Oopsy Daisies!

Well, I thought my spurt of clumsiness at Whistler was short-lived, but unfortunately, that isn't the case.

Yesterday, one of my coworkers asked why I was wearing a temporary badge instead of my Boeing-issued badge at work while I was standing up. I looked at my badge while he pointed at it, and proceeded to explain that I had somehow lost my badge. Just then, I noticed that the badge holder had a cracked corner. Presumably from my fat ass bending over to sit down which caught the badge in between my two body parts.

Anyway, after I had explained myself, I went to fix the badge holder. Just like a hang nail you can't seem to ignore but to pull and yank at it, I similarly did so with the corner of my rather hard plastic badge holder. When I couldn't tear it off, I applied more pressure.

A few seconds later, the entire floor heard a loud ouch! following a rather distinctive snap. I had successfully broken off the corner piece, but totally failed to realize that the hard plastic would make for a rather sharp edge, thus slicing open a portion of my thumb.

At first I thought it was minor, just a little scratch. While my coworker sat there in his cubicle with a grin the size of the Grand Canyon and laughed his ass off, I jokingly accused him of being an insensitive ass for not worrying about my "injury." He challenged the severity of my scratch, so I went further with the joke and showed him my thumb.

He immediately stopped laughing after he took a look at my thumb. Noticing that it wasn't funny for him anymore, I decided that I should take a look at the thumb myself, and holy shit! I really did slice open my thumb!!!

Damn! When the hell is this clumsiness ever gonna stop?

Return of the Klutz

In my formidable years of high school, I had the reputation of being a klutz. Involuntarily, of course. Whether I was in a basketball championship game as a varsity starter, or playing the lead role in school plays, or just plain walking through the halls of school, something would inevitably happen to me. It could be varied, like tripping over my own foot, walking into doors, or accidentally hitting myself in the face while trying to open some silly thing.

Well, as an adult, I have outgrown my clumsiness. In fact, the last time I had a klutzy moment was probably in 1999, when during Thanksgiving break while stuck in the residence halls of Southwest Missouri State University, I sliced my thumb open with a super-sharp kitchen knife while cutting the packaging of an assemble-it-yourself furniture from Wal-Mart. That little stint had me visiting the Emergency Department of a local hospital.

Now, fast forward to this week. On Tuesday, I decided on a whim to fly out to Seattle and join my friends on a ski trip to Whistler-Blackcomb. The plan was to fly out on Wednesday and stay in Seattle that evening, then drive up to Whistler on Thursday, and ski Friday and Saturday before spending Saturday night and Sunday in Vancouver.

Well... As we were loading up my friend's car on the crisp, Thursday morning, I somehow jammed my toe on the post of the fence lining his front "yard." Boy, did it hurt like hell. So much so that I screamed bloody murder.

Then the next day (Friday), after a full day of skiing on Whistler mountain, we returned to the hotel room to chillax. While walking around in the living room, I somehow walked into the armoire holding the television. The corner of it jabbed so deep into my arm that I let out a rather loud yelp.

On the Saturday morning of our final day of skiing at Whistler, we headed down to the lobby to get our daily free breakfast consisting of "scrambled" eggs made out of instant, powdered eggs, children coughed-on cereal, and toasts touched by other guests who obviously thought the thongs were merely for display. Before we even got to the elevators on our floor, I somehow did not pay attention to where I was going and heard a big whack and my lights went out momentarily. Within seconds, I found myself staring at the ceiling, head throbbing in multiple pulses of pain, and my hand clenching onto my balls on the floor.

All I heard was, "What the..." followed by the uncontrolled laughter of my friend and his girlfriend. I had no idea what had happened, but my initial thought was maybe my friend played a cruel trick on me. But when I looked around to see what had happened, I realized that I had walked into a metal pole in the middle of a fire-controlling doorway. Apparently, I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking, and arranged myself a private meeting with said doorframe.

Ouch!

Then today, after lunch at Vancouver, we walked around downtown in the hopes of finding a route back to the parking garage which was separated by a closed off Santa Clause Parade route. While walking in the lower level of the side street next to the Royal Provincial Court's pavilion, I almost fell on my face when I didn't see a step in the courtyard. Apparently, unlike the United States, the Canadians don't bother with painting the edges of unexpected steps with bright yellow tape indicating a drop-off.

Just as I almost fell and screamed a wobbly whoa, my friend looked at me before quipping to his girlfriend, "You know, this guy is so clumsy that he has at least a major incident each day." And they giggled at my expense.

Now, while writing this in the car en route back to Seattle, I realized that indeed my old clumsy self has paid a visit in the last few days! It sucks, but at least it didn't result in serious injuries other than a big shiner on my forehead with a bump the size of Mount Rainier. As I slowly rub my bump soothingly, I slowly mutter to myself, "This shit's gotta stop soon."

Mobile Update: Thanks Edition

So yeah.. It's been awhile since I last wrote anything, but yours truly has been super busy lately. I'm currently going through some pretty big ripples in my life, which I'll reveal in due time.

Anyway, I just wanted to put out a little update while on the road. Don't worry, my friend is driving. I'd never imaging texting out an email while driving myself. Right now, I'm about 45 miles away from Vancouver, British Columbia.

On Tuesday evening I made an impromptu decision to tag along with my friend and his girlfriend to Whistler to do some Thanksgiving skiing/snowboarding. How sweet is that? Well, the only bitter part is that the dollar on this side of the border is worth less than the mighty Canadian dollar. Oh well!

Well, happy Thanksgiving to you all! I guess I better go through my bags and make sure I have my passport with me. I think my friends might be pissed if I left it in Chicago. :)

Hello, A-List!

On Friday morning, I had the pleasure of having to wake up at 04:30 so that I could enjoy hitting the snooze button just five times, and hang up on four different phone calls that I had previously set up with wake-up call service. I eventually did rise by 05:07, just in time to brush my teeth, throw my clothes on, and leave for the airport. Although I thought I was quite speedy throughout the whole thing, it was 05:18 when I left my hotel room, which only afforded me 12 minutes to get to the airport.

Ever the lead foot that I am, I was instantly disappointed no more with the new Saturn Outlook SUV Hertz had triple upgraded me to, what with its 3.6 litre, 270 horse power V6 engine and 20 inch wheels. I drove like a mad bat out of hell, and surprisingly made it to Seattle Tacoma International Airport by 05:32! I have to admit, as a person not easily impressed, that was pretty freaking impressive, considering the mere 14 minutes covered the elevator ride, navigation out of the garage, snaking through the famed one way streets of downtown Seattle before getting onto I-5, and a cool 14.1 miles of highway on I-5. Nothing beats knowing you had just commandeered a half ton of steel, rubber and glass at Superman speeds!

I actually was disappointed with my rental car all week, despite enjoying all the creature comforts like leather seating, sunroof, heated seats and automatic climate control. You see, the Hilton Seattle parking garage isn't exactly accommodating for vehicles that size. Navigating around the garage each time I leave or return was a hair raising experience. Am I going to sideswipe that wall on the left as I turn the corner? Is my front going to bump the right wall as I turn the corner to avoid the wall on the left? With each wall and corner nicely decorated with rainbow colors of streaks and several poles bent over, I could tell that this garage had claimed many innocent drivers who didn't know how to drive, or at least unfamiliar with the dimensions of their vehicles. I was glad that after nine weeks of staying here in Seattle, I have not once made a love tap, or ass rape for that matter, between my different rental vehicles and the garage.

Anyway, on Thursday morning while I was on my porcelain throne, I read in the USA Today about how Southwest Airlines will begin its new boarding procedure, to which I had known for months but neglected to tie a virtual ribbon around my finger. And instantly, I realized that I had to check into my Thursday morning flight, because it was 08:00 already, and my flight was going to be at 06:35 the next morning. I wasn't in a hurry, because my experience has taught me that if I check into my flight within six hours of when they allow you to check in, chances were pretty good that I'd get the A group.

Boy, was I wrong.

Instead of the usual A, B and C groups which people can line up as early as they want so as to be the first in that boarding group to get a good seat, Southwest Airlines now assign numbers on top of the group based on when you checked in online. First come first serve. So if my flight leaves at 06:35 on Friday, everybody on that flight could begin checking in online at 06:35 on Thursday. The first 60 people to check in gets the A group, with each subsequent 60 in the B and C groups respectively. And the numerical assignment also indicates their place within their respective group, thus leaving ass holes like me out in the cold.

Because as a business traveler, I sometimes book my flight at the last minute, but I always made sure I checked in promptly 24 hours ahead so that I got into the A group, despite getting a 59, for example. (The numbers had always been printed on the boarding pass for years, but not for the same purpose as now.) Then I made damn sure that I get to the gate early enough so that I could be the first person in the A group by standing in line all alone. Of course, this would cause a snowball effect, because suddenly, even though the flight may not leave for yet another 75 minutes, everybody who had been comfortable sitting in their seats would suddenly get up and stand in line behind me. With seats at the gate abandoned, people were willing to stand in line for over an hour just to get good seats. I guess this is why Southwest Airlines decided to form the new boarding procedure. And now I'm the victim, if I got number 59 in the A group.

Apparently, the flight back to Chicago was filled with fellow loyal Southwest Airlines patrons, because when I checked in online after I cleaned myself up good from the cake making experience that Thursday morning, I got the B group. Yeah! I didn't even make it into the second half of the A group. And it had only been an hour and a half since the check in window of time opened! Group B?!? Luckily, I got position 5. At least I got to be the fifth person to board in the B group. But still, I was displeased!

Well, when I got to work that Thursday, I checked my email, which I had neglected on Wednesday evening because I was busy having a good time at dinner with my friends. I had received an email on Wednesday from Southwest Airlines, telling me that in addition to the new boarding procedures, they will also begin this thing called the A-List, and that I was close to getting in, but no banana. Well, they didn't exactly use banana, but they also wrote to say that once I became eligible, they will notify me first thing in their order of business. Okay, they didn't exact say that either, but something to that effect.

The A-List is another privilege of prestige, on top of the Companion Pass privilege, which I've had for years. Fly with Southwest Airlines enough to earn at least 100 points before a full cycle of rolling 365 days, and you get the Companion Pass for a year. Anyone I designate as my companion can fly with me for free. Anyway, the A-List privilege entailed that if a passenger had made 32 one way flights with Southwest Airlines in a rolling 365 days, then he or she would be eligible for the A-List, whereby Southwest Airlines will check you into your flight for you and get you into at least the A group, so you don't have to wake up at 06:35 24 hours before your flight to check in like for me.

Man, when I got that email saying I didn't make it, I tore up my copy of the USA Today in half, and stormed out like a little girl. Okay, I really didn't, but if I was a little girl who surprisingly enjoys reading newspapers first thing in the morning, then I would totally have done that. =) Sigh...

Of course, just as luck would have it, when I checked my email on Friday, guess what?!? I got another email from Southwest Airlines!



Hello, A-List!

Now it's Sunday evening, and I'm on the plane flying to Seattle. And I'm happy to report that I did not check into my 20:00 flight 24 hours ahead on Saturday, and I still got into the A group! Sadly though, is the fact that I was given position 49. That's pretty much the bottom of the A group, which still doesn't really earn me first dibs on the open seating policy. Or second, or third through the fifteenth dib. But for now, I think this will do. I feel like a rock star for being inducted into the A-List. Sa-weet!

Now, if only they would roll out the red carpet at the gate for the A-Listed passengers.

Grumpier Old Sore Man

Alternate Title: Hidden Nail, Crouching Toe

Alternate Alternate Title: This Ain't No Seattle Grace

Nothing beats fate taking another quick, hard swing at a downed guy. It's almost as if fate is taunting me while I roll on the ground crutching onto my sack of balls in pain before kicking me yet again in the nuts. Yeah, I love this feeling...

As if having to adjust to the new Southwest flight that departs on Sundays at 20:00 after Southwest Airlines discontinued the 15:50 direct flight wasn't enough, I had to accidentally leave my Shure noise-blocking earphones at home, thus making the four and a half hour plane ride for a miserable hell. Well, at least I spent part of the flight writing my previous blog.

And to sweeten the wholesome experience, I ended up visiting the Emergency Room on Monday instead of going to work.

Yippie yay. Give me a cheer...

As I rose out of bed in all of my naked morning glory, I hit the Snooze button for the final time and stumbled around the room. As usual when I stay at the Downtown Seattle Hilton every week, I'd look out the peephole of my door, hold my breath and listen hard for signs of any other hotel guests walking by my room. After all, the last thing I want to do is to accidentally flash some poor fellow patron with a good view of my other moustache.

When I thought things were in the clear, I cracked open the door a good foot apart, took a step forward, and bent down to get my fresh, crisp copy of the USA Today paper while my banana and plums hung out there as if they were ripen to pluck off the bushes. But yesterday, when I took that fateful first step after revealing my naked self to the hallway, I felt a sharp pain. I let out a brief OUCH! before hurriedly grabbing the newspaper and closing the door shut.

What the fuck was that?

I must've stepped on an exposed nail of a carpet tack strip! I bent down and felt the carpet with the palms of my hand, and felt nothing in the area of an inch from the edge of the door edge. Thinking it was just nothing and that I had an overly sensitive feet bottom that morning, I proceeded to the bathroom while I take my leisurely dump while reading my fresh newspaper.

Interesting... The United States is in a rock and hard place with Pervez Musharraf's recent abandonment of the Pakistani Constitution. What will Dubya do?

After I had read a couple more articles and wiped my ass in satisfaction, I prepared to get up from my porcelain throne before I suddenly noticed something in the bathroom rug. A red dot.

What the...?

I moved my right foot away and there was yet another red dot on the rug! Before long, a huge, giant light bulb came on in my head! I flipped my right foot over, and I found my big toe with broken skin and blood oozing out of the little hole.

Great! My suckiness apparently will be continuing into the new day...

While I was still naked (after I had wiped my ass and flushed the toilet), I began to do the whole CSI thing and investigate what had happened. Surely enough, I found a nail sticking out about a quarter of a centimeter from the carpet! Holy moly!!!

Instinctively, my recessive Asian genes became dominant suddenly and I decided to start taking pictures of whatever evidence I could gather. If it wasn't for Erin and her experience this past year with a hotel where it disclaimed any responsibility for the injury she had gotten during her stay, I would not have thought about being a savvy crime scene investigator. I needed all the ammo I could gather to force the hotel into:
A) paying for all my medical bill without making a claim against my health insurance,
B) comp'ing one night of my hotel stay if the whole ordeal was going to take the entire day, thus missing a day of work (which did happen), and
C) providing me with Hilton Hhonors points to compensate for my inconvenience.

As if luck would have it, fate picked the perfect day for me to get injured by my hotel room. All the managers were not available, as there was a board meeting which required all managers to attend. I asked to speak with the secretary of the General Manager, hoping that she could interrupt the meeting to inform some manager that one of their valued guests was injured and needed medical attention. Pronto. But no luck.

Grrr...

I tried to remember from my high school biology class about tetanus, and I knew I had to get a shot of some kind, and that there was a period of time I would be okay before getting lockjaw. In my mind, I thought it was 12 hours, so I told her that I would wait till the meeting concludes. The last thing I want to do is take the General Manager's business card to the hospital and inform the triage person that my bill will be covered by the hotel, and that the business card would be used as, uhm, collateral. Yeah right!

Soon enough, Joe, a controller in accounting decided to take matters into his own hands. He gave me $20 for the cab fare to and from the Swedish Medical Hospital, and gave me his business card so that the triage person could call him directly and obtain the necessary financial and insurance information from the hotel. So off I went.

Of course, after waiting almost an hour in the lobby, I finally got admitted. I couldn't believe it took an hour on a slow day. I'd hate to see how long it will take for me to even tell someone my name, address and date of birth during a busy night! And of course, after getting admitted, I waited and waited for almost another hour before being escorted to a room in the Emergency Department. And the kicker? I waited yet another hour in my room before a nurse even came to check my vitals before an attending could see me.

By the time all was said and done, it was almost 16:00 by the time I returned to my hotel. It was simply wishful thinking that it might be a quick ordeal and still allow me to go to work. So basically, I lugged around my laptop bag in the cab, then the hospital, for nothing! And I returned to my hotel room with a sore arm, because the doctor said that since it was a nail that I stepped on and the last time I had a tetanus shot was eight years ago, it was probably best to give me another shot.

Lucky for me, tetanus shots are one of the most painful vaccines. No, not painful as in when the needle gets inserted into your muscle, but the lingering effects for days afterwards. And I have never been afraid of needles anyway, as I was one of those odd kids who enjoys watching the needle go in.

When I got back, I talked to Joe and reiterated my list of demands. I should have added this to the list:
D) Buy me lunch.
After all, I had spent all day in the freaking hospital without food.

Well, it is now Tuesday, and I can say for sure that the CDC wasn't kidding in their pamphlet when they indicated that tetanus shots were one of the most painful vaccinations. My left are is sore and painful, as if I had been tackled high and hard on the field.

Now, I'm just a grumpy old sore man.

Below are pictures and (yes, I wrote and) videos!!! Enjoy!!!

Grumpy Old Man

Wow, despite my 30th birthday still being 76 days out, it just seems like tomorrow will be my 40th birthday. Things simply aren't the same anymore. I remember a time when I could live on just three hours of sleep every single weekday for months, and still have the energy to practice basketball for the varsity team, being an officer in the student council, and run the yearbook committee as a co-editor. And on top of all that, spend the weekend partying hard. Or at least, living life to the hardest.

Look at me now. The past week was clearly an indication of my age catching up to me. Or all the years of sleep deficit, whichever came first. Last weekend, all I did was spend the night out drinking on Friday as far as anything exciting goes. Then on Wednesday, I went out to a small dive bar with people I had just met in Seattle for Halloween till three in the morning. So far, this would have been considered rather tame by the standards of my youth.

Then on Friday, I went out to dinner with my friends from Colorado and Rosa. A fine dinner, with barely any alcoholic drinks. Then Saturday brought Maria and Matt's wedding, which I had a total blast. I didn't get too terribly drunk, as I was still functional by the end of the evening, but oh my God! I felt like a freaking rock star finally deciding to stop drinking and snorting coke with random hot groupies after 30 straight nights of rocking out my life!

I am spent!!!

Here I am, sitting on the plane to Seattle, pondering what had happened. For some odd reason, I thought on Saturday night that after the wedding I would totally be able to go out and play football on Sunday morning. But came this morning, which brought me pain. Not the kind of pain like I had been drinking a lot, but pain as in wariness and wretchedness.

Obviously my new weekly commute to Seattle has started to take its toll on me. I remember years ago, I could not wait to fly out to Seattle every week when I had a project there. It was worse then, because I had to fly to Minneapolis St-Paul, layover for a while, before flying on to Seattle. And I thought that was cool and exciting. And I never had gotten tired of it.

How did I manage to juggle with all that weekly traveling and still maintain a decent life every weekend then? Now, I feel like a grumpy old man, dreading the four and a half hour long direct flight to Seattle every Sunday. Sure, it is much better now than when I lived in Kansas City, but somehow, it just doesn't feel the same. The allure of all this travel no longer excites me.

Of course, this could all very well be the fact that I had been super busy with myself every weekend. I barely had time to do my own laundry, and my place is in dire need of housekeeping. If it wasn't the marathon weekend, then it was the trip to San Francisco. If it wasn't Matt's bachelor party, it was Maria and Matt's wedding. Every single weekend kept me busy.

So busy to the point that I can't even find the time to download my pictures, sort them, and email them out. My current backlog of promises? Sending out the pictures from the Nike Women's Half Marathon in San Francisco. The pictures from Matt's bachelor party. The picture of a hot girl I had randomly met last weekend. The pictures from Halloween night. And now, the hundreds of pictures Rosa and I took at Maria and Matt's wedding. And on top of all that, deal with my stolen/lost phone with the police and insurance companies, and find the time to work on my place as if I had just moved in. You should know, as I have sort of neglected my blog for days now!

This is by no means a complaint, though. The wedding was nice and wonderful, and I had a great time. The Chicago Marathon and Nike Women's Half Marathon races were great and life-altering. But I seriously need some personal downtime. Well, preferably a pause in the life remote control. Unfortunately, time travel, much less time freeze, has yet to be invented.

I need some John time. Seriously.

Because, I just hate feeling like a grumpy old man. =)