Monday Morning Migraine and blogger Bills

My day started out as many had before. An early morning at the airport to catch a flight somewhere. I hate the early flights because that means that in most cases it is the first flight of the day for that aircraft. I mean who knows, something could have happened over night as the plane sat. How do I know if it was checked prior to letting us board? Anyway, on this day I was heading to the Northern half of the Carolina’s. I was to meet and interview this guy that was involved in an incident. Not really an interrogation, but more of a fact finding sort of interview.

Why this could not be done via phone is beyond me. So there I was boarding a plane at Five Thirty this AM.

It was one of those small jets, a “Puddle Jumper” as they are referred to. Not my favorite mode of air travel, but at least it was a jet. As always it was a packed flight and I sat and watched as people tried to shove their bags into these tiny overhead compartments. They know as well as all of us watching them that those bags are way too big for a normal sized plane and should have been checked. Instead they try with all their might, until the stewardess breaks it up and informs the morons that she will need to check their bags. Like cattle waiting to become burgers, we all sat there and waited as the pilot cranked the engines for the first time today. I had some greasy looking chap sitting next to me. I am not the “Talker” type on flights. It is bad enough that I have to share such cramped quarters with someone, butt cheeks touching. By this point the last thing I want to do is talk. That’s were I was so early this morning, ready to take flight and get to my destination.

We were in the air not longer than 10 minutes when this guy a row up and across from me begins holding his head, his ears with his wife saying something to him. The wife hits the “call” button and the stewardess came to see what was up. I could clearly see the wife telling her something, but I could not hear what they were saying. The whole while the guy was still holding his head, obviously in some kind of pain. Then the guy starts wailing, like a little bitch. I could now hear the wife and the stewardess trying to talk over his wails. The guy had a migraine or something (10 minutes ago he was fine) and the chicks were trying to calm him. The stewardess left as if to go retrieve something and this dude unbuckles his seat belt, lifts his large ass out from his seat and lies down in the isle of the plane. Yes, lies down as if things will be much better down there on the floor of this plane at Twenty thousand feet. Here is this rather husky older dude, on the floor rolling around, holding his head wailing like a baby. I am really irritated at this point (Go Figure).

This guy was making a scene. Sure, he was in pain, but the whole theatrics was a bit much, never mind the safety aspect of it. The stewardess was still calmly trying to get “Bruits” back into his seat. The wife now was becoming a bitch towards to stewardess trying to do her job. I see the pilot or co-pilot appear to investigate the situation. OK, who the fuck is flying this plane. I had enough of this. I go to the guy on the floor, grab him by his arm and the scruff of his shirt and place him into his assigned seat. I whispered into his ear that if he left his seat once again I would be forced to do things to him that would make his pussy headache seem like an orgasm. We made an emergency landing somewhere in Virginia. There were police and emergency people waiting to take him and his wife to the hospital. They both protested and didn’t want to get off the plane. They were removed. I missed my appointment, only to get back to the airport and do it all again.

I was in Target yesterday to pick up a few things. When I went to check out, all I had was a hundred. I handed it to the cute chick with an attitude behind the counter thing and she gave me a look as if she were constipated or something. “Is this all you have”? She asked me. I told it was and she began making change for the hundred, mumbling something or another about her drawer or drawers which were her problem. I was too busy checking out her little nipples sprouting erect through her Target polo. Her frustration became mine as she counted out over thirty dollars in one dollar bills. I gave her a puzzled look and again she started on the drawers so I figured she was riding the cotton pony or something. I walked to the car with this wad of one dollar bills bulging in my pocket. I thought maybe it was a sign from above that I would need to visit the local strip club or something. Instead, I decided that we all are going to play a game. An experiment if you will (Stay with me, the details are sketchy and I am making them up as I go). On each and every bill I have written the following:

“not touching you"
Each bill has its own number. My hopes are that another blogger will one day receive one of these bills and write their own info on it, number it and put it into circulation. I am hoping that one of these bills will return to me and – That is where I go blank. And what? What is the prize? I thought about sending cash to whomever was on the bill, but that could get expensive. I thought about holding a party for everyone on the bill, again, expensive. So there are some details to be worked out, but in the mean time it is a great way to get people to your site, so be on the look out. What is cool is I am on the road this next week all over, and will be able to put these bills into circulation in different states.

They’ll then become “Blogger Bills”.