At most points in time, the skies are usually packed with suits and retirees. But this week was a little different…
Monday morning, we took a full flight to Houston with a brief touchdown in San Antonio along the way. There were only 9 of us passenger types that were continuing on from San Antonio to Houston. We obediently stayed seated so Mary could do her through-count, and then we were permitted to move about the cabin. As a semi-seasoned traveler, I made my way towards the front of the aircraft to gain a better seat. Settled in on the window of aisle 3, they came.
Instinctively responding to the repetitive training, I reached to secure my oxygen mask before helping the 22 elementary school kids who had just begun scurrying onto our flight.
I hope little Johnny [who am I kidding – odds of one of those kids being named Johnny in this day in age are 3400:1] didn’t take it personally when we made eye contact and the only word I could muster was “really?”
Turns out J-Dog and his friends were on a field trip. That field trip was to the San Antonio airport and not Houston. Crisis averted. The children took their picture, put in their earplugs, and headed out onto the tarmac, leaving me to wish that I was the one going out on the tarmac.
We’re in the air on the way back to Nashville now [Yes, folks, this is another highly-anticipated live-but-delayed-due-to-internet-access post].
One sidenote before we get to the second of my two subpar storylines...
Sidenote: If you’re not familiar, Southwest is to other all other airlines as the Harlem Globetrotters are to the Washington Generals. This is mostly due to the fact that their employees act like people. Sometimes sarcastic people. And I LUV them for it. Today, just after family boarding, we begin boarding “B 1 through 30.” As B7, I am ready to hand the guy my boarding pass when this older couple comes running [relative term] up flashing their A27 and A28. “We’re A’s. We tried as hard as we could, but we just couldn’t get here fast enough.” I smile and wait. The Southwest guy takes the lady’s boarding pass and asks, “Why are you breathing so fast? Is somebody chasing you?” He then proceeds to step to the side and look for her pursuer.
I get on the plane, lock down my aisle seat on a row whose window seat is occupied. Immediately, I pretend to sleep so as not to be disturbed by someone looking to lurk on the vacant middle seat. After the aisle traffic has died down, I wake up. Soon, I find myself repeating steps 1 and 2 as we are waiting on some connecting passengers. During the waiting process, I am un-formally introduced to the child sitting one row up and over from me.
She says she’s three, but her fingers tell a different story. I have no idea what this girl’s name is, which is probably best in case this blog becomes huge so she doesn’t have TMZ coming after her. [NOTE: The water on today’s flight tastes like a mixture of hand lotion and icy hot.] We’ll call her Nancy, given my earlier stance on old-school names. Nancy had two shining moments before we reached 10,000 feet and my headphones went in.
1. Nancy’s mom was traveling with Nancy and her younger sister. Mom leaned up to the gentleman in front of her and asked that if little sister was getting too annoying to let her know, and she’d take little sister out of the carseat and hold her. The gentleman told her everything is fine, and Nancy responded by asking, “Mommy, is that PawPaw?” “No baby, that’s the nice man who is sitting in front of us.”PawPaw, if you’re reading this, congratulations on being generic.
2. As I mentioned, we were waiting on connecting flights. During the wait, Nancy asked, “Mommy, are we here?” This was a totally legitimate question given how much time we spent sitting at the gate.
As I close up the computer for this trip, I can tell you this, the safety information card in your seat pocket is very interesting to a three year-old. Also, I have determined that part of flight attendant school is avoiding French fries in the aisle. Nancy has gotten a little careless in her old age, yet no one has stepped on the rejected potatoes she has left strewn about the cabin.
Anyway, you want an advertisement for birth control? Film people traveling with their kids. Frozen pea sales will skyrocket.
Finally, I’m not sure about the amenities in Heaven, but if there’s a blog ticker up there somewhere and this is scrolling [Not saying these words are worthy of glory, but there’s a lot of time in eternity], to all you folks who were old when I was little, thanks for taking the time to eerily stop and look at me, making ridiculous faces and talking in awkward voices at me. My parents probably didn’t like it at the time, but I’m sure you meant well… Nice wings.
1.31.2011
1.17.2011
You Better Brace Yourself, Fool
Aside from reminding me how old I am on a regular basis, the church youth group is sweet enough to allow me to tag along on most of their adventures [though trips to D.C. and Disney replaced Pascagoula, Mississippi and Gary, Indiana immediately following my retirement from youth internship]. This weekend was back to Indiana. This time for a winter retreat, complete with skiing.
I have skied [or whatever the past tense of ‘to see’ is] before. However, when I say before, I mean one day in 7th grade. Below I have listed the highlights of the weekend. Granted, some emphasis is placed on skiing. While my audience may not be large, I’m not foolish enough to think they don’t want to hear the interesting parts of the weekend...
• In case you’re a facestalker, I want to be the one to tell you, I bought and wore a scarf. Let’s just say, the scarf gene passed down quite effectively.
• In ski school, Dave, my instructor, asked me if I was left handed. I responded no, attempted to perform his next simple task, and he asked, “Are you sure you’re not left handed?”
• I enjoyed some of the greatest worship time I have had in a long time… No offense to the Sunday morning regulars at church who may be reading this.
• This little fella was riding the magic carpet behind me on the bunny slope. 15 seconds after this photo was taken, I looked down and saw 2 tiny skis between mine. The little man was tucked under me like I was a papa penguin.
• Our lodging for the weekend: a Boy Scout lodge. If you’ve ever spent much time on a church trip, you have probably experienced the joy of Podunk accommodation. This weekend was no different.
• The walls in the aforementioned Boy Scout lodge were apparently made of paper mache. Similar to what I imagine a low-security prison to be like, every door clicked at least 3 times when it slammed, echoing throughout the hall of 2-man cells.
• Dave looked at me on my last trip down the hill in ski school with a sad look that said something along the lines of, “Son, you need at least 3 more hours with me before you can look like anything above an alpine tumbleweed.”
• This weekend reminded me that a mid-20s accountant can pull a lot out of curriculum intended for 16 year-old high schoolers.
• Loveland, Ohio is basically the Hendersonville of Cincinnati. As determined by the houses, Red Robin [Yum.], boutiques, and Starbucks in the grocery store.
• In my 3 hours I spent practicing until I could turn left, my favorite moment was when a little kid, no more than 4 years old, was walking up the hill holding his snowboard, alerting everyone he passed, “You better brace yourself, fool.”
• While watching Toy Story 3 [The title for the weekend was Toys R Us, theme being how to stay tru [sic] to yourself, others and God.], I realized Ken wore rompers and still managed to get Barbie approximately 3 times.
• I’m still not sure I can turn left, but I did have the pizza and right turn to fall back on [pun] to kick inertia in the snowballs and stop my descent.
• Even as Christians, we often find ourselves “putting more weight on the backs of those who already have so much… weight that we’ve dropped more often than we’ve carried.”
• I fell more times than I had fingers, thus failing one of the personal goals for the weekend.
• Apparently, it was a good decision for me to call it a career after one year in cub scouts. Of the three showers in the guy’s bathroom, one was a handicapped stall that could have used about 4 gallons of CLR. The other two were designed with a stationary shower head, protruding 2 inches from the wall, drizzling straight down. As such, I chose the handicapped stall and waited 3 minutes each morning for hot water.
• One of the youth ministers on the trip came back from a ride on the lift and shared what he had learned from his lift buddy: It's best to tie someone up with nylon rope. It doesn't leave rope burns.
• Turns out a weekend like this one gives you that spiritual encouragement that makes fulfilling the “warrior picking up his sword and slashing demonic thugs” role a little easier to fill for a while. [Relax, elders and deacons, that wasn’t the lesson, but demonic thugs was to spiritual analogies mentioned this weekend as the Black-Eyed Peas are to modern day pop music.]
• In an interesting turn of events, I joined one of the kids in the ski lodge in singing a few a cappella songs by a local group from a cd released circa 1996. After said kid left on the first van back to the boy scout barracks, I looked over at the next table in the lodge only to see one of the youth ministers who was in the local a capella group in the mid-‘90s. He was also joining a Nashville youth group on a ski trip. The term “small world” doesn’t really cover that one.
• My previous post regarding popular youth group songs held 75% true. Only Vanilla Ice failed to arrive... Rob Van Winkle went cousin Rip on us and disappeared.
In summation, it was a great weekend for fun, spiritual growth, and humility, courtesy of a fleet of 8 year olds that are way better at skiing than I will ever be.
I have skied [or whatever the past tense of ‘to see’ is] before. However, when I say before, I mean one day in 7th grade. Below I have listed the highlights of the weekend. Granted, some emphasis is placed on skiing. While my audience may not be large, I’m not foolish enough to think they don’t want to hear the interesting parts of the weekend...
• In case you’re a facestalker, I want to be the one to tell you, I bought and wore a scarf. Let’s just say, the scarf gene passed down quite effectively.
• In ski school, Dave, my instructor, asked me if I was left handed. I responded no, attempted to perform his next simple task, and he asked, “Are you sure you’re not left handed?”
• I enjoyed some of the greatest worship time I have had in a long time… No offense to the Sunday morning regulars at church who may be reading this.
• This little fella was riding the magic carpet behind me on the bunny slope. 15 seconds after this photo was taken, I looked down and saw 2 tiny skis between mine. The little man was tucked under me like I was a papa penguin.
• Our lodging for the weekend: a Boy Scout lodge. If you’ve ever spent much time on a church trip, you have probably experienced the joy of Podunk accommodation. This weekend was no different.
• The walls in the aforementioned Boy Scout lodge were apparently made of paper mache. Similar to what I imagine a low-security prison to be like, every door clicked at least 3 times when it slammed, echoing throughout the hall of 2-man cells.
• Dave looked at me on my last trip down the hill in ski school with a sad look that said something along the lines of, “Son, you need at least 3 more hours with me before you can look like anything above an alpine tumbleweed.”
• This weekend reminded me that a mid-20s accountant can pull a lot out of curriculum intended for 16 year-old high schoolers.
• Loveland, Ohio is basically the Hendersonville of Cincinnati. As determined by the houses, Red Robin [Yum.], boutiques, and Starbucks in the grocery store.
• In my 3 hours I spent practicing until I could turn left, my favorite moment was when a little kid, no more than 4 years old, was walking up the hill holding his snowboard, alerting everyone he passed, “You better brace yourself, fool.”
• While watching Toy Story 3 [The title for the weekend was Toys R Us, theme being how to stay tru [sic] to yourself, others and God.], I realized Ken wore rompers and still managed to get Barbie approximately 3 times.
• I’m still not sure I can turn left, but I did have the pizza and right turn to fall back on [pun] to kick inertia in the snowballs and stop my descent.
• Even as Christians, we often find ourselves “putting more weight on the backs of those who already have so much… weight that we’ve dropped more often than we’ve carried.”
• I fell more times than I had fingers, thus failing one of the personal goals for the weekend.
• Apparently, it was a good decision for me to call it a career after one year in cub scouts. Of the three showers in the guy’s bathroom, one was a handicapped stall that could have used about 4 gallons of CLR. The other two were designed with a stationary shower head, protruding 2 inches from the wall, drizzling straight down. As such, I chose the handicapped stall and waited 3 minutes each morning for hot water.
• One of the youth ministers on the trip came back from a ride on the lift and shared what he had learned from his lift buddy: It's best to tie someone up with nylon rope. It doesn't leave rope burns.
• Turns out a weekend like this one gives you that spiritual encouragement that makes fulfilling the “warrior picking up his sword and slashing demonic thugs” role a little easier to fill for a while. [Relax, elders and deacons, that wasn’t the lesson, but demonic thugs was to spiritual analogies mentioned this weekend as the Black-Eyed Peas are to modern day pop music.]
• In an interesting turn of events, I joined one of the kids in the ski lodge in singing a few a cappella songs by a local group from a cd released circa 1996. After said kid left on the first van back to the boy scout barracks, I looked over at the next table in the lodge only to see one of the youth ministers who was in the local a capella group in the mid-‘90s. He was also joining a Nashville youth group on a ski trip. The term “small world” doesn’t really cover that one.
• My previous post regarding popular youth group songs held 75% true. Only Vanilla Ice failed to arrive... Rob Van Winkle went cousin Rip on us and disappeared.
In summation, it was a great weekend for fun, spiritual growth, and humility, courtesy of a fleet of 8 year olds that are way better at skiing than I will ever be.
1.10.2011
Elf Ears? I Guess I Can See That
Well today was a snow day… and, even though I am a grown, tax-paying citizen, I built snowmen (well, more on that later), threw snowballs at children, went sledding, and basically lived the dream. Since you clicked the link to learn more about me and waste 2-8 minutes depending on your reading level, let me tell you about my day…
The alarm was set for 6:15… Always ahead of the curve, I woke up at 6 and called the number at work to see if our office was open. It was then I heard the sweetest words outside of “There’s a new Die Hard movie coming out” – “The Corporate campus is closed.” At this point, I turned the alarm off and hit the hay hard for a couple of more hours. I like my job a lot, but, today, I’ll take 2 hours sleep over a spreadsheet.
So I rolled out of bed at some point, showered to be presentable for, well, no one, and then checked the phone. I had a lovely text message waiting on me inviting me to a day of snowy adventure with a few church folks… What else would I be doing all day? Well, I started by watchingRegis Seth Myers and Kelly, so the day was probably bound to fail anyway.
When I arrived, there was already a snowman assembled, fitted with an Auburn hat and a spy scope. The resident seven year old set out to name the snowman, realized “Aubie” sounded too familiar [In hindsight, he probably feared copyright violations], and stumbled through something his parents decided must have been “Oliver.” Thus, Oliver the Auburn fan snowman was born.
Snowball fights ensued. As I figured I had a natural athletic advantage over a majority of the participants, I decided to give myself a challenge and settled for throwing my snowballs over a small building in the backyard. Relatively unsuccessful, I set out to tick off Oliver.
At this point I had visions of sugar plums and a giant snow duck to go side-by-side with Oliver. It looked really good in my head. 20 minutes and several excuses later I was left with one of the following: A) a goldfish; B) a headless duck; C) a turtle or D) a bust [think museum] of someone famous laying on their back. Those were all actual interpretations. If you’ve ever taken a multiple choice quiz, you know the right answer is, of course, B. Alas, as I type, the duck is still sitting outside the window. He would be staring at me, but he doesn’t have a head… or he retracted it into his shell.
After the failed duck, we set out to sled. Traversing the streets of East Nashville on foot, we set out to find the greatest hills the Riverwood area has to offer. We found lots of concrete. But we stuck with it and eventually found enough ice and snow to keep us flying. In the most movie-worthy moment of my day, I manned the 2 man sled down the hill [Feel the rhythm] with a youth group kid on board behind [Feel the rhyme]. Once we reached a pretty good speed, I may have noticed we were veering a little left [Let’s get on up]. Apparently, the youth grouper realized this as well, and bailed out [It’s bobsled time]. It was within seconds that I ducked under the mailbox and slid into the ditch without the benefit of the sled. As you may be aware, given the post-sled analysis you are reading, I survived. [Cool Runnings]
We returned for an afternoon of Big K, Balderdash, and Blogging… As of 5:00, it’s been a good day, less Abraham Lincoln taking a nap in the backyard and a seven year old whispering to her parents that I have elf ears. In as non-sacrilegious tone as possible… When I was a child, I played in the snow as a child. When I became a man, I continued my childish ways, but stopped crying when I fell off the sled.
I don’t say it enough, but thank you for choosing my blog to waste your time. I know you could be watching Jersey Shore, or reading Harry Potter books, but you chose me instead. I’ll never forget that. Until the Alzheimer’s sets in.
The alarm was set for 6:15… Always ahead of the curve, I woke up at 6 and called the number at work to see if our office was open. It was then I heard the sweetest words outside of “There’s a new Die Hard movie coming out” – “The Corporate campus is closed.” At this point, I turned the alarm off and hit the hay hard for a couple of more hours. I like my job a lot, but, today, I’ll take 2 hours sleep over a spreadsheet.
So I rolled out of bed at some point, showered to be presentable for, well, no one, and then checked the phone. I had a lovely text message waiting on me inviting me to a day of snowy adventure with a few church folks… What else would I be doing all day? Well, I started by watching
When I arrived, there was already a snowman assembled, fitted with an Auburn hat and a spy scope. The resident seven year old set out to name the snowman, realized “Aubie” sounded too familiar [In hindsight, he probably feared copyright violations], and stumbled through something his parents decided must have been “Oliver.” Thus, Oliver the Auburn fan snowman was born.
Snowball fights ensued. As I figured I had a natural athletic advantage over a majority of the participants, I decided to give myself a challenge and settled for throwing my snowballs over a small building in the backyard. Relatively unsuccessful, I set out to tick off Oliver.
At this point I had visions of sugar plums and a giant snow duck to go side-by-side with Oliver. It looked really good in my head. 20 minutes and several excuses later I was left with one of the following: A) a goldfish; B) a headless duck; C) a turtle or D) a bust [think museum] of someone famous laying on their back. Those were all actual interpretations. If you’ve ever taken a multiple choice quiz, you know the right answer is, of course, B. Alas, as I type, the duck is still sitting outside the window. He would be staring at me, but he doesn’t have a head… or he retracted it into his shell.
After the failed duck, we set out to sled. Traversing the streets of East Nashville on foot, we set out to find the greatest hills the Riverwood area has to offer. We found lots of concrete. But we stuck with it and eventually found enough ice and snow to keep us flying. In the most movie-worthy moment of my day, I manned the 2 man sled down the hill [Feel the rhythm] with a youth group kid on board behind [Feel the rhyme]. Once we reached a pretty good speed, I may have noticed we were veering a little left [Let’s get on up]. Apparently, the youth grouper realized this as well, and bailed out [It’s bobsled time]. It was within seconds that I ducked under the mailbox and slid into the ditch without the benefit of the sled. As you may be aware, given the post-sled analysis you are reading, I survived. [Cool Runnings]
We returned for an afternoon of Big K, Balderdash, and Blogging… As of 5:00, it’s been a good day, less Abraham Lincoln taking a nap in the backyard and a seven year old whispering to her parents that I have elf ears. In as non-sacrilegious tone as possible… When I was a child, I played in the snow as a child. When I became a man, I continued my childish ways, but stopped crying when I fell off the sled.
I don’t say it enough, but thank you for choosing my blog to waste your time. I know you could be watching Jersey Shore, or reading Harry Potter books, but you chose me instead. I’ll never forget that. Until the Alzheimer’s sets in.
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