Today is a travel day and nothing says “blog” like an entire day spent going from point A to point B.
It started off rough.
It’s 4:30 in the morning and my wife is driving me to the Budapest airport. We get caught off guard by an unexpected sign that basically says, “If you think you’re going to take this road to the airport, you are mistaken.” No detour signs. Nothing.
Fortunately, my wife saw a cab pulled over. He would tell us how to get back on track. Unfortunately, the reason he was pulled over was to relieve himself on the side of the road. We discovered this when our car’s headlight lit him up for the entire world to see.
Now, I don’t want you to think Budapest is filled with diggers and fillers working on never ending road projects while cabbies carve their names into the snow. It’s as modern as any other city which is to say, there are some parts that you should avoid. Sort of like huge chunks of Philadelphia.
The airport is filled with “Security Theater” as the suits we all elect to office put on a show about stopping the illegal transportation of printer ink across international borders.
This is all so much B.S. We act like the guy that stuffed the explosives into the ink cartridge is a criminal mastermind. If that’s true, then I’m Einstein.
For example: They limit the liquids you can bring onto a plane to 3 oz; as many 3 oz. containers as you can cram into a one gallon bag. I think this is because it takes TWO gallons of shampoo to make a bomb. Three seconds after I heard this, I thought, “Why don’t the terrorists just buy an extra plane ticket?” Two terrorists can bring on twice as much shampoo, or toothpaste or whatever the TSA is afraid of today.
It’s not like there is a shortage of people that want to kill other people. The reward is pretty high. Seventy-five virgins is quite the jackpot to someone that has had a steady diet of mobile black tents with eyeholes.
Here is why I think they’ve taken a “pass” on the two-ticket option: Virgin shortage. I have no idea where they find 75 virgins to begin with; I don’t care who’s in charge of the afterlife.
Speaking of which, what are the chances of a Higher Power creating a world full of people so they will kill each other? Do these guys think they get to heaven and there is God saying, “Thanks for killing those innocent people. I never did like those women and children to begin with. Help yourself to some virgins. Showers are down the hall to the right.”
By the way, what do the female suicide bombers get? Are they lesbians looking forward to Virgin City or do they get some Chippendale action?
As I write this there is a huge woman sitting next to me. It’s six hours into my flight and she has spent the entire trip bitching at her husband or scolding her 3-year old daughter. She treats the flight attendants like slaves.
Where is my dart gun when I need it?
I land in Chicago in a few more hours. Home of the Clements, including a daughter that I hear is destined to be a famous actress. Sarah, you go girl! (She can only read this paragraph by the way)
And later…
I am finally at my hotel – 20 hours door to door.
I got stuck at Chicago customs. There had to be over a thousand people in line. Really. I looked around and asked myself, “Is this really the best we can do?” Now I know why we are sending jobs overseas. We don’t know how to do anything anymore.
I stand in line and answer questions like, “Where have you been?” and “Did you bring a bazooka with you?” (Actually, I made up that bazooka part but I could tell he wanted to ask.)
Chicago is where most of us Super Heroes gather. Look for us at a Popeye’s Chicken near you. We will be the ones stuffing our faces as we plan on ways to save the world.
Up, up and away…
jim
