The Lost Weekend

There's something awfully disheartening about going on a four day business trip, working hard the whole time, staggering home exhausted and filthy late the last evening and finally crawling into your own bed only to wake up the next morning and realize that it's.........Tuesday.

That just ain't right.

@##$*&(%*$#!!!

It was a good trip, however. Any time you can make the other side's deponent sweat under questioning, you know you're on to a good thing.

A few other random observations:

---As I relayed to the LMC on Saturday, I confirmed yet again "Chip's" one-babe-to-a-plane axiom. The difference, though, is that this one actually sat next to me. And tried to strike up a conversation. [Sooper Sekret Message to Sadie: Ha!] She saw the top of my copy of Flashman's Lady sticking out of the seat pocket and, misreading "Flashman" for "Fishing", asked me if I liked to fish.

I must admit that I froze. I had already used up my regulation married guy three seconds of eye contact and warning klaxons were sounding all over the place. Any actual fraternization would have resulted in an automatic additional 1000 years in purgatory. So, looking more past her than at her, I smiled and said yes, I liked to fish but that the book didn't have anything to do with it. This seemed to shut her down because she didn't say much more, instead curling up and going to sleep. Yes, she eventually started leaning against my shoulder in her sleep. No, I did not enjoy it. At. All.

Meanwhile, the young dude sitting on the other side of me and very much interested in this girl was practically frothing that I was sitting next to her and he wasn't. Was that you, Chip?

---Speaking of such things, I swear that I saw Inara's little sister at my hotel. The one who plays on her high school basketball team because she's got such long legs. She was sitting at breakfast with what looked like the remains of a wedding party and had a particular way of cocking her head and arching her eyebrows when she was listening to somebody. Very studied. Very smooth. But then she would fall to cutting her food and her elbows would swing round like a couple of windmill blades. Ah, youth.

---Of course, as regular Llama readers know, my talents don't lie with the younger crowd. No, instead I seem to have a gift for attracting middle aged and elderly ladies, all of whom want to tell me what a nice young man I am. It took me half an hour to shake off the sweet old biddy manning the cash register in the hotel gift shop on Sunday. And yesterday, I almost missed my lunch break because the court reporter wanted to tell me all about her impressions of the writings of Bill Buckley. Perhaps I should quit this law gig and take up as an AARP rep.

--- Changing subjects, how many of you watched the finals of the U.S. Open on Sunday and poor old Phil Mickelson's spectacular choke on the last couple holes? Un. Freakin'. B'lievable. And note to self: Do not watch long, emotional sporting events in hotel bars. You can't afford it.

---Changing subjects again, I think it's high time that Congress pass a Federal Uniform Hotel Alarm Clock Act, which would require all hotels to use the same make and model of clock/radio. Every single time I go on the road, they're different. Half the time, I can't even figure out how they work and, even if I think I do, I wind up spending most of the night awake fretting about them. For all the times I've ever set a hotel alarm, I don't believe I've ever actually heard one go off.

---Finally, hats off to the men and women of "Ted" Airlines. The entire flight up to Dulles last evening, the stewardess kept coming on the p/a to say scary things about potential turbulance. Further, the crew made a big show of getting everything cleared and stowed ahead of time because they thought we were in for a rough landing. We came in without a bump. I think the gang on Ted does this just to mess with us.