I write this from Jacksonville, FL. Today is the last day of a four-day training exercise. Tonight, I will take two planes from Jacksonville to Detroit to Indianapolis. Final touch-down: 10:30 pm. Feel free to meet me at the airport, Diane – I’ll be the guy with the hollow thousand-yard stare, burying his face in a Cinnabon as big as a guinea pig.
Jacksonville has had its ups and downs. What follows is an itemized list of both.
~ Got to see a baseball game on a warm but not too humid evening, surrounded by soused locals and swooping seagulls. It was a hell of a thing. Incidentally, if you’re going to see a ballgame and you don’t care much for baseball, make it minor league. There’s a lot more scoring and a lot less working of the pitch count.
~ Ate own weight at a great barbecue joint, and simultaneously learned that Southerners ordering BBQ pork will sometimes specify what cut they want. “Outside cut” for instance means mostly the “bark” on the outside of the pig, and it is chopped rather than sliced. Not only do they ask for this, Diane, but the waitresses are very accomodating of it.
Yes, that’s it: four days, and I truly enjoyed myself for about four non-consecutive hours.
~ Ate own weight in almost everything imaginable. Own weight in fast food fajitas at the Indy airport (grade: B-). Own weight in sandwiches and fries, twice. Own weight in pizza for lunch one day. Own weight in candy and Coke to keep my eyes open during all-day training sessions. Own weight in (allegedly) Cajun, (allegedly) spicy snack mix. Did NOT eat own weight in fruits, vegetables, or any other remotely healthy thing, however. Current physical status: sludgy, pudgy, fucked up, pork barrel. I will need to be rolled on to the plane this afternoon.
~ This training that I have already mentioned a couple times? Diane, that shit was BORING. Boooorrrrr-ing. So very dull and purposeless. Each day we started early and ended late; and one day we brought lunch in and trained through lunch. Bosses who do this sort of thing should be locked in the training room at the end of the day with venomous snakes and enraged wolverines. And a big, open bag of poop.
~ Drove by a restaurant called this: Ying’s Chinee Takee Outee. No further comment.
~ For a brief period of time at the ballgame, sat in front of drunken, constantly-shouting Boomhauer. This was surreal. I wasn’t even sure if he was rooting for the guy at bat to succeed or fail; all I know is, he felt very strongly about it.
~ Missed “Lost” on account of planned bonding activities. I know Gordon and Albert aren’t big fans of the show, Diane, but they need to respect my personal entertainment choices outside of company time. Now it’ll be at least another day before I know if Jacob is actually Jack’s dad, if Michael or Ben ends up in the coffin, or if a Kate/Claire/Juliet/Sun lesbi-throwdown is as hot as I think it would be. (Diane, when I get back to the home office, remind me to e-mail Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse with my list of suggestions for improving the show.)
~ Missed my woman. (Awwwwww!)
So that’s it, Diane. Should I ever set foot in this mediocre city again, I resolve to eat more salads and less french fries, and fake an illness on days 2-4 that allows me to spend a lot of time in a zen state watching TV in the hotel room. I only got to see the first half of “My Super Ex-Girlfriend,” for Christ’s sake – how will I ever find out how damn stupid that movie was going to turn out to be?
On second thought, maybe it’s good that other people occasionally run my life.