T-G

So last week was Thanksgiving. But I'm sure you knew that. I went to a family reunion type thing at a resort type thing in upstate New York type thing. There was lots of food, lots of not getting work done, and lots of awkward family interaction. The highlight was seeing Alan Alda there. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to be a jerk, but I thought about it a lot. I also went ice skating for the first time in like 8 years or so. I wasn't awful. In fact I felt like the man on the ice...until I fell on my face, that is. Right in front of two old women. I popped right back up to my feet yelling "Number One!!" and brushed the ice off my jacket. It happened. No sense in denying it.

The real ordeal was getting up to New York from DC. The Amtrak to Penn Station was half an hour late. No big deal. My cousin, Adam, got on on the way. We got to New York City in time to catch our connecting train upstate. Too bad the train was delayed for about two hours and was overcrowded so that I had to stand the entire time. It's not the standing that I mind. It was this: the only place to stand on Amtrak trains is at the end by the restrooms. So I was leaning against the luggage rack, reading a book the whole time. And almost every person who came down the aisle asked me, "Are you in line for the restroom?" The first few times I didn't mind and politely told them I was, in fact, not waiting for the unoccupied restroom. But after a while I got fed up. No, I am not waiting for a bathroom with no one in it while I am reading a book, leaning on the luggage rack. Is that how people usually wait for the restroom? I don't think so. It got so bad that all the people around me started laughing every time someone new approached me and asked the same question. Come on people! Powers of deduction here. (Speaking of which, I'm excited for the Sherlock Holmes movie!)

One more dumb person (that I can think of right now). Adam and I got on the elevator in the hotel to go to our room. The elevator started on the ground floor (the next floor is 1, then 2, etc.). We got on, a few other people got on, and then some lady ran on at the end, one of those "Hold the door..." type things. Alright, no problem. Adam presses buttons for everyone else's floor, and this lady asks for 6. Adam and I are going to 1. One floor up. The door closes and after three seconds it opens again. There is a large red number "1" which has appeared on the display panel, which previously showed a large red "G." This lady walks off, looks around, and goes, "Oh, this isn't the sixth floor?" Clearly not! You were on the elevator for three seconds. This isn't a turbo speed elevator. You didn't notice that it moved like 10 feet? The world doesn't revolve around your elevator needs, so chill out and wait for your floor. In the meantime, be more perceptive.

Braver told me that at the school he works at the have something close to a no-tolerance policy for saying 'retard' or 'retarded'. I think I'd get sent home from high school every day. Oops. Maybe something to work on.