Here Comes Bob

My boss snapped this little pic when we were in the Milwaukee airport last time 'cause it cracked us up. I need that area right about now.

JetBlew: The Screwquel

In addition to issuing this apology, I think the JetBlew CEO, David Neeleman, needs to go on CBS's Undercover Boss preferably as he and his family are traveling to a much-needed vacation. What better way to witness the company's immense inefficiencies firsthand?

In case he's too important to subjugate himself to a horror of that magnitude, here's my account of our trip home for his files:

• In Barbados, the bag count on the jet differed from the count on the ground. Result: almost a two hour delay while they removed all of the bags, recounted them and placed them back on the aircraft. While I'm grateful that we didn't fly away with a bomb on the aircraft, I think that JetBlew could have taken that same time to order food for its passengers: 150 passengers * $5 sandwich = $750 goodwill. Instead, 150 passengers boarding after lunch + Doritos mix for dinner = hunger at 10:00 p.m.
• On-board, the flight attendant moved us up to the front of the plane in mid-descent to ensure we could hustle through customs and make our flight which was "delayed until 11:00 p.m." and "being held" for us (i.e., she stated that she called ahead).
• In JFK, we literally ran through the airport -- from Terminal 4 to Terminal 5 via Air Train -- with our luggage. And by "we," I mean me, my 76 year old mother and two kids ages 8 and 9. At any time of the day, this would be exhausting. At 10:00 p.m., I was worried someone would collapse. 
• Because we switched terminals, we had to recheck our bags and go through security again. As we entered the security line, the woman glanced at our tickets and said, "Go to the left and run to Gate 23, they're holding the plane for you."
• No plane at Gate 23. 
• "There was a gate change. Run to Gate 10; we'll call ahead to let them know you're here."
• No plane at Gate 10. 
• "Try Gate 25." 
• No plane at Gate 25. 
• Back at Gate 23, we asked for more help and told the lady what happened. 
• "It left here 15 minutes ago. No one told me to hold it." (Note: it was now 10:50 p.m. which means it wasn't really delayed until 11:00 p.m. or being held for us.)
• We then told her what we'd been through. Her question: "You dragged your luggage here? Why didn't they recheck your bags in Terminal 4?" How the hell should we know? WTF? (Everyone from our flight was running with their luggage.)
• This kind lady placed the four of us on the first flight to Rochester the following morning. "Get here by 7:30 a.m. because the lines at that time are really long. You can then relax and have Dunkin' Donuts by the gate." Good to know. 
• "Would you like a hotel room or would you prefer to sleep in the airport?" Seriously? What family ranging in ages from 8 to 76 would prefer to sleep in the airport? She booked us at the Doubletree. 
• Arrive at the Doubletree to discover that they have not been notified -- even though their driver came to pick us up. The woman at registration then places a number of calls to different JetBlew teams to determine if we're authorized. Time now: almost midnight. Kids: starving.
• The next morning, we arrive at JFK to discover that only I'm on the 9:25 a.m. flight and the rest of my family is booked on the 7:30 p.m. flight. Why? No one knows. So much for getting everyone up and to the terminal early. Worse yet, there's a 1:30 p.m. flight with available seats. Idiocy at its finest. Somehow we manage to get two seats on the first flight for my mom and Son #1 to get home (because he has a party to attend) and Son #2 and I spend the day in the airport. Again.

As much as I love, love, loved our vacation in Barbados, I never, ever, ever want to fly again. Ever. Any carrier. Never. Especially JetBlew.

Nothing in the world is perfect
Grin and bear it silently or yell into my ear
Complaints, it's my department

Here Comes Your Band

The Pixies, one of my favorite bands of all time, embarked recently on a world tour to play their "best of" album, Doolittle, in its entirety. I love this because Doolittle isn't an after-the-fact compilation of greatest hits but, in my humble and unschooled opinion, simply one of the best CDs ever released. So I've booked my flights to NYC for November; now I have to pray that I get a ticket to their Monday night show the minute they go on sale this Friday. Anyone wanna join me?

In a similar vein, I just read that Sparks played a show in LA last February containing all of the tracks from their latest album (currently residing in the "where is it now?" file) along with every track from their 1974 work of art: Kimono My House. Seriously. If that ever happens again, or if they play Propaganda from cover to cover, I think my sister and I need to board a plane immediately.

Since I can't find a good video of my favorite Sparks' song, "Moon Over Kentucky" (with the exception of Morrissey covering a less sinister/less interesting version last month in Brixton Academy), I'll post their seminal hit "This Town Ain't Big Enough for the Both of Us." Oh heck, I'll post 'em both. Living large. Now to get them to play somewhere . . . anywhere.

Something for the Girl with Everything

Yea! Today is my 43rd birthday. And it's a Saturday and I don't have to work. In fact, with the exception of one half-day meeting, some prep time and some catch-up work, I have off until January 2. Whoo hoo.

I plan to sink into the couch for days in my pajamas eating bushels of Fritos and drinking egg nog (with alcohol). And I also hope to finally take advantage of the gift cards I got a year ago for an enzyme facial at one local yoga studio, breathe, and a massage from another fabulous little studio, Blue Lotus.

I also won a $500 gift certificate last spring from our local Ethan Allen that I cannot wait to use. Not sure it will buy anything outright but it could put a little dent on this!


Everything is going my way. Happy Birthday to me!

Heartbeat, Increasing Heartbeat

What's the absolutely, positively best way to start a Monday? To turn on the car radio to the opening stanzas of one of your favorite songs from childhood.

"Zoo time; it's she and you time. The mammals are your favorite type and you want her tonight."

OMG! Thank you WITR. I took out my cell phone and dialed my sister -- the only person on the planet who may have gotten an even bigger rush out of it. No answer. Argh!

As the youngest member of the Sparks fan club in the mid-70s, even meriting a mention in their cheesy photocopied newsletter, I was beside myself. I was screaming lyrics at the top of my lungs that I didn't even know still remained in the recesses of my brain.

This town ain't big enough for the both of us. And it ain't me who's gonna leave!