The roll of film I shot in Orlando was developed overnight at the corner drugstore, so now I can share some of my travel pics with you. Thanks for coming back for more after a Part 1 blog post of questionable taste. Without further ado, let’s get right back to the tasteless humor.
After a restless sleep with the escort hogging the covers all night, I was eager to shoo him out of the room and head down for the free breakfast. It was there I concocted a crazy plan. I would try Lyft or Uber to get to the convention center for my trade show. I chose Lyft because it sounded like a cuter name. Uber seems all German and serious. Denetra and my first Lyft ride arrived within two minutes of sending the request.
I explained to Lyft driver Denetra that this was my first time and I hoped she would be gentle. She was not only gentle, but delightful. I highly recommend Denetra as a Lyft driver in Orlando. I tipped heavy.
Editor’s Note: This is the first time that Jim Flanigan has ever typed that last sentence.
There was a lot of walking to do at the convention hall. Not everyone made it out in one piece.
I got some business done at the convention hall, and even saw some old friends who were exhibitors. There were hundreds of exhibits to see. This booth certainly caught my eye.
There was an actual demo movie running in the booth. I averted my eyes.
And what in the bloody hell is going on in this booth?
I quickly had my fill of that booth and cycled on to the next exhibit.
Nobody can say I didn’t think of my family while at the trade show. I picked them up a nice little gift.
Not many gifts say “I miss you” like a Tick Twister.
After walking 3 miles at the convention center according to my phone app, I was tired and called for my Lyft ride to the airport. Please let it be Denetra. Please let it be Denetra. Please let it be Denetra. It was not Denetra. Marcio was fine, but spoke little English. I do award him extra points for being able to find me standing outside the enormous Orange County Convention Center.
At the airport, I made the mistake (or was it?) of leaving a plastic comb in my pants pocket while going through security. My upper thighs and buttocks were thoroughly patted down. I may need to remember that trick in the future.
As I sunk into my again tight (I really must be fat) emergency row seat with extra legroom, I only had one wish – do not let the same couple from my flight the day before sit next to me. Score! It was a small, thin woman. She dug a bit too much in her ear for my taste, but after the flight the previous day, she could have lit her farts on fire the whole way and I would not have complained.
It was good to get back to Chicago and prepare for my trip next week to … you guessed it, St Louis again. Yawn. However, we will be kicking off a special series called Kicks on 66, a review of roadside attractions on old Route 66. I am pleased to have Mr. Chuck Berry introduce Kicks on 66, coming soon to this blog.