HOMECOMING

Being on the road can be a Royal Pain in the Ass.

When I was working a sales territory for the Great Corporate Salt Mine - either as an Account Representative or as a Regional Sales Manager - I was gone for at least a few days almost every week of the year. And in my various international sales and marketing assignments, I’d be throwing in the occasional 2-3 week overseas jaunt.

Going away for a lousy one-nighter, therefore, is Not A Big Deal.

Except, of course, when it follows a week of vacation with a house full of friends and relatives to keep you happily occupied.

My Thursday-Friday jaunt this week was pretty routine. Fly out to Sweat City Thursday. Rent car. Drive to office. Work until late o’clock. Check into hotel. Sleep. Drive to office. Leave early enough to catch flight. Act amazed when flight actually leaves on time.

I love that 32-mile drive to the airport. It’s a two-tollbooth stretch on the Sam Houston Tollway. And no matter how many times I drive that road, it never ceases to amaze me what Tollroad Fucktards they grow in Texas.

Get in that Exact Change lane, and you can make book on there being at least one Gaping Asshole who will either have nothing but a Double Sawbuck, or who will rummage throughout the entire cabin of his or her vehicle, looking for the exact change that they almost certainly don’t have.

Morons.

Behavior like that would get you shot and skullfucked on a New York toll road.

They even have gone so far as to relabel the “Exact Change” lane to say “Coins Only.” Just in case you are one of those idiots who think Exact Change on a tollroad includes paper money.

But this is just carping, for I got to the airport in plenty of time, and the flight was neither overcrowded nor late. We arrived in Atlanta a few minutes ahead of schedule, and, thanks to some well-timed traffic signals, I was able to get to Chez Elisson within an hour of stepping off the aircraft.

She Who Must Be Obeyed greeted me upon my arrival with a glass of wine in her hand and a “come hither” look in her eye. There would be no Friday Evening Blog-Posting, no, no.

Time to make some waffles...