DTW to JFK to BOS to CDG to LHR to STFU
You’ve seen those people. You may be one of them. You know. Inveterate airport code posters on Facebook or Twitter. “Hey! I’m LGA to HNL for a fabulous 2-week vacation.” I always thought that a person willing to reveal their absence should add the helpful information, “so go ahead and rob my house. Just got a new 75-inch TV. Best to take it out through the garage. Don’t worry. No one will be home for the next two weeks.”
But it’s not only vacationers. It’s business travelers. I suppose it’s a way of broadcasting you’re traveling the world on the boss’s dime and that makes you one cool ass guy or girl. It really doesn’t. It broadcasts the fact that you’re deluded into believing people will be jealous of you because you spend much of your life on an airborne tube stuffed with people who smell bad and try to pound a steamer trunk into the overhead bins.
I don’t think I’m being paranoid by never posting on social media that I’m away from home. Believe me. My “adoring” public can wait for the photos until I return and my home and family aren’t sitting ducks for whatever mayhem this crazy world has in mind.
As for the ego trip of letting the world know that I’m traveling the world? Please. Given the conditions of air travel today I would think it much more prestigious to boast about traveling in complete comfort in a shipping container in the depths of the cargo hold of a Great Lakes coal hauler.
So if I see a post from you that’s nothing more than a string of airport codes I’ll just figure it’s a cry for help. Perhaps the code you need to post is SOS.
Almost two weeks into my voluntary unemployment, called, “retirement,” I’ve become all too familiar with a life form I’ll call DDS, “death deserving shoppers.” These are shoppers whose eyes are fixed-focused on their phones, whether plying the aisles of a store or navigating their way around a parking lot. Their eyes never leave their phones, even as they walk, blissfully blind about the possibility that oncoming vehicles will turn their smartphones, and bodies, into instant speed bumps. Where we once had the expectation that pedestrians would look both ways before crossing a roadway, and give way to cars and trucks that could impair their ability to reach their destination alive, now the DDS simply dive in, figuring the squeal of brakes, a flipping finger, maybe a horn honk would validate their selfish supposition motorists will do anything to work around them without causing fatalities. Actually, if you are, or know a DDS, you should know we motorists don’t care about avoiding your fatality. We are simply averse to all the paperwork.
On this, my second “work” day of retirement I made a discovery. A high number of men did not show up for work today in the metro Detroit area because they were all, with me, at the House of Electronic Worship known as Micro Center. There was not one woman there. I’ll bet they don’t even have a Women’s Rest Room. Every aisle was jammed with walking testosterone depositories, some who may have needed suppositories because their cheeks were so tightened with arousal over the deals on hard drives, HDMI cables, giant screen TVs and assorted parts, blank media and mini LED flashlights. 
The check out line snaked for 50 feet looking like LA’s 405 in rush hour–shopping carts filled with electronic things, things you plug in, turn on, set, reset, recharge. In this holy of holies of electromagnet forces size matters. 
The size of the screen in your cart, size of your RAM, size of your lens, length of your data contract. I left completely spent even though I spent a measly 30 bucks on a cable and a keyboard…the keyboard this post is being written on. Do you feel its power? It’s USB power? It’s OK..it’ll wear off…as soon as I power down.
On the occasion of my retirement this week, I thought I’d relate my long work history and the 8 very important workplace lessons I learned along the way.
The closest I ever got to actually covering a convention was in 1988 when I worked for CNN. The Democrats did their thing at the old Omni Arena in Atlanta, which was about 10 steps from CNN Center. That made things very convenient. I was assigned to work, most of the week, in one of our trailers below a viaduct between the Omni and CNN Center. I honestly don’t remember exactly what I did but I do remember two things: Al Franken walking glumly through the trailer after being fired when his “humorous” commentaries fell flat, and the unbelievable large quantity of pigeon droppings that adorned our little metal workplace. When I wasn’t working in the trailer I was the Supervising Producer in the actual newsroom in CNN Center. It was a cool time. All sorts of celebrities toured our complex. The one I remember clearly was CNN’s own Larry King. I’d never seen him in person before but if “The Walking Dead” had been a thing in ’88, he’d have been either the star, or the inspiration for the series.
In this past, horrible week when, it seems, we should be focusing our anger on innocent people being killed by cops and innocent cops being killed by criminals, I’ve seen a disproportionate amount of invective aimed at…Facebook friends.
For Trump, a large mirror available at a moment’s notice to reflect back his own image, so when Donald nods yes, his running mate would do the same. Indeed, a mirror could never have a mind of its own since it must mind whatever is facing it. That makes it convenient for the mirror’s master to be compliant in every way without the ability to act on its own. This seems like the perfect partner for a man who would appreciate a fresh bouquet of narcissus on his desk each day.
For Hill, the clear choice would be a bail bondsman. There is little that is more inconvenient than having to search for someone to spring you from the slammer, especially after hours. Even a “chance” meeting between bubba hubby and the U.S. Attorney General won’t do the trick, especially if the judge has already headed for the first tee. Can you imagine if Hill is POTUS and smack in the middle of a meeting with Putin she’s busted, tossed in stir and has to holler, through an interpreter, “hold that thought, Vladdy! I’ll be back as soon as I make bail!” Indeed, it won’t be long since Veep Murray Scheister, the bail bondsman will be on the spot.
Let’s start with “Friends.” We were not regular viewers when the series aired in the 90’s and early 2000’s. In fact, I had never seen an entire episode before my wife and I decided to kill some brain cells by watching the whole 10 year run over the course of a few months last summer and fall. Going into this all I had to go on was my years ago crush on Courtney Cox from her days as Alex Keaton’s girlfriend on “Family Ties,” glimpses of Jennifer Aniston as the hot babe on the magazine covers, Lisa Kudrow as the goofy sister of a character who looked like her on “Mad About You,” and then the guys to whom I paid no attention..especially David Schwimmer who just seemed, from the promos, like a whiny guy who needed an ass loosening. After more than 200 episodes and living through the interminable Ross and Rachel drama, Joey’s up and down and down and down and up acting career, Monica’s OCD, Chandler’s SO NOT HAPPY schtick and all the rest, I decided the following: My crush on Courtney Cox was crushed by her character’s OCD, Jennifer Aniston is a gifted comedienne but should never wear bangs, Lisa Kudrow was the best actress and her character the most fun to watch, to act that dumb but engaging, Matt LeBlanc had some mean acting chops, Matthew Perry WAS SO NOT GONNA HAVE ANOTHER SUCCESSFUL SERIES, and David Schwimmer would be whiny forever. Honestly, Rachel should have kept going to Paris and found a hot guy in black turtleneck loaded with gift cards from a trendy cafe’.
edLINES 