Monday, April 14, 2008

"No, sir, you're in Concourse A, you need Concourse ZZZ-36"



















"... and on the sixth day, Ghawd spake to his brethren and sistren and told them of glad tidings, of great riches to be bestowed upon them in the form of the return of their most humble servant, their purveyor of platitudes, Bubba the Elder. And it was semi-good... not scintillating, particularly, but coming uncomfortably close to good, nevertheless." The Book of Unconscionable Insobriety, Chapter Squod, Verse Chittlin'.


Rumors of my demise are arguably false in their origins, at least insofar as carbon-based life functions are concerned. A metaphysical examination of the same presumption might yield a different conclusion, but for the purposes of this missal, we'll assume the former...


I am, as they say, back... and while this will undoubtedly elicit a resounding chorus from the Yawn Patrol, it is worth noting that it isn't exactly pleasant inside my cranium either, so the price you pay in reading this can't be more than a fraction of the toll exacted upon moi.


What's new wit' you? I'll be around to see each of you very soon (in an order to be determined by the casting of lots with Bubba's peeps at a time to be determined by another process too difficult to describe in this forum). My trial-by-Philadelphia is completed, and I survived, even if a sadder-but-arguably-wiser man (although the jury is still out on that premise as well). Suffice to say that I learned a few things that I'd like to share with you:


1) It should be against the law for anyone residing between the Rockies and the Alleghenies to ever venture east of that concisely-defined region and step on any soil without first crossing the Atlantic Ocean.


2) Every road on the Eastern seaboard of this country was designed by someone who hated humankind and wished us all dead as soon as humanly possible.


3) It is illegal, in the city of Philadelphia, to work in a restaurant if you're conversant in English.


4) Judging from masses present in the lavish 'Continental breakfast' court in the Cherry Hill Days Inn, intercollegiate female rowing teams are the most dominant sub-group of humans in existence. Like a hoard of locusts they attacked the supply of dry cereal, muffins, bananas, apples and two types of bread available in the self-serve format, leaving little but a few packets of refined sugar and a day-old urn of stale coffee. And I was grateful for the possibility of caffein-accumulation, even if I did have to hoist the urn onto my shoulders and press the button releasing the ebony liquid directly down my throat, pausing every few seconds to catch my breath. Sure, my vocal chords were a bit seared, but it was a better solution than conducting a skit consisting of much pointing at a menu for Juan at the local purveyor of comestibles since he couldn't understand a single word I said.


5) Leaving my room each morning, I would embark on the two-hour voyage to the site of our seminar, the high-rise luxury hotel (where we couldn't get reservations even with an attempted bribe of the concierge) that sat directly across the 'street' from our location. I use the term 'street' advisedly, for while it is composed of a material that looks very much like asphalt, that is where all similarities end. First, in this area it is not called a 'street', it is called a 'pike', a term that immediately confuses someone of my experience, bringing to mind a fish rather than a travelway. Unfortunately, whoever designed these 'pikes', failed to realize that a motor vehicle is capable of turning left and that traffic signals can be designed to accommodate this innovation. Imagine that... Therefore, this genius put a concrete bunker down the middle and forces every traveler to drive at least seventeen miles in the opposing direction before finally running into the 'roundabout' capable of returning us to the correct direction of travel another seventeen miles to a position roughly two hundred yards from our original starting point, but on the opposite side of the 'pike'. I now understand why every driver there is insane.


However, it wasn't all bad. The airplane refused to crash despite the pilots' most strident attempts, and I met some very nice people while wedged into a 'seat' approximately one-half the size necessary to accommodate the girth of a full-grown male human being. That's enough... I could go on, but my brain is starting to simmer. My biggest disappointment was in having to cancel a dinner I'd scheduled with a very dear email partner who, along with her family, I'd hoped to meet. Unfortunately, the real world intervened and I was forced to cancel. *sigh* Sorry, Nan...
Thank you all for hanging in there with me, and tomorrow I'll try to provide you with something worthy of your time and consumption.


Peace...
Bubba

12 comments:

Jo Janoski said...

Welcome back! I didn't know you were in PA or I would have yanked that plane right out of the sky when it was over Pittsburgh and grabbed you. BTW, I think all PA women gorge muffins and coffee; in fact, I bake muffins every week. What else is there to do but eat through all those jug handles on the highway? Takes forever to get anywhere. Muffins fit in the hand nicely while multi-tasking. But I digress...This place has been way too quiet the past week. Thank Gawd you're back!!!

Tina Trivett said...

Welcome back Bob. Enjoyed your view of Pa. I'm a Pa. girl myself, although I don't eat muffins. :)

Anonymous said...

Well, all in all it sounds like you had more fun than we had without you! By the way, how much should one pay for a good widget? Welcome back! ;)

kaylee said...

Yeah!!!!
You are back.
They let you come back
and did not keep you.
Missed you

klk

Anonymous said...

Ok, let me be the first to inform you that NEW JERSEY is a ***different country*** than PA! We require passports from "them" to cross over, you know (thus the traffic snarls on the bridges every day)(has nothing to do with the one-way-to PA tolls, no, of course not). So the pike you mentioned, that's because they don't understand how to turn left in NJ, which is Okay if you're from NJ, because you understand that the rest of the NJ-ites don't understand how to make a left hand turn. But I can't tell you how many millions of out-of-staters lives such a thing has saved... because they simply don'r realize until it's too late about the NJ drivers and left hand turns thing. I'm thinking these pikes with medians have some direct correlation to the Traffic Circles (hives... hives... hives...) that abound "over there", but have yet to figure out what that may be.

Philly, on the other hand, although located in PA, can sometimes seem to be an extension of NJ. Must be all the bridges connecting them within a small stretch of mileage. Not to mention giving a whole new meaning to illegal immigration.

I, however, hope that they send you "over there" again sometime, perhaps not on the same pike, though... Maybe somewhere deep in the Pine Barrens instead... Sorry we couldn't manage to meet up!!

Nan from PA on the border of NJ

Scot said...

Hey Bob-0
go west young man!

Anonymous said...

dude, you put the pen in pennsylvania...

errr, sorry... damn gps made me take exit 99 to cornballville...

peace!

Anonymous said...

And i bet you enjoyed every minute, especially the bits that you got to mumble about under your breath, how everythings falling apart and young people today, welcome back, sorry about the mess, especially the Bob Cant Putt grafitti, damn kinds, no resoect for anyones property, but don't worry, I gave them a clip round the old proverbial,

Bubba said...

Hiya, everybody... thanks for your kind words, it's great to be back. There are no sane people back there... or if there are, they're hunkered down in some bunker somewhere waiting until it's safe to come out. Suddenly, I remember why I live in Moberly, Missouri.

Nan, I'll try to find a way to make it up to you. If you and Jim and Danny feel like driving out here, we've got room... I'll take you downtown in the evening and we can watch them roll up the sidewalks.

Jo and Tina, just keep making those muffins, I'll eat whatever surplus you provide.

Fork, I think I was in Cornballville... one of the only bright spots of my trip.

No, Kay, they didn't have enough guns and cops to keep me. That simply would not have been possible.

Paul, thanks for taking care of my light work, I knew I could count on you. Drive for show, putt for dough... right?

Scot-- Can I get an "Amen, brother!!" ?

Anonymous said...

Wow. My favorite part was the subset of humanity female yacht team bit.

As a westerner I've been told a couple times that the East is 'meaner' than the West, but always figured that was a little subjective.

The driving part sounds awful, though.

Bubba said...

Amuirin-- I actually spoke to a couple of the girls, and she told me that their school (Buffalo University) was part of a rowing conference that included Princeton, Western Michigan, and a couple of others whose names I immediately forgot. Evidently back there, it is a big-time sport that offers scholarships. In truth, the girls appeared very wholesome and robust... very nice and polite, too. I'd like to know more about the sport.

R.L. Bourges said...

the plane refused to crash - there's a highlight, bubba - you lived to tell the tale of the locusts in the breakfast room.
a day when your plane doesn't crash is definitely better than one when it does.