Archie Kobain

Sadly enough, this will be my last blog entry…

I know, I know.  Many people encouraged me to start writing again, and I’ve only been back at it for a few weeks, but it’s completely out of my control.  Why are you looking at me like this?  It’s not like you’re going to be around to read future blog entries.  Haven’t you heard? 
The world is ending tomorrow…you idiot!  Here, read this…

The End of the World As We Know It?  Saturday is “Rapture Day”

It makes perfect sence to me.  Remember how the Mayan calendar ends in 2012, so everyone was saying the world was going to end then.  Not a chance.  Think about it…  There’s the Mayan Calendar Geniuses, working away, making lots of progress, when Head Mayan comes in and goes, “what are you guys doing?”  Chief Calendar Maker, September Sanchez, speaks up and says, “we’re working on 2012”.  So Head Mayan explains to him that the world will be ending in 2011, there’s no need to keep going.  And that, my friends, explains the discrepancy.  In fact, I think they went ahead and paid them for 2012, even though we wouldn’t be needing it….something about a Mayan Fair Labor Act of 512 BC.

Well, anyway…  If we’re going to die tomorrow, I say we go down listening to Kraftwerk.

The sad part is that, I wont even be back from San Antonio by then.
I won’t be able to enjoy the rapture in the comfort of my own home.

Hmmm…  I just had a wierd thought.  Just in case the world doesn’t end,
maybe I shouldn’t have purchased a one way ticket to San Antonio?

Speaking of which, did I tell you about my flight over here?

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Give me a ticket for an aeroplane
Ain’t got time to take a fast train

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It had been months since I’d on an airplane.  Unfortunately, my private pilot (and personal bartender), Barnsley, still hasn’t updated his license.  Commercial airlines, here I come. I was headed to San Antonio this week, thus Continental through Houston seemed like a logical choice.  So, in spite of my last Continental flight making an unexpected overnight stop in Amarillo, the flight was booked and I was on my way. I think I was secretly hoping for an unexpected overnight stop in New Orleans.  I haven’t been there in a while.

But again, having not flown in a while, I was out to enjoy every moment.  I was on the lookout for fun.  So I get to the airport, check a bag, print my boarding pass and I’m off to tackle the multi-layered TSA security process. After “the guy” looks at my driver’s license and scribbles something on my boarding pass that no one ever looks at again, I am forwarded to the non-moving lanes for the metal detector / bag screening.  There were about 5 or 6 of these gizmos but only two lanes are open. I chose the right lane since the left lane appeared to be clogged by “things with wheels”.  This was a mixture of parents pushing young people in strollers, airport personnel trying to navigate old people in wheel chairs, and a guy named Al Kayda with a hand truck.

As my good luck would have it, however, I was in line behind a good smelling hot chick.  So, if security was taking their time, it wasn’t going to be too terribly painful.  After a little while of standing in these non-moving lines, a TSA person comes walking around instructing, “put away your boarding passes, we don’t need to see them again.  We don’t need to see your boarding passes or your driver’s license – put them away”.  Of course, being the highly compliant and obedient traveler that I am, I quickly shoved everything into my pockets. Then the next TSA person walks  by saying, “everything has to be out of your pockets – everything, not even your boarding pass”.  Hey… wait a minute, I just put my boarding pass away – in my pocket. What was I thinking?

Just then, a big Irish guy behind me goes, “uh… I accidentally brought fruit juice with me”.  I look at him in disbelief. Since when do the Irish drink fruit juice? Sure enough, he has a brand new, unopened, 16 ounce container of fruit juice in his hand which had apparently stowed away in one of his pockets.  So I say, “what are you going to do now, Buddy…panic?”

He starts looking around for a garbage can when, after a startling discovery, I say to him, “wait… we’re in luck.  I accidentally brought vodka”….and I pull out a bottle of Grey Goose.  Not to be left out of the pending festivities, the hot chick in front of us turns around holding a sleeve of Dixie cups. Next thing you know, we’re having cocktails and my new Irish friend (Jimmy) is leading us in Irish drinking songs…

The line moves a little bit and the next TSA guy is approaching. By the time I catch what he’s saying all I heard was, “everything has to come off”.  Now, I’m thinking, this is getting to sound like a real party. As he gets closer, repeating himself, I hear, “everything needs to come out of your pockets – everything.  Shoes, belts, jackets…everything has to come off.”  Just then, Jimmy starts waiving to the TSA guy and pointing to the hot chick (let’s call her, Janice). “What about bras and panties?” Stop.  Read that back again.  This time, using your best Irish accent…

Just then, Jimmy starts waiving to the TSA guy and pointing to Janice… 
“What about bras and panties?”  It was funnier that time, wasn’t it?

By now, Janice was doing shots of vodka.  I blame Jimmy. 
He only brought a small container of fruit juice… slacker!

The TSA is walking in our direction, while talking into his walkie-talkie. He’s not looking happy.  I can’t decide if I should be looking in other directions, as though completely unaware of Jimmy (behind me) pointing to Janice (in front of me) or if I should look him right in the eye, like a bear.

“Did you people come to the airport drunk?”, asks TSA guy.

“No Sir”, I responded, as Janice hid the bottle of Grey Goose behind her back.

“I need the three of you to come with me”, said TSA guy and started walking in a direction inconsistent with boarding any aircraft.

“What about the bras and panties?”, Jimmy insisted.  (reminder: Irish accent)

The TSA guy led us to a room where I eventually signed several forms agreeing to never disclose the events that took place inside. I am at liberty to say that Janice looked quite nice in her black bra and panties.  Jimmy was wearing a red bra and panties and he, surprisingly, pulled off the look quite well.  Shortly after signing my confidentiality agreement, I got a text message from Barnsley.  He’d been appraised of the situation and was sending help.  Just then the room started getting brighter and brighter until it was nearly blinding.  Suddenly…

A gathering of angels appeared above my head,
they sang to me this song of hope and this is what they said…
They said, “come sail away, come sail away,
come sail away with me lads”

As it turns out…

I thought that they were angels, but much to my surprise,
we climbed aboard their starship, we headed for the skies.

Naturally, I thought this was a direct flight to San Antonio, but no…
Similar to Continental, we had to stop off at a Houston.

Of course, we were headed to Maxwell’s to get the starship washed & waxed.
The maybe pickup up some drugs, weapons and a raccoon sandwich.

Get Your Raccoon Sandwich Here!

So, finally, we’re back on the starship and on the way to San Antonio
 (pronounced, San Antone). Short flight, no worries…  Yes?

Short flight, no worries..  No!

Because I had to sit next to the big dude who gets a middle seat and then spills over onto everyone around him. You know the guy.  Well, you’ll get to meet him here in a moment. 
I give you Exhibit A…

Clearly, he’s way over on my side.  Now I give you, Exhibit B…

OK, so… Here he is.
If you see him coming, don’t let him sit next to you.

He’ll even be sure to cover up the controls to the DirecTV…