and I decided to take a trip to Phoenix and watch the Hawks against the Cardinals.
Bro Brent and I drove to Spokane and ended up being given seats in the first class section. This special section was not in the front of the plane but more in the middle of the second class part of the plane. We had lots of leg room while those in front and in back of us were scrunched up like commoners.
I felt pretty special until Brent informed me we were in the emergency exit row and would be the first to get trampled in the event of any discontinued flight operations.
Lucky for us, there were no emergencies on that particular flight.
While waiting to get picked up at the airport, I snapped a picture of some TSA employees accomplishing what we are paying them big money to do nothing about. I asked the guy if their desk was for recruiting new employees and if it was, could I fill out an application? All he said was that it was illegal for me to be snapping pictures of their work area. He looked like he was having a bad day and got even more bothered when I started laughing.
I guess they don’t want any pictures floating around showing the great efficiencies of their highly motivated employees.
I told him I would destroy the entire roll of film as soon as I found where it was in my phone, I mean…camera. He told me that that would be a good idea and let me go.
And speaking of TSA, I’ve gotta give them credit for me going on my latest diet. When we went through the security checkpoints in Spokane and Phoenix, both checkers patted down my midsection to make sure I wasn’t packing dynamite or an A-bomb.
We made it to the game. I was surprised how many Seahawk fans in green jerseys there were.
The game was exciting. As usual, the referees favored the team I was not cheering for. Many of the Seahawks got injured in the game including Richard Sherman getting knocked out for the rest of the season.
My eldest son Derek sat between Brent and I while son-in-law Jake sat next to Brent. Jake is a native Arizonian and therefore a Cardinal fan. When the Hawks pulled ahead in the second half, Jake turned up missing. For a long time.
He claimed the hot dog line was really long but I am pretty sure he was in the bathroom, sick to his stomach because of the game. He finally returned, looking dejected and sad. I saw no hot dog.
Will and Michael surrounded me on the right side with my other son-in-law Todd rounding out the party.
Victorious, we finished off the night by doing what any die-hard Seattle Seahawk fan does after winning the game. We went home. Happy.
Why? Because Jake decided he was going to start being a Seahawks fan and be numbered among the winners.
This was wise for two reasons. He would no longer be ostracized amongst the brethren and we also agreed to let him ride home with us.
And no, I didn’t get inebriated and spill liquid refreshment on my shirt. The flag Todd was holding cast a liquid-like shadow from the porch light.
Midway through the flight home, I popped open the shade and took a gander. There was another jet on our 3 o’clock. I snapped a picture and then checked to see which plane was faster. The ‘liners looked like they were doing the same knottage.
I snapped another picture and realized we were getting close to occupying the same airspace. I looked down and switched my camera to “video”. When I looked back up, I saw the monstrous underbelly of the other plane pass right over my window.
I guess the pilots must have known about each other. Maybe they were playing around, trying to see how close they could get without kissing aluminum. If the other plane’s wheels had been down, I could have counted his lug nuts and told you what color his valve cap was.
We stopped at a truck stop Subway next to the airport. We ordered our sandwiches. I noticed a tall and lanky cowboy walk in. He was checking the place out but not looking down. He tripped over the Caution sign and just about landed at my feet. I noticed the caution sign didn’t have a warning about a wet floor or a holdup in progress. It must have been there just to teach tall lanky cowboys to watch where they’re going.
I turned my attention to the footlong I had ordered and two teenage boys were trying to assemble. I heard one of the kids say “Look, here she comes again” just as a girl walked through the door and around the Caution sign. He then said something else I couldn’t quite hear. The reason I didn’t hear is because he was applying sauces on my sandwich I hadn’t ordered.
When he saw what he had done, he apologized and offered to make me another one. I said it was fine but that he needed to do his chick watching off the clock. He gave me a very weak and faint denial.
Right then, another babe walked in the door and he started whispering messages to his buddy again. This time, I decided enough was enough. “Focus, man! Focus!”
Brent and I laughed. We got our sandwiches and walked out the door. I’m sure they didn’t see us leave.
We got home last night after a three-day break. I went down and started the corn dryer back up. Less than two minutes after starting work after the holiday, I smashed my stub.
I know. Focus, man! Focus!