When the person in seat in front of you puts their seat
back and you want to use a laptop, read a book, or just not breathe down their necks,
you must do unto others and further confine the person behind you. This wave
will continue backwards until it reaches the poor bastard in from of the emergency
exit row, whose seat doesn't recline and is usually surrounded by kicking, spitting,
crying children. Thankfully, that person is not me today, though it has been
in the past.
on hot days has a stench that I'm certain is not replicated
anywhere else on earth. Its smell is a cocktail seemingly divined from only the exact
mixes of spilt drinks, puke, horse manure, urine, Creole cooking, swamp, and hint
of sleaze that this street produces. If you manage to wake up, or arrive at
Bourbon Street at 9am, you'll see the tail of the full circle as workers use the fire
hydrants to wash away the remnants of last nights party and trucks unload to replenish
the beer and alcohol supply for the next day/night festivities. By10am, the
refreshments have been unloaded and the drinking begins again in full force.
Alcohol, of course, is really the best cure for a hangover.
Most Hurricanes on Bourbon are poorly made - either too
much pre-mixed syrup or too much cheap rum.
Then wine selection outside of
is lacking. The Northwest has turned me into a wine
Went on a ghost tour; the drinking in
inspires some great stories. They claim to have had
no less than 76 faintings. I can tell you that these are probably not to be
blamed on the fear factor. The best part is that the tour begins, ends, and
makes a pit stop at a bar to refill your drinks.
I had my three day fill of
and spent the rest of the time on the white sands beaches
I would recommend it to everyone, but I'm not sure
the area can or should keep expanding exponentially.
The beer selection outside of the Northwest is extremely
lacking. I've become a beer snob.
Modems suck. One time I actually navigated to my
blog page, but after waiting five minutes to download the page, I didn't want to waste
another five just to post these thoughts. I mostly dialed into see if there were any
red flag mails and to wait five minutes per ESPN page. These long page loads reminded
me how much I miss the speedy availability of rich personalized information that you
just can't get from an entire newspaper. I've become a broadband snob.
I also missed Ultimate TV. This is not to say that
I want to spend vacation watching TV, but on the occasions that I did want to watch
it (Red Sox playoffs), I found out how reliant I had become on pausing the action
when I wanted to, creating my own replays, and the 30 second skip button.
The Ipod is the best beach DJ. No worrying about
scratching the CDs, getting sand inside it, or having to get up every 40 minutes to
find another CD. Now where are the monkey butlers to bring me more Coronas and
Here are some things bad parents need to teach their ill
mannered brats before they should be again allowed in public.
I'm starting to really believe there may be a need for
some sort of limit/and or licensing program on having kids. I've become a well
behaved child snob.
Flash photography should not be allowed on planes.
Pictures of the scenery thousand of feet below won't turn out well anyway, especially
with the glare you'll get from the FLASH in the WINDOW.
Not all Starbucks are created equal. Some appear
to have been franchised by owners of waffle house. Now, I love a good meal at
waffle house (covered and peppered please), but this wireless-less atmosphere does
not belong at Starbucks. I've become a coffee and coffee house snob.
Taxi drivers in
are homicidal. If you are a pedestrian there, I would
advise looking both ways, then check again for a cab. They will run you down
and then curse you out. These drivers should be forced to play "Crazy Taxi"
at least 30 minutes a day to take out their frustrations. On second thought,
this might not be the best idea. Ours also exploited us
for an extra passenger since she didn't want to squeeze my golf clubs into the back.
I'm tired of tipping and scrounging for ones at every opportunity
on vacation. On one day alone we were expected to tip the cab driver, the hotel
doorman per bag checked and unchecked into storage before our room was ready,
the bellhop per bag who insisted we must be too tired to carry our own bags, the concierge
for hiding the tour booklets behind a desk and reading them aloud upon request,
the guy who dropped us off on the swamp tour, the airboat driver and guide on the
swamp tour, the shuttle driver for opening our door on the way back from the swamp
tour, the bartender who charged 9 dollars a drink, and finally the waitress at dinner.
The strippers on Bourbon don't earn this many ones in an evening of work. (I'm
not really sure what that says about the strippers.) No, I'm not cheap. I just
hate the expectations and the practice. Hell, I'll pay more for my dinner, cab ride,
hotel fair, and swamp tour upfront so the employees get a higher base pay. Just
don't pimp the tourists for their spare change afterwards. That's for the strippers.