name brand

Before I get to my reflections of days to, from, and in Florida, it’s important to note that I’ve added the Bill Richardson 2008 link to my “where am I” box of junk. I should have added him before but my linking 'to do' list fell a little behind my actual doing. I’ll be adding a few more links later this week – along with my opening salvo on the candidates that I favor. (I was doing the gang / peace-sign / pointing up to Heaven motion for Vilsack 08 as you read that.)

Speaking of Heaven. We were passing through a layer of soft, fluffy, sun-ladened clouds on our approach into Orlando International last Thursday afternoon – at about 5000 feet – when a 6-year old behind me asked his mother “Are we in Heaven?” I could take this one of two ways: first, maybe I missed something and we WERE in Heaven! So I felt my head, checkeds my arms, and decided that this probably wasn’t the case. Or, there way too many kids in this world who see fluffy clouds and think of Heaven. I’m not sure exactly what that statement means but it was surreal. Of course, I find Orlando and the Disney-fication very much like purgatory (or someplace further south) – some families’ vacation spot is another man’s vision of the undead. That is one soulless city.

As I was walking through the airport I noticed a guy (father of two with his wife and two children, no doubt off to Disney) wearing a ‘jersey’ with his name printed on the back. I was behind him all the way to the baggage claim and here’s what I came up with as my rules for having your own name across the back of your shirt:

1. You’re Derek Jeter or ‘Melo and are taking the field for a professional athletic endeavor.
2. You’re under 12-years old and I’ll allow it because you’re proud of your Pony League baseball team in Poughkeepsie, New York.

Those are the rules. If you are on vacation and you’re sporting your softball team t-shirt or jersey from the class D Rec-league in Tulsa, Oklahoma, you need some help and a new wardrobe. I’m sure if I’d been able to get around the front of “Stevens #69” the team name across his chest would have been something along the lines of “Nads” or the “Beerhunters”. Nothing says undead...

So I’m waiting for my bag at the US Airways carousal in Purgatory International and listening to the airport's TSA announcements playing on loop:

“The Transportation Security Agency’s threat condition is currently Orange. Passengers are reminded that liquids and gels are only permitted through security checkpoints if they are in containers of 3 ounces or less and fit comfortably in a 1-quart bag” (italics added)

Just what does the comfortably mean? Has anyone been stopped and denied access because their 3-oz travel bottle of hair gel didn’t appear comfortable to the Einstein masquerading as a TSA agent? I’d love to see the secret video of that encounter.

Good things? The men’s restrooms down south are always placarded (see? I listen to the safety announcements) as “Men / Caballeros”. I love the word caballeros. That may be the only good to come from the Orlando experience.

My mother got through her surgery and is doing her best to recover while trying to not to kill the healthcare workers at the hospital. They try their best but they can’t handle any significant number of patients…not enough folks to get the job done. She’s transferring to a recovery facility this morning and should get much better care.

The flight back was uneventful aside from the normal delays and baggage-claim jackassery.

I have nicer things to write about. I’ll get after them soon enough.

T.