Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Greetings From Command Central

It is morning in San Diego.

We arrived at about 8:30pm Pacific Daylight Time yesterday. This means that in real time it was 11:30pm. All I had eaten since about 2 o'clock that afternoon was a handful of cheddar Combos and enough Diet Coke to wire an elephant. By the time we landed, if the line didn't move at a rate that I would deem quick enough, I'm fairly certain that I would be able to shift my molecules to a vibrational frequency that would have allowed me to phase through the side of the aircraft. I would have been in the parking lot and in a taxi before security knew what was happening. But then I would have had to go back for Mr. Scoop and that would have queered the whole deal. Mr. Scoop has no real sense of direction and would have been unable to find the parking lot - and therefore finally been able to smoke - without assistance. There would have been a "scene" that would have involved heated words like, "nicotine fit" and "homeland security" and, possibly, "ouch, Godammit, don't you know who I am?" and the, later, handcuffs and tears.

Mr. Scoop had lasted the whole flight on one piece of nicotine gum and the vivid fantasies of what he wanted to do to the squalling brat four rows ahead of us in first class. As funky and fucked up as I felt, it was paramount to put his needs before my own. I got him off the plane and to the safety of the parking lot so he could smoke without incident.

As it was, by the time we finally got to the hotel, checked in and upgraded our rooms (yes, we will have an ocean view this year) and finally got down to the bar to eat, I ate enough that you'd think that I really had been running around all Flash-like at Mach 2 and needed to desperately replenish my energy reserves. We stumbled, satiated and happy, to our hotel room and passed out around 11:30pm PDT.

This morning I'm up and sipping contentedly at a Diet Coke while Mr. Scoop tries to figure out the coffee machine that came with the room. The couple next door have just finished a brief, but noisy bout of what may have been sex. I don't really care about the noise. After being disturbed last year by the constant noise of construction and public transportation trolleys, I'm too mellowed out by the view to really care about cries of "Spank me, Dave!" from the room next door. Preview night for the comic convention is later tonight. There will be far, far more disturbing sights and sounds awaiting me there. For now, I'm just going to enjoy the view.

1 comment:

Dave Morris said...

MAN, aren't conventions fun? Hope you're enjoying things. I'm keeping track of your fun, just so you know. You'll be expected to be miserable for a while upon your return home... it keeps things in balance.