Should we jump through the concrete pillar?

Holy crap I am tired. The only reason I'm even awake is to wait for my pizza to get here so that I can go to bed, sated.

I had a long, long day. Today was the day I took the trip out to Rockville, Maryland to learn how to use a new piece of equipment to make my life easier.

I awoke this morning at 3:30, to prepare for my day. My flight was at 6:15, but I'd never been to the Columbus airport, so I left myself a lot of extra time in case I fucked something up. Which, by indication that I actually allowed myself time for this reason, is proof enough that I actually need the time set aside.

I arrived at the check-in counter before any attendants had actually started working.

The flight was fine. Nothing special. I read. Because I can.

When we arrived, we (my boss and I) had to go get our rental car. Our car was in spot H-31, and on the way to retrieving our car, Boss gestures towards a silver Chevy HHR, and says, "wouldn't it be cool if this were our car for the day?"

When we arrive at spot H-31, we realize that it doesn't exist. The H section only reaches 29. An attendant helps us find our car by its ID number and it turns out to be the exact car Boss gestured towards earlier. We marvel at the irony, then hop in.

Since our meeting began at 11, and our flight arrived at 7:25, we had some time to kill. We visited another WFM and I was amazed at how dramatically smaller it was. It was cramped. We then visited a record store that was closing down and I got a few things.

The meeting that we had been flown in for lasted for about an hour and a half.

After the meeting we tried to visit the new store that's opening in January, but Boss accidentally took us in the wrong direction, which happened to be the exact direction the airport was in. So we decided to cut our losses and kill a few hours in the airport bar.

What resulted was Boss and me having a few drinks and playing Travel Scrabble, thoroughly entertaining the bar waiters, who had clearly never seen something like that before.

During the delayed, fully packed flight back, I was offered some peanuts. Having had three pints less than an hour previous, I thought some protein would be good.

On the shuttle back to where I parked my car, an overly presumptuous businessman on the same flight back who introduced me not as just a man with a name, but a man with a name attached to the name of a business. He wasn't just Joe Smith. He was Joe Smith Hertzville Packing Inc. He asked me what I did, and I told him that I'm the coffee specialist at Whole Foods Market. "What's that?"

I then proceeded to tell him what the store was about and what specifically I did, and by this time, all other passengers were intently listening to me describing why Kona is more expensive than almost all other coffees.


When I got back out to my car it had started snowing lightly. The attendant taking my ticket was cheerful despite his cramped and obviously deliriously cold and told me "Merry Christmas."

"Thanks, you too."



I am pretty tired. I've been up about 19 or 20 hours. So I'm going to bed, because I open tomorrow.