For the past ten years people like to share where they were at on September 11, 2001. I made the two hour drive to Lansing and showed up for work at the Anderson House Office Building around 8AM. I was about an 50 minutes into my usual hour or two of web surfing I like to get in at the start of every work day when I went to cnn.com (this is so long ago that I didn't even know what Fox News was yet). The front page showed one of the World Trade Center Towers with a huge hole in it with smoke billowing out. I was quickly scanning the article and it said a plane flew into it. I yelled to Brian in the next cubicle to go to CNN because "some dumbass flew a plane into the World Trade Center." I quickly pulled up one of the House video streaming channels on my computer that was broadcasting CNN. By this time a few interns had gathered in my cubicle to watch. At 9:03AM we all saw a shadowy plane disappear behind the towers and then a fireball. We were all silent for about three seconds until Beth, one of the interns, pointed on the screen and said, "Did a second plane just fly into the other tower?" I rejected the thought. I said it had to be video of the first plane hitting even though I could clearly see the hole in the first tower with smoke already billowing out of it and that it was no where near where that fireball just came from. My brain wasn't allowing me to process the fact that the United States was under attack. I just didn't want to believe it. As I'm sure with most, I'll never forget where I was, what I was wearing, and I'll never forget Brian and Beth.
What I don't hear from many people is, what did you feel like the next day? We all remember seeing just about every single house with a new American flag waiving proudly. We remember everyone being kind to each other; get cut off in traffic, no biggie, a simple wave and we're all on our way. But what did you feel personally?
For me, I didn't sleep well at all that night. My dreams were full of planes crashing, planes being hijacked, sometimes I was on them, sometimes I wasn't. It isn't too big of a surprise that I would dream of that after watching replays of it all day long. When I would wake up, I would only think about how different things were going to be, how sad I was that so many lives were lost, and how pissed I was that 19 cowards were about to change the way we lived. Back then, I used to get up early on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays to go for a 3 mile run (yes, I was in much much better shape back then). When my alarm went off at 4:24AM, I was already awake. I thought, well, at least you can get some of this nervous energy burnt off. I laced up my shoes, stretched, and made my way out the door at 3816 Hoiles. I started my run and got to about here when I noticed a dark figure to my left out of the corner of my eye. And I mean, directly to my left. I started veering right, but it was staying right with me. I have never been so scared/frightened/terrified in my life. In my head I was thinking that these effing terrorists were now just roaming the streets today and were killing people. This thought process took place in the span of about .00006 seconds. I stopped, turned to my left while cocking my right arm ready to throw down with this shadowy terrorist. The only problem? Nobody was there, it was just my shadow from a street lamp or the moon possibly. I was literally afraid of my own shadow. I finished up my run which felt like nothing with all that adrenaline running through my veins. I was flat out scared. That's how I felt for the first part of the next day. Eventually I got to the point where I was just pissed. I felt a lot like this Nolan Finley article and I still do. I wasn't a person that got terribly excited about finally double tapping bin Laden's head. Don't get me wrong, I think it was great; I'm proud of the brave team that pulled it off, I'm proud that our President didn't ask for permission to enter another country to kill an enemy, and it made us safer, but it wasn't anything that made me want to jump up and down for joy.
Got a little off track there, but that's basically how I felt the next day. I don't know if I shared that with anyone before. I'm not ashamed in any way. I just don't think it is something that is talked about a lot.
I don't have to get on a plane today for once. I do have to later on this week. I won't be afraid one bit. If anything, I think it is the safest place I could be from any terrorist act. The only way I'd get hurt is in the stampede of other passengers wanting to beat the hell out of anyone that steps out of line in the least bit. Whatever caused those four cowards on Flight 93 to delay their plan was there undoing. Once those people on that plane knew what they intended to do, they stopped at nothing to derail their plans even if it meant their life. And they didn't do it with the thought of getting 72 virgins on the other side. They did it because they loved their country and their fellow citizens.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Baby's first Vegas!
Yes, I ventured to Vegas for the first time ever. No, I am not the "Baby" referenced in the title. That will be a subject tackled later in this post.
I've always been told how much I would love Vegas. I was given an overwhelming amount of advice on "how to handle Vegas" for the first time; pace yourself, you have to see a show, avoid marble steps, watch out for poison ivy even though you're in the middle of the freaking desert, set limits for yourself if you're gambling, eat at the buffets, etc. I took it all under advisement, but in the end, I just did what I wanted to. And, now here comes my unsolicited advice and review of Vegas.
Pace Yourself
Seriously. Start applying that rule to when you get to the airport for your flight to Vegas. I arrived the recommended 90 minutes early for my 10:10PM flight. After breezing through security, I sat in the Sky Club at DTW for the next 60 minutes throwing back vodka-sodas. One of the bad things about the Sky Clubs at DTW is that they don't have bar tenders; you're responsible for pouring your own drink. Needless to say, my hand was a little heavy. I'm feeling pretty good when I get to the gate and I was upgraded to first class so the free drinks were going to keep flowing. And, boy, did they. I fired up my iPad and logged on to the free GoGo Wireless (sorry, that ride ended in August on Delta). The neat thing about logging on is the ability to track your flight's progress on a map. After a few more vodka sodas and emails that I didn't remember sending until I got back from Vegas, I quickly realized that I hadn't paced myself. I started sweating profusely and had the uneasy feeling that I was about to see my liquid dinner soon. I quickly looked at my flight tracker to check to see how close we were to Vegas; bad news, haven't even reached Colorado yet. I immediately understood why people wig the eff out on planes. I wanted to be on the ground more than anything in the world. I honestly didn't care how it happened, I just wanted to be on the ground. Now, I didn't flip my cookies like some people, I just sat quietly, sweat a lot, and eventually fell asleep...or passed out. Next thing I knew, we were on the ground and people were getting off the plane. Seriously, pace yourself starting at the airport.
Accommodations
I stayed at the Luxor. The rooms are ok, the pool is pretty nice (but I highly recommend paying to get reserved chairs with an umbrella at the private pool unless you like standing shoulder to shoulder in what I have to imagine is half water and half urine), the casino is too dark for my liking and didn't gamble a dime there. The property is on the end of the strip so you're pretty far from, well, everything. There aren't any restaurants in there to speak of. It always seemed like it took me half an hour to get to my room once I was inside the building, but I think that might be by design to get me to stop and gamble. I don't really have a recommendation for where to stay, I was OK with the room, I just think there is better.
Old Vegas or Old Town
That place was deader than a doornail. Seriously. Don't go. When we walked into the first casino there I said to Davis, "Is this where people go right before they kill themselves? One last shot to see if their luck will turn around and then walk in front of a bus on a busy fast road that doesn't seem like it should be fast or busy or a road since it is under the cover of that stupid tv roof?" Yeah, I almost walked in front of a bus because I had no idea that a road would run through a place that seemed like it was inside a building. And, no, I hadn't been drinking yet. But, seriously, that place is depressing.
Gambling Spots
FYI, I only play Black Jack; simple game, few rules to follow, good slow game for five friends to sit at a table and have some fun. Harrah's has a special place in my heart because it was the hottest BlackJack table of the trip (right before I had to leave for the airport, of course). The dealers were incredibly nice and sociable. New York New York and Flamingo also had pretty good tables with great dealers. I really think the dealers make the table in Black Jack. Even when I wasn't winning, a fun dealer could make you want to stay; a far cry from the Detroit casinos where I think they're more depressed than those playing for their rent. Places I wouldn't go back to gamble at? Imperial Palace, O'Shea's (I'll never understand why we were there), Paris, and Hard Rock.
Hot Women to Your Door in 20 Minutes
You can't cross the street in 20 minutes in Vegas. There is no way a hooker is making it to your hotel room in 20 minutes. I didn't put it to the test, but I'm pretty confident that they aren't offering a Domino's 30 minutes or it is free offer.
Babies
The number of strollers I saw on the strip was ALARMING! I'm talking about babies in strollers on the strip at 2AM! What the hell! One, it is crowded enough without having to dodge your brat carrier. Two, what in the hell are you doing bringing your kid to Vegas?! Did they not get the memo that Vegas gave up on that "family destination" crap years ago? If your kid isn't 21, you shouldn't bring them to Vegas. Period. What is the point? I've heard of baby's first trip to Disney, but baby's first trip to Vegas? Sorry, you have failed so early at parenting. If you get off a plane in Vegas with a baby and you aren't visiting relatives in the area, Child Protective Services should just take the kid(s) right then. Seriously, there is nothing to do in Vegas for kids under the age of 21.
So, that's it. That's my unsolicited advice/review of Vegas. I had a great time! Oh, one more thing. Plan on taking the day after you get back off from work as well; you'll need it.
Ryan Bingham
I've always been told how much I would love Vegas. I was given an overwhelming amount of advice on "how to handle Vegas" for the first time; pace yourself, you have to see a show, avoid marble steps, watch out for poison ivy even though you're in the middle of the freaking desert, set limits for yourself if you're gambling, eat at the buffets, etc. I took it all under advisement, but in the end, I just did what I wanted to. And, now here comes my unsolicited advice and review of Vegas.
Pace Yourself
Seriously. Start applying that rule to when you get to the airport for your flight to Vegas. I arrived the recommended 90 minutes early for my 10:10PM flight. After breezing through security, I sat in the Sky Club at DTW for the next 60 minutes throwing back vodka-sodas. One of the bad things about the Sky Clubs at DTW is that they don't have bar tenders; you're responsible for pouring your own drink. Needless to say, my hand was a little heavy. I'm feeling pretty good when I get to the gate and I was upgraded to first class so the free drinks were going to keep flowing. And, boy, did they. I fired up my iPad and logged on to the free GoGo Wireless (sorry, that ride ended in August on Delta). The neat thing about logging on is the ability to track your flight's progress on a map. After a few more vodka sodas and emails that I didn't remember sending until I got back from Vegas, I quickly realized that I hadn't paced myself. I started sweating profusely and had the uneasy feeling that I was about to see my liquid dinner soon. I quickly looked at my flight tracker to check to see how close we were to Vegas; bad news, haven't even reached Colorado yet. I immediately understood why people wig the eff out on planes. I wanted to be on the ground more than anything in the world. I honestly didn't care how it happened, I just wanted to be on the ground. Now, I didn't flip my cookies like some people, I just sat quietly, sweat a lot, and eventually fell asleep...or passed out. Next thing I knew, we were on the ground and people were getting off the plane. Seriously, pace yourself starting at the airport.
Accommodations
I stayed at the Luxor. The rooms are ok, the pool is pretty nice (but I highly recommend paying to get reserved chairs with an umbrella at the private pool unless you like standing shoulder to shoulder in what I have to imagine is half water and half urine), the casino is too dark for my liking and didn't gamble a dime there. The property is on the end of the strip so you're pretty far from, well, everything. There aren't any restaurants in there to speak of. It always seemed like it took me half an hour to get to my room once I was inside the building, but I think that might be by design to get me to stop and gamble. I don't really have a recommendation for where to stay, I was OK with the room, I just think there is better.
Old Vegas or Old Town
That place was deader than a doornail. Seriously. Don't go. When we walked into the first casino there I said to Davis, "Is this where people go right before they kill themselves? One last shot to see if their luck will turn around and then walk in front of a bus on a busy fast road that doesn't seem like it should be fast or busy or a road since it is under the cover of that stupid tv roof?" Yeah, I almost walked in front of a bus because I had no idea that a road would run through a place that seemed like it was inside a building. And, no, I hadn't been drinking yet. But, seriously, that place is depressing.
Gambling Spots
FYI, I only play Black Jack; simple game, few rules to follow, good slow game for five friends to sit at a table and have some fun. Harrah's has a special place in my heart because it was the hottest BlackJack table of the trip (right before I had to leave for the airport, of course). The dealers were incredibly nice and sociable. New York New York and Flamingo also had pretty good tables with great dealers. I really think the dealers make the table in Black Jack. Even when I wasn't winning, a fun dealer could make you want to stay; a far cry from the Detroit casinos where I think they're more depressed than those playing for their rent. Places I wouldn't go back to gamble at? Imperial Palace, O'Shea's (I'll never understand why we were there), Paris, and Hard Rock.
Hot Women to Your Door in 20 Minutes
You can't cross the street in 20 minutes in Vegas. There is no way a hooker is making it to your hotel room in 20 minutes. I didn't put it to the test, but I'm pretty confident that they aren't offering a Domino's 30 minutes or it is free offer.
Babies
The number of strollers I saw on the strip was ALARMING! I'm talking about babies in strollers on the strip at 2AM! What the hell! One, it is crowded enough without having to dodge your brat carrier. Two, what in the hell are you doing bringing your kid to Vegas?! Did they not get the memo that Vegas gave up on that "family destination" crap years ago? If your kid isn't 21, you shouldn't bring them to Vegas. Period. What is the point? I've heard of baby's first trip to Disney, but baby's first trip to Vegas? Sorry, you have failed so early at parenting. If you get off a plane in Vegas with a baby and you aren't visiting relatives in the area, Child Protective Services should just take the kid(s) right then. Seriously, there is nothing to do in Vegas for kids under the age of 21.
So, that's it. That's my unsolicited advice/review of Vegas. I had a great time! Oh, one more thing. Plan on taking the day after you get back off from work as well; you'll need it.
Ryan Bingham
Sunday, August 14, 2011
A Different Type of Profiling
Tonight's Curb Your Enthusiasm brought to mind on of my greatest ideas ever; profiling on airplanes. No, not that type of profiling. Tonight's episode started with Larry seated on a plane in the boarding process when the greatest thing happened to him; an attractive woman sat next to him. Compete luck of the draw. Well, not really, it was scripted. In real life, though, complete luck of the draw.
My idea to make this process a little less random? The airlines should give you the option of linking up your social networking sites (specifically Facebook and Twitter) to your frequent flyer account. Think about it, when you're selecting your seat you can click on the seat next to you to see who you're going to be sitting next to. The airlines could even charge for it. By now, you're probably thinking one of two things; what a pig, he only wants to sit next to attractive women or only guys would use this service. Wrong.
As a rather tall and wide fella (not quite as tall as wide), I prefer to not sit next to someone of similar shape and size as me. The 5'7 140lb guy who doesn't have a twitter page meaning he doesn't find it necessary to share every single thought? Perfect, sign me up. Profile picture with the wife and no sign of kids? Even better, I don't have to hear about his kid's soccer game. The attractive woman with the profile picture of her and her friends at the beach? Eh, unless I took down a drunk unruly passenger, she probably isn't going to take her head out of whatever she's reading.
As for this being only used by guys? Doubt it. A few weeks ago, my friend happened to luck out on her flight back home and was seated next to a Med student that went to a Division I school on an athletic scholarship. Her words? I believe they were something like, "Jackpot!" Now, I'm pretty sure that he was actually more psyched to sit next to her than she was to him, or at least he should have been, but why leave to chance making your flight a little more enjoyable? You don't think a woman wants to avoid sitting next to the guy with the shirtless self photo in the mirror profile picture?
Major US airlines made $2 billion in baggage fees last year and people went out of their way to NOT check bags. This "profiling" is a service that people would be tripping over to use whether they want to admit it or not. They could charge $10 a flight for the privilege of seeing your seatmates. Want to see who you're sitting next to, but don't want anyone to see you? That will be $20 please. It is a win win for everyone; the poor airlines can finally make a little money and you can improve your four hour flight to Salt Lake City. Wouldn't you pay $10 to avoid this situation?
My idea to make this process a little less random? The airlines should give you the option of linking up your social networking sites (specifically Facebook and Twitter) to your frequent flyer account. Think about it, when you're selecting your seat you can click on the seat next to you to see who you're going to be sitting next to. The airlines could even charge for it. By now, you're probably thinking one of two things; what a pig, he only wants to sit next to attractive women or only guys would use this service. Wrong.
As a rather tall and wide fella (not quite as tall as wide), I prefer to not sit next to someone of similar shape and size as me. The 5'7 140lb guy who doesn't have a twitter page meaning he doesn't find it necessary to share every single thought? Perfect, sign me up. Profile picture with the wife and no sign of kids? Even better, I don't have to hear about his kid's soccer game. The attractive woman with the profile picture of her and her friends at the beach? Eh, unless I took down a drunk unruly passenger, she probably isn't going to take her head out of whatever she's reading.
As for this being only used by guys? Doubt it. A few weeks ago, my friend happened to luck out on her flight back home and was seated next to a Med student that went to a Division I school on an athletic scholarship. Her words? I believe they were something like, "Jackpot!" Now, I'm pretty sure that he was actually more psyched to sit next to her than she was to him, or at least he should have been, but why leave to chance making your flight a little more enjoyable? You don't think a woman wants to avoid sitting next to the guy with the shirtless self photo in the mirror profile picture?
Major US airlines made $2 billion in baggage fees last year and people went out of their way to NOT check bags. This "profiling" is a service that people would be tripping over to use whether they want to admit it or not. They could charge $10 a flight for the privilege of seeing your seatmates. Want to see who you're sitting next to, but don't want anyone to see you? That will be $20 please. It is a win win for everyone; the poor airlines can finally make a little money and you can improve your four hour flight to Salt Lake City. Wouldn't you pay $10 to avoid this situation?
Thursday, August 4, 2011
These pretzels are making me thirsty!
Kramer never got to say his line in Woody Allen's movie, but I say it to myself every single time I get the pretzels on the plane ride home.
"So, why do you do it," you may be asking the inanimate computer screen you're reading this on. The screen's answer? Well, it can't answer because as I mentioned a minute ago, it is an inanimate object. My answer? I don't know.
I literally just finished eating my bag of pretzels seconds ago. Now I am thirsty as he'll because that half a shot of coke just really didn't do the trick. The other options of peanuts or cookies just aren't that appealing. The peanuts are going to make me just as thirsty and I usually feel sick to my stomach after eating them. The cookies? I have no idea how Delta gets away with calling them cookies. They don't resemble any type of cookie that I'm familiar with and if you have seen me, you know I've seen my fair share of cookies.
I guess part of my decision was based off of the weird travel times this week. I left DTW on Monday at 10:30AM EST and flew to Salt Lake City which is two hours behind us (yes, I have an EST bias, I assume everyone that reads this is in that time zone) and a four hour flight. That means I landed at 12:30 Utah time (yes, I don't know what they call that time zone and I'm too lazy to google it right know), but it was 2:30PM my time. That meant about mid-flight when they were bringing around the cart, I was hungry. Enter the pretzels. And tonight, I was supposed to take off at 5:30PM Utah time (it ended up being 6:30 due to mechanical problems). Now my body was adjusted to eating on Utah time. I was starving when they brought the cart around and when I land at DTW at 11:30PM EST, I know nothing in the airport will be open. Enter the pretzels again.
I guess the thirst makes me forget about the hunger, it sure beats the peanut stomach ache, and it sure beats the mystery Delta "cookie."
"Why don't you bring food on the plane," you're asking your inanimate screen. We covered this, stop talking to your screen and expecting an answer. Just keep reading...I like to pretend that you haven't checked out of this post three paragraphs ago to go stalk your ex on Facebook. Don't be the person to bring smelly ass food on the plane. DON'T EVER BE THAT PERSON. I, and everyone else on the plane don't want to smell your Taco Bell for a four hour flight. We don't.
Just suck it up. Just eat the pretzels. Besides, it gives you something to blog about to keep your mind off how freaking hungry and, now, thirsty you are.
Ryan Bingham
PS
This is my first post from a mile high. I'm a member of the "mile high" club now, right?
PPS
Today's blog was brought to you by free GoGo Wireless. That's right kids, GoGo is free on Delta flights during August. Just enter DIETCOKEGOGO in the coupon area when they ask for payment. See, there was SOME value in hanging in there through this entire post.
"So, why do you do it," you may be asking the inanimate computer screen you're reading this on. The screen's answer? Well, it can't answer because as I mentioned a minute ago, it is an inanimate object. My answer? I don't know.
I literally just finished eating my bag of pretzels seconds ago. Now I am thirsty as he'll because that half a shot of coke just really didn't do the trick. The other options of peanuts or cookies just aren't that appealing. The peanuts are going to make me just as thirsty and I usually feel sick to my stomach after eating them. The cookies? I have no idea how Delta gets away with calling them cookies. They don't resemble any type of cookie that I'm familiar with and if you have seen me, you know I've seen my fair share of cookies.
I guess part of my decision was based off of the weird travel times this week. I left DTW on Monday at 10:30AM EST and flew to Salt Lake City which is two hours behind us (yes, I have an EST bias, I assume everyone that reads this is in that time zone) and a four hour flight. That means I landed at 12:30 Utah time (yes, I don't know what they call that time zone and I'm too lazy to google it right know), but it was 2:30PM my time. That meant about mid-flight when they were bringing around the cart, I was hungry. Enter the pretzels. And tonight, I was supposed to take off at 5:30PM Utah time (it ended up being 6:30 due to mechanical problems). Now my body was adjusted to eating on Utah time. I was starving when they brought the cart around and when I land at DTW at 11:30PM EST, I know nothing in the airport will be open. Enter the pretzels again.
I guess the thirst makes me forget about the hunger, it sure beats the peanut stomach ache, and it sure beats the mystery Delta "cookie."
"Why don't you bring food on the plane," you're asking your inanimate screen. We covered this, stop talking to your screen and expecting an answer. Just keep reading...I like to pretend that you haven't checked out of this post three paragraphs ago to go stalk your ex on Facebook. Don't be the person to bring smelly ass food on the plane. DON'T EVER BE THAT PERSON. I, and everyone else on the plane don't want to smell your Taco Bell for a four hour flight. We don't.
Just suck it up. Just eat the pretzels. Besides, it gives you something to blog about to keep your mind off how freaking hungry and, now, thirsty you are.
Ryan Bingham
PS
This is my first post from a mile high. I'm a member of the "mile high" club now, right?
PPS
Today's blog was brought to you by free GoGo Wireless. That's right kids, GoGo is free on Delta flights during August. Just enter DIETCOKEGOGO in the coupon area when they ask for payment. See, there was SOME value in hanging in there through this entire post.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Will he drink it?
Before I headed up to the Sky Club at DTW last Monday night, I headed to McDonald's to grab something to eat, but more importantly, to get a large Coke. And later in the Sky Club, I planned on topping off a three quarters full large Coke with a bit of whiskey for a nice little treat on the plane. (And that serves as my official first travel tip for my readers. You're welcome.)
Now, there is nothing in this world that I love as much as a McDonald's Coke. McDonald's Coke is the cure for anything; hangover, sleepiness, cancer, etc. I got really bored and didn't finish reading this article about why it is that McDonald's Coke is better than other fountain Coke, but that really isn't the point of this story.
When I arrived at the fountain with my large 32oz. cup, I was devastated to see that it was all Pepsi products! I'm sorry, but fountain Pepsi just doesn't cut it. There must be some really effed up contract between DTW and Pepsi that only allows for Pepsi products to be distributed at restaurants. There is a reason that every liquor is associated with Coke; Jack & Coke, Crown & Coke, Rum & Coke. Name me one drink that is named _______ & Pepsi. A Flaming Dr Pepper is as close as Pepsi gets and that drink actually doesn't involve Dr Pepper!
Before I could finish my story, Todd asked if I let the Pepsi ruin my plan; to top off my 32oz. beverage with some fine whiskey for the fun midnight plane ride to fun-lanta. Jane and Liz seemed torn. They thought it would make for a fun game show; Will he drink it? Would I consume drinks that were just slightly off or unknown?
In the end, I let the Pepsi sidetrack my master plan. I was forced into splashing down some vodka and sodas before boarding time. The group seemed to think that this was a positive sign that I don't have a drinking problem; that I have standards when it comes to my drinks. I appreciate and fully accept their diagnosis.
Today's tip? Don't plan on having your ills cured at DTW by the sweet nectar of McDonald's Coke.
Ryan Bingham
Now, there is nothing in this world that I love as much as a McDonald's Coke. McDonald's Coke is the cure for anything; hangover, sleepiness, cancer, etc. I got really bored and didn't finish reading this article about why it is that McDonald's Coke is better than other fountain Coke, but that really isn't the point of this story.
When I arrived at the fountain with my large 32oz. cup, I was devastated to see that it was all Pepsi products! I'm sorry, but fountain Pepsi just doesn't cut it. There must be some really effed up contract between DTW and Pepsi that only allows for Pepsi products to be distributed at restaurants. There is a reason that every liquor is associated with Coke; Jack & Coke, Crown & Coke, Rum & Coke. Name me one drink that is named _______ & Pepsi. A Flaming Dr Pepper is as close as Pepsi gets and that drink actually doesn't involve Dr Pepper!
Before I could finish my story, Todd asked if I let the Pepsi ruin my plan; to top off my 32oz. beverage with some fine whiskey for the fun midnight plane ride to fun-lanta. Jane and Liz seemed torn. They thought it would make for a fun game show; Will he drink it? Would I consume drinks that were just slightly off or unknown?
In the end, I let the Pepsi sidetrack my master plan. I was forced into splashing down some vodka and sodas before boarding time. The group seemed to think that this was a positive sign that I don't have a drinking problem; that I have standards when it comes to my drinks. I appreciate and fully accept their diagnosis.
Today's tip? Don't plan on having your ills cured at DTW by the sweet nectar of McDonald's Coke.
Ryan Bingham
Thursday, July 21, 2011
What happens when you're by yourself in Atlanta
You start a blog, that's what happens.
I was inspired by a friend's blog. I figured my musings were far too important for the world not to hear. And since I was inspired by my friend's blog, I figured it only right to pay her homage by incorporating her into the name of my blog. You see, she DEMANDS postcards from all of my stops. (Really, this just started last week, but she is quite insistent now.) Ironically enough, the second sentence in the second paragraph of her first blog? Up in the air. Also, she nicknamed me Ryan Bingham in her blog.
While the "Postcards" portion of my title is a true (as opposed to a false one) shoutout to my inspiration (maybe inspiration sounds creepy, you'll find that I'm always second guessing myself and afraid that I might sound creepy or dumb), the " Up In The Air" portion is about what I do. I travel for a living. I'm on the road Monday through Thursday. I could be in any one of 44 continental states. Which gets us to the real purpose of this blog. I hope to share some funny travel stories, helpful travel tips, and the occasional "listen to me, I am wise" life lessons.
Don't ever plan on me taking heed to your grammar corrections. Future posts may be reviewed by an English major, but for the most part, they won't be. I didn't waste my money on an English degree. I wasted it on an engineering degree that I'm not using. (Also, be prepared to be offended every now and then. But, don't despair, I'm an equal opportunity offender.)
So, today's lesson, kids? Don't get stuck in Atlanta by yourself. You might just end up sharing your life with the world outside of the embarrassing pictures that get posted on Facebook.
I was inspired by a friend's blog. I figured my musings were far too important for the world not to hear. And since I was inspired by my friend's blog, I figured it only right to pay her homage by incorporating her into the name of my blog. You see, she DEMANDS postcards from all of my stops. (Really, this just started last week, but she is quite insistent now.) Ironically enough, the second sentence in the second paragraph of her first blog? Up in the air. Also, she nicknamed me Ryan Bingham in her blog.
While the "Postcards" portion of my title is a true (as opposed to a false one) shoutout to my inspiration (maybe inspiration sounds creepy, you'll find that I'm always second guessing myself and afraid that I might sound creepy or dumb), the " Up In The Air" portion is about what I do. I travel for a living. I'm on the road Monday through Thursday. I could be in any one of 44 continental states. Which gets us to the real purpose of this blog. I hope to share some funny travel stories, helpful travel tips, and the occasional "listen to me, I am wise" life lessons.
Don't ever plan on me taking heed to your grammar corrections. Future posts may be reviewed by an English major, but for the most part, they won't be. I didn't waste my money on an English degree. I wasted it on an engineering degree that I'm not using. (Also, be prepared to be offended every now and then. But, don't despair, I'm an equal opportunity offender.)
So, today's lesson, kids? Don't get stuck in Atlanta by yourself. You might just end up sharing your life with the world outside of the embarrassing pictures that get posted on Facebook.
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