Friday, September 08, 2006

Freakonomics vs. The Spawn of Satan

Finaly back home. I spent the week in the upper midwest playing "corporate guy". I must say Minnesota is a beautiful state... it sucks it gets so cold there.

Anyhow, on the way back there was like no direct flight at a convenient time. I had to stop off in Utah. It was like 2 plus hours from Minneapolis to Salt Lake City and I was lucky to have a window seat... so I thought!!!

35 F was my seat and you guessed it 35 F was the last seat, by the window in the very back of the plane. Dude, I was the first one there and it sucked being so far back. I knew I was screwed with my bad back and all as well. But I had my new book "Freakonomics" and I was gonna be intent on reading anyway since it was such a long flight.

So after I took my seat at the window, the dude who had the aisle seat shows up and he is huge. I mean he is like 6' 8" to 6' 10" and he was just big. He could not stand up fully and he almost took up two seats! So I actually was kinda happy because they announced it was a full flight. I figured the guy was so big he probably bought two seats. So I was gonna have the coolest seat on the plan because I wouldn't be packed in.

Around a minute before the plan door shuts I see this lady walking slowly to the back of the plane. I mean she is going slow.... looking at her feet every 2 or 3 seconds. When she finally reached her destination, which happened to be my row... She revealed why she was walking so slow. Her 18 month old son, binky in his mouth and little green truck. Goliath stood up and let her in. Then "Slam!" right in the face, little "Chucky" hits me with the green truck. I am like, "WTF!" inside but I say politely, "Gee how old? my son was born about a month ago--" and I am cut off while she says humorously, "Just you wait!"

Okay, so we're packed now... I reach up and crank that fan near the lights on and point the one over the lady next to me my direction as well, because my claustrophobia is now kicking in. Yes, I am clausrophobic but as long as I have a fan on and I can breath fresh air, I am totally fine.

The plane takes off and little "Chucky" starts, first pulling my book then he does the running thing with his legs off of the seat in front of us. And he just lets out this total, Chris Cornell-like wail (listening to new Audioslave album while writing this) and I am like, just get this plane up to 10,000 feet so I can bust out my iPod. I am thinking, 2 hours of this will be too much. What if I have to pee? What happens then? 4 people in one row?

"Chucky's" mom explains how good he was the previous flight but when I asked her when they flew into St. Paul, she says..."Oh three nights ago, we took the red eye!" No kidding? Ya think he slept because he was actually tired? Because it was late? It's 5:30pm for Christ's sake!! The little dude is amped... The sun is still up... What are you thinking? I so want to say all that but I am polite.

10,000 feet and I finally get the iPod going so I can tune out the kid and get to "Freakonomics" (good book by the way, especially the part where he talks about the Economics guy joining the crack gang in Chicago). I hit random on my iPod and up comes the appropriate "I wanna tune the screamer out next to me" songs in succession.
  • Metallica's Disposable Heroes
  • Hum's Stars
  • Samiam's My Time by the Dime
  • Rancid's Salvation
Good times I tell you... almost 20 minutes of pure aggression that would drown out anything. Then "Smack" I am hit with the green truck again but this time it's on the ground at my feet. I got the "sorry" look from the mom and I am like, "Dude! c'mon". "Chucky" is crying and screaming and he wants his truck back, so I reach down like a contortionist to get it and I hit that right nerve in my neck and back and it was like a lightning bolt from Thor's hammer through my spine. I got the truck but I swear I thought I was gonna cry it hurt so bad and the bad thing was, I could not move. I literally was frozen waiting for the pain to subside. After a minute or so I was able to move and hand the truck back. I know the mom could tell I was hurt, so she got up and walked "Chucky" up and down the aisle for awhile. I shook my head at Goliath a bit and he smirked saying how screwed I was.

Well... we finally headed for decent and I had to pull off the iPod. The lady and the Spawn of Satan came back to sit down. The kid was restless as ever opening the tray table as the mom shut it and this repeated for minutes and then the kid was hungry. So the mom busts out some Cheetos. Cheetos!!! To an 18 month old kid? The kid had orange dust all over the place in minutes. And then after that? Raspberry Fig Newtons. Holy Crap! No wonder the kid was so amped and out of control, he was being fed garbage. Empty calories man... pure energy. I wonder if he gets a Red Bull at night to go to bed?

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