Daily Archives: 6 September, 2011

I’m on the internet!

Now that I have a blog, I guess this, from the fine folks at Roscott Inc. applies to me… I’m shooting for two dicks. And yourself?


Is it time to go home yet? (Madness, part 3)

Today’s adventure: Sorting vpn on win7 (no, not a fun adventure at all…)
Today’s music: Cyndi Lauper – Memphis Blues

So after Roger Waters closed out the festival (with a fantastic set of Dark Side of the Moon cover to cover) and set his inflatable pig free, it was time to find a cab, go back to the hotel and get ready to head home…after we hit one of the only local bars.
Picture a Rough wood front with painted steel Cowboy and Cowgirl guarding the front. Inside, an entirely too clean bar – but one that was hopping after the show. IrishPaul and I were still drinking with a mix of locals and people also back from the show. Just enjoying our beers, arguing over which bands were better and who made better music.
Then the tall woman came over. I don’t remember her name. i’m not too clear on what she looked liked. Here’s what I do remember:
I’m sitting near one end of the bar. The crowd has thinned, and the person I was talking to stepped out for a cigarette. IrishPaul is sitting with his beer halfway down the bar.
The tall woman comes over and says hello. “Hi” I say.
She asks if I was here for the show, and where I was from. Yes and New York, I answer.
*Inside, I’m freaking out a bit. I’ve been married for about 6 months, and an attractive woman is hitting on me. No, probably not, I think to myself. I’m just too drunk to think straight*
What do you do for a living?, she asks, having to keep the conversation going with little help from me (drunk and freaked out, me). Computers, I say. Seems like a safe answer. How much trouble can that get me in?
Oh, she says, leaning in. She is having trouble with her computer, and her kids are away so they can’t fix it, and she lives right around the corner.
I freeze in the middle of my sip, look around for help, and don’t find any. My new friends are still having their cigarette, and IrishPaul is about 8 feet away. Smirking.
I think I gave a quick “how to troubleshoot seminar”, tucked my popping eyes back in my head and ordered another beer, not turning around until I heard her voice across the room, talking to another lucky guy. Now it’s time to go back to the hotel.


We manage to make it back to Sonny Bono Airport without any trouble. One last cigarette, and we catch our plane to Dallas, make it to the terminal for our connecting flight back to NY. Which is going to be several hours late.

So of course we catch a cab out of the airport to a Bennigan’s, which is serving beer and where you can smoke indoors! We have a few pints, check our phones to find out the plane still isn’t there, have some food and a few more pints, and get in a cab for the twenty minute ride back to the airport. During which our phones tell us that the plane is there and boarding.

We get back to the airport, laughing, running and stumbling through security back to our gate. Where we find out our plane is in fact just pulling up to the gate and won’t be boarding for anohter 45 minutes. Which is plenty of time for a couple of quick overpriced pints at the nearest airport bar. Where we couldn’t smoke (bah).

And a good in-flight nap all the way back to LaGuardia airport…


…where IrishPaul’s crazy friend picks us up at the airport in his unmarked police car (complete with lights and sirens that he uses…constantly) for a quick trip to one of the Queens bars where IrishPaul knows everyone.
And finally, back home.

And the best part of the trip – better than the music and the drinking and the general mayhem and stupidity?

Coming home to my girl.

***While I may not remember it accurately, this is all true as I remember it.