Monthly Archive for May, 2006

If I were a dog, I’d be a pink poodle, I offered.

“No, you’d be a Shih Tzu,” said Jay. “Poodles can catch frisbees and take hikes and jog along with you on your bike. Maybe fetch the paper. Shih Tzus don’t do shit. They’re just for looks.”

Pause.

“No offence,” he added thoughtfully.

Oh yeah, what will you be if you were a dog? I countered.

“What do you call those with the barrel?”

“A St. Bernard?”

“Yes, they’re chill and they rescue people.”

So there you have it. Jay and Dot—hypothetically speaking—a St. Bernard and a Shih Tzu.

Whatever happens, I think the offspring ought to get the hair.

Act I Scene i
Alaska Airlines plane on Seattle-Tacoma Airport tarmac. Passengers are strapped in, ready to fly. Destination: Burbank, California.

Pilot’s voice over the intercom: Er, hi there folks, you may notice a fire truck’s outside by the right side of the plane. They are there for environmental reasons, we’ve got a minor fuel leak.

15 minutes later.
Pilot: I’ve just peeked out the window and the leak appears to be bigger than we first thought. We’re going to be here a little while longer.

More than one hour later.
Pilot: We are ready for take-off. It appears the leak came from a vent, we determined it to be a ground error and we’ve cleaned it up. We’re good to go.

Act II Scene i
A day later. Alaska Airlines plane takes off from Burbank, California. Take-off is bumpy. 10 minutes later.

Pilot: We have a small problem with the landing gear. We can’t seem to retract it, we will be making a landing at LAX while we figure this out.

Another 20 minutes later.
Pilot: Well folks, welcome to Los Angeles. We would like you to leave the plane and take another flight leaving for Seattle in 45 minutes. Please proceed to Gate 31 A.

As passengers deplane…
Man: With our luck, we’ll get out at Gate 1 A.

Second man: Damn, I knew this was a ghetto plane when I came, look at the paint job.

Third man: I am glad we’re not getting back on this plane. It’s got bad ju-ju.

Act II Scene ii
Passengers on a full flight to Seattle. Seats 17 D, E, F and 16 D, E.

17 D: Look at those two. They are like 5-year-olds.

16 D and E make out all two hours of the flight. They look like life-sized Ken and Barbie—the man has bigger boobs than me, and the woman, let’s say her breasts are not God-given.

17 E wishes she were somewhere else.

It’s always a little problem, a slight delay, a minor issue. And why do pilots call passengers FOLKS?

Thank you, Alaska Airlines. Thank you for showing me how you keep your record as the nation’s worst on-time airline.

Road trips can be boring.

Unless you make a game up.

It used to be something called Punch Bug—that we did all the way from NY to California—in which you punch your partner every time you see a VW Beetle. You can imagine who won that game. (Hint: Jay has bigger fists.)

The Plan: Seattle to Vancouver to Seattle in a day.

The Weather: Glorious.

The Company: Jay and the folks.

The Beetle Count: At least 30, but only 11 caught on film. And oh, no punching allowed.

We went to the zoo today. Aside from the primary school excursion flashblacks, we had a pretty good time. (Thanks to Rino and Josh for the company!)

If you can make out (geddit?) what’s happening in Picture 1, you will understand why that was the highlight for many of the middle schoolers—secondary school students—on their class trips today. The moment, which for the record occurred several times, drew quite a crowd.

Why do tourists feel compelled to do touristy things?

I have no answer.

But it is Day 3 of Operation Parental Unit and I am exhausted.

I speak for my Beetle when I say it’s exhausted too. It’s never had to carry any load heavier than a full Dot.

We went for dinner theater (sounds so English hor!) tonight and random people threw random things at each other (including each other) and it was funny.

I memorized this super corny nugget delivered by one of tonight’s performers.

“If you were a pasta, I’d noodle you. If you were a celery, I’d stalk you. If you were an oyster…”

The laughter drowned him at this point. I believe he was moving on to a dirty joke.

I still don’t know what he’d do to the oyster.