Adventures in South Asscratch
Up front, an apology to my regular readers who have come to rely on their daily fix of my brilliant screed. My failure to bang away online for the blog traces back directly to my trip back to Fort Campbell…
You might recall – in fact, it’s right down there… just scroll… the one before the last one here – I described my lovely smoking room and the busloads of teen girls. Let me summarize briefly here (in the doubtful case you just want the bottom line up front) that the trip just did not get any better.
The cause of my pause (hmm, I rhymed right there… cool) was the hotel internet. I could connect to their free wifi but no internet was available. I complained, and every day the system would be fixed in the morning. Obviously not, and I left yesterday with it still broken. Normally this wouldn’t disturb me a lot, as there are usually two or three other wifi nodes active in a hotel area that can be used. Unless you are in South Asscratch, Kentucky, that is.
Of course, this is the point at which my Army email burped because I had not emptied out my server inbox… (note to self: great rant topic for later). I did this on the laptop but just needed to get online for the Exchange Server to update. No dice. So I was stuck with important Army traffic in my inbox but I could not send or reply, relegated to monitoring traffic on my BlackBerry.
To make the situation even more delicious, the two girls’ teams apparently continued to do well enough in the tournament to have to stay through the week. So win or lose, it was an early-evening routine of caffienated, female teens scurrying up and down stairs and slamming doors, and their younger siblings running amok like heathen barbarians in Rome. The parental units of course sat by the pool getting mildly sedated.
As if that wasn’t enough, I got to experience the joy of someone checking in with a separation-anxiety problem dog. I never saw the dog or the owner, but I heard the damn little f***er yapping constantly in a high-pitched dog-yap metronome that counted seconds away while the stupid animal’s owner was not in the room. I imagined the owner as a leviathan woman in a muumuu and orthopedic shoes.
I am home now, thank God, after a near-miss on a connection that had me sprinting – literally – across half the Atlanta airport in combat boots with my 50lb backpack so I could claim my middle-seat.
But as I said, I’m home.