What's That Smell Part Six: Who Shit in the Air Vents?

Well, here goes the first entry of the new year and the sixth incredible chapter of this god damn epic piece known as What's That Smell? So sit back and read the smells!

This seasons journey started at about 4:30 in the god damn morning, as I waited outside for the Super Shuttle to arrive. I got the call and he didn't show for like 10 minutes. When he finally showed up, the whole van was packed and this driver was just chucking suitcases in the back left and right with no regard for anything. Fast forward a few hours or so and I'm on the plane to Minneapolis. And the dude next to me was farting pretty much the whole time. The kinda where you can tell you gotta a turd on deck. Yep bad. To top it off, he was also trying to bogart my space. BASTARD.
I then arrive in Minneapolis, which is one of my favorite airports; although there was one thing that was different this time. The entire place smelled like shit. Not metaphorically. More like someone took a duke in the air vents. It was everywhere. Mmm mmm.
Nothing magical really happened on the way from Minneapolis to Grand Forks, so I'll skip that part. My actual trip was good though and I can't wait to go back in the summer. So lets fast forward 2 weeks to me flying back.
I'm sitting in the new Grand Forks airport, which is much better than the old one for sure, and as I'm waiting for my flight to board the flight in the next terminal is about to board and the announcer guy is being super sarcastic and hilarious. Here is a taste of what he said:

 *"Okay, we're going to board our 1st class and priority customers first, if you are unsure if you fit into that category, chances are you don't."

*"We're going to be boarding in a specific numerical order, so don't bother crowding around, you're not getting on early."

*"...if you look on your ticket and see a Z you can board, and if you're from Canada that's a ZAY..."

Good stuff.

So Grand Forks to Minneapolis wasn't bad, the flight attendant had a bit of a retarded Moon Bloodgood look going on, but that was about it. That and the fact that the ginormous lady next to me kept hitting me with her arm as I read Harry Potter & The Prisoner of Azkaban (yeah I'm like 10 years behind, so what?).
Minneapolis to San Francisco was fairly pedestrian compared to past tales. There was the couple who sat next to me that kept having the urge to feel each other up, which was uh...weird to say the least. This was also the first time that I had been on a flight to where I had people from behind me rush the front of the plane so they could get off first, even though I was in the 4th row...of the second section of coach (which was right by the exit, which was why I was a bit miffed).
The journey from the airport was exciting as well. First the BART doors on the train were locked for about 10 minutes, while people were in the train (LAME!). I finally got to the Powell stop and saw Mandi waiting for me (that was super awesome!). Then as we were walking to the bus stop we passed a "homeless" guy who let me know I was officially back in San Francisco by saying this to me: "Hey man, can you buy me a hooker? It's too hard to masturbate when you can't feel your fingers!"

Well that's this seasons incredible (?) installment of What's That Smell?. While I was home I was brainstorming some ideas about future entries, hopefully they don't suck.

Peace out who ever reads this.

It's The End of The Year As We Know It

Well, well, well. The year is coming to an end, and possibly the world unless John Cusack can save us and get us to one of those giant metal boats. I'd have to say that all and all this was a pretty good year for myself (and if anyone of the 3 people who reads this and the 75 others who just stumble upon it had a great year as well, high five!). I had some personal triumphs, made some important changes in my life for the better, and got my academic/professional life kinda somewhat maybe figured out.
Figures that I go through some of these things during the 25th year of my existence, maybe some of it was like a pre-midlife crisis. Hopefully not, but if so it better damn well help me when that shit happens for reals! I made some of the best most consistent and thought out work to date (by the time I write something like this again next year, unless the world ends (see above) I hope that will have trumped that work).
On the horizon I have some pretty daunting things to look forward to but, for once in long time I feel ready to kick that shit in the ass.
Well, gang (and whoever stumbles upon this (again see above)) I hope you had a great year and if not have a way better 2012. There will be more hilarious and awkward stories to look forward to next year. Hell, I'm getting ready to fly home again and maybe there is another chapter in the epic god damn saga of What's that Smell?

What's That Smell?: Part Five: Pizza and Smelly Grandmothers

And now for the next thrilling installment in What's That Smell?


This past July I took my semiannual trip back home to visit my family, that end was all that and a bag of potato chips, but as usual in these installments the focus is on my trip to the airport along with the flights and these ones were no exception.
I have decided that I like to just take the hassle out of my day and just take a shuttle to the airport, no fuss no muss. The only thing with that is that I am never the only one in the shuttle of course. In this trip it was fine until we picked up some old lady and her grand daughter, no big deal right? Well it wouldn't have been for 3 things: 1. this lady smelled like 4 days old B.O. (tie in to the title!) 2. she sat next to me (fuck my balls) and 3. her grand daughter fell into the stupid kid age (from when they can talk up to 18). Recipe for disaster. It would have been fine except that this lady couldn't handle the silence of the van ride. No, she had to make weird sounds and also when a fairly common pop song from the 70s' came on she hummed the melody...according to her that was. She made one up that had NOTHING to do with that song at all. Then it got quiet again and she tried to wake her grand daughter up who was sleepy and she said this to her "...you know when I was a kid to stay awake we played a game called Spot the Red Car..." Next thing you know "..one...two...three...four..." FUDGE.
So we get there and I pay $9,000 to check my bags and get fondled as I go through security; just like any other flight right? Everything was all good until we get on the plane, as I discover that I had the bitch seat. To go along with that, the two dicks to the left and right of me decide that the leg room they had wasn't enough and decided to annex mine for their own. Also why is it that when flight attendants come through and offer their cart o'crap they can't comprehend when I don't want anything? I mean, it's a 4 hour flight. Why can't some people just not stuff their faces? Anyways, we land and it's all good. Then I go to look for my connecting flight and run into an interesting gentleman, and that man's name was Bono.
His name was Greg Bonomanson and he was a fat ass who lived in Wisconsin and here is the conversation and chain of events that unfolded.
I'm taking my mac out to eject a DVD while sitting on a bench and Bono comes along and says "Hey, could you scoot down so I could sit down?" I said yes while thinking to myself: I'm on the edge. There are 3 other seats you fat bastard. Then he decided to make some small talk with me since I have something about me where people do that, which I normally don't mind. He asks what I do and I tell him I'm an art student/artist (you can be both right?). Then he proceeds to tell me that he sucks at art so bad that when he sees stuff around that he can do, he thinks it isn't art. How the hell do you respond to that inside of like 5 minutes? Well I didn't. I just indulged him so he would stop talking about it. Then when I left he asked for my name for the following reason: "...that way when you make it big, I can say "I met that guy in an airport before he made it big and he was a cool guy"". Thanks Bono.
The connecting flight was uneventful. Moving on to my return.
The first flight wasn't too bad. I had a row to myself and got complemented by the flight attendant for my Joe Mauer jersey. Once I found my terminal, I had some pizza and called my family so they knew I was there okay, since I'm a good person. My flight was supposed to leave at like 2:30 but board at 1:50 I think. Well it was 2:00 and I saw that my plane wasn't even there. I frantically look around to find out that they had moved my gate! Those assholes.
So I barely made it onto the plane and once again, I was in the bitch seat in row 653 of the plane, but again I got complimented by the flight attendant for my Joe Mauer jersey. On this flight I was seated between a guy who made no noise or movements, and a dude who I can only describe as being an odd combination of Michael Cuddyer and David Putty from Seinfeld. He was a trip. First he stared at the back of the chair in front of him for 45 minutes. Then fell asleep for 45 minutes. Then he went to take a shit. How do I know? He brought the smell back with him (another tie in to the title!). Then he bought 2 bottles of tequila along with a Coke and had them both. In 20 minutes. Yet he strangely just sat still and said nothing.
To fast forward and wrap this up, we landed and I lived.  Tune in Januaryish for the next thrilling chapter of this epic god damn story!