I ventured out early morning today to the grocery store. Every grocery trip is a death-defying experience in the Age of Covid-19. The store I chose used to be open 24/7/365. Now it opens at 8AM per the guard at the north entrance. Yep, that’s what I read on the sign behind him. He told me I could wait in line. It was 6AM. I chose to walk back to my car past the south entrance where I was told by the guard there that I could walk right in. I’m guessing he recognized me from this blog as a major social media influencer. He probably feared that I could shut down their regional chain of 242 stores with one bad review on this blog.
I returned home as a hero, primarily because of this treasure I had plundered from the store …
I was on the road again this week, and may have discovered the best hotel ever. Okay, so maybe some Trump Hotel properties are nicer, am I right?
I walked into my hotel behind a business dude all dressed up in a fancy suit. I saw him look at me with a bit of disdain. In fairness to him, the jeans I had on were super-faded, threadbare, and frayed. I am sure the biz guy was wondering who the homeless guy behind him stole the nice luggage from that I was rolling behind me.
The biz exec checked in as a Gold member. I saw the welcome sign in the lobby with his name on it under the Gold Member column … right next to my name as a freakin’ Platinum member. The hotel counter worker greeted the biz dude with “Thank you for being a Gold member.” I wanted to somehow, someway keep the businessman in the lobby as I bellied up to the counter to check in just so he would hear the counter guy greet me with, “Thank you for being a Platinum member.” Yes, I can be that petty. However, I let him exit the lobby and I had to be satisified with my Platinum member bonus points.
I was a little bummed until I saw this on my hotel room door …
I’ve been very busy with my medical equipment business recently. The hard work has paid off. Today I secured a large order from a Swiss customer who is buying equipment they will pick-up in Germany for shipment to Russia (no collusion!). The payment will be made by the Swiss customer in euros to my bank account in the UK that will be converted to US dollars and sent to my bank account in the USA so that my LLC can access the funds. I feel a bit like international business magnate Donald Trump, but without the criminality. Oh, sorry, I just noticed I spelled maggot wrong in that last sentence.
I headed out the other day on another business trip. As I drove southwest on a beautiful early fall afternoon, I rolled down the windows and enjoyed the feeling of the warm sun on my skin and the wind blowing through my hair … on my arms. I couldn’t help notice that as the sun illuminated my arm hair, it glistened with a reddish hue. Being part Irish, having reddish hair shouldn’t be unexpected, but I hadn’t noticed it before. That was disconcerting, but not as distressing as seeing this when I checked into my hotel room that evening …
I just got back from a business trip. My wife asked me to rate its success on a scale of 1 to 10. Let’s see …
That would be 3 soaps, 3 shampoos, and 5 teas, so I guess that would rate my trip an 11.
I haven’t posted in almost a week. Followers of this blog are rejoicing. However, questions are raised.
- Where is he?
- Has he gone back into the witness protection program?
- Will he promise to stop posting forever?
- Does the lack of posts have anything to do with Trump’s supposed border immigration agreement with Mexico?
They say the week before a vacation and the week after are the 2 busiest weeks of the year. Add in business travel to the week before I take a vacation to make it even busier and less post-friendly. So that’s where I am now. On vacation, or on holiday as they say in the UK, or England as we say in the USA, or the Kingdom of Trumpland as they say in the White House, or Crazytown as I say. Ugh, a nice vacation/holiday post ruined by Trump. Let’s get this back on track with a pretty sunset pic from our vacation lake house.
Beautiful sunset notwithstanding, I do have problems with this lake house, and surprise of surprises, it has to do with a familiar subject …
I’m on the road again, and I had a welcome gift awaiting me in my room when I checked-in to my hotel night. No, not a mint on my pillow. I found this ready, open, and “broken-in” for my use in my shower …
Being on the road again, I had hoped to bring you some Americana sightseeing tales and pics. However, inclement weather interceded, so I will bring you another travel tip. I know what you’re thinking, “Please, not another post about hotel soap.”
“But … but … hotel soap is an integral part of my business travel,” I protest. How about a Trumpy soap post? I know you want it. Let’s go.
When presented with 2 soap choices, always use the smaller one and take the larger soap home.
Now, I know Trump supporters may struggle with how to determine which is larger and which is smaller. I’ll try and make it relatable for them.
I fancy myself an idea person, although I readily admit that most of my ideas are bad. I like to think that I have had so many bad ideas in my life that I have become a pretty good judge of ideas. I’ll give you an example.
Area Democrats are marching in the local St. Patrick’s Day Parade this Saturday. I will be marching with my daughter, unless it is too cold, or rainy, or if she gets a better offer. Then I’ll be proudly walking without my daughter and just with my fellow Democrats, flipping off anyone in the crowd with a MAGA hat on. Just kidding. I wouldn’t do that. But a MAGA-hatted parade watcher was flipping off Democrats in the last parade I marched in. Those MAGAts are class acts.
Anyway, a fellow Democrat offered the following ideas for the parade via email …
I had never stayed at a Microtel hotel before. I had always been leery of the ‘micro’ part. Was it a very small hotel, or was it a hotel that catered to very small people? I wasn’t sure, but I booked a night at a Microtel in Springfield, IL due to the very small nightly cost.
I was ready for anything, even this.
It looked nicely normal as I walked into the lobby to check in. The indoor pool is always of interest to me, and it was right off the lobby, so I took a peek at the pool. Uh-oh. This sign poolside explained a lot.
Many of you will be traveling over this Thanksgiving weekend.
Meanwhile, I’ll be stuffing my pie hole with, well, pie I guess since I don’t eat turkey.
But I did travel last week, and while I sent you a scintillating story about my hotel room’s light switch, I did not blather in this blog about my bathtub in my other hotel room. It was something special, and something I did not expect from a Super 8. Take a look …
I’m on the road again and was surprised when I tried to turn on the light over the sink in my hotel room.
That was Marty Feldman as Igor in the fabulous movie Young Frankenstein. Full disclosure here. After hours of driving, I did not look as good as Marty Feldman did in that movie.
I really looked more like this …
I’m on the road again for business this week, but decided to stop and see my middle daughter at college along the way. It was a good place to stay for the night as it is about halfway to my business destination, and I found a hotel in town that would cost me all of $45, including tax. More importantly, this hotel did not have a number as part of its name. But how could it be a numberless hotel and be so cheap? I pulled into the parking lot with a bit of trepidation, but it was only one night. I was ready for the worst.
I entered the lobby and sniffed. No smell like I would expect from a $45 hotel. It looked neat and clean. I asked the desk clerk why it was so cheap, er economically-priced I quickly corrected before he could assign me to the murder room with a chalk outline on the floor. He had no idea. “Corporate,” he explained without actually explaining anything.
I continued to sniff like Donald Trump at a press conference as I headed down the hallway to my room. Nothing. I opened the room. Sniff, sniff. Nothing. It was a nice, clean, odor-free room. I was tired and fell asleep faster than if I had been at an actuarial seminar.
I had a good night’s sleep and woke up feeling good. I opened the drapes to see how the morning looked. It looked something like this …
I’m not sure if I believe in the Butterfly Effect. If you are unfamiliar with the term, in chaos theory, the Butterfly Effect is the sensitive dependence on initial conditions in which a small change in one state of a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state. Not only am I not sure I believe it, but I also may not understand it. Let’s try that again. If you are unfamiliar with the term, it is a scientific theory that a single occurrence, no matter how small, can change the course of the universe forever. If you still don’t understand, just watch the 2004 movie with Ashton Kutcher. I grow weary of trying to explain it to anyone who would read this blog.
As I returned from my business trip this week, I got a bit worried when I saw this …
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.
I had been dreading my business trip to Orlando. My dread was not unfounded as it got off to an inauspicious start.
I can’t afford to fly first class, and nothing about me would ever be considered first class. But since I have very long legs, I prefer extra legroom on my flights, so I paid a bit extra to guarantee a seat in the emergency exit row. As I flopped down into my seat, I couldn’t help but notice that it was a tad tight around my tush.
I’m about the only person who considers me fat. I’m 6’1” tall and about 190 lbs. If I convert that to metric, I think that’s 18.25 hands high with a weight of 13.5 stones. Anyway, I’d like to be 6’ 2” tall and 180 lbs. I’ve failed miserably recently at both gaining height and reducing weight. A little less weight would have been nice in that airline seat. Kim Kardashian may have struggled to get all her implants situated in the seat. I am sure there would have been offers of assistance. The bottom (pun intended) line is that the seat was tight for me.
This is the part of the blog post where I walk the line between being politically correct and a jerk. Oh, you thought that was the previous paragraph? Read on if you dare. You have been warned.
As a follow-up to my Pulitzer Prize nominatable blog post about my most recent hotel stay, I may have found a great reason to stay at that hotel again next time, completely unrelated to the leftover free cheese. It’s the view …
No, not that view from the window. This view …
As I traveled through central America on business this past week, I encountered a strange food choice. No, not roasted tarantula.
I wasn’t in Central America, but central America. Yes, St Louis again. Sigh! I was at the counter of a Jack in the Box fast food restaurant. Although that is a misnomer as I have found that fast food outside of greater Chicagoland is not really fast. In Chicago, we expect someone to be holding our bag of food next to the counter person BEFORE we even place our order. Once I get outside the greater Chicago area, life slows down a bit and I have gotten used to waiting for my “fast” food.
And wait I did at this Jack in the Box. All hell was breaking loose as I waited for my fish sandwich with about 15 other people waiting for their food. At one point, the counter dude yelled out “Who’s angry and wants a refund?” While I waited bemusedly, my eagle eyes spotted this sign about 10 feet directly in front of me at the counter …
No, that’s not a typo in the title. We all know what a spork is, right?
No, no, no, not a Spock, but a spork.
After a wonderful first night on the road for business travel, I reluctantly checked out. I was ready for a letdown. Disappointment was oozing from my pores, but not because I was pondering my substandard business career or failures as a father, husband and friend like I usually do, but because my next hotel was not an Inn & Suites, but just an Inn. There is no way that just an Inn could be as good as an Inn with Suites. I was right. It was not just as good.
When I travel on business, I like to squeeze in a cultural or sporting event when I can. Keeping in mind that I was traveling to St Louis this week, I set my expectations low. How low? I was planning to stop at the J.H. Hawes Grain Elevator Museum in Atlanta, Illinois on my drive home.
Why? Well, because of the Woodbine Glass Museum, of course! I’ll explain.
In case anyone thinks business travel is glamorous, it actually sometimes is, but more often it is not. Here’s the view from my St Louis area hotel window this week while on the road for business …