So after a long and boring wait at the airport where I ate a cheap hotdog tagged as a bratwurst, and about 1/10 of the size it was on the picture, they finally called my little section. I did get saurkraut on the cheap little wiener, but it did not make up for all of it's other shortcomings.
To my dismay I was not as lucky as on other flights with getting my own entire row to sprawl out on. But, as this was a direct flight, I was willing to make some sacrifices. I first thought I would knock the guy next to me out with a quick, explosive elbow shot to his left temple so I would not have to talk to him, but I decided to play it cool instead.
Eventually we found out that we both spoke English. I actually already knew that I could. So we talked a bit, then we got the first of a few free drinks. Some "German" beer that I had never heard of before. As if that mattered! There is not much more to the story, until the end when our stewardess deemed our drinking fun over, but was too spineless to say something, so she had the dude stewardess come over. If he really meant business he wouldn't have brought those 2 last beers with him. I am not sure if it was the fraulein's lack of vertebrae as I had initially thought, but maybe the feeling of letting down Germany. I think we all know the Deutsche people portray themselves as having the best beer and being big drinkers, and the simple fact here is that she failed in her role as an ambassador of her nation. In half a century ago, well, I don't even want to try to guess at the consequences of her lack of patriotism.
And yes, the pigeon from atop the chimney across the way is still there...Next episode: travel with me to the Franz something airport in Munich. Until then, consider this original quote:
"When it comes between a footstool and a ladder, I'll take the latter."
Monday, March 30, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Hugging, Primping, and Flying
We awoke, and said our goodbyes. From that moment on, I was officially on my way to ‘see about a girl’. Unfortunately the flying machine set to jettison me to my second to final destination would not be doing so until later in the day, but it did give me the chance to see the sights, and smell the odors of the city. Good old New Netherlands. Peter Stuyvesant.
After some primping, I finally took one last trek back to the subway with the only possessions that I would possess for almost a year, all crammed into a few bags and sacs.
Boy was it a relief to finally get them tagged and put down in the bag sleeping room under the plane. I wandered a bit, worked on some crossies that have been stored away for months, maybe even years from the DC days.
I don’t remember much from there on, except that my excitement of flying Lufthansa was abruptly ended when I didn’t have my own monitor, located in the seatback in front of me. Although I do remember thinking of how cool the other passengers must have thought I was, walking around in a leather jacket and a blonde Mohawk. Wow, the computer automatically capitalized Mohawk. I guess me and it are on the same page. All those Germans waiting in the hangar to return to their motherland, must have been wondering if I was actually on their plane. Were they scared or happy? I always imagine how some peoples’ first impressions are rebuked by their second impressions when they see me whip out a million crossies and complete them in a short while right before their eyes. Whipping out the Chinese book on the plane works the same way.
Okay, now I remember the flight. Turkish guy next to me. Beers. To be continued…
After some primping, I finally took one last trek back to the subway with the only possessions that I would possess for almost a year, all crammed into a few bags and sacs.
Boy was it a relief to finally get them tagged and put down in the bag sleeping room under the plane. I wandered a bit, worked on some crossies that have been stored away for months, maybe even years from the DC days.
I don’t remember much from there on, except that my excitement of flying Lufthansa was abruptly ended when I didn’t have my own monitor, located in the seatback in front of me. Although I do remember thinking of how cool the other passengers must have thought I was, walking around in a leather jacket and a blonde Mohawk. Wow, the computer automatically capitalized Mohawk. I guess me and it are on the same page. All those Germans waiting in the hangar to return to their motherland, must have been wondering if I was actually on their plane. Were they scared or happy? I always imagine how some peoples’ first impressions are rebuked by their second impressions when they see me whip out a million crossies and complete them in a short while right before their eyes. Whipping out the Chinese book on the plane works the same way.
Okay, now I remember the flight. Turkish guy next to me. Beers. To be continued…
Skyscraper National Park by Night
So I guess no progress was made in that last entry.
Okay, yeah I was off to see my good friend, the good doctor, or Dr. Kimble as his “patients”/victims call him up in the big apple.
The initial plan had me traveling there via Chinatown bus, but when the reality of the number and weight of all the bags set in I had to sacrifice a few more clams for comfort, safety, and a smaller chance of getting lost on the way to my friend’s wormhole. So, it was Amtrak, and a direct route to Penn Station. Arriving later on in the evening was not a problem, as the good doctor was working late making some house calls. That, and we both knew nothing could deter us from what lay ahead. Not late arrival. Not the impending early wake up. Nothing.
I cannot say honestly that my back and arms did not suffer greatly while I lugged my luggage(whoa, I think we figured out where these words came from) up and down stairs in the NY underground, and eventually down the 3 longest city blocks these feet have ever walked. And I thought fruit by the foot was long. Not anymore!
Finally, after some miscommunication with the bodyguard, I found the man I was seeking. Although fresh from kimbling around town, the doctor greeted me with open, warm-blooded arms. We did some laundry, visited Skyscraper National Park, on a slightly less than conscious level, and then wined and dined, the way they do in good ol’ Erin.
Speaking of which, I missed St. Patrick’s Day. What kind of Irish-American am I?
Okay, yeah I was off to see my good friend, the good doctor, or Dr. Kimble as his “patients”/victims call him up in the big apple.
The initial plan had me traveling there via Chinatown bus, but when the reality of the number and weight of all the bags set in I had to sacrifice a few more clams for comfort, safety, and a smaller chance of getting lost on the way to my friend’s wormhole. So, it was Amtrak, and a direct route to Penn Station. Arriving later on in the evening was not a problem, as the good doctor was working late making some house calls. That, and we both knew nothing could deter us from what lay ahead. Not late arrival. Not the impending early wake up. Nothing.
I cannot say honestly that my back and arms did not suffer greatly while I lugged my luggage(whoa, I think we figured out where these words came from) up and down stairs in the NY underground, and eventually down the 3 longest city blocks these feet have ever walked. And I thought fruit by the foot was long. Not anymore!
Finally, after some miscommunication with the bodyguard, I found the man I was seeking. Although fresh from kimbling around town, the doctor greeted me with open, warm-blooded arms. We did some laundry, visited Skyscraper National Park, on a slightly less than conscious level, and then wined and dined, the way they do in good ol’ Erin.
Speaking of which, I missed St. Patrick’s Day. What kind of Irish-American am I?
Stupid Mr. Bleck
Today I write to you sprawled out on the couch, multi-tasking it by stretching the backs of my legs as I write to hopefully rid my body of the pain that ensued from my first time doing squats in a long, long time. Eons, maybe. Maybe Aeons. Aeon flux? Either way, the lion is on my left guarding my kaffee, and the Eskimo is at 10 o’clock chillin’ with the candle.
The Deutsch word for squats is kniebeuge(n), not sure about the n. I thought the word made it seem a lot funner than it is in reality. (I see by the red, squiggly line under funner that it is not the proper English, but as long as “squiggly” as actually a word, I am not fixing “funner”.)
Back to the future, or the past as it were, but the future for you who are all trying to figure out how I got to my present location. If I mean this sofa, that has a lot to do with the story of two days ago, or vorgestern, and the scheming of the employees of Mr. Bleck’s against me whereas they turned off the internet on me every so often. Just enough to piss me off. The best was when I was first at the “new” Mr. Bleck’s, and did not order anything because I was not sure if the internet would even work, but still stayed there for awhile trying. I didn’t really care kus I had never seen the barista before. Then when I went to the originally discovered Mr. Bleck’s and began surfing the gnarly internet successfully, the conspiracy theory became no longer a theory, when the guy working at the other Mr. Bleck’s came in to do his second shift at this one.
That is when the internet stopped working. Jerks.
The Deutsch word for squats is kniebeuge(n), not sure about the n. I thought the word made it seem a lot funner than it is in reality. (I see by the red, squiggly line under funner that it is not the proper English, but as long as “squiggly” as actually a word, I am not fixing “funner”.)
Back to the future, or the past as it were, but the future for you who are all trying to figure out how I got to my present location. If I mean this sofa, that has a lot to do with the story of two days ago, or vorgestern, and the scheming of the employees of Mr. Bleck’s against me whereas they turned off the internet on me every so often. Just enough to piss me off. The best was when I was first at the “new” Mr. Bleck’s, and did not order anything because I was not sure if the internet would even work, but still stayed there for awhile trying. I didn’t really care kus I had never seen the barista before. Then when I went to the originally discovered Mr. Bleck’s and began surfing the gnarly internet successfully, the conspiracy theory became no longer a theory, when the guy working at the other Mr. Bleck’s came in to do his second shift at this one.
That is when the internet stopped working. Jerks.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Where the deer and the antelope play
In my last job which I like to call encapsulating all aspects of manliness into one human organism, I tried to let the kids learn something about America. In doing so, sometimes I would randomly break out in a solo. Usually I sang the national anthem, America, the beautiful, god bless america, etc. But at one point when i was making a barbed wire fence it seemed fitting given our surroundings to sing "home on the range". I realized I only knew the one verse, and I inquired with a girl who had internet on her pda device to check it out. Turns out there is more to the story, which i intended to learn, but have not yet done so.
So I was back on the range. Saw the family a few times. Saw the more recently added members of the family, a few nurses who may or may not work for the biggest government entity to be run by vampires- still looking into that one. Helped feed some homeless dudes, talked to some people, and saw of course the best dog in the world. In the midst of all this seeing of living and non-living things, I threw a lot of trash away, got rid of even more excess, and tried to pack the most needed things into not a lot of space that would have to last me the better part of a year. Needless to say, there was no chance of leaving the numbchucks behind, and the same goes for a jumprope with wooden handles that I cannot remember ever using, and will probably never use.
After all the packing and preparation, which was mainly just the packing, it was off to the big apple to see an old friend, and flap my way across the Atlantic- or, Big Green Lake, as the native jojoba tribe called it before the white devils arrived on the east coast of America and devastated most of the population.
So I was back on the range. Saw the family a few times. Saw the more recently added members of the family, a few nurses who may or may not work for the biggest government entity to be run by vampires- still looking into that one. Helped feed some homeless dudes, talked to some people, and saw of course the best dog in the world. In the midst of all this seeing of living and non-living things, I threw a lot of trash away, got rid of even more excess, and tried to pack the most needed things into not a lot of space that would have to last me the better part of a year. Needless to say, there was no chance of leaving the numbchucks behind, and the same goes for a jumprope with wooden handles that I cannot remember ever using, and will probably never use.
After all the packing and preparation, which was mainly just the packing, it was off to the big apple to see an old friend, and flap my way across the Atlantic- or, Big Green Lake, as the native jojoba tribe called it before the white devils arrived on the east coast of America and devastated most of the population.
"You can never go home"
So I didn't go back to see where the last blog left off, but I believe I was flying hi over the continental United States on my way to the city of brotherly love. I do not remember the flight, but if i had to guess I passed out with earplugs in before takeoff, but somehow, magically woke up as the girls with food or drink approached. I love looking around and seeing how anxious people get as they look forward to receiving their free tiny drink, or tiny snack. It is as if everyone is starving to death. Which, I am sure they are not. I on the other hand am usually literally starving to death. I don't know why, but it always seems to work out that way. So, I feel the same as those people on the plane look, but I, of course, do not show it.
So, eventually I made it to the final destination for the time being. I was glad not to share the same fate as in the movie "The Final Destination." A lot of times I am on a plane and feeling helpless if it explodes or something. What a waste of life. If I was somewhere else, at least I would have the chance to escape death, but up there, even if i got out of the infernal blaze in the cabin, I would surely not survive my fall to Earth without oxygen, coldsuit, and parachute.
Anywho, the parentals found me at the airport after some confusion on their part about pick up locations. From there we went to the place I have called home all of my conscious life. I am trying now to refer to it as their house from now on to "grow up". No matter what I call it, it will always be home though, probably. However, now when I return there I am seeking people and dog that reside elsewhere.
In closing, the title of this one is not from the crappy bon jovi song. Those feathered bangs. Although, I do like bed of roses. It is from a poem, probably where he got the idea for his song.
So, eventually I made it to the final destination for the time being. I was glad not to share the same fate as in the movie "The Final Destination." A lot of times I am on a plane and feeling helpless if it explodes or something. What a waste of life. If I was somewhere else, at least I would have the chance to escape death, but up there, even if i got out of the infernal blaze in the cabin, I would surely not survive my fall to Earth without oxygen, coldsuit, and parachute.
Anywho, the parentals found me at the airport after some confusion on their part about pick up locations. From there we went to the place I have called home all of my conscious life. I am trying now to refer to it as their house from now on to "grow up". No matter what I call it, it will always be home though, probably. However, now when I return there I am seeking people and dog that reside elsewhere.
In closing, the title of this one is not from the crappy bon jovi song. Those feathered bangs. Although, I do like bed of roses. It is from a poem, probably where he got the idea for his song.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
The long road home
The trek through the air came a lot quicker and more abrupt than anyone knew. It just so happened that my last week of work was cancelled, and I was only working for about 2 days at my old job. The combination of this with the fact that my lady got a job, and would therefore not be Eddie Murphying, or coming to America to you youths in the crowd, is what made it happen so fast and unannounced.
I took 2 days to pack all of my belongings and whatever useless garbage I had accumulated over the past year+ into my seriously overweight 2 carry ons and 2 check in bags. And I had to pay for the checked baggage of course. In the end the checked luggage was only a few pounds over each, but they felt really heavy. I am sure the homeless guy, my welcome wagon who led me into the Flagstaff station to meet my means of transportation would have agreed if I had let him carry some of the baggage per his request. I am not really sure where that guy came from actually, and I was battling severe head aching and balance problems at that early hour after an intense goodbye celebration.
That was a tough morning.
Needless to say, it was a relief getting rid of the baggage at the airport no matter what the price. I then did who knows what. Probably drank as much water as possible, with perhaps a coffee and free refill from a little place at skyharbor airport, and worked on some found crosswords that originated in the always left behind newspapers scattered around my departure gate seats.
So, I was off to Philadelphia...TO BE CONTINUED
I took 2 days to pack all of my belongings and whatever useless garbage I had accumulated over the past year+ into my seriously overweight 2 carry ons and 2 check in bags. And I had to pay for the checked baggage of course. In the end the checked luggage was only a few pounds over each, but they felt really heavy. I am sure the homeless guy, my welcome wagon who led me into the Flagstaff station to meet my means of transportation would have agreed if I had let him carry some of the baggage per his request. I am not really sure where that guy came from actually, and I was battling severe head aching and balance problems at that early hour after an intense goodbye celebration.
That was a tough morning.
Needless to say, it was a relief getting rid of the baggage at the airport no matter what the price. I then did who knows what. Probably drank as much water as possible, with perhaps a coffee and free refill from a little place at skyharbor airport, and worked on some found crosswords that originated in the always left behind newspapers scattered around my departure gate seats.
So, I was off to Philadelphia...TO BE CONTINUED
Opening Remarks
Well, here we are again. Not that I have ever been here before. Well I have been to Nurnberg before, and I have been to Mr. Bleck's before, but we will discuss all that later. I have decided to write a web log, or "blog" to the 2009 hip youngsters out there, because I think there are a lot of things I would like to get down in writing as a sort of time capsule. Other reasons for me deciding to write this new blog series even though I am really tired and really want to order a bagel because it is the cheapest thing on the menu and i am starving are as follows: I can just send this link to people who may or may not be interested in my adventures through life instead of updating people on an individual or mass basis via email who I am not sure want to be updated................to have something to do.................because I found an interesting location to do it from, Mr. Bleck coffeeshop...............I am sure I thought of a few more reasons than that just a minute ago, but that is all i have for now.
Anywho, my old blog, Chris in the West, was undertaken by yours truly to document and share my activities and thoughts and absurd ramblings on living and working in Arizona and the greater southwestern United States, which I think I did pretty well. Lived in and worked there that is, not recorded all I wanted to successfully in blog form. So as a segue from that one to this one, I will give the from AZ to Nurnberg, DE, via phl, nyc, and was as briefly as is humanely possible. And I do mean HUMANELY, because as you may know if you have read a previous blog, they are not fun to read, and I would be surprised if anyone has gotten to the end of those weird, misspelled blogs of the past. This one I will stick to my word on attempting to write correctly and all that so people of all nations and who can speak English, or read it, will be able to do so without straining their brain muscle.
With that, this blog seems pretty long so far, so I will just say that I hope to catch these blogs up to the present day asap. Also, so I do not forget, there are a lot of oranges at my 11 oclock, and an oversized fake coffe cup on a coffee cup plate at my 12 oclock. Art? Not sure, but I am bound to find out one of these days.
Anywho, my old blog, Chris in the West, was undertaken by yours truly to document and share my activities and thoughts and absurd ramblings on living and working in Arizona and the greater southwestern United States, which I think I did pretty well. Lived in and worked there that is, not recorded all I wanted to successfully in blog form. So as a segue from that one to this one, I will give the from AZ to Nurnberg, DE, via phl, nyc, and was as briefly as is humanely possible. And I do mean HUMANELY, because as you may know if you have read a previous blog, they are not fun to read, and I would be surprised if anyone has gotten to the end of those weird, misspelled blogs of the past. This one I will stick to my word on attempting to write correctly and all that so people of all nations and who can speak English, or read it, will be able to do so without straining their brain muscle.
With that, this blog seems pretty long so far, so I will just say that I hope to catch these blogs up to the present day asap. Also, so I do not forget, there are a lot of oranges at my 11 oclock, and an oversized fake coffe cup on a coffee cup plate at my 12 oclock. Art? Not sure, but I am bound to find out one of these days.
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