A Day at The Preakness

So, after doing some excessive celebrating for my birthday Friday night, yesterday I found myself at the 138th running of the Preakness Stakes at Pimlico. After getting some much-needed coffee into my bloodstream, my friends picked me around 9 am and off we went.

Once we neared the racetrack, the traffic began to build. At one point, a clueless traffic cop had things so congested that I thought that he might be filming an episode of America's Funniest Videos. After sitting through several red lights, everyone began to lay on their horns. My friend, who was driving, was really getting a kick out of it as he joined the gridlocked symphony.  Of course, the aggressive horn-blowing was torturous to my already throbbing head. I figured all of the noise would really tick the cop off. But for some crazy reason, he just let everyone through. Maybe he had a headache too?

Once we got the the racetrack, we had to go through the security song-and-dance. To help avoid any unreasonable search and seizures, many people had traded in their traditional coolers for clear storage bins. I brought a backpack with miscellaneous items (cigars, glasses, ball cap, etc.) but wound up leaving it in the car.

Now, once we got inside, we headed up to our seats in the grandstand. Before long, some obnoxious guy a few rows behind us encouraged us to sing Happy Birthday to a young woman, The woman seemed drunk, but it was only about 11:00 in the morning. Well, the birthday chorus went on and right after it ended, the woman threw up. As luck would have it, our group had a large tray of bean/chicken dip nearby. I can't be certain if the woman blew chunks into it, but I suddenly had absolutely no appetite for it. A man, who I assume was the woman's husband, attempted to escort her out. But the woman was so wasted that she could barely stand up. So, he wound up calling over two large security guys and they carried her off like an injured football player.

Shortly afterward, I joined a couple of friends for a trip over to the infield. It was probably around noon at this point and it seemed the like party was kicking into full gear. We did a few overpriced shots and then made our way down to the main stage. There was a guy named Macklemore getting ready to come on. Although I had never heard of the guy, the crowd seemed to be really up for it. Once he hit the stage, the place went ape-shit and immediately wished I was somewhere else. He kicked into a profanity-laced song called Thrift Shop which everyone seemed to know the words to. My friends decided to follow some tall guy to the front of the stage. But there was no way I was fighting through that drunken crowd.

I eventually escaped and found a nearby cigar stand. I was really in the mood for one, but the thought  of paying these inflated prices irritated me. Especially since I had a stash of much better cigars in my backpack which was still in the car. The sales guys were hawking these shitty cigars like they were Ashton ESG's. I wound up buying two (it was one for $15 or two for $20). For the record, it was possibly the worst cigar purchase I ever made. Although the cigar was smokable, it wasn't much better than the $2 cigars that you can buy at the 7-11.

I finished up my cigar and miraculously met up with my two friends, One of them informed my that the crowd was rude and crazy. Can't say that I didn't see that one coming. We hung out while I finished my cigar and then we headed back over the grandstand. As we were coming through the tunnel that connects the infield to the grandstand, we were forced to the side of the road by a police escort followed my several large black SUV's. Not that it really meant anything to me, but we were told that this was Pitbull who happened to be the main performer at this year's Preakness.

Once I got back to the main building, I realized that I was running low on cash. I searched for the nearest ATM. Unfortunately, there was only one in sight and the line was about fifteen people deep. The line moves fairly quickly and before long I've only got about four people in front of me. About this time, a young woman walks up and stands beside me. Realizing that she had no intention of leaving, I tuned and said, "I'm sorry. Do we know each other?"

Then, in a low voice, she says, "I'll give you $20 if you let me in front of you."

I kindly explain that her $20 won't even put a dent in the hospital bill after the angry crowd beats my ass for letting her cut the line. But she was persistent. Finally, I compromised and told her that she could get behind me and if no one complained, she was home free. As my turn came up, she hit me in my soft spot and said, "Come on, I'll buy you a beer if you let me go before you."

For some crazy reason, I agreed. From the ten minutes or so we spent talking to one another, I think everyone thought we were actually together. So, I figured the odds of getting my ass kicked had diminished. As she finished her ATM transaction, she assured me that she would be over in the beer line. Still tasting the inferior cigar, I told her that I didn't want any cheap beer. As she walked away, I really thought that I had been used. But in her defense, shortly afterward, she came over and handed me an ice-cold 16-ounce Stella Artois. Cheers!

Moving on.....

Earlier in the day, I had threw some money into a community pool with several of the other guys. I figured since I didn't really know anything about horse-racing, I'd probably have better luck following my friends  who were more experienced.. Once I got back to the grandstand  the liquid courage from the infield had kicked in. So, I ventured up to the betting window and placed a few bets of my own. It turns out that none of them panned out, but it was still a bit of a rush. I picked Orb to win the main race and he wound up finishing fourth. Of course, Tina informed me later, that she had a good feeling about Oxbow. She attributed it to his shiny coat. Of course, she doesn't tell me this until I get home! I know Tina's reasoning sounds crazy but stranger things have happened. If she would have called me, I would have thrown some money on Oxbow on a whim bet and actually won a few bucks!

Overall, it was a pretty interesting day. My friend  Kevin, tried to give me a quick lesson on how to read the programs and determine how a particular horse is trending and how it might fair in the next race. I also learned a little about Perfectas, Trifectas and Superfectas. In the end I didn't win any money but I still had good time. And sometimes that's what it's all about.....

kw

A Birthday Story

So, today I celebrate my forty-eighth birthday. Of course, as I get older, I have mixed feeling towards "my day". One one hand, it's a harsh reminder that I'm not getting any younger. And although I'm fortunate enough to still have the ability to do most of things that I could twenty-five years ago, I can't deny that it takes me a little longer and it hurts a little more to get them done.

One the other hand, birthdays can be uplifting as people will often take a moment out of their day to throw some birthday wishes your way. By wishing you a simple Happy Birthday, it's a confirmation that people are thinking of you. This morning, I was awoken by the vibrations of my cell phone on my nightstand as the Facebook birthday wishes came pouring in. Normally, I'm a little grumpy when I get woke up before the alarm clock. But on this particular morning, each new sound from the cell phone brought a new smile.

Birthday's can definitely have their advantages too. For instance, I'm off work today. I have several hours of yard work to do, which for some demented reason I actually find relaxing.  After this, I'm hoping to make an early check-in at Happy Hour. Now, when people realize it's your birthday, they instinctively want to buy you a drink. And since I wouldn't want to offend anyone, it's only right to accept their offer. I'll have the Dogfish Head 60-Minute IPA! Thank you....

And people will often give you a pass on your birthday. For example, if you get into heated exchange over the last box of Twinkies at Walmart, someone might be inclined to hurl a barrage of Jerry Springer-like insults your way. However, if you just say, "Come on man, it's my birthday!", somehow they'll naturally cut you some slack.

Sometimes, you can use birthdays to a spontaneous advantage. First off, I almost always take a vacation day from work on my birthday. Several years ago on this day, as Tina was getting ready to go to work, she said, "Hey Ken, you better get up!" Slowly waking  up and pulling myself out of bed, I informed her that I was off work.  As she prepared to head out the door, I told her that I was going to hook up with my old buddy, Rip, later for a few beers. She said, "Ok, that sounds good. You guys haven't seen each other in a while." Seizing the opportunity, I told her that we always tried to hook up on each each others birthdays to have a few celebratory drinks. At first, her face was highlighted with confusion. It was obvious that she had totally forgotten my birthday. She really felt bad and I told her that it was no big deal. But then, she said, "Go out and buy yourself something nice today. I don't care how much you spend." Cha-Ching!

Now, my first instinct was to go shopping for a new Corvette. But my conscience soon got the best of me and I realized that this would be border-line spousal abuse. So, I wound up buying a new guitar. I was happy, Tina was happy and Bill's Music House was happy.

Another little side story......Obviously, my birthday is May 17. When I was a kid, my idol was Oriole's legendary 3rd baseman, Brooks Robinson  Well, when I found out that Brooks' birthday was on May 18, I felt like I had missed the lottery by one number. I was actually very depressed over it. Then, I found out one of my schoolmates' birthday was on May 18. After all of these years, I can still remember that her name was Susan. A very nice girl, but her birthday would be a constant wedge in any potential friendship. I was so pissed because she didn't even like baseball. It seemed unfair and I was so jealous!

Birthdays are a common thread that we all share. In it's most basic sense, it's the day that we entered the world. In the traditional sense, it's a celebration of our existence in the world. No doubt, getting older has it's drawbacks. But, as my cousin Virginia would say, it sure beats the alternative.

Cheers!

kw

The Politics of Benghazi

We're learning more and more about the details surrounding the terrorist attacks on the US diplomatic compound in Benghazi, Libya. As things continue to unfold, it seems pretty clear that, at the very least,  facts were suppressed and misreported.

Initially, we were all fed a load of bullshit about the attacks being a spontaneous reaction to an anti-Muslim internet video ("Innocence of Muslims"). As it turns out, the attacks, which left four people dead, including a US Ambassador, were pre-planned and orchestrated by Islamic militants. In the past few days, we have learned that any mention of terrorism was intentionally left out of the initial press briefings. Hmmm, I wonder if the pending 2012 Presidential election had anything to do with that? After all, an al-Qaida attack on a US service post certainly wouldn't be good for Obama who claimed that he had al-Qaida "under control".

Now in Obama's defense, he did mention the phrase "acts of terror" in at least two subsequent speeches shortly after the attacks. However, during the press briefings, we continued to be fed the bullshit about how this was not a pre-planned attack.

And right on cue, we had to listen to even more nonsense from Hillary Clinton and press secretary Jay Carney about the You Tube video and how Americans are tolerant of Muslims, blah, blah, blah........Wait a minute. Wasn't it America who was attacked? Then, why are we apologizing?? I really wish these people would grow a set of balls and instead of professing America's "tolerance", tell the world that we're not going to "tolerate" people blowing up our shit!

And then there's the issue of how Obama responded when he was first informed of the situation. The latest word is that, although military troops were prepared to go into Benghazi, they were instead told to stand down.

Now, I don't want speculate until all the facts are revealed and digested. However, I find the politics of the whole thing interesting. Although, the initial bait-and-switch explanation of the You Tube story was reckless, it at least makes a little sense politically. After all, Obama was going into the final stretches of a tight Presidential election against Mitt Romney. If Obama was found to be negligent in his handling of the Benghazi situation, it would have likely cost him crucial votes going into Election Day. So, in my opinion, he did what most politicians do and put his political career ahead of his country. If it turns out to be true, he should be held accountable. However, I seriously doubt that he will.

Now, when the dust finally settles, someone will inevitably have to be the scapegoat. Again, I expect politics to weigh heavily on who gets picked for this unpopular distinction. Assuming that Obama will refuse to take responsibility, some people have speculated that Hillary might be the "fall guy". However, this seems very unlikely if she intends on running for President in 2016. If Hillary is the Democrat's best chance of winning the White House in 2016, it's makes little sense for them to throw her under the bus now.

And speaking of elections, it was recently reported that the IRS was targeting conservative groups around the 2102 election time-frame. Although, this is scary and disturbing in itself, the timing of this revelation can't be ignored. Feeling the ever-increasing heat from the Benghazi situation, some view the IRS announcement as another smoke and mirrors trick by the Obama administration.

Talking with different people, over the past week, I've gotten some interesting responses about Benghazi. One of my liberal friends (yes, I have some) told me that he thought Obama should be impeached over this fiasco. I was shocked, as this particular guy has stood up for Obama for everything, including Obamacare,  to this point. However, another person that I spoke to felt that this is nothing more than a witch hunt by the Republicans to smear the Obama administration. A couple of people even took a slap at George Bush, saying that Benghazi was a pin prick compared to the people we lost as a result of the war in Iraq. They're certainly entitled to their criticism but the bottom line is Obama is president now.

Hopefully, before long, we'll find out what really happened on September 11, 2012 in Benghazi, Libya.

kw

The Rental Car Adventure

Renting a car is usually a pretty simple thing. You show the attendant your driver's license and credit card. Then, off you go to the parking lot to pick out your new, albeit temporary, new car. But sometimes, things don't always go as planned.

On my latest trip, I stopped by the rental lot to pick up a car. A young attendant motioned me over to his counter. He took my driver's license and the proceeded to type for what seemed like ten minutes. There's no way he got that much information off of that little piece of plastic. Then, he asks for my credit card and resumes the typing marathon. Continuing to type at breakneck speed and without looking up, he asks me a series of rapid-fire questions:

• Do you want insurance?
• Will you be bringing it back with a full tank of gas?
• Where are you heading?
• Would you like a GPS?
• Are you aware of how toll roads work?

After a long flight, I just wanted to get on the road and eventually relax in my hotel room. So, finally the guy has me sign several electronic "papers" and then he hands me my rental agreement. Off I go! Well, I happen to look down at the paperwork and notice something. Sensing that something was wrong, the Avis guy says, "Sir, is everything all right?"

Confused, I look up and reply, "Actually, it's not. I'm supposed to get a mid-size car. You gave me a Prius."

He assures me that it is indeed a mid-size car. In fact, he tells me that it's a really a "cool" car. But what he doesn't understand, and what I certainly didn't feel like explaining, is that I really couldn't be seen driving a Prius If someone happened to get a glimpse of me in a Prius, the damage to my conservative image could be irreversible. I could already imagine the You Tube video! But somehow, to his credit, the guy talks me into trying the "green" vehicle.

Feeling really apprehensive, I venture out to the parking lot. Even though I was 1500 miles from home, I was still worried that I might run into someone I know. I finally get to the light blue Prius. I open the door to retrieve the key out of the cup-holder  However, instead of a traditional key, there's only a remote control. I found this to be a bit strange. Anyhow, I walk around back and start hitting buttons to open the hatchback. Nothing happens. I start pulling up on the hatchback but it still won't budge. I finally give up and toss my luggage into the back seat.

Then I sit down in the driver's seat and try to figure out where the key should go. But there's no ignition switch. However, there is a button that has "start" marked on it. So, like a curious child, I start pushing the button. Nothing happens. Then, defying even more of my masculinity, I open the glove box to look for the owner's manual. But it's not to be found. So, I sit there for another ten minutes pushing buttons and turning knobs hoping that something might eventually ignite the engine. The best I could do was blow the horn a few times and spray about a half gallon of wiper fluid over the windshield.

I wind up getting out of the car. Visibly frustrated, my thoughts come to life as I say, "I can't believe this bullshit!" 

About this time, a middle-aged female employee comes walking by. She instantly saw that all wasn't right with me. So, she asks, "Can I help you with something?"

Taking a quick look around, in a muffled voice, I say, "Yes, maybe you can. Do you know how to start this thing?"

Sensing that she's been in this exact situation before, I watch her as she sits in the drivers seat. She then shoots me a quick glance which suggests that she thinks I'm an idiot. In a strange way, I felt like I was being bullied.

"All you have to do is put your foot on the brake and push the start button," she says. "Can you hear the motor running?"

I listened but couldn't really hear anything. So, as if I were putting my ear to a railroad track, I put my head on the the car's hood. There was a little whine but nothing like a real engine. Surprised, I asked, "You're kidding me. That's the engine? It sounds more like a cordless drill."

She assures me that it's running and then instructs me how to put the car in gear. Now, the gear shift looked like a miniature Playstation joystick. I could see myself accidentally knocking this thing into reverse at 75 mph. I just couldn't take it anymore. I finally said, "You know what? I don't like this car. I want another one."

She asks, "What's wrong with it?"

"Look at it! This isn't a man's car!", I replied. "Can you really see me driving this thing?"

I could tell from her reaction that she thought I had a screw loose. She just rolled her eyes and handed the remote back to me as she joined some of her co-workers on the edge of the parking lot. I'm sure she had some choice words about me. In all honesty, it was pretty humiliating having her show me how to start the damned thing. 

I walked back inside and saw the kid who rented me the car. He asks, "Is everything OK?"

Feeling like I was channeling Joe Pesci's character from My Cousin Vinny, I said, "No, it's not OK. I want a car that burns good old-fashioned gasoline and that starts with a freggin' key. Do you possibly have anything on your lot that fits into that category? Seriously, I'll take a go-kart at this point!"

He goes back to the speed-typing, looks up and says, "I have a mid-size Chevy available, sir. How's that sound?"

"It's not a Volt, is it?" I quickly reply.

"No, sir, " he said. "It's actually a Malibu."

I told him that a Malibu would be perfect and out the door I went. At last, a satisfied customer!

kw

Big Man in the Middle

The only thing that's good about air travel is that allows you to get from point A to point B relatively quickly. Other than that, it pretty much sucks. Let me tell you about my latest adventure from the friendly skies....

First off, I've been flying via Southwest airlines on my past few trips. In case you don't know, Southwest doesn't have assigned seating. Basically, when you check in, you are given an A, B or C "number". Usually, it's A1-A60, B1-B60 and C1-C60. The "A" group boards first according to the assigned number. So, the A group can pretty much get their choice of a window or aisle seat. The "B" group will board the aircraft next and are also very likely to get a decent seat. However, the "C"  group almost always get stuck with  the dreaded middle seat.

As a tall guy, I usually pick an aisle seat because it gives me a little extra room to stretch my legs. So, on my latest departure, I happen to be in the "B" group. I grab the first available aisle seat. Shortly afterwards, the "C" group enters cabin. They become instantly unpopular as the seated passengers know that one of these folks will be squeezing their ass into the seat beside them. In my case, a thin guy in his mid-20's takes the middle seat to my left. Trust me, in the cramped quarters of a commercial plane cabin, if you have a neighbor, you want him to be skinny. Well, after the plane reaches cruising speed  the guy pulls out his brown-bag lunch which appears to be some type of lo-mein. Impressively, he starts wailing on the food with a pair of chopsticks. Then, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a bottle of soy sauce. With all of the TSA restrictions, I'm really surprised that he was allowed to bring this stuff on the plane. But what I really found weird is the guy takes a swig of the soy sauce as if he was knocking back a bottle of beer. Who drinks soy sauce??

Anyway, aside from that, the departure flight was rather uneventful. But I can't say the same about my return flight.....

As the C group enters the plane on the return flight to Baltimore, I see this monster of a man coming down the aisle. He stood about five and a half feet, however, he must have weighed in the neighborhood of 400 pounds. As he squeezed his wide body down the aisle, you could almost feel the anxiety of the seated passengers. Although this guy was probably a nice person, his size was going to make a very uncomfortable ride for his two soon-to-be "neighbors". Well, just as the guy makes it to my row, the flight attendant announces, "Folks, this will be a full flight, so grab the first available middle seat you see. The sooner everyone gets seated, the sooner we will get to Baltimore."

Right on cue, the guy eyes up the seat next to me and asks, "Mind, if I take that middle seat?"

As panic hit me, I almost said, "Are you serious?" But instead, I stood up and said "No, go ahead."

Now, as the guy moves into position, he lifts up the arm rest that separates our seats. At first, I figured he was just lifting it temporarily until he plopped his ass in the seat. But the fact of the matter is that the armrest couldn't come down because the guy's XXXL body was in the way! To make things even worse, half of his ass was on my seat! Like I really needed a confirmation, the guy turns to me and says, "It's going to be a little tight." I imagined that this was something an inmate might hear on his first day at the City Jail.

My right leg, which was now being crushed against the other armrest, was beginning to go numb. And we hadn't even took off yet! I'm in a real bind, because I really don't want to hurt the guys feelings. Hey, I'm sure he knows he's got a weight problem. But did he really have to sit next to me?

Because his large upper body was also partly on my backrest, I was forced to lean my torso halfway out into the aisle. After the plane ascended and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign, people began their predictable bathroom run. As each person passed me, they inevitably crashed into my right shoulder. I reluctantly accepted the fact that I was going to be in the mosh pit for the next three hours. I figured by the time we landed, I was going to need a shoulder and neck replacement.

As if things couldn't get any worse, the big guy began to sweat. With his body pushed against mine, this wasn't going to be good. You see, although I wouldn't call myself a germophobe, I am a bit of a clean freak. I have been known to take two or three showers a day. If I sweat, I usually wind up lathering on the Irish Spring a short time later. Call me strange, but nonetheless, to have this guy sweating on me was absolute torture! The perspiration was beginning to make itself known through his gray sweatpants. If I could have got my hands on a parachute, I think I would have jumped out! I desperately wished that I could somehow transform Big Hoss into the skinny guy with the chop sticks and soy sauce!

And because of the way I was pinned in, my arms and shoulders were contorted in a very unnatural way. I felt like a piece of veal. About this time, the flight attendant stops by and says, "Would you like a snack, sir?"

Instinctively, I almost blurted out, "You've got to be kidding me! Do you really think I can eat a bag of pretzels when my arms are pinned together like a praying f*cking mantis?"

A short time later, I attempted to put my tray table down. But the guy's right leg, which was clearly invading my space, was so thick that the tray table wouldn't come down all the way. Can you believe this bullshit?

So, here it is, three days later and my back, neck and shoulders still ache.

The really ironic part is that I paid the $12.50 Early Bird check-in fee to avoid this. Here's the thing, I have no personal beef with overweight people. Hell, I'm overweight myself! But if your ass is so big that it takes two seats to accommodate it, you need to buy an extra ticket! I know some of the airlines got into a bit of trouble for trying to implement this in the past. People called the airlines insensitive for even suggesting such a thing. Well, let me tell those people something. Try flying three and a half hours with a sumo wrestler sitting on your lap. And then tell me who's being insensitive!

kw