother!

World, this is my brother Chris. Chris, don't worry, they won't bite.



Yay, Mom!


My people


Kris and I flew out to Arizona tonight to spend the weekend with my brother. He doesn't know it yet (and I won't be posting this blog until after this), but he's going to have a surprise party tomorrow, with his entire family singing happy birthday to him. Screaming the happy birthday song to him, if I have any say (scream?) in the matter.

Recently, Jessica asked me to check her in for her flight, as she wasn't going to be around a computer 24 hours before she was to fly out, and would miss the opportunity to be in the front of the first boarding group with Southwest. Since I would be in front of the computer (hell, when was I ever NOT in front of a computer, or with handy bluetooth wireless modem access to the Intarweb™, I mean, come on!), I checked her in to her flight, and she managed to be A24. Given that A1 - A20 is reserved for people who pay extra to board first, I did pretty well with that obsessive clicking to get her in at the beginning.

That check-in for her gave me the practice I needed to check myself in for tonight's flights. I had my browser poised and ready for a quick check-in, testing the server times with a few early attempts to make sure I was in the front of the virtual check-in line.

I improved my lot, and I was A23! Whoo!

My second check-in, which was for Kris, wasn't as good, and he boarded at A34. He had the opportunity to board with me, but chose to wait at A34 instead.

As I walked up to the designated section in line, I noticed that most of the people in line wouldn't meet my eye. They looked away as I attempted to talk to them. After a moment, I noticed they were all also covering up the numbers on their boarding passes. What the hell? was about all I could wonder, until I realized that they were standing so that I wouldn't be able to find my place in line and actually BE IN FRONT OF THESE PEOPLE.

Being A23 meant I should be the third in line, behind A21 and A22, the two of them were in a gap after the first seven people who did pay extra to board first. Instead, I was about 7th back, because no one was willing to share his number AND all of them were standing in the A21-A25 section, instead of the A26-A30 section where some of them should have been.

I looked at my fellow passengers and realized, too, that these paunchy, aging, balding, type-A personality, fat men were the same people who hovered over their keyboards exactly 23.6 hours before, AS I HAD DONE, hitting submit-submit-submit-reload-submit, to ensure each of them, too, received a good boarding number.

I can't believe I'm associated with these people.

I'm so embarrassed.

Stranger's feet


So, Kris and I are sitting on the plane, pretty much minding out own business during the flight. I have my 6" stack of magazines (and two books!), so, despite having problems reading because of the last few days, I'm all set.

Sometime about halfway through the flight, I realize that my elbow is being caressed. Now, normally, this wouldn't be a bad thing, except, as dawning realization hits me, my right elbow is being caressed.

And Kris is on my left.

Startled, I jerk my elbow forward and look down.

To my surprise, I see the foot of the person sitting behind him, propped up on the armrest of my chair. The guy behind me is caressing me with his foot.

Except that it isn't just any shoe, this guy had on. No, he has on open toed sandals.

Except that it isn't just any toe sticking out of said open toed sandals. It is a toe with a cracked toenail.

Except that it issn't just an open toed shoe with a cracked toenail poking out of it. It is a green, fungal, cracked toenail poking out of an open toed sandal that had just spent at least the last five minutes, before I realized what was happening, caressing my elbow.

I am not amused.

To say I am purple with rage would be an insult to the color purple.

If I had wanted a green fungal toenail from a stranger caressing my elbow, I assure you, I would have paid extra for my ticket.