My boss recently went to Austin for the second week in a row – here are some excerpts of his travels.  They are hilarious!

Thursday am\Rant begins

I’m not so sure about that. After all, I am driving a stupid Prius. Almost got rear-ended by a bicycle rider this morning. The stop light turns green, so I hit the accelerator and start the count-down waiting for this piece of junk to go.

Mr. Save-the-Planet also sees the light change so he charges ahead, gets startled when I don’t move and has to slam on his brakes. Then he lays on his gay little horn on the handle bars as if I’m asleep at the wheel! He’s muttering foul things like “Tweety Bird!!!” and frowning at me.

Meanwhile I’m saying much more creative things about the Prius (a.k.a. mobile hippy heaven) and thinking “ok Shirley, let go of your little honker there and PUSH!”

My rolling tree-hugger bulletin-board finally starts to roll and I have now begun to pray – “Please don’t let this guy pass me! I can’t stand the thought of seeing his ass in spandex. Because you know he’ll be standing up on the pedals to get up to the 3 miles per hour that he needs to pass me and I’ll be facing the view of his least needed parts swinging side to side.”

And the worst part? If he passes me I won’t even be able to catch up long enough to run over his sorry butt!

\end rant

Friday 4:35pm – Help. I’m surrounded by Prius drivers!

So I get into the airport and decide to get a milkshake at Amy’s Icecream. You would figure that ice cream is way too unhealthy for the tree-hugger health nuts, but OH NOOOO! The young lady who so artfully created my milkshake has a horseshoe through her nose! I’m serious – this puppy wasn’t your typical Frankenstein bolt or the slightly less popular trailer hitch. This thing was curved, but open on one side – a horseshoe! Ok, maybe not full size, but definitely one fit for a Shetland pony.

Then I stroll down to the bar area because I hear some decent jazz playing and I know that you can find a live band in every corner in Austin. I’m surprised there’s not a guy with a guitar and a harmonica in the men’s room at the restaurants. Maybe that’s where that crazed bike rider was heading….

Anyway, sure enough – there’s a band playing near the bar, complete with guitar player (long gray hair and beard with a leopard print fedora) and Asian female drummer (must be internationally supportive). But the certified Prius driver was the lead singer. She’s a leggy blond with a decent voice that just might make listening to this group worth it. Then she turns toward me….

She’s got an infant in some type of sling thing swinging in front of her! She’s just patting junior’s bottom to the beat and beltin’ out the doo-waps. And it hits me—I HAVE FOUND THE TRUE REINCARNATION OF THE EARTH MOTHER !!! It took everything I had to resist falling to my needs at her feet and chanting “Ommm!”.

Please Mr. Airplane-Driver-Man get me home!!! I think they may sedate me until the flight leaves….

It’s a conspiracy!

Not only are Prius drivers stalking me, but now the newscasters are contributing…

Just heard a news report on the TV at the airport saying that near misses on the runway are down this year. WHAT???? This isn’t good news! One incident of going the wrong way on a runway (cited in the report) is too many. I’m supposed to feel comforted because only a few thousand passengers came within seconds of losing their lives instead of the normal tens of thousands???

And they show this report at the airport! Where’s the censor? Where’s the outrage?

Must…have…more…sedatives….

Friday, October 08, 2010 5:10 pm

Time to board the plane.

Everyone has lined up to get on the plane. Well, almost everyone. They’ve leaned me up against the window and promised to come get me when it’s my turn. Oh, please – oh, please – don’t let them leave me in this place!

There’s a group of women standing at the front of the line now. I hear them talking amongst themselves. Holy crap! It’s more of the extra-sensitive crowd. They’re on a trip to see a taxidermist in Pecos. It seems like the life-long companion of one of these whackos has passed away….  Whoa! That’s a relief – further investigation (ok, additional conversation overheard while leaning in their direction – it’s the meds making me off-balanced, not some desire to determine the nefarious schemes of the Prius owner’s cult). Anyway, the decreased deceased is a dog! Some kinda fluffy little lap-ridin’ yapper, I think.

Wait a minute! They’re bringin’ that sucker on our plan and he ain’t pickled yet! Dang! That’s gonna stink.

Oh, he’s in cargo. That’s better. I’m ok with that as long as he don’t contaminate that bottle of 30 year old Rudy’s BBQ Sauce that I’ve got stuffed in my suitcase, carefully wrapped between several pairs of dirty underwear. Stupid mutt better not ruin my Rudy’s!

Oh, great. Now they’ve started chanting, “We’re number one! We’re number one!”

Yes, you’re at the first of the line – in group C, you nimrods! Shut the hell up! They need to go back to planning the “Celebration of Life” for little Mr. Muffins.

Did I just say that out loud? It’s suddenly very quiet in here. Oh – I see. I’m alone. Must have lost track of time. They’ve all boarded and I’m waiting on some help. Can’t seem to make my legs work right.

Here comes a flight attendant to help me up the tunnel to the plane. I’m almost free…

Post is a bit off-color, so feel free to click delete before reading further. Fair warning.

Friday, October 08, 2010 5:35 pm

They’ve placed me in a window seat and closed the shade on the window. They must be worried that I’ll decide to jump. Idiots. Everybody knows that those windows aren’t even big enough to shove somebody’s screamin’ brat out of. Well, at least it didn’t work for me.

Aaaaaaaaaaargh! It’s the attack of the self-important businessman. I’m thinking the dude in the center seat is going to be alright until he whips it out – a full issue of the Wall Street Journal. Asshole thinks that he has to unfold the whole 46” wide paper to read about how Obama’s policies are single-handedly saving the Amazonian three-eyed tree frog. Although I am relieved to hear that the pigmies in the rain forest will be able to continue to lick frog’s butts to achieve a state of nirvana and commune with Grabass, their fertility god, I don’t need an up close and personal view of all that’s unfit to print.

That’s ok – I’ll attempt a defensive maneuver. Slowly, I lean further toward the window and raise one cheek…

Hah! That moved him! And yes, I did have eggs for breakfast and broccoli with my lunch. It was a presumptuous little expulsion with a hint of Tabasco. I’m quite proud of it.

That’s totally changed his attitude. Now he’s folded up that paper into a much more manageable size. He must have spotted the beads of sweat beginning to form on my face, ‘cause he’s fanning toward me with it. Very kind of him, though I’m not sure that the lady next to him thinks he’s acceptable. He’s now almost sitting on top of her – must be afraid of heights because he’s avoiding coming near my window.

That lady worries me. I think she’s after my nuts. Granted, they are honey roasted, but they’re mine dammit! She can’t have them. Nut envy – it’s such a shame.

Well, they gave her some nuts of her own so maybe she’s happy now. I just hope she knows what to do with them.

Nope, that wasn’t it. She’s still staring at me. At least I think she is – things are getting a bit blurry now. Must be the meds (or that mysterious cloud of blue smoke that seems to be hanging over my seat). But I can see her beady little eyes impaling me with her self-righteousness. I think she’s an undercover member of the Anti Facial-hair League. Those AFL shrews never have liked my stylish manly good looks. I plan to fake sleep but keep one eye open so that I can spot any suspicious moves from her.

We’ve landed in Dallas! Without any further incursions from the WSJ-wielding 3-piece next to me. The lady next to him is gone. I think she changed seats while I drifted off. Good riddance!

Oh, crap! It seems like we missed Dallas and landed in Fort Worth! Must be driving our butts back to Love Field on the interstate because we’ve been rollin’ for at least 10 minutes. Idiots. Can’t spot a runway from the air with clear skies and no blue smoke. Must be a rookie.

Finally made it to the gate. Everybody is jumping up so that they can stand in the aisle for 15 minutes waiting for some dumbass to unwedge the giant bag that he stuffed into the overhead bin. Forget it, I might have to climb over the seat to get around him. Nah. On second thought that would just wedge my dumb ass between the seat and the overhead bin. I’m fond of those little air vents but don’t need anybody else blowing smoke up my butt this week – after all, I’ve just spent a couple of days meeting with state workers about their grandiose ideas.

“Sir, would you please help me break the lense on my sunglasses so I can slash my throat?”

No? Well, then I guess I’ll just have to stand her trapped and listen to that 68 year old flight attendant sing ‘You’re the best’. Alice says if I take the blue pill all will be ok. Now where did I put it….