Can I go back?
After the amazing weekend I had with Kris just these past two days, I'm loathe to return to the "real world" and embark on the stressors that have made the last few months not particularly plesant.
Let's see how this day has stressed so far.
There's the moron in Rental Car Bus line at the airport who kept yelling at me, "The end of the line is back there!" When I said, "Right, the rental car line starts back there, I'm looking for the Long Term Parking Bus," his response was to yell louder, "Yes! THE END OF THE LINE IS BACK THERE!" I stiffled my desire to ask, "Is this the blithering idiot line? Because if it is, you need to go to the front."
Then there's Sprint, the phone company that thinks putting someone on hold or through a maze of phone questions is good customer service. The only thing worse was the clueless salesman who, when asked, "Do you know what it is?" (it being a Franklin USB EV-DO modem, which he just told me, "Uh, yeah, um, right, we, uh, haven't, uh, received those in yet, uh, we're, uh, supposed to get those next month, yeah, next month."), he tried to continue his B.S. answers and replied, "Uh, yeah, it's a USB adapter for our ED-VO cards."
BZZZZT! Wrong answer. Thanks for playing.
Not.
I'm determined not to become annoyed at all of these little things (the server dying, the disks filling up, the unintellible waitress taking our order, the clueless drivers nearly hitting my car, the doggen howling to wake the dead) overwhelm me, but sometimes, certainly today so far, flying back to Vegas Baby sounds like a good, good time.