Back in the saddle, another day at the office, another day another dollar…..each of these phrases is worse then the previous, but they all accurately describe life in the cubes. Let me explain:
One of the most fascinating things for me is going from desk to desk, looking at what people have hung up in their work areas. Being in Indy, there are a ton of Colts fans so naturally, Peyton Manning crap is everywhere. This guy can do no wrong at all here in Indy. I mean, let’s just say you play for the Pacers you just happen to be out one night and, well, there’s random gunfire. Again, hypothetically, let’s say this gunfire is directed at you and your crew…is that really that bad? I didn’t think so.
The other great thing about life on the “inside” is the parking situation. And when I say “situation”, I mean complete and sheer disaster. If I’m not here by 7:26 am everyday I’m relegated to the overflow lot which is located roughly just outside Cincinnati.
But work isn’t everything…traveling lately has been fun too. I dig the airport scene, at least I did until I was randomly chosen to participate in the “you look like a threat” frisking at the hands of a security specialist. Now keep in mind, when I travel I usually am tired from staying up the previous night packing/watching re-runs of Chappelle’s Show, and therefore kind of grumpy. So this guy flags me down and asks me to join him to the side where the fondling/professional pat down would go down. I politely decline. I’m told it wasn’t an option and before I know it, my pants are around my ankles and I’m coughing 3 times. Ok, so it wasn’t that bad and I got digits afterward so I actually came out ahead. Next time I’m in Boston, I’ve got a date with Neil, the surprisingly gentle dude from terminal B.
And on that note, Boston’s pretty cool. I had been once before with Sammy for my birthday where we did the whole Fenway father/son thing so going in, I knew that trip would be a tough act to follow. But, weather held up, had some great food with an amazing friend, and I even ran into Chris Mihm and his girlfriend on the street.
Highlight of the trip: we’re sitting at dinner and things are winding down. It’s obvious to us and probably everyone else in the place that we had had our fill of Goose and calamari. We look at each other as if to telepathically say, “Where’s the bill?” I get a little impatient and finally ask the waiter for the bill and he says that it was taken care of over the phone by my friend that afternoon. What!? Why didn’t I think of that?? I immediately look over and say, “Don’t get any ideas, my heart belongs to Neil, the pat-down specialist from terminal B.”
The other great thing about Boston, much like Phil-lay, is the historical significance surrounding the city. I mean, all weekend long I was walking around reciting Good Will Hunting lines like I was from Southie!
Random question: who are these guys that actually sit on those elevated chairs and get their shoes shined?
Also, is anyone walking through the airport and all of a sudden decides they want to learn French and only wished there was a Rosetta Stone kiosk in the terminal? Oh wait, there’s one at every other gate.
I had one of the most comforting and home-like experiences happen to me last night while driving home from Dairy Queen. I’m leaving the drive thru, small banana split blizzard in tote, and I pause at the stop light a little too long to enjoy the extra strawberries I asked for. Apparently, the dude behind me forgot his manners and sped past me, leaving a trail of blazing middle fingers, honks, and F-bombs in his wake. Oh, how I’ve missed Southern California. I guess this is growing up!
One of the most fascinating things for me is going from desk to desk, looking at what people have hung up in their work areas. Being in Indy, there are a ton of Colts fans so naturally, Peyton Manning crap is everywhere. This guy can do no wrong at all here in Indy. I mean, let’s just say you play for the Pacers you just happen to be out one night and, well, there’s random gunfire. Again, hypothetically, let’s say this gunfire is directed at you and your crew…is that really that bad? I didn’t think so.
The other great thing about life on the “inside” is the parking situation. And when I say “situation”, I mean complete and sheer disaster. If I’m not here by 7:26 am everyday I’m relegated to the overflow lot which is located roughly just outside Cincinnati.
But work isn’t everything…traveling lately has been fun too. I dig the airport scene, at least I did until I was randomly chosen to participate in the “you look like a threat” frisking at the hands of a security specialist. Now keep in mind, when I travel I usually am tired from staying up the previous night packing/watching re-runs of Chappelle’s Show, and therefore kind of grumpy. So this guy flags me down and asks me to join him to the side where the fondling/professional pat down would go down. I politely decline. I’m told it wasn’t an option and before I know it, my pants are around my ankles and I’m coughing 3 times. Ok, so it wasn’t that bad and I got digits afterward so I actually came out ahead. Next time I’m in Boston, I’ve got a date with Neil, the surprisingly gentle dude from terminal B.
And on that note, Boston’s pretty cool. I had been once before with Sammy for my birthday where we did the whole Fenway father/son thing so going in, I knew that trip would be a tough act to follow. But, weather held up, had some great food with an amazing friend, and I even ran into Chris Mihm and his girlfriend on the street.
Highlight of the trip: we’re sitting at dinner and things are winding down. It’s obvious to us and probably everyone else in the place that we had had our fill of Goose and calamari. We look at each other as if to telepathically say, “Where’s the bill?” I get a little impatient and finally ask the waiter for the bill and he says that it was taken care of over the phone by my friend that afternoon. What!? Why didn’t I think of that?? I immediately look over and say, “Don’t get any ideas, my heart belongs to Neil, the pat-down specialist from terminal B.”
The other great thing about Boston, much like Phil-lay, is the historical significance surrounding the city. I mean, all weekend long I was walking around reciting Good Will Hunting lines like I was from Southie!
Random question: who are these guys that actually sit on those elevated chairs and get their shoes shined?
Also, is anyone walking through the airport and all of a sudden decides they want to learn French and only wished there was a Rosetta Stone kiosk in the terminal? Oh wait, there’s one at every other gate.
I had one of the most comforting and home-like experiences happen to me last night while driving home from Dairy Queen. I’m leaving the drive thru, small banana split blizzard in tote, and I pause at the stop light a little too long to enjoy the extra strawberries I asked for. Apparently, the dude behind me forgot his manners and sped past me, leaving a trail of blazing middle fingers, honks, and F-bombs in his wake. Oh, how I’ve missed Southern California. I guess this is growing up!
