Saturday, March 24, 2012

I Asked Myself...

Since there is no shortage of opinions on current affairs, and since no one has seen fit to tap my vast Opinion Resource Vault, I took it upon myself to ask me what I thought about what's going on.

ME:  Why are gas prices so high?
ME:  Because they can be.  Everybody thinks the oil companies are to blame, but noooooo.  Check out the speculative markets (oil/gas futures) and you'll see what I mean.

Back in the early 70s there was an "Oil Shortage".  Daddy owned an Amoco gas station and our gas was the first in town to hit $1.00 a gallon.  He had a "monthly credit" customer who drove in one day.  Daddy got the nozzle, put it in the tank, and started to pump the gas (I know, this is foreign to those of you under the age of 30).  Mr. Henry popped off "I ain't ever gonna pay a dollar for a gallon of gas," at which point Daddy removed the nozzle, hung it up, and said "You'll be walking in a couple of days." 

Miss the Good Old Days yet?

ME:  Who will win the Republican nomination?
ME:  Romney, hands down.  The Democrats want him to win--that's obvious--and the GOP seems just dumb enough at this point to play into their hands.

ME:  Okay...who will win the General Election?
ME:  Whoever gets the most votes.  Which is pretty much the case in anything where you keep score, except golf, which I hate.  Only in golf can you score the lowest and win.  And by the time you're finished playing you're sunburnt and hungover.

ME:  What's the capital of Ohio?
ME:  Columbus.  Many people think it's Cincinnati or Cleveland, but just as many don't realize Ohio is actually a state.  I also know my state slogans.  For instance, Georgia is the Peach State, Florida's the Sunshine State, Alabama's the Moron State, etc.

ME:  Will the world really end in 2012?
ME:  Yes.  Be ready.  If not, I've built an underground bunker and stocked up on Non-Perishable Food Items for nothing.

ME:  What's the secret to understanding women?
ME:  I once wrote a bestseller, Everything You Need To Know In Order To Understand Women.  It was amazing.  And blank from cover to cover.

ME:  Are you always this sarcastic?
ME:  No, sometimes I'm worst.  It's a blessing.  And a curse.

ME:  Thanks for my time.
ME:  I'm welcome.

Monday, March 19, 2012

The Princess and The Airport.

The Princess turned twenty-five yesterday and I aged ten years.

Today she flew to Tampa to spend the remainder of the week with her best friend.

That's where "life is an adventure" comes into play.

We left the house around 6:30am to get her to the Atlanta airport for an 8:55 flight.

After stopping by Fourbucks Starbucks for some caffiene, we headed down GA 400 to the North Springs MARTA station, avoiding downtown traffic during morning rush hour.

I had no idea that morning rush hour would begin seven miles north of the MARTA station.

We crept into the station, got our Breeze pass, boarded "The MARTA" (that's what the Princess calls it), and headed toward the airport.

Thirteen stops stood between us and Hartsfield-Jackson.  That is, once we started moving...apprarently there really IS a time schedule for The MARTA.

Approximately 700 people boarded and unboarded at each stop.  Taking precious time, making us later by the second.

The Princess got more and more quiet as it took longer and longer to get there.

Once we got off the train we were one-hundred feet from AirTran and three minutes late for her plane.  "No problem," the nice AirTran lady said.  The next plane for Tampa leaves at--oh, wait a minute (never a good sign)--at 2:07 this afternoon."

The Princess teared up but maintained her composure.  We got a cup of coffee and I shared with her what "grown-ups" would do in this situation.

By contrast, if it had been either of my sons, I would have dropped them off at North Springs MARTA Station and heard when they got to the airport:  "Hey, Dad, my plane doesn't leave for another five hours and I can play around the airport until then!"

Then I would have waited for the call from the authorities so I could go bail them out.

But not The Princess.

My baby girl Emily turned twenty-five the day before this trip, but grew up immeasurably in the airport last week.  I called to check on her once I got on the road north of Atlanta.

"I'm fine, Dad.  I was okay once you left," she said.

I never thought I'd hear those words.  I'm not sure I ever want to hear them again.

But she is.  Fine.