From Utah, With Love

Posted: June 30, 2009 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

Well, hell.

Been about a month since I updated this here blog. Twitter is so much less hassle, and is SO much more copacetic to my short attention span.  El Bloggo just doesn’t fit into my awesome fast-moving techno lifestyle.

Blogs are SO 2005-ish. I mean. Really. They have that smell.

In the interest of furthering my goal of total web pimpination, however, I shall now provide you with brief dispatches from my glamorous trans-global jet-setter lifestyle.

Destination: Utah.

Contrary to anticipatory trepidations, I was not forced to sell my wife to the Cult of Mormon in order to enter. Instead, we (me, wife, son) were strapped into a Hyundai Sonata and forced to drive to ridiculously beautiful natural landscapes.  Specifically, Zion, Bryce, Canyonlands and Arches National Parks.  At each of these collections of holes and/or rocks, I felt a strange compulsion to hike until my legs fell off and snap pictures until my index finger was worn to a stub. Also rode a horse, went over rapids in a rubber boat and discovered, while pinned down in a trench by withering crossfire from two guys named Travis, the subtle taste sensation of the elusive Yellow Paintball.

Of course, all this was prelude to the main event.

We cashed in a bunch of miles and flew first class (natch!) and on the return flight from Vegas, I sat in 3C. I had just gotten comfortable when a small young twentyish blond female zipped into 3D before I could get up to let her in.  After a while, she mumbled something like, “uh, looks like the cabin door’s still open… think I’ll go to the lavatory…”

“Go for it,” I said in my suave jetsetterando tone.

She obeyed.

While she was gone, I couldn’t help but notice that she left her boarding pass sitting on the spacious first class armrest.  The name:  Anna Kournikova.

That’s right, kids: I let Anna Kournikova go to the bathroom. 

With great power comes great responsibility, and I kept my cool. Okay, I sniffed my pits. After a week of Utah, you can’t be too careful. Otherwise, I gave no outward sign of recognition when she returned and fiddled with her phone for a while. Soon, it was belts on. She yanked an enormous white pillow out of her bag, slipped on a blindfold, pulled her hood over her head and went to sleep.  Really.  Except for the rock on her left hand worth that was worth more than my house, she looked like just another hibernating nun.

When we set down in Miami, I made a witty comment about the torrential rain. She didn’t say anything.

But that’s just how we roll in the first class cabin.  Subtlety and discretion at 35,000 feet.


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