Music: Hey Jealousy, Gin Blossoms
Game: Nothing while I’m in NY…oh, I’m lying. Puzzle Quest. I brought my PSP.
Book: Still nothing…need to go to a bookstore tomorrow.
Watching: 300 on my PSP. Don’t ask.
Weather: Hot as a muthafuck. Hotter than the ‘Nam. Africa hot. Tarzan and Jane hot.
So I’m in NY. I went to my cousin’s wedding last night, where I read a poem for her…by Whitman. You know I love my cousin if I’m willing to read Walt freakin’ Whitman as part of her wedding ceremony. Whitman? WHITMAN? How about Dr. Seuss, yo? Whatever. Was a nice ceremony. I’m not much for weddings in general…but it was great seeing her…and the rest of the family.
But, of course, getting here was not without a bit of drama. You see, the fine people at the airline decided to lose my luggage with my brand new suit in it. Nothing like showing up the day before a wedding wearing nothing but fatigue pants, a grey tshirt, and Doc Martens, and discovering that your luggage has gone missing. I’m certain that would have gone over well. Me showing up in that outfit that I’d travelled in and slept in. Charming.
I should have guessed something would have gone awry. I got to the counter, and asked for an aisle seat, and the guy said “None left.” Hm. Makes a couple of passes on his keyboard, says “Oh, there’s one. 9C. Good?” I say “sure, thanks.” He prints out my ticket and seating pass, hands it to me, when I notice there’s like two or three counter people watching him, I guess learning or whatever. He suggests I head to the gate, even though I’m an hour before my flight, as it’s “cruise weekend” or whatever, and sure enough, the line for security rivals the Heathrow Passport Control lines.
I get to my gate in plenty of time, and the flight is delayed about 30 minutes. Whatever. I get some water, gum head over to the gate. They start boarding, and I head to seat 9C only to find some alterno-bald guy sitting there. I say “Are you in my seat?” We check our boarding passes, and sure enough, we both have 9C. He mumbles something about having checked in 2 days earlier online, and says “I’ll head up and aggressively see what’s going on.” I knew then that this was gonna be fun. So he comes back and we find space to stand/sit while the usual boarding chaos goes on around us. The flight attendant comes back and explains to alterno-guy that he’s apparently been moved to seat 9B, next to mine. He gets all prickly and says “What’s the point of checking in online if I’m just going to get moved?!” and starts off with the whole do I get a voucher or some sort of compensation when the flight officer who’s deadheading right ahead of me speaks up and says “He can have my seat, it’s no problem.” The flight attendant was already filing this alterno-guy into the “Yeah, I’m gonna spill coffee on this fuck” category, when she looks at the flight officer (who was in uniform and stuff) and says “Are you sure it’s OK?” Flight officer says “Yeah. It’s no problem at all. I’m flying free anyway.” So the alterno-guy mumbles something and gets into the seat ahead of me, while I apologize for the confusion and he mutters at me “Yeah, well, it was going to be you or me.” Whereupon I put him into the “Yeah, I’m gonna kick his fucking seat the whole fucking flight category.” Apparently, the guy at the counter found me an aisle seat by moving Mr. Alterno-guy. I guess I was just too charming.
Anyway, the flight officer was a pretty nice guy, and we chatted for a while about videogames, and he was lamenting the lack of good flight simulators. I asked about a professional pilot playing a flight sim…because, you know, that’s just cool to me. He explained that it was less the lack of the feeling of motion that bothered him than the lack of peripheral vision. I thought that was a very very deep comment. Of course, if you think about it, it makes sense. I imagine a race car driver would say the same thing. I do find myself listening for gunfire, and moving based on sound, rather than peripheral vision when I play 2142…but I could easily see why a Navy pilot would be disturbed by it. We lamented the lack of mature online gaming partners, and he laughed about getting his ass kicked by obnoxious 12 year olds while playing football. I mentioned the whole X360 model of Live, and he seemed interested, but not convinced. I think he’s a PS2 guy at heart. Likes him some Sony, but knows that the PS3 isn’t for him just yet.
Anyway, back to the lost luggage. So, I guess while Mr. Counter-Seat-Moving-Guy was busy moving Mr. Alterno-bald guy, he managed to forget my bag on the conveyor. Never made it to the plane. Fabulous. Except that no one knew that until 8:30am the next day. I called them, and they said “Hey, no problem, it’s on the truck now…it’ll be to you soon.” OK. So 10am rolls around…no bag. I call them, and a very nice lady tells me that the bag is sitting on her chair, it’s not on any truck, and she doesn’t have any trucks today. But if I could please let her know who I spoke to, because she was going to kill him. Nice. So my uncle and I head off to JFK in the convertible Rolls Royce (No, I’m not kidding.) and pick up the bag. The lady I spoke to on the phone apologized profusely, and gave me a voucher for $50 off my next flight with JetBlue. Yeah, sign me up.
So I managed to get my suit, get to the wedding, read my Whitman, see my cousins, hang out, and have a generally nice time. I did, however, manage to leave my day-to-day Doc Martens at my aunt’s house on Long Island…so all I have is my dress shoes. Nice. So I borrow a pair of Steve Madden shoes from my uncle…I kinda like ’em. Might even keep ’em.
So, I went downtown to have lunch at Hop Kee (where all the waiters came over and said hi, and asked where I’d been, and tell me how glad they were to see me…), and my friend Pauri and I wandered from Chinatown all the way up to Union Square looking for shoes. I found the shoes I wanted at the first store…but they didn’t have my size. No biggie. I figured I’d find them elsewhere. We must have wandered into at least 20 stores. Didn’t find what I wanted. Guess it wasn’t as easy as I thought, huh? They’re a pair of Chuck Taylor Pinstripes…same color as my suit, subtle grey pinstripes. Awesome. No luck.
So I get back to my uncle’s place, where I’m staying, and I get online…and, of course, they’re no longer available. I start cursing, then get to googling. I find a place that SAYS they have them, and I’ve ordered them in my size…I guess we’ll see if they actually ship me a pair. If they do, I’m TOTALLY wearing my suit with them to work one day.
And now, I’m off to Hop Kee (again) for dinner with my uncle, my mom, and my cousin Chris and his girlfriend.