RECAP: Jan'10-- Dad

So I think it's time to tell the story of my Dad and last January. As everyone knows, my memory isn't the best so I might get some dates/times/minor details a little wrong. But the recaps to follow are as I remember it.

Last time I spoke about this it was a little over a year ago, and he had just been taken into surgery for a quintuple bypass.

The surgery went great. Mom, the sibs and I stayed the entire time. The next couple of weeks were a little hectic. I had already taken a few weeks off of work, so after Dad's release date was approaching, I would drive back to Austin every couple of days, do about a week's worth of work in the next 48 hours, then drive back to San Antonio to spend some time telling Dad bad jokes, then back to Austin, and thus continued the great circle of life.

(BTW, Lil was a gem for taking in Murphy for all this time.)

Apparently Dad was making a spectacular recovery, and the release date was on schedule. Even after a minor Afib. So he was released with a clean bill of health, feelin great, looking fit, and as sharp as always.

A bit relieved, I had decided to go home and actually put in a good solid four days' work at the office. He was released on a Wednesday, and I would be back on Friday to hang out with him. My Mom had decided to go to an anniversary party. The nurturer and worrier in her didn't want to leave Dad alone, but we convinced her she needed a night out. Besides, I would be there. It wasn't so much that he needed a babysitter, but I was looking forward to spending time with him alone. With the hospital stay and all the 34,683 well-wishers, we hadn't had an opportunity to just hang out, talk, and yuk it up without an audience since before the holidays.

We watched some tv, talked about the operation (he was fascinated by the procedure), and then started talking about randomness.

10:32

I remember him saying something about the Amazon, but stopped mid-sentence. It was then I felt him reach out and grab my arm hard. He pulled himself up, and as I stood up he became unsteady and looked at me with fear in his eyes.

I had never known him to be afraid of anything. Even recently going into bypass surgery, or dealing with cancer, or even the stomach infection that nearly ended his life, I had never seen him frightened like this. His grip on my arm as he tried to steady himself was like an iron claw, and I could tell as I spoke with him he could not fully comprehend my words. At that point I saw his right eye glass over and the corner of his mouth curl downwards, a bit of spittle landing on my hand. His mouth moved as if he was trying to speak, but the same word over and over.

I had seen this before.

He was having a stroke.

I sat him down amidst protest, and told him to sit as I got the phone. With their home phone on my ear calling 911, my cell on the other trying to reach my Mom's cell, and talking to him to try and keep him with me, the next hour was a blur.

Mom got there shortly before the ambulance did, and I told her to go with Dad while I closed up everything and tried to get hold of my sisters. After I locked up the house I flew to the hospital.

When I got there the doctor had already confirmed it. He had a massive stroke, and since we were still within the window of action we could administer a clotbuster drug.

What this does is immediately break up clots and minimize damage to the brain. There's a catch: If there is any hemorrhaging or leaking (especially since he had just gone through major bypass surgery), the chance of death increases dramatically as they might not be able to stop the bleeding.

I remember the look on Mom's face as she said to me, "I can't make this decision."

And I had about 15 minutes to decide. I went outside to call my sisters and also because if at any point in my life I needed a cigarette, I needed one now.

I wanted to administer the drug. My Dad's mind is incredible, and if there was ANY chance to get him back I wanted to take it. But if the decision is passed down to the children, we ALL must agree. I got both of them on the phone.

The oldest of us wasn't sure, and the other sister agreed with me. So I went inside and told the doctor to start the drip. The paperwork came in and of course the disclaimer about the risks, chance of death, etc.

I had never in my life felt so scared signing a piece of paper.

And so it began.

The medication did about as well as we could hope. He started gaining a little bit of coherence, but still wasn't sure about where he was or what he was doing there. The hardest thing was looking into his eyes. It was a look of helplessness. He was the strong one. The rock of the family. And he looked at me wanting me to make everything better.

And I felt as helpless as he.

-------------------------------------

The next few weeks I stayed by his side. Slowly he began to restart learning things again. Speaking was a major hurdle, and he had lost almost all use of his right side. It killed him not being able to communicate. But still we worked at it. Over time, I started to notice that "he" was still in there. His mind was working; but he was trapped in a shell of a body.

The next month was even harder. I couldn't afford to stay away from work any longer, as the busy season was starting. So I would go to work every day, and on Tuesday and Thursday evenings drive down to San Antonio to get there during visiting hours, take Mom to dinner and drive home again, then coming in on Saturday and stay the weekend.

After his release to a Rehab center (he hated this, as he felt it was one step away from a nursing home), I couldn't stay with him so the visits were limited to the weekends. I had noticed that the therapy was helping a lot. Or maybe we were starting to understand him better. He was also starting to gain some movement in his right leg, and was being made to try and walk.

After the second rehab center, Medicare had started to limit what they would pay for, but luckily he was strong enough to go home. Mom really surprised me as to the work she did with him. I had offered to get a job in San Antonio so I could stay nearby and help take care of him (or at least the house). Mom would have none of that. For some reason she had been determined to do everything herself. Or didn't want me there. Or something. I couldn't help but feel a little hurt.

By this time the travel season for my job had begun. I took every opportunity to go by and see them, but the travel had started to take its toll. If I wasn't in the office or traveling for work, I was in San Antonio. And it got harder each time.

----------------------------------------

So where is he now? He's doing a lot better, and has traded in his wheelchair for a walker. Over the holidays we spent a lot of time talking. There's still a lot of sadness and frustration in him. But as the people in my family can attest to, he's too stubborn to quit.

And I Love him for it.

Will Strep For Cash

At home today. With strep throat.

At least I think it's strep. I know it's been going around (Lil just got over it) and my throat has decided to start a coup against the rest of my body. I'm pretty sure it's working out some form of declaration of independence and amassing troops.

I don't know for certain because I still don't have health insurance. Not to mention for the next few weeks I'm still hourly; so I'm not getting paid for today.

Explain to me again why Government healthcare is a bad idea?

Welcome to 2011

Goodbye 2010.

And good riddance.

2011 is going to rock. A lot happened last year, which was somewhat responsible for my silence. Since (according to Lillith) I have a lot to say, I'll be blogging again.

With great vengeance and furious anger.

Travel Log Week One

The travel season for my job has begun (No, I don't have a job offer yet, but one way or another this will be my last year here). Because I'm now looking at myself as a short-timer, I had to bite my tongue to not tell Darth Skippy and the rest of the executives to take my itinerary, fold it neatly to fit into a #3 business envelope, and shove it into the orifice of their choosing.

But Daddy needs to pay the bills and keep Murphy fed, so I gotta go.

Normally I look forward to the first few trips. The last few months I had been working 70-80 hours a week staring at numbers and graphs on a computer screen, then putting those numbers into a different part of the screen had started to take its toll. I think my eyes started to bleed at some point.

But this year our fearless leader decided to reassign accounts across the board and do the travel schedule himself.

I believe he does copious amounts of hallucinogens. This is the only thing I can think of to explain his logic. But if this is true, then he is undoubtedly the dullest drug user in existence. So in hindsight, I'll go with mental illness.

Texas is a big place. You have to have traveled through here to garner the scope. I live in Austin, which is for all intensive purposes the state's center.

Useless Texas Fact #1: There are at least eight cities or towns that claim to be the center of Texas.Austin isn't one of them.Bold claim, considering the Texas Highway department put a plaque on highway 377 pointing the direction to the ACTUAL center, 5 miles away (the true center is on public property). Closest town to it is Brady, TX.

After calling all of my clients and rearranging the accounts ourselves, a couple of coworkers and I set out for the long trek.

As I said, I normally look forward to the first few trips. It gets me out of the office and lets me get away on the company's dime.

COMMA

The first trip was regrettably out to West Texas. I at least arranged the accounts to get all my West Texas ones out of the way in one go. First up to Lubbock, then down to Midland, then San Angelo on the way back. I decided to drive it. Not in my own vehicle of course. I trust my truck implicitly. It's a workhorse, and for all intensive purposes should have fallen apart by now. But it still cruises right along. But knowing my luck it'd decide to call it quits midway, and West Texas is known for having a lot of nothing between towns, including cell service. So I decided to rent. A smarter man would have flown to Lubbock and driven down, but I'm not a smarter man.

Here's the basic route:

To put the scope of scale into perspective, this round trip is
the equivalent of driving from Atlanta, GA... To Manhattan.

Luck smiled upon me again.

I reserved a "standard" by the rental company's definition, and they pulled up to my office in a Metro hatchback. I looked up the definition on their website and they said "Pontiac G6 or similar." Last time I actually did get a G6, and that was a fun little car. But a Metro? I'm 6'3", weigh 250. Getting into the passenger seat took a couple of seconds and a minor concussion.

Anyway, I mentioned on the ride to the rental office that I was going to be spending the next 4 days in the middle of nowhere. He looked at his inventory and decided to upgrade me for free, to a Chrysler 300. He says it was to give me a satellite radio, but I know it was because he didn't want to have to clean out the copious amounts of Astroglide needed to get me in and out of the Metro.

The trip was pretty much uneventful. Ok, I'm lying, but this story has already bypassed the "tl;dr" status. So I'll just mention Day 2. Driving from east of Lubbock to Midland, my new fancy-schmancy GPS put me on a road running parallel to the main highway. Since I have it set to "fastest route available," I couldn't understand why it didn't put me crossing over.

And then I decided to trust it.

I normally drive like a grandpa, at most 3-4 miles over the speed limit. But this road, I realized as I crested the top of the first hill, was a piece of driving heaven. Exciting little curves, long fast straightaways, well maintained, entirely deserted. Where if by some chance there were a cop, you could literally see him two miles away. With the exception of while driving through Post, TX I literally did not see another car. It cleaned out my cobwebs. This guy, Tenacious B, who hasn't driven above 80 in years, was precariously close to hitting 3 digits. I know I should've taken a pic, but my GPS listed my top speed for that leg as 98.3mph. And I loved it.

I finally connected with Hwy 20 in Big Spring with a huge smile on my face. Stupid to say, but that was the best I felt in weeks.

P.S. It's Hwy 669. Head south from Crosbyton towards Big Spring. You're welcome.

Holy Crap!

The Friday before the Memorial Day weekend I was having a rough day (See here). Since the office had officially shut down at one and most of the company was at the lake, I headed home at around 3 to ponder life, liberty, and whether or not I would look good in a hairnet for my next job.

Then the doorbell rang. I know this because Murphy barks loud enough to make certain everyone in the tri-state area knows that the doorbell rang. I have tried on numerous occasions to explain to him that yes, I can hear it as well. But he insists on barking as loud as he possibly can in my ear to let me know that the doorbell is, in fact. ringing. Even if it's on tv.

I walk out to the gate and notice the telltale signs of a couple of Mormons. Shortsleeve white shirts, black tie, face like an extra from Happy Days. I guess they parked their bikes around the corner.

A smile creeps onto my face.

I like debating, especially religion. I never have made any qualms about the fact that I'm agnostic, but I don't ever bring it up. It's too sensitive a subject for most people, and I respect that everyone has the right to believe whatever they want to believe.

COMMA

When it gets brought to my house, I say have fun with it.

Jean used to laugh at me because of this. She told me I'm the only one that could make a Jehovah's Witness look at their watch and say, "Gosh, lookitthetime. I gotta go." One time I was bored when a JW came by, so I invited them in and proceeded to give a 40 minute presentation on the benefits of becoming an Amway representative.

It's fun in my world.

I didn't feel like dealing with the dog during any discussion, so I let them go ahead and read their script outside on my patio. Then they started in with the open ended questions...

/cracks knuckles

I decided to play it straight. I discussed religions, god, and the possibility of error in man. I spoke of choices, morality, and compassion. I quoted from their own books plus the Bible and a few other religious tomes, and asked them questions they weren't able to answer. And no, I did not ask them about their holy underwear (fuh real. Check it out). I was respectful, and thoughtful, and cheerful.

I saw the younger one (they both looked about 16, but the one that actually spoke identified himself as an elder, so I mean the other one) listening intently, and you could almost see the point in which I started to make sense to him. To the point where I think he started not only having doubts about CJCLDS, but about religion in general.

The "elder" probably saw this happening, and suggested they come back at another time, probably to prepare. I invited them back, and they said they would be back at 7 on Monday (Memorial Day).

They didn't come back.

I'm going to hell, aren't I?

Dancing Kim

Wow. Just wow.

Clicky

Dancing Kim is rad. Totally.

Go Sooners? Part V: A New Beginning

Last Friday morning at 8:06 I received an email from D.

To: Tenacious B From: D Subject: Need to talk to you I was not sure the proper way to call you without causing issue. If you get a minute today, or over the weekend please give me a call. The best number to reach me after hours is 405-xxx-xxxx. That is my BB. Thanks, D

YAY!

I had tried to call D several times in the next few hours, but he was out of the office and for some reason he hadn't set up the voicemail on his new phone. So I'm stuck calling him randomly and hoping that he picks up. Which he doesn't.

Because of the holiday, everyone headed down to the lake for lunch. I didn't want to be put in the situation of getting that call when I'm surrounded by coworkers, so I made a lame excuse and ran home. And of course I'm in the bathroom when I get the call.

Yay 405 area code.

It's D of course. And he gives me the news.

The position didn't get approved.

I suppose in some respects I was prepared for this, knowing "The Luck." Of course I asked the fateful question, "Seriously, D. Was I the issue with the position not being cleared through the Senior management?" "Oh, hell no," he shot back. He tells me I really impressed the Director and VP. It was when it got to the Sr VP that it wasn't approved, and said that he was authorized to offer me a different position, but won't because, "you'd be insulted." He didn't have to say any more on that, because I knew it meant that it was A) A different job, B) Doing something I didn't like, and C) for a lot less money.

Ok, B. Breathe a sec.

Then he says something that catches me completely off guard. "Do you have a pen handy?" He then gives me a phone number. It's L's cell phone. The reason he hasn't called when he found out (Wednesday night) was that he immediately called L and set up lunch with him for the following day. He told him the situation, the story, and gave him "a glowing recommendation." L's waiting for my call.

I was feeling a little deflated, but put on my game face again and called L. "I heard all about the journey to OK." Is there anyone D talked to that didn't know about that? But he told me where to find the job posting on the website, and said that as soon as I put it in it'll go across his desk.

It really does suck that I'm having to start over, and now I'll have to go through the normal corporate channels to get this going. But at least the job already exists, so all I have to do is wow them. After I submitted the app, I emailed L with my resume, addendum, cover letter, references, the antidote, locations of all the secret military installations and everything else I could possibly think of, and let him know the app was in and to look out for it.

And the story begins again...

I need a nap.

Go Sooners? Part 0: Tenacious B Origins: Captain Awesome

A long time ago (almost 6 weeks), in an office far, far away...

Remember Part I, when I got hate mail from my boss, Darth Skippy and that very day I received a recruitment call from D?

There's more to the story.

That happened on a Monday. I was feeling rather groovy about myself all week. And then the unthinkable happened. On Friday. [cue ominous John Williams music here]

I got...

wait for it...

ANOTHER recruitment call. Unsolicited. From ANOTHER well-respected company in OKC. I had already been going back and forth with D at this point, and I didn't know how to handle it. Honestly, I didn't know what the rules were. I told him I might, and sent him my resume since I already had one ready. But... If I looked into this other company and D found out, would he view that as trying to get leverage in a bidding war? Would he be disillusioned? Doubt my motives? Should I tell him I got the call? Could I lose out both jobs? Could this be the fall of civilization as we know it?

My mind really does work this way. Ask around.

Turns out the "good" side of my family luck was smiling upon me again.

It's a small world, and an even smaller industry. And OKC is an even smaller city. On the following Monday morning I received the following email from L, the recruiter at the new company:

"I spoke with D (who is a very good friend of mine) this morning. He tells me you contacted him recently about a possible opportunity with Kickass, Inc. Although you are certainly welcome to apply for our position I would prefer to wait and see what happens with any opportunity you may have with him."

So the solution to a delicate situation was taken care for me. It did feel good that my name came up in random conversation.

You like me. You really, really like me!
(Note: Not Tenacious B)

It sucked that now I was down to only one prospect again, however it felt good to know I was in demand. Before all this happened I was completely unaware that I had any kind of reputation in the industry, much less a good one.


SIDE NOTE: During the interview with D, he told me he had lunch again with L and again my name came up, most likely due to my impending interview. Apparently L called him an asshole for stealing me away first.

Yay me.

Go Sooners? Part IV: How Am I Still Awake?

I get to the Company without incident and early enough where I can take a breath and have a cigarette. I called Lillith, and she said, "Look at it this way, unless you break out into Tourette's in the middle of the interview, you can't fuck this up."

Thanks Lil, now I have something else to worry about.

When the building opened up at 8 I put on my game face and tell the receptionist I'm there to see D.

It's worth pointing out that every chance I got I sent an email to M (my HR liaison) and D, just in case more drama occurred. After all, it seems the universe was trying everything to keep me from this interview. It should know better by now. I'm too stubborn to have my family's luck dissuade me.

He comes in and I can see he's laughing his ass off. Apparently he had just finished reading my periodic emails when the receptionist called him. He also said that M had left him a voicemail telling him to please reschedule the interview, since she was convinced I wasn't going to make it, at least on time.

I sat with him and chatted about the job. It wasn't really an interview per se, more along the lines of a "This is what you'll be doing." at 9 he introduced me to his director and left me there. That was more like an interview, with me telling him what my normal year is like, my workload, etc. Fifty minutes later D stole me away again and dropped me off at his VP's office for another hour. I'm glad I interview well since I was pretty much on autopilot. D also made sure to tell EVERYBODY about my ordeal. I know I got extra points for my determination, but I didn't want them to like me "considering," ya know?

After the two interviews D took me on a tour of the campus. I got the impression as far as he was concerned, I was there more for an orientation than an interview. He totally did the hard sell. I had already done my research on the company, campus, benefits, etc. Shortly after noon when he showed me the community garden and 72,000 ft gym I told him, "You don't have to sell me. I want to be here." He then told me about the further process, meaning the final approval of salary, benefits, relocation expenses. It'd take about a week, maybe two before I heard from him.

We then went back and the entire team went to lunch at one of the restaurants on campus. It was so refreshing that the team was all in the late 20s-early 30s. Most of my current colleagues range from 60-deceased. While I was eating I got a call from the airline saying my bag had arrived. After lunch we stopped by M's office so I could turn in my receipts for the rental car and say hi. My flight was leaving at 4, so I finally said my adieus and headed out around 2.

Dropped off the rental, picked up my bag and then immediately checked it in. Grabbed me an overpriced coffee and sat down, trying to convince my brain to stay awake for another three hours until I get back. Then pick up Murphy from Lil's, drive home and pass the fuck out.

Drama over.

For about 5 minutes.

At 3:30 the American rep gets on the PA. I stood up, ready to board.

"Attention: American Airlines Flight 66666 to DFW..."

I start walking towards the gate.

"Has developed mechanical problems and is delayed. They are currently working on it and the departure time is estimated to be 4:30. We apologize for any inconvenience."

Fuh. Real.

At 4:30 the time was moved to 5. My connecting flight in DFW was at 6. See a pattern? They tried to convince me the plane would wait for me, I told her that was a crock and to find me another way to Austin. Tonight.

I'll give her credit. I wasn't in the most pleasant mood by now and she did try to work out a way to get me home, calling multiple airlines, trying to connect me through Dallas, Houston, San Antonio, even via Memphis. But since this was a Friday afternoon all flights were booked solid.

I was on 3 different standbys, each passed by without your champion on board. Finally when the flight to Houston left without me, my brain sent me a text message. It told me it had enough and that in 60 minutes it would either shut down or go on a homicidal rampage.

I called Lil, apologized and asked if she could watch Murph one more day. She told me to shut up and get some sleep. (You're wonderful)

They put me on the 6am flight and got me a hotel room along with a meal voucher. I was indeed starving, but wouldn't you know it all the airport restaurants close at 7.

Figures.

I finally get them to pull the bag off the plane and call the shuttle. When I get to the hotel, all I can think about is sleep. But for some reason (I guess I'm looking a little frayed around the edges by now) they ask and I end up telling my tale to the girls behind the counter. They tell me they'll buy me a drink at the bar. I told them maybe, but let me freshen up first. I made them set a wakeup call for 4. And 4:15. And 4:30 (I wasn't going to miss another flight dammit) and head upstairs to my room. I think I managed to stay awake for almost 15 seconds before passing out.

I wake up around 11. Incredible what those three hours did for my mood. Now for that drink.

Had a couple of scotches (no, I had to pay for both) and then took to the pool for a bit. That relaxed me enough to get back to sleep.

I did manage to get up at the 4:15 wakeup call, which was also when I set the alarm clock and the alarm on my phone.

The airport shuttle starts at 5. Kinda pushing it for a 6am flight, but I didn't have any other options. He drops me off at the arrivals at 5:15 (and let me have a smoke on the way. Thank you nice man). Lucky for me I was in first class, which put me in the line with only one person in front of me. If I was in coach there wasn't a chance in hell I would've made it.

The line through security is long but seems to be moving pretty quickly. For some reason I'm randomly selected to have the whole "swab your hands" thing done. I'm also on the phone with a friend, telling them to thank the deity of their choice that my ordeal is almost over.

I really need to stop saying shit like that.

When they put the swab through the machine, it lights up like a slot machine. Bells, whistles, sirens, flashing lights...

They pull me aside. "What'd I win?" I ask.

DHS doesn't have a sense of humor.

After going through everything in my bags, feeling me up, waving all sorts of things around me, and even asking if they needed to bring a dog in, they decide that the only thing that's a threat about me are the dirty clothes that had been marinating in my bag for the last 48 hours. They let me go.

At 5:55.

The security checkpoint opens out to Gate 22. My flight was at gate 6. You don't need a diagram for that one. And this time I was indeed wearing my flipflops.

They let me on; at least once I made them reconnect the jetway. They tried to balk, but I made it clear that I would be on that flight, even if it was clinging to the outside of the wing like a 6'3" baby-on-board sign.

Now they don't serve drinks on flights before 10am, even if you try to bribe them. Regardless, I kept my mouth shut until I finally landed in Austin at 10:04 Saturday morning. Got my bag without incident and paid the $40 for parking (forgot about the extra day). I picked up the pooch, thanked Lil, drove home and didn't leave the couch for 18h.


Around 6pm that night, I got a recorded message from the airline saying they were working diligently to locate my missing luggage.

Go Sooners? Part III: It gets worse

[Fade in on a car racing down a lonesome highway. Slight wisps of fog swirl behind as the car speeds towards the horizon]

When last we left our hero, he was in a desperate race against time to Oklahoma City to defuse a bomb set by Cobra Command and bring down the criminal organization known only as, "The Hive."

Or something.

Oh, that's right. I was headed to a job interview. THE job interview.

I finally drove out of the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport and Septic Pumping at 12:15, struggling with the GPS (extra $12.95/day) to direct me towards the exit, and then onward to OKC. Instead, it tells me that I REALLY wanted to drive past departures a couple of times first. I was too tired to argue.

The GPS tells me that my estimated arrival time is 3:45am. Typically the estimated time is fairly accurate, as I drive like a grandpa, pretty much always at the speed limit, or if I'm in a hurry (like now) a few miles over.

I'm a rebel.

That would give me a chance to check in to the hotel, freshen up a little, and drive back to the airport to pick up my checked bag (which I want to remind you has apparently arrived into OKC at least an hour prior) when the baggage claim office opens at 5am. Then back to the hotel, take a shower, get my research together and head to the interview by 7:45.

The drive was long yet uneventful. But by this point I was indeed getting a little punchy. I crossed the state line and saw the first casinos and drove into road construction hell. It seemed that every five miles I was in a lane that was ending due to road work. Luckily for me it was in the wee hours of the morning and I was the only person on the road for a 80-mile radius. To break the boredom, I started timing between other cars I saw. The winner was 46 minutes.

I only stopped once for a snickers and Monster Java. It was one of those chain truck stops that sell anything provided it's deep fried, including the spare auto parts. SIDE THOUGHT: Why do all those stores carry kitschy glass/pewter/etc sculptures of dolphins, unicorns and such? Is there a big market among truckers for glass kitties? Next time you stop by one, check em out. It's the kind of knick-knacks you'd expect to find in a house owned by a chain-smoking lady with an oxygen tank and a more-than-reasonable number of cats.

The GPS was right. I pulled into the hotel parking lot at 3:42. Not really the parking lot. Because of the damage to the hotel caused by the recent hailstorms, one of the two parking lots was closed, the overflow cars parked along the street for a block. I lucked out and found a spot in the back, grabbed by bags and walked all the way around the building to check in (the back door was key-access only).

I checked in, used the facilities, splashed water on my face, and sat on the bed to catch up with my thoughts. Those bastards at the company put me in a suite with a pillowtop king, complete with down comforter and feather pillows.

And I don't have time to take a nap.

I almost cried.

Before I started bawling I changed clothes (which I've been wearing for almost 24h. Those of you that know me are aware that I'm kinda twitching about this by now) and headed out to Will Rogers "That's the best we could come up with" International Airport. I was there at the baggage claim office at 4:55. At 5:10 I finally noticed the sign that says "If you need assistance before 11am, please go to the ticket counter." Screw the line waiting for tickets, I went through the Preferred Access/First Class/Heads of State line, and made the first agent leave his post to open the claim office.

It's redundant, but I want to quote from Part 2:
"B: "Wait. Where's my checked bag?"
S: (taptaptapPOUND) "In Oklahoma City. NEXT!"
B: "Back up there cowboy. Say wha?"
S: (taptapPOUNDtapPOUND) "I show your bag arrived in OKC at 9:23. NEXT!""

Walking into the Isle of Misfit Bags, I noticed a decidingly absence of anything closely resembling my hanging bag among the motley pile of discarded luggage.

Mr. Luggage: (Filling out some form in triplicate) "How many bags do you have here?"
Tenacious B: "Ummm... zero"
L: "Did you count them?"
B: "Twice. Look, it's been a long night, so I'll try to stay calm for the moment. Where. Is. My. Bag?" I said through clenched teeth (Try it. It's harder than it seems). "Well..." I gave him the short version of the incident, plus the conversation with Mr. Surly.
L: "It's not the first time they've lied. But I can tell you for certain that the only time your bag was scanned in was when you checked it in Austin at 3:30pm yesterday afternoon. So as far as I know it's still in Austin."

I was really trying to keep it together. In other words, if it wasn't for the fact that I had an interview in two hours, there would've been an incident involving Tenacious B, several DHS officers, a tazer and more than likely felony assault charges.

But I had to solve another issue. I was wearing jeans and my "I appreciate the muppets on a much deeper level than you" t-shirt. Not exactly interview material. At least I was wearing my good DocMartens. Normally when I fly I wear flipflops to get through security faster.

I searched on my phone to locate any store that might be open that would carry clothes, and yet be open before 7am. I found a 24h Super Wal-mart near the hotel and picked out a pair of slacks and shirt that seemed relatively presentable.

After I shower, I realize the awesome quality of the recently purchased $40 outfit. The slacks fit ok, but the material was thin. As in I'm glad I had drawers in my carryon. The shirt on the other hand fit rather nicely... for a T-rex. I'm not certain what the target demographic for shirts are in Vietnam (where the shirt was made), but the shirt fit me perfectly except the sleeves barely passed my elbows. Oh well, too late to go back. Rolling up the sleeves is my only option to not look Neanderthal-ish.

7:15. Headed to the interview.

Let's recap. I was in various airports for 9 hours to travel 200 miles, then had to drive an additional 200 miles to OKC, upon finding that instead of going to the most important interview of my life in my $500 Kenneth Cole suit, I'm going in a $40 poorly fitting outfit from Wally World. With no sleep.

Did I miss anything?