Our Flight time of departure to New Hampshire was supposed to have been at 1735hrs,and after driving like a madman from the "sunny hotter than hell welcome tospringtime in Macon Ga." weather I made it to the airport with an hour tospare-with the recent memory of having watched my 11 year old dance with herdance class at the Cherry Blossom festival, I was in good humor-icing on thecake was having made the commute without my car breaking down-so far it wasturning in to a great Sunday afternoon.....
But, really--what is life withouta well placed kick to the groin?
Departure time, as Jay called to tell me, had been changed until 1930-a bit of inconvenience, to be sure, but then again I have all day to get to New Hampshire and I could spend the extra time chilling out and by eatingan early dinner ...Now it is 1900 and we begin boarding--by 1930 we are loaded and the crew ,after apologizing profusely, announces we need fuel-good idea, as I suspectthe airplane will fly further with a tankful of gas-I am getting a bit anxious because regardless of where I go in my travels my bedtime is 900pm-The last thing I want to do is be traveling at night "so the boogers get me"....(My Grandmother used to say that)...I looked at my atlas and New Hampshire is just barely in the US of A--I didn't realize it but they also acquired statehood at some point-- I get on the plane, find my seat, sitting next to a young college kid probably 19 or so---she is talking on her cell phone telling either her folks or her boyfriend she didn't know when she would get there--I feel her pain--I have already been up since 0500 and my contacts are rejecting my myopia affected eyeballs-in other words, its dark, I am ready to go nighty nite and the damn airplane and all its occupants are waiting on a fuel truck--only as the last bit of daylight remained I could see out my window onto the tarmac--I saw a fuel truck pass by at least two occasions--the last one went by and I think he was pointing our direction and laughing--I can't be sure--I read the entire contents of the airline magazine, made a mental note to buy the new Mickey Mantle book just published, and get goo-goo eyed at the advertisements for log cabins (Log Cabins make me hunch)-and three pages of gadgets in the sky mall magazine that supposedly will cure my plantar fasciitus--one would think there is an epidemic of plantar fasciitus what with all the advertisements in the airplane magazines. I wonder if you catch it only on airplanes? I look around--it’s now dark-the stewardess passes out little bottles of water---
Caution: when stewardesses pass out little bottles of water that means its shift change and the truck, driver, and the gas--and more than likely the crew of the airplane--are all speeding off into the sunset.
Having enough anxiety as it is, you are also having quite the time of attempting to contain your flatulence because of the cute young lady sitting next to you-if a late plane makes her cry and call her boyfriend lord help you if you "let one go..."
Next announcement-the pilot comes on and says they have NOW exceeded the allowable time for a crew to be on the plane and have to change crews--it is now almost nine o’clock---
Fast forward: We unloaded the plane, got in line with a lot of really mad folks, and got vouchers to eat and sleep until the next day. At this moment Jay and I resorted to our experiences in Iraq, when it took three days to get on an airplane and fly somewhere. We spent the night at the Red Roof Inn. Inasmuch as I checked ALL my baggage, I had nothing but the clothes on my back. Jay was smarter because he had his shaving kit. Neither of us decided to wear underdrawers (did I mention it was hot this day?) so here we are at the RED ROOF with two Red roof Inn issued toothbrushes, me and Jaydawg in "commando" mode to spend the night. Lucky we did have two beds so it wasn't too bad.
You have to look for the silver lining--our food voucher came in handy thenext morning because WAFFLE HOUSE (Hallowed is its name) was nearby. Ain't no problem I ever had in this world that a Waffle and Country Ham couldn't cure.
Back at airport, thru security and back to the gate-our third traveler, JeffFarrell , who lives in the ATL was lucky enough to go back home and changehis underdrawers, arrives and we wait for the new day of adventure. Jay will not be flying the same route as Jeff and I --he will go to Manchester by way of New York’s' LaGuardia....we will not see him until later....way later.
Our adventure begins with the news that the medical reports on the trainwreck of all train wrecks Anna Nicole actually died of a drugoverdose-Revelation.
Our itinerary today takes us all over--to Manchester, New Hampshire by way of Memphis and Cincinnati. But my glass is half full--and by now, so is my bladder, so I head to the airport restroom, where there are always"issues"....
Airport bathrooms and the "butt gasket dilemma"---the butt gasket, for you that don't know, are the paper things you carefully place down on a toilet seat so that your behind doesn't get germs on it. The motion sensors in the restroom know when you turn away or stand back up. They are the coolest thing in the world, but sometimes, the sensors get confused with what the person is trying to do---and flush the butt gaskets down range and you have to place another gasket down on the lid--or hold it down and spin around real quick simultaneously letting trousers drop to your knees-- I call this the butt gasket bop.
We arrived at Manchester at a little past nine o’clock in the evening (already my bedtime) to a deserted airport except for passengers of our flight-we found baggage claim and waited with other passengers while bags hit the carousel..Ten minutes later the carousel comes screeching to a halt, with Jeff and me looking at each other without baggage.
Great.
Now I am up north with the clothes on my back. About this time Jay calls and tells us he made it to hotel and as he didn't have luggage either, and told us who to report to at ticketing-we went there and our bags were there (insert sigh of relief) having come up on the direct flight earlier thatday--we fist bumped each other and went to Hertz to pick up the rental car--
Day one highlights-went to lunch at a place called the Merrimack-not to be confused with Mary Macs in Atlanta-but food good--pictures of Democrats (horror of horrors) adorn the walls-that concerned me so picked a seat where my back was to the wall lest I had to fight my way out-I was ambushed however-I inquired with our server whether they had sweet tea and was told they had both sweet and unsweet. Jay and I were high-fiving our good fortune when she brought back Nestea in a bottle and set it in front ofme--clever Yankee democratic influenced ingenuity I guess--but no worry. Iwas hoping she would ask me where I was from so I could tell her Maine (theMaine part of Ga)..
For supper we wandered the streets for a while and ended up at an Italian place-there seems to be no particular place or culinary style that these NewHampshirians take to---I mean in the South we have soul food , barbecue and Macon’s' famous Nu-Way hot dog joint--in New Hampshire you have just regular places to eat-We decide that we will go to Portsmouth on Thursday night to find lobster--
Day two highlights-I still haven't figured out how to adjust my numbermatic bed-I keep mashing the button until all you hear is a whine which sounds like the starter isn't engaging--I am not convinced that setting my sleepnumber will do me much good-in the two nights I have tried to figure it out I have lost an hour and a half of sleep.
Another Yankee trick if you ask me.
We three Georgia guys (Jeff is actually from Ohio, bless his heart but has since been saved) are going to the hockey game tonight-oddly enough we are the only guys in class who are going except for the instructor and another fellow-it may be another ambush but little do they know this ain't my first rodeo--rather, hockey game--I saw the Macon Whoopee and the Columbus Cottonmouths damn near kill each other one night and that was before the game actually got under way. I even know a little about Zambonis.
However, inasmuch as I am an out of towner, I decide to refrain from running my mouth until I finish the first beer.
--we met at 515pm in the lobby to go get an early dinner before the 7pm hockey game. The weather was breezy and cool, much unlike the 90 degrees we had back in Ga--I guess the groundhog always sees his shadow up here---I decided to wear shorts. Definitely not the brightest idea I ever had, but I didn't really pack the right clothing. I only had a windshirt and didn't bring a jacket. It wasn'tcool, but it was cold. Frigid. It felt as if nothing were between New Hampshire and the North Pole except a barb wire fence that had been blown down. The wind howled.It sliced thru me as if I were wearing only shorts and a windshirt.
We ate supper at an Irish pub--where the special was called "Bangers andMash". Come to find out that is sausages and mashed potatoes served with a side of baked beans and some gravy. Very good and tasty, but if someone from Georgia named it would likely be called "Scoot n Poot".
The Verizon Wireless arena in downtown Manchester was full of hockey fans and the game with all its trappings made for a fun filled two hours. A short Arctic wind walk of a block or so and were back at the Radisson where I again screwed with the bed o' matic device trying to find my sleep number. After another 45 minutes of this insanity I opted for what I normally do--try to sleep thru the night without getting up to pee.
PS- the hotel has been invaded by 4-6 hundred Future Business Leaders of America students--mostly girls. The elevators to the tenth floor were a quagmire of young teens getting on and getting off on floors 1-9. I tell them they should be planning for the shaving cream balloon fights for later, and I get a collective deer in the headlight look. Cricket... Cricket.....so much for being a cool old dude. I laugh to myself when I see the looks of desperation on the faces of the chaperones and teachers of all these kids. I also wish I were 27 years younger and had some balloons and shaving cream...
Day three (thur)-the day we go to eat lobster. After class, we met in lobby and began our trek to Portsmouth, Maine, and the seacoast some 45 milesaway. Actually, Kittery Maine, which is right across the river and home to Warrens lobster house, our destination. As luck would have it, lobster availability and prices therein are at an all time high. The sign and waitress said so. (another Yankee trick)
Jay and I decided our chances to actually eat lobster in Maine again in our lifetimes were pretty slim, so we decided to do "the real deal" as Jay described it. But, my chances of eating chicken fingers in Maine was probably just as slim, so perhaps I should have ordered those.
I will not divulge the price of either of our dinners but suffice to say if our spouses find out our bangers will be mashed for sure. The lobster was darn good and It will be paid for in full in January 2010. .
Last day-time to poot n scoot we kept our fingers crossed after returning the rental car and heading thru security --if getting home was even a smidgen as difficult as getting here we just as soon take Trailways. Save for a crucial moment in security in which Jeff almost triggered a full scale alert because of the 2 ounce bottle of maple syrup he was "smuggling" out of New Hampshire, all went well. He was just before screaming "ATTICA, ATTICA" when they found the syrup....A quick stop at the McDonalds before we boarded the plane humbled me yet again. There were several folks in line and I ordered the number 2. Quarter pounder meal.
Jay ordered the same, except no pickle no onion. Jeff ordered filet o fish. Since I was formerly as a young man in the employ of R. McDonald, I told them they would bring the kitchen into an abrupt halt seeing as how they were ordering something not normally located under the sun lamps; while I would quickly get my number 2 with time to spare. As it turned out I got mine last. I forgot to add in the "if your name is George" factor.
Moral of the story--don’t run your mouth or you’re liable to wind up with number 2 on your face and a mashed banger.
So another thumbtack on my national geographic map of places I have been. A check in the box of having eaten lobster in Maine although it may cost me a mashed banger. I have shared a hotel room with another fellow and we didn't have one pair of clean underdrawers between us. I have gone from Nashville and Cincinnati to get to my elbow, and now I understand why folks hate the airlines so much. But I saw more of this beautiful land called America, which this Macon boy gets to see while on the job! How cool is that?
Life is good.
And it’s like we say in New Hampshire... Live free or die. Its all good, but after a few days its time to go home. Homeward bound tothe land of the free and home of the Braves.
