Prologue.

4:10AM – I lie in bed. Richard is in the kitchen grinding coffee beans with all the subtleness of a bull-elephant rutting. Ralph and Trixie are outdoors, announcing to the world that… okay, I really have no idea what they are barking about. Max and Spike are doing their best impersonations of Whirling Dervishes, tossing furniture aside like match sticks. Peace and tranquility are dead. The day begins.

6:45AM – We near Portland. Nature calls. We stop at the TA truck stop. (I think the TA stands for Travel America, but being ever-witty, I call it the Tits and Ass.) In the barbershop of this rough and tumble trucker’s haven (and I am not making this up), they sell “vintage doilies”. I shake my head. What is this world coming to?

7:55AM – I settle in at gate A-7 with my cup of coffee and scone. (Note to self: Next time you buy a scone, ask what’s in it before you finalize the transaction. Those nummy looking cranberries may actually be salty little bits of bacon. You will be disappointed.) I am still a bit disgruntled at having to pay $15.00 to check my bag. I contemplated dragging it with me and, in my traditional style, wreaking some major havoc. But in the end, maturity (read: old age) wins out and I pay the fee. One less gift for Richard this Christmas.
Just to rub a little salt into my wounds, the airlines is offering free coffee between gate A-7 and A-6. Free coffee very similar to the $2.00 cup I just purchased, but it costs $2.00 less. Under different circumstances, I would applaud their hospitality. But I just paid $15.00 to check my small suitcase that was loaded down with more contact lens solution than you can legally carry on to an airplane, and those dirty bastards are offering free coffee to those slimebuckets who have 20/20 vision and have opted to carry their steamer trunks on to the airplane with them. Breathe… breathe deep.

8:30AM – “Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to begin pre-boarding flight 2062 with service to Ontario at this time,” a barely understandable voice screeches out of nowhere. “Anyone needing extra assistance, traveling with an infant, or dragging luggage slightly heavier and larger than a hippopotamus, is welcome to board at this time.” (And to the lady in the red blouse: I know that your “infant” was a cabbage patch doll.)

8:40AM – “At this time, we would like to welcome members of our frequent flyer club, ‘The Horizon is Bleak’ along with the members of our partner airline’s club, ‘I Can See Russia Clearly’ to embark flight #2026 to Ontario, California.”

8:45AM – “My bad. Everyone knows Ontario is in Canada. Sorry for the confusion.”

8:51AM – “We would like to start general boarding of flight 20something heading to Canuckia at this time. We invite those in rows 17, 21, 6 and 13 along with all redheads to jump on board at this time.”

9:00AM – “We would love it if everyone in rows 3,7,19,4,12 and 16 along with everyone who’s last name starts with a “J” would jump up and clamor on board of flight whatever that is heading to some other airport.”

9:15 AM – “Okay, the rest of you losers got 15 minutes to get your fat asses on the plane or we’re taking off without you.”

But I saw the most glorious sight while waiting.