Dave’s not here…

Actually, I am here, physically, anyhow. Matt will be coming back soon, too, I think. No I don’t think, I’m on autopilot right now.

I woke up in RI, 4:30 AM Pacific time, made my final rounds about the ol’ homestead and town, packed up, and said my goodbyes. My big Red Sox fan brother gave me a ride to TF Green after stopping for one last round of clam cakes and stuffies on the way to the airport. (Meh, meh, meh… my bottle of mouthwash was bigger than 3 oz., so it went in the checked luggage, and I couldn’t find the little mouthwash strips that had made their way to the bottom of the carry on bag. Yeah, gross, I know. Will be unpacking that very soon.) I get there more than an hour early, my brother left, and then discovered my 7:14 flight would be late. Great. The desk jockey by the door said I’ll be able to make my connection at Dulles with no problem. I got a half can of Coke poured into a little cup full of ice as my complimentary beverage. One hour later, I find myself tearing ass through Dulles trying to make my flight to SFO, with very few minutes to spare. No time to stop for a bite or to take a crap, I was the last one on. Sumbich, all I’m gonna get is a little sack of peanuts for dinner, that is until I told the flight attendant my situation. So I got a complimentary box full of junk food and passed on more Coke. I’m a white knuckle type of flyer, I’m totally convinced that the next flying tin can that goes down will be the one I’m on, but not tonight. Some pretty stud-boy in front of me thought he was exempt from FAA regulations. The flight attendants had to tell him 5 times to put his seat in the upright position. I actually got about 3.9 winks on that flight. I wake up and see ‘Who’s Line Is It Anyways’ is being shown, so I dig out my headphones, only to catch the last 5 minutes of the show. My daughter and I used to watch that when she would stay at my place on the weekends. She knows I like the Red Sox and not the Yankees, but she’s really not a baseball fan. Hopefully, yet.

So what am I doing on the Internet after 24 hours awake? Well, I’ve got a responsibility to our readers. I’ll be posting about some things you already know (the ASG), and some things you don’t know about yet, such as the book I received in the mail to review, the Rock and Sox Benefit for The Jimmy Fund, and the Billy Beane movie.

I also had to make sure that all the Green Monsta Ale made it safely home. Inventory all accounted for. I had a light suitcase going to RI just to get some of that GM Ale back here. That and some yummy Portuguese sweet bread that you can’t get here. I step on the scale, note the weight (not good, Dave), and then get back on with the suitcase in my hands. 60 pounds. Crap. I start taking some of the stuff my folks said I could take (they’re 92 and 88, God bless ’em, but they’re downsizing, too), and shuffle some heavier stuff into the carry on bags. 52 pounds. Repeat. 49 pounds. Repeat 1 more time for good measure. 47 pounds. OK, that should be good. I get to the airport and find my bag checks in at 43 pounds. Crap! I could’ve put another 6 pack in there! Oh well, I’ll be heading back in November.