Thanks for the laugh Mandy!
I really needed that!
Any of you girls out there need to hook up with "Prince Charming", click on the link.
Your missing link is waiting for you.
Air Traffic Mike
.JPG)
I Know DKDC
3 days ago
Monday, March 30, 2009
Another Year, Another Glaring Oversight
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame can kiss my ass.
Another year, another slap in the face. Sure, the men and women going in this year absolutely deserve to be there. I'd never be so jaded as to exclude one from another in that regard. Unfortunately, the powers that be in the Hall don't seem to have that mindset.
These men should have been in there years ago.
Who are these two men?
You've probably never heard their names mentioned in passing conversation.
You wouldn't know them if they passed you on the street.
You wouldn't recognize their voices if they spoke to you.
They never got interviewed by Carson, Leno, Letterman, Oprah, et al.
You wouldn't even have a clue as to who they are if they sang a song to you.
You DO know them though.
You've heard their work.
Millions have.
What do the following songs all have in common?
"Angel of Harlem" - U2
"Roll With It" - Steve Winwood
"Damn Right I've Got the Blues" - Buddy Guy
"Born To Boogie" - Hank Williams, Jr.
"Sledgehammer" - Peter Gabriel
"Bigtime" - Peter Gabriel
"Takin' It To the Streets" - Doobie Brothers
"Disco Duck" - Rick Dees
"Here I Am" - Al Green
"Drift Away" - Dobie Gray
"Let's Stay Together" -Al Green
"I'm Still In Love With You" - Al Green
"Black Moses" - Isaac Hayes
"Rock Steady" - Aretha Franklin
"Tired of Being Alone" - Al Green
"Theme From Shaft" - Isaac Hayes
"Cracklin' Rosie" - Neil Diamond
"Kentucky Rain" - Elvis Presley
"Cry Me a River" - Joe Cocker
"Suspicious Minds" - Elvis Presley
"In the Ghetto" - Elvis Presley
"Sweet Caroline" - Neil Diamond
"Holly, Holy" - Neil Diamond
"Son of a Preacher Man" - Dusty Springfield
"Hot Buttered Soul" - Isaac Hayes
"Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show" - Neil Diamond
"Dock of the Bay" - Otis Redding
"Cry Like a Baby" - The Boxtops
"Hooked On a Feeling" - B. J. Thomas
"Respect" - Aretha Franklin
"Soul Man" - Sam and Dave
"Try A Little Tenderness" - Otis Redding
"When a Man Loves a Woman" - Percy Sledge
"Mustang Sally" - Wilson Pickett
"Knock On Wood" - Eddie Floyd
"The Midnight Hour" - Wilson Pickett
"Respect" - Otis Redding
"Walking the Dog" - Rufus Thomas
Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Andrew Love and Wayne Jackson. The artists know them by their professional name:
THE MEMPHIS HORNS
Andrew Love (the black fellow) played the saxophone, Wayne Jackson (the white fellow) played the trumpet.
From the mid 1960's through 1999 these two men played together. First they were the house horn section for STAX records. Back then they had a couple of other guys playing with them. When STAX demanded an exclusive contract from them in 1969, they set out on their own.
The Memphis Horns were officially born.
Sidemen in music are the hired gunslingers in the studio.
These guys were the best.
Their trademark soaring horns hit you like a brick wall in every song above. From the take off on the "March of the Bride" in Rufus' "Walking the Dog" to the big balled opening on U2's "Angel of Harlem" the Horns' didn't just open the song, they shouted it out to the world. When you heard the songs on the radio you stopped momentarily to give it a listen. Most people did then and still do. In "Brother Love's Travelling Salvation Show" their horns preached "the word". What would "Sweet Caroline" sound like without the Horns? Try and imagine taking the horns out of all those songs listed above and tell me they'd still be hits.
Mind you, the list of songs above is only a partial list of their work. They've travelled the world and played with hundreds of musicians. I'm not sure that even Motown's legendary "Funk Brothers" have such an impressive resume. Two of the "Funk Brothers" are in the Hall as sidemen. They should have gone in as a group. Though they had many changes in the lineup, the "Funk Brothers" WERE Motown.
The Memphis Horns were that to everybody they played with. They became everybody's horn section. Their "soul" was portable. They didn't make cold calls ("Hey buddy, we got some soul for sale here!"), they were sought out. Artists knew they'd show up and deliver.
Sadly it came to an end in 2000. Andrew Love took ill. He's still with us, but his days of professional music are over. He has difficulty getting around these days. (Thanks for correcting my info Tim). Wayne Jackson continues on with a new incarnation of the Memphis Horns, but it is not the same.
I would hate to see them elected in with Andrew going in posthumously. It isn't fair and it sure as Hell isn't right.
By virtue of their work ethic, their talent, and their resume, The Memphis Horns should be enshrined into the Rock and roll Hall of Fame immediately.
How about it Memphis? Are you willing to stand up for the hometown boys?
Another year, another slap in the face. Sure, the men and women going in this year absolutely deserve to be there. I'd never be so jaded as to exclude one from another in that regard. Unfortunately, the powers that be in the Hall don't seem to have that mindset.
These men should have been in there years ago.
Who are these two men?
You've probably never heard their names mentioned in passing conversation.
You wouldn't know them if they passed you on the street.
You wouldn't recognize their voices if they spoke to you.
They never got interviewed by Carson, Leno, Letterman, Oprah, et al.
You wouldn't even have a clue as to who they are if they sang a song to you.
You DO know them though.
You've heard their work.
Millions have.
What do the following songs all have in common?
"Angel of Harlem" - U2
"Roll With It" - Steve Winwood
"Damn Right I've Got the Blues" - Buddy Guy
"Born To Boogie" - Hank Williams, Jr.
"Sledgehammer" - Peter Gabriel
"Bigtime" - Peter Gabriel
"Takin' It To the Streets" - Doobie Brothers
"Disco Duck" - Rick Dees
"Here I Am" - Al Green
"Drift Away" - Dobie Gray
"Let's Stay Together" -Al Green
"I'm Still In Love With You" - Al Green
"Black Moses" - Isaac Hayes
"Rock Steady" - Aretha Franklin
"Tired of Being Alone" - Al Green
"Theme From Shaft" - Isaac Hayes
"Cracklin' Rosie" - Neil Diamond
"Kentucky Rain" - Elvis Presley
"Cry Me a River" - Joe Cocker
"Suspicious Minds" - Elvis Presley
"In the Ghetto" - Elvis Presley
"Sweet Caroline" - Neil Diamond
"Holly, Holy" - Neil Diamond
"Son of a Preacher Man" - Dusty Springfield
"Hot Buttered Soul" - Isaac Hayes
"Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show" - Neil Diamond
"Dock of the Bay" - Otis Redding
"Cry Like a Baby" - The Boxtops
"Hooked On a Feeling" - B. J. Thomas
"Respect" - Aretha Franklin
"Soul Man" - Sam and Dave
"Try A Little Tenderness" - Otis Redding
"When a Man Loves a Woman" - Percy Sledge
"Mustang Sally" - Wilson Pickett
"Knock On Wood" - Eddie Floyd
"The Midnight Hour" - Wilson Pickett
"Respect" - Otis Redding
"Walking the Dog" - Rufus Thomas
Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like you to meet Andrew Love and Wayne Jackson. The artists know them by their professional name:
THE MEMPHIS HORNS
Andrew Love (the black fellow) played the saxophone, Wayne Jackson (the white fellow) played the trumpet.
From the mid 1960's through 1999 these two men played together. First they were the house horn section for STAX records. Back then they had a couple of other guys playing with them. When STAX demanded an exclusive contract from them in 1969, they set out on their own.
The Memphis Horns were officially born.
Sidemen in music are the hired gunslingers in the studio.
These guys were the best.
Their trademark soaring horns hit you like a brick wall in every song above. From the take off on the "March of the Bride" in Rufus' "Walking the Dog" to the big balled opening on U2's "Angel of Harlem" the Horns' didn't just open the song, they shouted it out to the world. When you heard the songs on the radio you stopped momentarily to give it a listen. Most people did then and still do. In "Brother Love's Travelling Salvation Show" their horns preached "the word". What would "Sweet Caroline" sound like without the Horns? Try and imagine taking the horns out of all those songs listed above and tell me they'd still be hits.
Mind you, the list of songs above is only a partial list of their work. They've travelled the world and played with hundreds of musicians. I'm not sure that even Motown's legendary "Funk Brothers" have such an impressive resume. Two of the "Funk Brothers" are in the Hall as sidemen. They should have gone in as a group. Though they had many changes in the lineup, the "Funk Brothers" WERE Motown.
The Memphis Horns were that to everybody they played with. They became everybody's horn section. Their "soul" was portable. They didn't make cold calls ("Hey buddy, we got some soul for sale here!"), they were sought out. Artists knew they'd show up and deliver.
Sadly it came to an end in 2000. Andrew Love took ill. He's still with us, but his days of professional music are over. He has difficulty getting around these days. (Thanks for correcting my info Tim). Wayne Jackson continues on with a new incarnation of the Memphis Horns, but it is not the same.
I would hate to see them elected in with Andrew going in posthumously. It isn't fair and it sure as Hell isn't right.
By virtue of their work ethic, their talent, and their resume, The Memphis Horns should be enshrined into the Rock and roll Hall of Fame immediately.
How about it Memphis? Are you willing to stand up for the hometown boys?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
I Like This Person's Style
I took this picture about a year ago. This airplane is a Lake amphibian. Not the most common of airplanes. Before this, I had only seen a couple while I was in college. There were a couple parked at Boire Field in Nashua, New Hampshire.
This one is parked on the boat ramp at Mud Island on the Mississippi River here in downtown Memphis. I daresay it is the first airplane to taxi onto Mud Island in many years.
Airplanes on Mud Island? Yep. The Memphis Downtown airport was located here from 1959 until 1970. The fixed base operator would shuttle pilot/passengers to the city via pontoon boat.
You'll notice a few things missing from this old postcard. No sign of the Morgan-Keegan building. The Pyramid? What Pyramid? The "new" bridge? This is Memphis circa 1960's. We don't need no steenking "new" bridge.
Well, yeah we did. Matter of fact we could use another one and some modern on ramps to replace the "old" bridge south of town. It is insane to take the Interstate down to one lane just for the privilege of driving to the flood plains of Arkansas.
Back to Mud Island and its airport. It was a popular and well used airport. Cotton merchants and related business associates found the easy access to "Cotton Row" a major plus. Unlike most airports noise wasn't an issue. Rivers don't complain about noise. There were no real neighborhoods in downtown at the time either. No neighbors, no noise complaints.
Unfortunately Memphis was still Memphis, full of Memphians and Memphian ideas. Success would not go unpunished. With the I-40/Overton Park/I-240 fiasco solved, construction of the Interstate would resume. A new bridge would be needed to connect the "north loop" of I-240.
The bridge would be built north of town. It would be too high for airplanes to takeoff or land over. In 1970 the Memphis Downtown Airport was no more.
More Memphian ideas would come after. The Pyramid, now vacant, is a full blown tribute to wasting taxpayers money Memphis style. What it lacks in usefulness it makes up with being a real eyesore, a receptacle for pidgeon crap, and wasting space.
That's a blog for another time.
Today is a salute to an old lost airport and to a pilot whose motto must be, "No Airport, no problem".
Air Traffic Mike
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
"Hey Mickey, Go Get The Bread!"
It is approximately 5:30 am. Depending on your habits it is either early in the morning, or late in the day yesterday.
I've always been an early riser.
This morning I was going through some old pictures and ran across this:
This handsome couple are my maternal Grandparents, late in life, at a senior citizens holiday party.
The man on the right is my all time hero. His name is Frank Celotto. He, and he alone, could call me Mickey.
He was as Italian as you could get. How could he not be? His parents emigrated from Palermo, Sicily in 1905. He was born in South Philly in 1909 and raised there. He loved good food, good beer and wines, and had a deep respect for anything and everything family.
He loved to eat and it showed. He was exactly one foot short of being perfectly round. He was the classic old Italian guy.
My fondest memories of him are the times I'd be up to visit either with my family or later after I was able to drive up to see him and Grandmom on my own.
Why?
Because whenever I'd go up there we'd have "the Sandwich". "The Sandwich" was sort of the La Cosa Nostra of lunch. It was our little thing. It always started with the same opening sentence,
"Hey Mickey, go get the bread!!!"
The bread was 6 inch Italian rolls from around the corner at the G&M deli. Mr. Gino had fresh Italian rolls delivered every morning. They were perfect. Crunchy on the outside and chewy in the middle. Classic Italian bread.
In the time it took me to walk around the corner Mr. Gino had Grandpop's order ready. For "the Sandwich" it was always the same:
- 6 inch Italian rolls
- roasted red bell peppers, peeled and packed in olive oil and fresh garlic
- freshly sliced provolone cheese
Mr Gino being Mr. Gino, there was always a little something extra tossed in for "the delivery guy" (me). He'd always put a cannoli in there for dessert.
Mrs. Gino made the best cannolis.
Anyway, I'd run the bag home and lunch was on. We'd split open the roll with our hands. Place the provolone on the bread. Layer a generous amount of the garlicy roasted red bell peppers over the cheese. Sprinkle it with salt, cracked black pepper, dried basil, and some good red wine vinegar.
Done.
I'm not sure how many thousands of these we ate over the years. All I know is that now, on the days when I miss him and his advice, all I have to do is make one and for a fleeting moment I can remember the simpler times.
I'm having one now.
"Cheers" Grandpop, and thanks for all the love and advice.
Mickey
I've always been an early riser.
This morning I was going through some old pictures and ran across this:
This handsome couple are my maternal Grandparents, late in life, at a senior citizens holiday party.
The man on the right is my all time hero. His name is Frank Celotto. He, and he alone, could call me Mickey.
He was as Italian as you could get. How could he not be? His parents emigrated from Palermo, Sicily in 1905. He was born in South Philly in 1909 and raised there. He loved good food, good beer and wines, and had a deep respect for anything and everything family.
He loved to eat and it showed. He was exactly one foot short of being perfectly round. He was the classic old Italian guy.
My fondest memories of him are the times I'd be up to visit either with my family or later after I was able to drive up to see him and Grandmom on my own.
Why?
Because whenever I'd go up there we'd have "the Sandwich". "The Sandwich" was sort of the La Cosa Nostra of lunch. It was our little thing. It always started with the same opening sentence,
"Hey Mickey, go get the bread!!!"
The bread was 6 inch Italian rolls from around the corner at the G&M deli. Mr. Gino had fresh Italian rolls delivered every morning. They were perfect. Crunchy on the outside and chewy in the middle. Classic Italian bread.
In the time it took me to walk around the corner Mr. Gino had Grandpop's order ready. For "the Sandwich" it was always the same:
- 6 inch Italian rolls
- roasted red bell peppers, peeled and packed in olive oil and fresh garlic
- freshly sliced provolone cheese
Mr Gino being Mr. Gino, there was always a little something extra tossed in for "the delivery guy" (me). He'd always put a cannoli in there for dessert.
Mrs. Gino made the best cannolis.
Anyway, I'd run the bag home and lunch was on. We'd split open the roll with our hands. Place the provolone on the bread. Layer a generous amount of the garlicy roasted red bell peppers over the cheese. Sprinkle it with salt, cracked black pepper, dried basil, and some good red wine vinegar.
Done.
I'm not sure how many thousands of these we ate over the years. All I know is that now, on the days when I miss him and his advice, all I have to do is make one and for a fleeting moment I can remember the simpler times.
I'm having one now.
"Cheers" Grandpop, and thanks for all the love and advice.
Mickey
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Too Tired To Type
The last two shifts at work and the dentist appointment have rendered me numb and devoid of creativity. This is what a cohesive thought feels like inside my brain right now:
BTW, if any of you know this guy tell him Air Traffic Mike said thanks for participating in my version of "Blogger Charades".
I'll be back tomorrow with some insights/commentary/bad jokes. In the meantime, enjoy a couple pictures of the mighty Mississippi taken from high atop the Madison Hotel.
Spring 2008:
Summer 2008:
Air Traffic Mike
BTW, if any of you know this guy tell him Air Traffic Mike said thanks for participating in my version of "Blogger Charades".
I'll be back tomorrow with some insights/commentary/bad jokes. In the meantime, enjoy a couple pictures of the mighty Mississippi taken from high atop the Madison Hotel.
Spring 2008:
Summer 2008:
Air Traffic Mike
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Public Service Message (Amended)
Dr. Patrick L. pointed out a minor, yet glaring, grammatical error on the original "FLABICIDE" PSA.
As always, my thanks to the good Doctor (and his insomnia) for the correction.
Unfortunately, grammar's gain is your loss.
Enjoy the view..............again.
Air Traffic Mike
As always, my thanks to the good Doctor (and his insomnia) for the correction.
Unfortunately, grammar's gain is your loss.
Enjoy the view..............again.
Air Traffic Mike
Monday, March 23, 2009
Another Public Service Announcement
Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC (the social think tank of Air Traffic Mike), would like to take this opportunity to pass along some sage advice.
If you plan on a late night of drinking, please order food BEFORE the kitchen closes.
Air Traffic Mike
If you plan on a late night of drinking, please order food BEFORE the kitchen closes.
Air Traffic Mike
A Public Service Announcement
Ladies and Gentlemen, Summer will be here soon. We will be heading to the ocean, lakes, ponds, rivers streams, and swimming pools.
Keeping that is mind, we here at Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC. (the social think tank of Air Traffic Mike) would like to remind you of the following:
We now return you to your regular Internet surfing.
Air Traffic Mike
Keeping that is mind, we here at Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC. (the social think tank of Air Traffic Mike) would like to remind you of the following:
We now return you to your regular Internet surfing.
Air Traffic Mike
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Innovative Child Care
Let's face it, one of the most difficult decisions a parent (or parents) can make is child care. Back in the 1960's it was a given that most Mom's were stay at home Moms.
Mine was.
Well, at least until I was 12. That year Mom got her first job. She got a part time job at the elementary school my two younger brothers and I attended.
We couldn't get away with "Jack Squat".
Thanks Mom.
Now I'm not a parent so far as I know. However, recently a couple of my friends became first time parents. Unfortunately, they are both in their thirties and have busy careers. He holds an executive position and she is mid level accountant. Or was. She opted out of work and started an accounting business at home. She assumed that would give her time to be a "stay at home Mommy" while still bringing in a decent check.
She couldn't have been more wrong. In an eight hour period where you have eight hours of Mommying to do plus eight hours of accounting work to do something has to give.
They decided on a day Nanny. They are fortunate. They have the means to be able to do so. Many have to use professional day care or private baby sitters to make it work.
The problem with the above is level of service. A day Nanny has but one task and that is to see to the needs of the child. Any reputable Nanny has had some professional training and should come with excellent references. They should also be bonded and insured. They are expensive.
Day care provider's too, should have some professional training. They are monitored by the state and county, but due to volume there will those with less training and experience. There is a risk of "fly by night" operations. Furthermore, with your child surrounded by all those other children, the chance of your baby getting sick increases exponentially. Volume helps keep costs down, but the infrastructure and insurance expenses still keep the price relatively high.
Private baby sitters usually have no training other than being a young Mom or some girl. Working out of their home keeps costs low. Rarely licensed or insured, you risk some exposure legally. Without government supervision, abuses may take place. In this model, you're really acting on faith.
Where many see problems, we here at Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC. (the social think tank of Air Traffic Mike), we see solutions.
What if you could take the quality of a Nanny, merge in the volume savings of a day care center, and using Fred Smith's FedEx model for efficiency, cut the price to that of a baby sitter?
Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to:
Here's how it works. You call Nanny Express. We drop off one of our patented "NanEx Baby Boxes". They have everything you need to get the kid out the door for the day. Take a look at it. It is a masterpiece. It comes fully assembled with a generous amount of air holes to facilitate breathing. Take note of the pacifier dangling from the lid. Feel the plush, super absorbent lining on the floor. You say, "Air Traffic Mike, baby poop is the foulest substance known to mankind and babies make lots of it. What about the smell?" Don't worry. That super absorbent padding has a layer of charcoal and baking soda. A chili/beer fart doesn't stand a chance against it. It'll smell as fresh as a daisy no matter HOW ambitious the child gets. What color is your baby's nursery? It doesn't matter. The "NanEx Baby Box" comes in all colors. Before you can say anything, I already know that babies have to eat. If you look carefully to the left you can see the feeding station. The "BoobTube" feeding system, a patented product of NanEX, accommodates breast milk, water, juices, and pablum. Please fill out the "Needs" section of the shipping form to advise us of your baby's nourishment reqirements.
"Shipping form? Air Traffic Mike, did you say SHIPPING FORM"?
Oh yeah! The entire purpose is to give the parents and baby some time apart. Insert the baby into the NanEx Baby Box (with generous air holes), place the safety seal over the seam, and drop it off at the nearest NanEx pick up point. We monitor the stations for activity and will be there for pick up no later than 10 minutes after you drop the box off. 11 minutes or later and we'll give you an official NanEx "Certificate of Apology".
Now THAT's corporate responsibility!
After pick up, the NanEx PRAM (People Running AMok) truck will whisk your beloved off to the airport! Scientific studies prove that babies LOVE airports!
This is where the fun really begins. Your baby(safely in the NanEx Baby Box complete with generous air holes) is loaded onto the NanEx plane standing by at the nearest airport. Your baby will be flown to the NanEx super hub located in lovely Blytheville, Arkansas at the former Eaker AFB. Scientific studies prove that babies love old SAC bases! Nothing but the best for our customers.
The baby crates are then off loaded lovingly by our famous "NanEx Uncles" and delivered to the sorting machine. What fun it is to be flying around the sorting belts, spinning and bouncing along! Screams of laughter and joy from every box!
The babies, now having been sorted by size, age, and needs are taken to their temporary day center. The boxes are gently opened by our highly trained "MomEx" associates (contract Mommies out on work release). Scientific studies prove that babies can't read rap sheets. Here at ATM's Nanny Express we understand that even babies need to stretch their legs! Besides, scientific studies prove that babies love being outside. And outside it is. Every baby will get no less than three hours out on the tarmac. Scientific studies prove that babies like to visit. We give them that chance.
"Air Traffic Mike, what about the heavy equipment and airplanes moving about?" I'm glad you asked. We're not fools here at NanEX. Every truck, tug, van, and PRAM has a well cushioned patented lower bumper developed here in Blytheville. "BumpEx" absorbs the baby, alerts the driver, and in no time bumper is baby free.
"Air Traffic Mike, what about the runway?" Scientific studies prove that babies hate runways. We DO believe in science here at Nanny Express.
Sheesh.
Its getting late in the day. The babies are rounded up, returned to their respective NanEx Baby Box (with generous air holes) and the process is repeated in reverse.
We know there are many more questions you might have. For FAQ's and our pricing guide, please drop us an email here and we'll send out our handy guide:
Operators are standing by.
Air Traffic Mike
Mine was.
Well, at least until I was 12. That year Mom got her first job. She got a part time job at the elementary school my two younger brothers and I attended.
We couldn't get away with "Jack Squat".
Thanks Mom.
Now I'm not a parent so far as I know. However, recently a couple of my friends became first time parents. Unfortunately, they are both in their thirties and have busy careers. He holds an executive position and she is mid level accountant. Or was. She opted out of work and started an accounting business at home. She assumed that would give her time to be a "stay at home Mommy" while still bringing in a decent check.
She couldn't have been more wrong. In an eight hour period where you have eight hours of Mommying to do plus eight hours of accounting work to do something has to give.
They decided on a day Nanny. They are fortunate. They have the means to be able to do so. Many have to use professional day care or private baby sitters to make it work.
The problem with the above is level of service. A day Nanny has but one task and that is to see to the needs of the child. Any reputable Nanny has had some professional training and should come with excellent references. They should also be bonded and insured. They are expensive.
Day care provider's too, should have some professional training. They are monitored by the state and county, but due to volume there will those with less training and experience. There is a risk of "fly by night" operations. Furthermore, with your child surrounded by all those other children, the chance of your baby getting sick increases exponentially. Volume helps keep costs down, but the infrastructure and insurance expenses still keep the price relatively high.
Private baby sitters usually have no training other than being a young Mom or some girl. Working out of their home keeps costs low. Rarely licensed or insured, you risk some exposure legally. Without government supervision, abuses may take place. In this model, you're really acting on faith.
Where many see problems, we here at Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC. (the social think tank of Air Traffic Mike), we see solutions.
What if you could take the quality of a Nanny, merge in the volume savings of a day care center, and using Fred Smith's FedEx model for efficiency, cut the price to that of a baby sitter?
Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to:
Here's how it works. You call Nanny Express. We drop off one of our patented "NanEx Baby Boxes". They have everything you need to get the kid out the door for the day. Take a look at it. It is a masterpiece. It comes fully assembled with a generous amount of air holes to facilitate breathing. Take note of the pacifier dangling from the lid. Feel the plush, super absorbent lining on the floor. You say, "Air Traffic Mike, baby poop is the foulest substance known to mankind and babies make lots of it. What about the smell?" Don't worry. That super absorbent padding has a layer of charcoal and baking soda. A chili/beer fart doesn't stand a chance against it. It'll smell as fresh as a daisy no matter HOW ambitious the child gets. What color is your baby's nursery? It doesn't matter. The "NanEx Baby Box" comes in all colors. Before you can say anything, I already know that babies have to eat. If you look carefully to the left you can see the feeding station. The "BoobTube" feeding system, a patented product of NanEX, accommodates breast milk, water, juices, and pablum. Please fill out the "Needs" section of the shipping form to advise us of your baby's nourishment reqirements.
"Shipping form? Air Traffic Mike, did you say SHIPPING FORM"?
Oh yeah! The entire purpose is to give the parents and baby some time apart. Insert the baby into the NanEx Baby Box (with generous air holes), place the safety seal over the seam, and drop it off at the nearest NanEx pick up point. We monitor the stations for activity and will be there for pick up no later than 10 minutes after you drop the box off. 11 minutes or later and we'll give you an official NanEx "Certificate of Apology".
Now THAT's corporate responsibility!
After pick up, the NanEx PRAM (People Running AMok) truck will whisk your beloved off to the airport! Scientific studies prove that babies LOVE airports!
This is where the fun really begins. Your baby(safely in the NanEx Baby Box complete with generous air holes) is loaded onto the NanEx plane standing by at the nearest airport. Your baby will be flown to the NanEx super hub located in lovely Blytheville, Arkansas at the former Eaker AFB. Scientific studies prove that babies love old SAC bases! Nothing but the best for our customers.
The baby crates are then off loaded lovingly by our famous "NanEx Uncles" and delivered to the sorting machine. What fun it is to be flying around the sorting belts, spinning and bouncing along! Screams of laughter and joy from every box!
The babies, now having been sorted by size, age, and needs are taken to their temporary day center. The boxes are gently opened by our highly trained "MomEx" associates (contract Mommies out on work release). Scientific studies prove that babies can't read rap sheets. Here at ATM's Nanny Express we understand that even babies need to stretch their legs! Besides, scientific studies prove that babies love being outside. And outside it is. Every baby will get no less than three hours out on the tarmac. Scientific studies prove that babies like to visit. We give them that chance.
"Air Traffic Mike, what about the heavy equipment and airplanes moving about?" I'm glad you asked. We're not fools here at NanEX. Every truck, tug, van, and PRAM has a well cushioned patented lower bumper developed here in Blytheville. "BumpEx" absorbs the baby, alerts the driver, and in no time bumper is baby free.
"Air Traffic Mike, what about the runway?" Scientific studies prove that babies hate runways. We DO believe in science here at Nanny Express.
Sheesh.
Its getting late in the day. The babies are rounded up, returned to their respective NanEx Baby Box (with generous air holes) and the process is repeated in reverse.
We know there are many more questions you might have. For FAQ's and our pricing guide, please drop us an email here and we'll send out our handy guide:
Operators are standing by.
Air Traffic Mike
The Hometown Newspaper
Okay, I admit it. I am a voracious reader. The first book of substance I ever read was the 1965 edition of Colliers Encyclopedia. I read it in one year. 1968 to be exact. I was seven years old.
As the years have passed, my passion for reading has yet to wane. Every morning I have to have my information "fix". I have become a newspaper geek.
Every day I have to read four newspapers or my day is not complete.
Naturally, I read the Memphis Commercial Appeal. I live here. In spite of the fact that they have short sightedly laid off some outstanding employees, I still have to know what's happening.
Once I've finished tallying up the daily murders here, I'm off to far away places where nothing bad ever happens. The exotic places? Philadelphia, Wilmington, Delaware, and of course my little hometown of Pennsville, New Jersey.
The Philadelphia Inquirer was a staple in my parents house. My folks didn't necessarily care about all the doings in Philly per se, but it covered national and international news in fine fashion. I always read it for the sports page. If you think Philly fans are tough on the teams, the sports department at the Inquirer was just as brutal. Phillies/Eagles/76er's/Flyers doing well? Cheers and high fives. Doing poorly? Jeers and direct blows to the head. Philly is a blue collar town. The Inquirer takes that attitude and takes it into the "Fourth Estate". I read it because I still think it is one of the best written an hardest hitting newspapers in the nation.
We also took delivery on The Wilmington News-Journal. While it didn't have the hard hitting reporting of the Inquirer, it carried regional news of northern Delaware, northeastern Maryland, and southern New Jersey. Seeing as how Dad's family was scattered through this area, he subscribed. It was his way of staying "in the loop" before the invention of "in the loop". I delivered this paper for a while as a child. I read it every day after I completed my route. I still read it for the same reasons Dad did.
The last paper I read every day has no hard hitting investigative team. They have no real sports department. It specializes in wrapping fish, lining bird cages, and bringing local news and advertisements to that hotbed of national news, Salem County, New Jersey. I read the Today's Sunbeam because it fills in the last informaton gap in my day. Hometown gossip.
Think I'm kidding about the lack of hard hitting journalism? Here's the headline story from today's Sunday edition.
Yep. While other folks are celebrating cherry blossoms, the NCAA Men's Tournament, or other Spring events, us South Jerseyites are celebrating the colonial version of a drive by.
I have to tell you, I had iced tea flying out of my eyeballs when I read the headline. Because I'm familiar with the newspaper's standards, I can't honestly say it was an intentional pun.
Now in defense of Salem County, they really don't have much Revolutionary War history to hang their hats on. The only other event of note was General "Mad Anthony" Wayne's cattle drive around the British defenses to get meat and goods to Washington's starving men at Valley Forge.
Even way back then New Jersey was "America's Highway State". I'm pretty sure the orignal motto was "Nothing to see here. We're just the road between Philadelphia and New York City. Thanks for your tolls, come back again sometime so we can pick your driver's pocket."
It would be years later, due to budget cuts, that they'd shorten the motto to "The Garden State".
I'm not sure but I think the Sunbeam missed that story while covering a major raft sinking at a local pond.
Still, I read it every day.
Amateur to rookie level reporting? No problem. Big news of the day is a fundraiser for some local charity? Glad to read it. Sports reporting stops at the Delaware River and county borders? So be it. Without those little bits of information my day is not complete.
So while you're out there doing that Sunday thing you do, if you too came from a small town, go look up the local Sunday paper.
Otherwise, you might miss something like this.
Air Traffic Mike
As the years have passed, my passion for reading has yet to wane. Every morning I have to have my information "fix". I have become a newspaper geek.
Every day I have to read four newspapers or my day is not complete.
Naturally, I read the Memphis Commercial Appeal. I live here. In spite of the fact that they have short sightedly laid off some outstanding employees, I still have to know what's happening.
Once I've finished tallying up the daily murders here, I'm off to far away places where nothing bad ever happens. The exotic places? Philadelphia, Wilmington, Delaware, and of course my little hometown of Pennsville, New Jersey.
The Philadelphia Inquirer was a staple in my parents house. My folks didn't necessarily care about all the doings in Philly per se, but it covered national and international news in fine fashion. I always read it for the sports page. If you think Philly fans are tough on the teams, the sports department at the Inquirer was just as brutal. Phillies/Eagles/76er's/Flyers doing well? Cheers and high fives. Doing poorly? Jeers and direct blows to the head. Philly is a blue collar town. The Inquirer takes that attitude and takes it into the "Fourth Estate". I read it because I still think it is one of the best written an hardest hitting newspapers in the nation.
We also took delivery on The Wilmington News-Journal. While it didn't have the hard hitting reporting of the Inquirer, it carried regional news of northern Delaware, northeastern Maryland, and southern New Jersey. Seeing as how Dad's family was scattered through this area, he subscribed. It was his way of staying "in the loop" before the invention of "in the loop". I delivered this paper for a while as a child. I read it every day after I completed my route. I still read it for the same reasons Dad did.
The last paper I read every day has no hard hitting investigative team. They have no real sports department. It specializes in wrapping fish, lining bird cages, and bringing local news and advertisements to that hotbed of national news, Salem County, New Jersey. I read the Today's Sunbeam because it fills in the last informaton gap in my day. Hometown gossip.
Think I'm kidding about the lack of hard hitting journalism? Here's the headline story from today's Sunday edition.
Yep. While other folks are celebrating cherry blossoms, the NCAA Men's Tournament, or other Spring events, us South Jerseyites are celebrating the colonial version of a drive by.
I have to tell you, I had iced tea flying out of my eyeballs when I read the headline. Because I'm familiar with the newspaper's standards, I can't honestly say it was an intentional pun.
Now in defense of Salem County, they really don't have much Revolutionary War history to hang their hats on. The only other event of note was General "Mad Anthony" Wayne's cattle drive around the British defenses to get meat and goods to Washington's starving men at Valley Forge.
Even way back then New Jersey was "America's Highway State". I'm pretty sure the orignal motto was "Nothing to see here. We're just the road between Philadelphia and New York City. Thanks for your tolls, come back again sometime so we can pick your driver's pocket."
It would be years later, due to budget cuts, that they'd shorten the motto to "The Garden State".
I'm not sure but I think the Sunbeam missed that story while covering a major raft sinking at a local pond.
Still, I read it every day.
Amateur to rookie level reporting? No problem. Big news of the day is a fundraiser for some local charity? Glad to read it. Sports reporting stops at the Delaware River and county borders? So be it. Without those little bits of information my day is not complete.
So while you're out there doing that Sunday thing you do, if you too came from a small town, go look up the local Sunday paper.
Otherwise, you might miss something like this.
Air Traffic Mike
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Final Notis
Above, taken August 2007 (L to R): Air Traffic Mike, Bill Oates, Kris K. (my favorite partner in crime), and Ken Shirley. The picture was taken at the usual scene of the crime, the patio at King's Palace Cafe' on Beale.
Kris and I? *Friends* :-D
Bill and Ken? Two thirds of a Beale Street staple band, "2 Weeks Notis".
This is just a reminder that tragedy can strike out of the blue at any moment.
Last Sunday, March 15 at 2:15 am Bill and Ken were on the road home to the Memphis area having played a gig in Osceola, Arkansas. They were southbound on the I-55. Something terrible happened in the northbound lane. A man lost control of his vehicle. The vehicle crossed the Interstate and hit a van.
That van was carrying Bill and Ken. Ken was at the wheel.
It was a horrible head on accident. Ken was dead at the scene. Bill was gravely injured, but mercifully alive. He is presently in the Elvis Presley Trauma Unit at the Med.
I got the news from Dennis and Mary Monday night. Like me, they loved watching the guys play after Pam and Terry left the gazebo at 4:00 pm on Saturdays.
I would have posted this sooner but I was at a loss as to what to say. Shock always takes me a while to get over.
Right now I'm just coming to grips with it.
Take a good look at them. They were happy, healthy, in their prime, and loved gigging on Beale Street. Were they the best band ever? No. They loved to entertain. Were they entertaining? Yes. They played requests at a moments notice. They were reliable too. They showed up. They would have been there this Saturday. I would have been there to see them.
That option was taken away from us early Sunday morning.
I'll call the Med later today to get an update on Bill. I'd really like to visit, but visiting in the Trauma unit is difficult. They usually let only immediate family members in depending on the patients condition. If nothing else, I'd like to talk to his family just to get an update. I'm not sure of his condition, but I know he's in good hands.
I'm sure of Ken's condition. He's in the best of hands.
I have to be honest with you, good hands or not it sure hurts like Hell this morning as I'm typing through the tears.
Get well Bill Oates. We'll be here when you're able to come back. The "Big Ass Tip Bucket" will be waiting for you.
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We look forward to filling it soon.
Godspeed Ken Shirley. You were a great guy and one of the finest guitar players around. Thank you for the music and memories. I hope you know how much you were loved my friend. I hope too, your loved ones can find peace in their hour of need.
Air Traffic Mike
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Teenage Drinking and Driving
Spring is here and, as usual, the thoughts of most high schoolers turn to that seminal event called, "The Prom".
I say that "tounge and cheek" because it meant zilch point poop or less to me. I wasn't then, am not now, nor will I ever be, a dancer. With apologies to those who are afflicted, I honestly look like I am having an epilectic seizure when I attempt to dance.
After a while I just gave up. I was tired of having spoons jammed in my mouth by well meaning dancers.
However there are those who can and do love to dance. "The Prom" means a lot to those. "The Prom" isn't a bonding moment, unless of course you mean "bonding" as in back seat, monkey sex. For the Seniors it is that last chance to dance and say goodbye to the people they grew up with. After graduation they will scatter to the winds. It was true for me 30 years ago and it is true now.
Some will go on to college an move to far away cities. Some will join the military and be stationed far away. Some will remain home, start a family, and drift away from their childhood friends as they tend to their own flock.
Unfortunately for some, they will never get home.
They will instead make that phone call to
So then, for those who intend to drink at their prom and attempt to drive home, Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC. (the social think tank of Air Traffic Mike) offers up this free poster:
I can't be any more clear than that.
Air Traffic Mike
I say that "tounge and cheek" because it meant zilch point poop or less to me. I wasn't then, am not now, nor will I ever be, a dancer. With apologies to those who are afflicted, I honestly look like I am having an epilectic seizure when I attempt to dance.
After a while I just gave up. I was tired of having spoons jammed in my mouth by well meaning dancers.
However there are those who can and do love to dance. "The Prom" means a lot to those. "The Prom" isn't a bonding moment, unless of course you mean "bonding" as in back seat, monkey sex. For the Seniors it is that last chance to dance and say goodbye to the people they grew up with. After graduation they will scatter to the winds. It was true for me 30 years ago and it is true now.
Some will go on to college an move to far away cities. Some will join the military and be stationed far away. Some will remain home, start a family, and drift away from their childhood friends as they tend to their own flock.
Unfortunately for some, they will never get home.
They will instead make that phone call to
So then, for those who intend to drink at their prom and attempt to drive home, Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC. (the social think tank of Air Traffic Mike) offers up this free poster:
I can't be any more clear than that.
Air Traffic Mike
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Bozo The Clown Creator Dies
Here's the story.
All I can say is that will be one mighty big pair of shoes to fill.
*buh-dum-bump*
Air Traffic Mike
All I can say is that will be one mighty big pair of shoes to fill.
*buh-dum-bump*
Air Traffic Mike
Just A Thought
Recently here in the Memphis metro area a young man murdered his apparently soon to be ex-girlfriend. He made a half assed attempt to clean up the murder scene, dumped her body in a remote area, and went home to his parents house.
Naturally, when the young woman failed to show up at work for a couple days, the police were called. They found a grisly scene in her apartment. Upon questioning the people who were last known to be with her on that fateful Saturday night/Sunday morning, they interviewed the young man. He told them in no uncertainty he had no idea what had happened. His body language belied his words, but the police had no case or body at that time. They left.
Later in the week her body was found. She had been brutally beaten and murdered. Hearing the news and knowing his freedom would be short lived the young man committed suicide.
A sad, but all too familiar story, right? Well here at Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC. (the social think tank division of Air Trafic Mike) we have a solution for moments such as the above.
Let's just say you're not happy with your life and you start feeling all shooty. Go get your gun and shoot yourself first. Why take the other person's life? Suicide, like murder, is still a cardinal sin but you eliminate the middle man. You'll save us a lot of police costs because they don't have to spend man hours tracking down the "murderer". You'll also save money since us law biding citizens don't have to spend extra money on a public defender, court costs, or jail.
Sure, your family will still be upset. So what? They'd be just as upset to have a convicted murderer in the family. Most people don't feel sorry for a convicteed murderer's family. Don't believe me? Go look in the Hallmark card section for a "Sorry Your Dumb Ass Son Blew Away An Innocent Girl" card. Find one? Of course not. There are plenty of condolence cards for those who have lost a loved one to death of any sort. Friends and neighbors will bring casseroles to your loved ones left behind, but not if your wasting money sitting in a jail cell. Families of convicted meurderers are generally shunned and always feel ashamed for the act.
Next time someone you know gets to feeling homicidal, remind them they can always start by killing themselves first. If they still feel homicidal after suicide then let them have at it.
Remember, at Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC., your first consultation is free.
Air Traffic Mike
Naturally, when the young woman failed to show up at work for a couple days, the police were called. They found a grisly scene in her apartment. Upon questioning the people who were last known to be with her on that fateful Saturday night/Sunday morning, they interviewed the young man. He told them in no uncertainty he had no idea what had happened. His body language belied his words, but the police had no case or body at that time. They left.
Later in the week her body was found. She had been brutally beaten and murdered. Hearing the news and knowing his freedom would be short lived the young man committed suicide.
A sad, but all too familiar story, right? Well here at Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC. (the social think tank division of Air Trafic Mike) we have a solution for moments such as the above.
Let's just say you're not happy with your life and you start feeling all shooty. Go get your gun and shoot yourself first. Why take the other person's life? Suicide, like murder, is still a cardinal sin but you eliminate the middle man. You'll save us a lot of police costs because they don't have to spend man hours tracking down the "murderer". You'll also save money since us law biding citizens don't have to spend extra money on a public defender, court costs, or jail.
Sure, your family will still be upset. So what? They'd be just as upset to have a convicted murderer in the family. Most people don't feel sorry for a convicteed murderer's family. Don't believe me? Go look in the Hallmark card section for a "Sorry Your Dumb Ass Son Blew Away An Innocent Girl" card. Find one? Of course not. There are plenty of condolence cards for those who have lost a loved one to death of any sort. Friends and neighbors will bring casseroles to your loved ones left behind, but not if your wasting money sitting in a jail cell. Families of convicted meurderers are generally shunned and always feel ashamed for the act.
Next time someone you know gets to feeling homicidal, remind them they can always start by killing themselves first. If they still feel homicidal after suicide then let them have at it.
Remember, at Air Traffic Mike Heavy Industries, LLC., your first consultation is free.
Air Traffic Mike
Saturday, March 14, 2009
My Brother Gary
It is late. 12:30 am to be exact. The hustle and bustle of the day are far behind me. It just me, this computer, and my thoughts.
Right now, my thoughts are all about my late brother.
Gary died on 13 July, 1987. He really didn't want to, of that I'm sure. However, hitting a parked truck at 70 mph while asleep at the wheel didn't leave him many options.
I try not to dwell on that part too much. I'm just thankful it was over quickly.
Tonight I'm reminded of Spring break, 1982.
Gary was a Freshman in college. He was going to school at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond, VA. I was in my Junior year at Daniel Webster College in Nashua, NH. My phone rang one cold, blustery morning. It was Gary, "Mike, I need a favor.". He knew I wouldn't turn him down no matter what it was. He was "Mah Boy!". I feigned exasperation, "What now, your Majesty?". Laughing, he informed me that he needed me to pick him up and bring him home for Spring break. Ours coincided that year. I reminded him that Virginia was not located between New Hampshire and New Jersey. "Don't worry", he shot back, "I have a plan.".
"I have a plan." That was a phrase that always scared me when Gary used it.
What the Hell, I was game, "Okay Kid, what is it." Gary took a deep breath, I knew this was going to be a good one. "Okay Mike, here's the plan. I'm having Bruce come pick me up and take me to Norfolk International Airport.", he started.
Let's stop here for a second. It is a two hour drive from Norfolk where Bruce lives to Richmond. That means our brother had to make a four hour round trip just to get Gary to the airport. Richmond has an airport. I worked there for two years slinging tin at the Richmond Air Traffic Control Tower. This was the hallmark of a "Gary Plan". It had to inconvenience as many people as practical.
I stopped him there, "Gary why not fly out of Richmond?" He was ready for that. He came back with, "Mike it is way too expensive. People Express flies out of Norfolk. They have roundtrips for $38.00"
That was another hallmark of a "Gary Plan". Do it on the cheap. "No low price too nice" was his style.
Now I knew all about People Express. The airline industry had been deregulated in 1978. We were studying it in the college business courses. They didn't fly someplace close to home, like say Philadelphia. They flew into Newark, New Jersey. Newark was a good two hour drive from home, more if someone balled one up on the New Jersey Turnpike. I was now a bit perturbed. I told him bluntly, "Gary, I don't even get near Newark on the way home. I avoid it like the plague." He was ready for that too. He said, "Mike, you know I love to fly and I know you love airports. It's a win/win situation."
Touche'. He had me there. I did as a child, and to this day, do love airports. The problem was People Express was a lot like a "Gary Plan". Do it on the cheap and convenience was an after thought. People Express operated out of the old North Terminal. I'd been there once an can honestly say I'd pissed in cleaner city alleys. I wasn't ready to concede just yet. "I shot back, "Gary that's too much hassle just to get home. Take the train. It'll drop you off across the river in Wilmington (Delaware)." He already had prepared his parry to this option. He came right back, "Mike, have you ever seen the people that ride on trains? It's just too dangerous." Touche' again. I took the train up to Boston one time. Amtrak, circa 1982, was NOT a good ride. Dirty trains, disgruntled employees, REALLY inconvenient schedules, overall not unsafe, but nasty. I had to spot him that one too. Still I was ready to fight for a more sane option.
Before I could mount an attack, he used his trump card.
"Don't worry. If you can't do it, I'll just get Mom to come pick me up.".
Fuck. He played the "Mom Option".
There was no way in Hell I wanted Mom driving into that shit. It would be a four hour round trip for her just to get Gary.
Remember what I said about "Gary Plans" and inconvenience? Let's do some quick math:
Plan A: Bruce/Norfolk/Newark/Mike
Four hours for Bruce+one hour flight time+1.5 hour delay for Mike+two hours to home.
Total time expended on plan = 8.5 hours if all goes well.
Plan B: Bruce/Norfolk/Newark/Mom
Four hours for Bruce+one hour flight time+four hours for Mom.
Total time expended on plan = 9 hours if all goes well. Add to this my concerns for Mom.
I gave in. I knew it was going to be a goat rope, but at least the only thing Mom had to do was listen to me cuss him out when the plan fell apart. What I couldn't have predicted was just how big of a goat rope it would be.
The big day arrives. Bruce had the day off and sets off to get Gary. Because of the 11:00 am departure time, Bruce has to get up early on a day where he'd normally sleep in. Mercifully, the out and back to Norfolk went off without incident. They left Richmond at 7:30 am and arrived in Norfolk at 9:30 am. Bruce drove, Gary drank beer. Bruce drops Gary off at the airport and resumes his slightly fractured day none the worse for wear.
Now it was up to People Express to do their thing. This is about the time the proverbial "snowball" left the top of the mountain. The flight was delayed due to thunderstorms in the New York metro area. First it was an hour. Then it was two hours. Soon it was three hours. Three hour delay? No problem. Gary's "low beer" light came on, so its off to the bar we go. Mind you, the drinking age in Virginia IS 21 and he's only 18 but looks 24. For anyone else? Jail time. For Gary, his big brown eyes and natural charm? Happy hour.
For those keeping track the "snowball" is now about one quarter of the way down the mountain.
Meanwhile, in southeastern New York State, yours truly is guiding his 1969 Chevy Impala (lovingly known as "The War Wagon") through torrential rains and winds. The crew and passengers of the S.S. Minnow had a better trip. I'm pissed. I'm pissed at the rain, pissed at the slow traffic, and I'm pissed because I know Gary will be late. "The War Wagon" is doing her best not to hydroplane but not having much luck. My neck and shoulders have turned rock hard from tensing up. Surely it can't get worse, right?
Remember, this IS a "Gary Plan".
Gary is absorbing the delay one beer at a time. He worked in the food service business and knew the rules. Everyone gets the "family discount". He's drinking draft beer. No way to prove how many his new bestest bartender friend has poured him. By the time two hours have passed, he's lost count. Still, the little voice of reason he still has left informs him he should go check on the flight. Our hero starts off to the gate.
The gate agent informs him that the morning flight has been cancelled. She's booked everyone onto the late afternoon flight departing at 5:00 pm.
Belly full of beer, flight time now moved up. "Snowball" now officially halfway down the mountain.
I arrived at Newark International around noon. Frankly, I was glad to be out of the weather. Unfortunately, the weather was getting worse. I went to the Norfolk gate only to get the bad news. Morning flight cancelled, next flight scheduled to arrive at 6:00 pm. Nothing to do but wait. I did the only thing I could do. I got back into my car and drove over to the Newark Anheuser-Busch plant for a tour and free beers. I ended up sweet talking the twenty something girl pouring beer into allowing me to stay for a few hours. I got lots of free beer and a phone number I'd put to use later on my return trip.
Gary didn't hold sole possession of charm in our house.
"Snowball" now three quarters of the way down the mountain.
Now much delayed on my arrival home, but in a slightly better mood, I set off for the airport once again. Its 5:00 pm and the "Newark 500" is on. The "Newark 500" means you and 30,000 of your closest friends are doing 500 yards an hour. Its rainy so the drive was even more excruciating. I get to the North Terminal right at 6:00 pm. The gate agent informs me the flight has just departed Norfolk. Finally some light at the end of the tunnel.
With a bit of airborne holding the plane arrives at 7:30 pm. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. There's only one small problem.
Gary is not on the flight.
It seems our hero and the belly full of beer jointly decided that passing out was a viable option. He missed the flight.
With Gary not on the plane, I call Bruce. Bruce hasn't heard a word from Gary. I get a load of quarters and Call Norfolk International to have Gary paged. Nothing. Now I'm really starting to panic. I don't want to worry Mom, but I have no choice but to call her.
No answer.
I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. It is now 8:15 pm. I'm still two hours away from home. I left Nashua, New Hampshire promptly at 8:00 am. I'm tired, aggravated, now sober, and worried about my kid brother. I call Mom. No answer. I decide I'll wait at Newark until the last flight from Norfolk arrives at 9:00 pm. Its a Delta flight that arrives at the new Terminal. I duly drive over there, pay yet another parking fee, and wait. And wait. And wait some more. Finally at 10:25 pm the plane taxies in to the gate.
No Gary.
"Snowball" now in the air with Air Traffic Mike square in its sights.
I call Mom to let her know why I'm late.
Gary picks up. "Snowball" scores a direct hit.
I go nuclear. "WHAT THE FUCK, OVER?" is all I can think to ask.
After he'd missed the flight, he went one gate over. There was a Delta flight that was going to Newark, but stopping in Philadelphia. The plane had plenty of open seats and the station manager decided he would honor the ticket. In the end, after all the links of the chain had come together, I had the right airplane. Gary just happened to get off one airport sooner.
Gary had been home for about two hours. He called Mom to come pick him up at the airport. Mom didn't know how to get ahold of me so she just went and got Gary. They were home, I was still in mother fucking shitty ass Newark, New Jersey still facing a two hour drive. It was back to "The War Wagon" and off to the house.
Due to weather and traffic I arrived home at 1:15 am. "Bitter" doesn't begin to describe my mood upon arrival.
It was a classic "Gary Plan" to the end.
So let's do the final math, shall we?
Bruce: Norfolk/Richmond/Norfolk: 4 hours
Gary: Richmond/Norfolk/Beer/Sleep/Philly/Pennsville: 13 hours
Mom: Pennsville/Philly/Pennsville: 1 hour
Mike: Nashua/Newark/Brewery/Newark/New Terminal/No Gary/Pennsville: 17.25 hours*
*Note: Still the individual record for any "Gary Plan" at the time of his passing.
Total time for "The Gary Plan": 35 hours 15 minutes.
Time it takes to drive from Richmond to Pennsville, New Jersey: 4 hours.
27 years later would I have done anything differently?
Nope.
He was "Mah Boy!".
Right now, my thoughts are all about my late brother.
Gary died on 13 July, 1987. He really didn't want to, of that I'm sure. However, hitting a parked truck at 70 mph while asleep at the wheel didn't leave him many options.
I try not to dwell on that part too much. I'm just thankful it was over quickly.
Tonight I'm reminded of Spring break, 1982.
Gary was a Freshman in college. He was going to school at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond, VA. I was in my Junior year at Daniel Webster College in Nashua, NH. My phone rang one cold, blustery morning. It was Gary, "Mike, I need a favor.". He knew I wouldn't turn him down no matter what it was. He was "Mah Boy!". I feigned exasperation, "What now, your Majesty?". Laughing, he informed me that he needed me to pick him up and bring him home for Spring break. Ours coincided that year. I reminded him that Virginia was not located between New Hampshire and New Jersey. "Don't worry", he shot back, "I have a plan.".
"I have a plan." That was a phrase that always scared me when Gary used it.
What the Hell, I was game, "Okay Kid, what is it." Gary took a deep breath, I knew this was going to be a good one. "Okay Mike, here's the plan. I'm having Bruce come pick me up and take me to Norfolk International Airport.", he started.
Let's stop here for a second. It is a two hour drive from Norfolk where Bruce lives to Richmond. That means our brother had to make a four hour round trip just to get Gary to the airport. Richmond has an airport. I worked there for two years slinging tin at the Richmond Air Traffic Control Tower. This was the hallmark of a "Gary Plan". It had to inconvenience as many people as practical.
I stopped him there, "Gary why not fly out of Richmond?" He was ready for that. He came back with, "Mike it is way too expensive. People Express flies out of Norfolk. They have roundtrips for $38.00"
That was another hallmark of a "Gary Plan". Do it on the cheap. "No low price too nice" was his style.
Now I knew all about People Express. The airline industry had been deregulated in 1978. We were studying it in the college business courses. They didn't fly someplace close to home, like say Philadelphia. They flew into Newark, New Jersey. Newark was a good two hour drive from home, more if someone balled one up on the New Jersey Turnpike. I was now a bit perturbed. I told him bluntly, "Gary, I don't even get near Newark on the way home. I avoid it like the plague." He was ready for that too. He said, "Mike, you know I love to fly and I know you love airports. It's a win/win situation."
Touche'. He had me there. I did as a child, and to this day, do love airports. The problem was People Express was a lot like a "Gary Plan". Do it on the cheap and convenience was an after thought. People Express operated out of the old North Terminal. I'd been there once an can honestly say I'd pissed in cleaner city alleys. I wasn't ready to concede just yet. "I shot back, "Gary that's too much hassle just to get home. Take the train. It'll drop you off across the river in Wilmington (Delaware)." He already had prepared his parry to this option. He came right back, "Mike, have you ever seen the people that ride on trains? It's just too dangerous." Touche' again. I took the train up to Boston one time. Amtrak, circa 1982, was NOT a good ride. Dirty trains, disgruntled employees, REALLY inconvenient schedules, overall not unsafe, but nasty. I had to spot him that one too. Still I was ready to fight for a more sane option.
Before I could mount an attack, he used his trump card.
"Don't worry. If you can't do it, I'll just get Mom to come pick me up.".
Fuck. He played the "Mom Option".
There was no way in Hell I wanted Mom driving into that shit. It would be a four hour round trip for her just to get Gary.
Remember what I said about "Gary Plans" and inconvenience? Let's do some quick math:
Plan A: Bruce/Norfolk/Newark/Mike
Four hours for Bruce+one hour flight time+1.5 hour delay for Mike+two hours to home.
Total time expended on plan = 8.5 hours if all goes well.
Plan B: Bruce/Norfolk/Newark/Mom
Four hours for Bruce+one hour flight time+four hours for Mom.
Total time expended on plan = 9 hours if all goes well. Add to this my concerns for Mom.
I gave in. I knew it was going to be a goat rope, but at least the only thing Mom had to do was listen to me cuss him out when the plan fell apart. What I couldn't have predicted was just how big of a goat rope it would be.
The big day arrives. Bruce had the day off and sets off to get Gary. Because of the 11:00 am departure time, Bruce has to get up early on a day where he'd normally sleep in. Mercifully, the out and back to Norfolk went off without incident. They left Richmond at 7:30 am and arrived in Norfolk at 9:30 am. Bruce drove, Gary drank beer. Bruce drops Gary off at the airport and resumes his slightly fractured day none the worse for wear.
Now it was up to People Express to do their thing. This is about the time the proverbial "snowball" left the top of the mountain. The flight was delayed due to thunderstorms in the New York metro area. First it was an hour. Then it was two hours. Soon it was three hours. Three hour delay? No problem. Gary's "low beer" light came on, so its off to the bar we go. Mind you, the drinking age in Virginia IS 21 and he's only 18 but looks 24. For anyone else? Jail time. For Gary, his big brown eyes and natural charm? Happy hour.
For those keeping track the "snowball" is now about one quarter of the way down the mountain.
Meanwhile, in southeastern New York State, yours truly is guiding his 1969 Chevy Impala (lovingly known as "The War Wagon") through torrential rains and winds. The crew and passengers of the S.S. Minnow had a better trip. I'm pissed. I'm pissed at the rain, pissed at the slow traffic, and I'm pissed because I know Gary will be late. "The War Wagon" is doing her best not to hydroplane but not having much luck. My neck and shoulders have turned rock hard from tensing up. Surely it can't get worse, right?
Remember, this IS a "Gary Plan".
Gary is absorbing the delay one beer at a time. He worked in the food service business and knew the rules. Everyone gets the "family discount". He's drinking draft beer. No way to prove how many his new bestest bartender friend has poured him. By the time two hours have passed, he's lost count. Still, the little voice of reason he still has left informs him he should go check on the flight. Our hero starts off to the gate.
The gate agent informs him that the morning flight has been cancelled. She's booked everyone onto the late afternoon flight departing at 5:00 pm.
Belly full of beer, flight time now moved up. "Snowball" now officially halfway down the mountain.
I arrived at Newark International around noon. Frankly, I was glad to be out of the weather. Unfortunately, the weather was getting worse. I went to the Norfolk gate only to get the bad news. Morning flight cancelled, next flight scheduled to arrive at 6:00 pm. Nothing to do but wait. I did the only thing I could do. I got back into my car and drove over to the Newark Anheuser-Busch plant for a tour and free beers. I ended up sweet talking the twenty something girl pouring beer into allowing me to stay for a few hours. I got lots of free beer and a phone number I'd put to use later on my return trip.
Gary didn't hold sole possession of charm in our house.
"Snowball" now three quarters of the way down the mountain.
Now much delayed on my arrival home, but in a slightly better mood, I set off for the airport once again. Its 5:00 pm and the "Newark 500" is on. The "Newark 500" means you and 30,000 of your closest friends are doing 500 yards an hour. Its rainy so the drive was even more excruciating. I get to the North Terminal right at 6:00 pm. The gate agent informs me the flight has just departed Norfolk. Finally some light at the end of the tunnel.
With a bit of airborne holding the plane arrives at 7:30 pm. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. There's only one small problem.
Gary is not on the flight.
It seems our hero and the belly full of beer jointly decided that passing out was a viable option. He missed the flight.
With Gary not on the plane, I call Bruce. Bruce hasn't heard a word from Gary. I get a load of quarters and Call Norfolk International to have Gary paged. Nothing. Now I'm really starting to panic. I don't want to worry Mom, but I have no choice but to call her.
No answer.
I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. It is now 8:15 pm. I'm still two hours away from home. I left Nashua, New Hampshire promptly at 8:00 am. I'm tired, aggravated, now sober, and worried about my kid brother. I call Mom. No answer. I decide I'll wait at Newark until the last flight from Norfolk arrives at 9:00 pm. Its a Delta flight that arrives at the new Terminal. I duly drive over there, pay yet another parking fee, and wait. And wait. And wait some more. Finally at 10:25 pm the plane taxies in to the gate.
No Gary.
"Snowball" now in the air with Air Traffic Mike square in its sights.
I call Mom to let her know why I'm late.
Gary picks up. "Snowball" scores a direct hit.
I go nuclear. "WHAT THE FUCK, OVER?" is all I can think to ask.
After he'd missed the flight, he went one gate over. There was a Delta flight that was going to Newark, but stopping in Philadelphia. The plane had plenty of open seats and the station manager decided he would honor the ticket. In the end, after all the links of the chain had come together, I had the right airplane. Gary just happened to get off one airport sooner.
Gary had been home for about two hours. He called Mom to come pick him up at the airport. Mom didn't know how to get ahold of me so she just went and got Gary. They were home, I was still in mother fucking shitty ass Newark, New Jersey still facing a two hour drive. It was back to "The War Wagon" and off to the house.
Due to weather and traffic I arrived home at 1:15 am. "Bitter" doesn't begin to describe my mood upon arrival.
It was a classic "Gary Plan" to the end.
So let's do the final math, shall we?
Bruce: Norfolk/Richmond/Norfolk: 4 hours
Gary: Richmond/Norfolk/Beer/Sleep/Philly/Pennsville: 13 hours
Mom: Pennsville/Philly/Pennsville: 1 hour
Mike: Nashua/Newark/Brewery/Newark/New Terminal/No Gary/Pennsville: 17.25 hours*
*Note: Still the individual record for any "Gary Plan" at the time of his passing.
Total time for "The Gary Plan": 35 hours 15 minutes.
Time it takes to drive from Richmond to Pennsville, New Jersey: 4 hours.
27 years later would I have done anything differently?
Nope.
He was "Mah Boy!".
Monday, March 2, 2009
Urban Diving
An inescapable fact of urban living is that there WILL be dumpsters in your neighborhood. Let's face it restaurants, bars, offices, apartments, and condos generate tons of refuse. It has to go somewhere, and as a friend of mine once proved, trying to flush chicken bones and other leftovers down the toilet doesn't work.
He's a bachelor, and in his defense, he WAS quite inebriated at the time.
Another inescapable fact of urban living is that if you have dumpsters, there are those who will avail themselves of all the wonders of the dumpsters contents. Some for food. I can't imagine how hungry or desparate one has to be to eat from one, but I have seen it with my own eyes. Some will take shelter. This too, I've seen. In either of these cases I get aggravated. There are many sources of clean, decent food available. All it takes is some effort on the part of the erstwhile dumpster diner. The same holds true for shelter. There are missions here that provide beds and warmth on cold Winter nights. Again, all it takes is some effort on the part of those in need. Put down the crack pipe, put a cap on the bottle, abide by some basic rules of civility, and you won't have to sleep on the street or in the dumpster.
As gross as it seems, I can still understand the above uses by unauthorized personnel. Both situations seem to be last resort moves by a body trying to keep a poisoned mind alive in spite of itself. I don't appreciate it, but those aren't the things that annoy me most about dumpsters. There is one group of trespassers that really gets under my skin.
"Dumpster Divers".
What's a "Dumpster Diver"? Those are the people who decide it is okay for them to go into your dumpster and tear open every plastic bag they find. What, pray tell, are they seeking? The Holy Grail of refuse. The empty aluminum can.
Now you might be inclined to say, "Air Traffic Mike, at least they are doing something constructive. Recycling is good for the world." While I agree recycling is a good thing, I vehemently disagree in this case. Those open plastic bags and the rotting food draw thousands of flies and roaches. The now exposed, festering food also draws rats. We have enough of those vermin as it is, we don't need to be feeding them. Additionally, as in any "mining" operation, there are what are known as spoils. In the case of "Dumpster Diving", the spoils (torn open bags of garbage) are usually thrown to the street outside the dumpster. This makes it even easier for rats and mice to feed on it.
Another thing that really annoys me about these people. You have no advance warning of their presence. Most will close the sliding panel to prevent those annoying law enforcement types from running them off. They are trespassing and wish not to get caught. I opened my dumpster one morning only to come face to face with some guy gathering up cans. It caught me off guard. I'm not one who enjoys being caught off guard. I can tell you it was not a pretty exchange. I'd run this particular guy off two or three times already. After a short, but heated argument, I called the police. I knew they wouldn't arrive anytime soon, but it did make the asshole leave. Still, it left me fuming. I wanted revenge.
A couple months later I got it in the most unexpected way.
Our dumpster at the time was accessable in two ways. One way was to walk the trash down, go around the corner, and place it in via the side panel. The other way was much more convenient. We had a chute installed on the second floor of the parking garage. Open the door, drop the bag, and into the top of the dumpster it went. Unfortunately because of its design it would occasionally clog at first. As time wore on, occasionally became mostly. Soon, it was clogged completely leading us to toss our bags from the second story of the garage into the open top of the dumpster.
Within a few weeks, I became an expert trash bag marksman. I had to. Cleaning up a busted bag of garbage was not my idea of a fun time.
Oh yeah, revenge.
I was in a hurry one morning. I had some friends over for a Christmas party the night before and I was running late. The bags were full of glass jars, food scraps, and wine bottles from the affair. I was really worried that the bottoms were going to drop out because of the weight. In one well choreographed move I had both bags over the rail and on the way down. I heard them hit follwed by, "Uggggggghhhhhh!!". It was two direct hits on the shoulders/back of the "Diver" I'd had a run in with earlier in the year.
By the way he got out of there, and the pace at which he loped away, I'm pretty sure the injuries were minor at best. I felt a few pangs of guilt, but in the end it really didn't bother me too much. I couldn't have known he was there and he shouldn't have been there in the first place.
It was then I decided that since I couldn't stop the "Dumpster Divers", I could at least improve communications between the residents and those who dive. I'm hoping to get a patent and trademark on this soon:
WAIT FOR IT.........
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
WAIT FOR IT.........
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
WAIT FOR IT.........
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
TAH DAH!!!!!!!!!!
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you:"
During the "Gold Rush" it wasn't the prospectors that got wealthy, it was the folks who sold them the mining equipment who made the vast majority of the money. I'll be selling "safety" to our modern "miners" in the "Aluminum Rush" years.
I'm gonna be RICH!
Air Traffic Mike
He's a bachelor, and in his defense, he WAS quite inebriated at the time.
Another inescapable fact of urban living is that if you have dumpsters, there are those who will avail themselves of all the wonders of the dumpsters contents. Some for food. I can't imagine how hungry or desparate one has to be to eat from one, but I have seen it with my own eyes. Some will take shelter. This too, I've seen. In either of these cases I get aggravated. There are many sources of clean, decent food available. All it takes is some effort on the part of the erstwhile dumpster diner. The same holds true for shelter. There are missions here that provide beds and warmth on cold Winter nights. Again, all it takes is some effort on the part of those in need. Put down the crack pipe, put a cap on the bottle, abide by some basic rules of civility, and you won't have to sleep on the street or in the dumpster.
As gross as it seems, I can still understand the above uses by unauthorized personnel. Both situations seem to be last resort moves by a body trying to keep a poisoned mind alive in spite of itself. I don't appreciate it, but those aren't the things that annoy me most about dumpsters. There is one group of trespassers that really gets under my skin.
"Dumpster Divers".
What's a "Dumpster Diver"? Those are the people who decide it is okay for them to go into your dumpster and tear open every plastic bag they find. What, pray tell, are they seeking? The Holy Grail of refuse. The empty aluminum can.
Now you might be inclined to say, "Air Traffic Mike, at least they are doing something constructive. Recycling is good for the world." While I agree recycling is a good thing, I vehemently disagree in this case. Those open plastic bags and the rotting food draw thousands of flies and roaches. The now exposed, festering food also draws rats. We have enough of those vermin as it is, we don't need to be feeding them. Additionally, as in any "mining" operation, there are what are known as spoils. In the case of "Dumpster Diving", the spoils (torn open bags of garbage) are usually thrown to the street outside the dumpster. This makes it even easier for rats and mice to feed on it.
Another thing that really annoys me about these people. You have no advance warning of their presence. Most will close the sliding panel to prevent those annoying law enforcement types from running them off. They are trespassing and wish not to get caught. I opened my dumpster one morning only to come face to face with some guy gathering up cans. It caught me off guard. I'm not one who enjoys being caught off guard. I can tell you it was not a pretty exchange. I'd run this particular guy off two or three times already. After a short, but heated argument, I called the police. I knew they wouldn't arrive anytime soon, but it did make the asshole leave. Still, it left me fuming. I wanted revenge.
A couple months later I got it in the most unexpected way.
Our dumpster at the time was accessable in two ways. One way was to walk the trash down, go around the corner, and place it in via the side panel. The other way was much more convenient. We had a chute installed on the second floor of the parking garage. Open the door, drop the bag, and into the top of the dumpster it went. Unfortunately because of its design it would occasionally clog at first. As time wore on, occasionally became mostly. Soon, it was clogged completely leading us to toss our bags from the second story of the garage into the open top of the dumpster.
Within a few weeks, I became an expert trash bag marksman. I had to. Cleaning up a busted bag of garbage was not my idea of a fun time.
Oh yeah, revenge.
I was in a hurry one morning. I had some friends over for a Christmas party the night before and I was running late. The bags were full of glass jars, food scraps, and wine bottles from the affair. I was really worried that the bottoms were going to drop out because of the weight. In one well choreographed move I had both bags over the rail and on the way down. I heard them hit follwed by, "Uggggggghhhhhh!!". It was two direct hits on the shoulders/back of the "Diver" I'd had a run in with earlier in the year.
By the way he got out of there, and the pace at which he loped away, I'm pretty sure the injuries were minor at best. I felt a few pangs of guilt, but in the end it really didn't bother me too much. I couldn't have known he was there and he shouldn't have been there in the first place.
It was then I decided that since I couldn't stop the "Dumpster Divers", I could at least improve communications between the residents and those who dive. I'm hoping to get a patent and trademark on this soon:
WAIT FOR IT.........
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
WAIT FOR IT.........
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
WAIT FOR IT.........
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
TAH DAH!!!!!!!!!!
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you:"
During the "Gold Rush" it wasn't the prospectors that got wealthy, it was the folks who sold them the mining equipment who made the vast majority of the money. I'll be selling "safety" to our modern "miners" in the "Aluminum Rush" years.
I'm gonna be RICH!
Air Traffic Mike
Sunday, March 1, 2009
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