If Flying, Don’t Be “That” Guy…

Adding a mixture of personalities into that compressed melting pot we call an airplane, is rarely without some form of drama.  Usually it’s frustrated parents of crying children or someone snoring too loudly.  But occasionally, the pot boils over and the harmony of our little micro-city is threatened. It usually involves alcohol, a bad attitude and/or a big mouth. Flying from Dallas to Las Vegas yesterday, the trio came together and I can’t help but offer a few thoughts:

  1. If you’re an “angry” drunk, don’t drink and fly.
  2. If you do, don’t be an ass.
  3. If you’re drunk, angry and an ass, don’t get into a racially charged argument with fellow passengers of color and use racial slurs.
  4. If your wife tells your drunk, angry, racist ass to be nice, don’t threaten her with assault and call her names.
  5. If you absolutely can’t help yourself and decide to do all of the above, don’t be surprised when someone approaches and “gently” puts you back in your seat and then refuses to let you to continue running your mouth and making threats.
  6. If you’re a fellow passenger and see a similar situation brewing, don’t sit there hoping the situation corrects itself on it’s own; it won’t.
  7. A Proven recipe for trouble: all the above and standing there watching, doing nothing, waiting until the very drunk, angry passenger actually does what he has threatened to do and THEN trying to get involved.

And lastly, don’t get stupid on an Airplane.  The TSA, Airport Police and the Airline staff will cure your attitude problem in the most unpleasant of ways and chuck what’s left of your embarrassed ass off the plane.  If you’re lucky.

There are two ways to be “that” guy; be the threatening drunk or be the person watching the threatening drunk and doing nothing. Don’t be “that” guy.

Happy Travels!

 

 

 

 

What I Originally Wanted and What I Ended With…

3ABE0DC6-B3BC-407E-B017-0D02D93822A3This is how I work, it starts with a simple idea.  I was idle and wanted to write about how I’m bored and I need to travel… So I write:

It’s the time in between, the weary traveler did groan

Of past journeys and the fear that another shan’t come

That heralds the end, beneath his name carved in stone

Three sentences, basically I’m bored, where will I go next and if I don’t, I’m going to die.

Then I added and added and… until this, now its a poetic story.  I envisioned a tire swing and ended up with … well you decide.

The Traveler’s End
O’ weary traveler, aged and too weak, lies resting in the grass and soon falls asleep. He dreams of past travels, his path lies ahead, but is blocked by an Angel, who’s voice speaks of dread. He opens his eyes, his journey complete, for he has seen his fate and soon starts to weep.

Resting nearby, She’s saddened to see, that the traveler has learned, what is now to be. His adventures have ended and time will not wait, for St. Peter is standing, holding open the gate.

Heaven hath decreed and called out his name, She learns that Death’s been sent, to take him away.

Though the hourglass has spoken as no sand remains, the soul of the traveler, owns her heart just the same. She cries out to heaven, for here he must stay, but the Angels refused, crossed their arms and looked away.

As Death drew near, aware of her plight, he cautions her gently, not to resist Heavens might. Softly she spoke, as that is her way and begged Death to leave, without much delay.

Death paused for moment, unsure what to say, then bows to her warmly and leaves, on his way. But Heaven was watching and reminded him his task and also that pleasing Mother Nature, is not what was asked.

Now the traveler was at peace and all that remained, was for Death to guide him back, to that Heavenly domain. Impatience was growing, within the Celestial reign and Death was reminded, to look once again.

Death peered into the darkness, but no traveler was seen, as She had blinded his eyes, by a deft use of rain. He had others to tend and soon he was gone, as many souls still need passage, to the land lying beyond.

She went to the traveler and protected him from sight, as the angels were curious where he had gone to that night. Mother nature is strong and incredibly wise, She keeps what she wants, from all prying eyes.

Though never thought fickle or a thief in the night, Mother Nature surprised Heaven, by cunning and might. The Angels then wisely, after searching all night, chose to not turn this folly, into a Celestial fight.

What virtue has he, to earn such a right, to be hidden from Heaven at this very time?

He was gentle to her, our Mother you see, kind with her home, as true traveler’s should be. He basked in her beauty and never once did stray, always “smelling the roses” as he traveled each day.

In sunlight they wander, though the Angels do stare, Mother Nature and the traveler, walk the earth, hand in hand.

As twilight comes and the sun yields to night, their two souls join as one, turning darkness to light.

He now sleeps within her bosom, eternally at home, resting ‘neath his name, carved in white marbled stone.

 

The Diwali Festival at Springfield Missouri’s Gem of India

Gem of India celebrated the Diwali Festival of Lights at their restaurant in Springfield on November 11, 2017.  One of the most popular festivals of Hinduism, it spiritually signifies the victory of light over darkness, good over evil, knowledge over ignorance and hope over despair. (Wikipedia).  It was quite an event with great food, dress and dancing.

The Traveler’s End

O’ weary traveler, aged and too weak, lies resting in the grass and soon falls asleep. He dreams of past travels, his path lies ahead, but is blocked by an Angel, who’s voice speaks of dread.  He opens his eyes, his journey complete, for he has seen his fate and soon starts to weep.

Resting nearby, She’s saddened to see, that the traveler has learned, what is now to be. His adventures have ended and time will not wait, for St. Peter is standing, holding open the gate.

Heaven hath decreed and called out his name, She learns that Death’s been sent, to take him away.

Though the hourglass has spoken as no sand remains, the soul of the traveler, owns her heart just the same. She cries out to heaven, for here he must stay, but the Angels refused, crossed their arms and looked away.

As Death drew near, aware of her plight, he cautions her gently, not to resist Heavens might. Softly she spoke, as that is her way and begged Death to leave, without much delay.

Death paused for moment, unsure what to say, then bows to her warmly and leaves, on his way. But Heaven was watching and reminded him his task and also that pleasing Mother Nature, is not what was asked.

Now the traveler was at peace and all that remained, was for Death to guide him back, to that Heavenly domain. Impatience was growing, within the Celestial reign and Death was reminded, to look once again.

Death peered into the darkness, but no traveler was seen, as She had blinded his eyes, by a deft use of rain. He had others to tend and soon he was gone, as many souls still need passage, to the land lying beyond.

She went to the traveler and protected him from sight, as the angels were curious where he had gone to that night. Mother nature is strong and incredibly wise, She keeps what she wants, from all prying eyes.

Though never thought fickle or a thief in the night, Mother Nature surprised Heaven, by cunning and might. The Angels then wisely, after searching all night, chose to not turn this folly, into a Celestial fight.

What virtue has he, to earn such a right, to be hidden from Heaven at this very time?

He was gentle to her, our Mother you see, kind with her home, as true traveler’s should be. He basked in her beauty and never once did stray, always “smelling the roses” as he traveled each day.

In sunlight they wander, though the Angels do stare, Mother Nature and the traveler, walk the earth, hand in hand.

As twilight comes and the sun yields to night, their two souls join as one, turning darkness to light.

He now sleeps within her bosom, eternally at home, resting ‘neath his name, carved in white marbled stone.