As some of you may have noticed, there was no post yesterday. That is because when I got up, all of us on the Colossus network had had our accounts suspended because someone failed to pay the bill, yet again. I was going to post something last night, just to let you know I made it to Philly safely, but it was so late that I figured I’d just save it for this morning. So here it is. We are in Philly. I made it here safely, except for a brief run in with a giant rabbit.

But first, Monday happened. I spent the good part of my Monday wandering around aimlessly. I got the order forms and price lists updated and copied at FedEx Office. I made a list of glazes for Taco Planet to make while we are gone. I ate some pizza. I spent the rest of my work day trying to get access to Le Duke’s YouTube page for to upload his first music video. The video was shot and edited by our friend Seasaw Shawn. Be sure to tell Le Duke Mazel Tov! on his first music video. Anyway, if you haven’t seen it yet, here it is:

What’s up with his socks? Anyways, I think that went pretty well.

So, after dealing with getting usernames and passwords, uploading, and the subsequent sharing with the Facebook, it was time for me head home and deal with the final packing, risotto making, and Battleship playing. Ah, Battleship by candle light. That is what Pancake Land and I consider a romantic evening. Just wait until we get Guess Who. Oh, hello sexy lady. Grrrarrrrr…

So, that was my St. V’s Day.

I conked out early so I could get up early and make a post before I had to leave for the airport. Ha ha ha. The joke was on me. And boy was it ever. I got up to discover that I forgot to pick up coffee filters at the store on Sunday. Thus rendering me without a cup of coffee. This is before I discovered the suspended accounts. Luckily, I live across the street from a gas station that has decent coffee, so I went over and got a cup into order to function like a normal human being. Then, the accounts, then I gave up and started reading Harry Potter. Then off to the airport, where the fun began.

You see, Le Duke buys Scotch in these giant plastic Econo-sized jugs. But instead of dealing with the weight issues caused by a jug-o-whiskey, he had decided to pour some Scotch into a more travel friendly container, an empty salad dressing bottle. When he first handed it to me, I wish I could have photographed the look on my face. I’m sure it was one of total bewilderment/disbelief/resignation. Needless to say, I wasn’t about to put a salad dressing bottle full of Scotch into my bag without first putting it into a zippy bag. It is bad enough that the airlines are going to think it is mine, but I don’t want it leaking all over the place, i.e. my clothes, and thus making me smell like an alcoholic all week. And boy did the airlines think it was mine.

We got to the airport, checked in, got our boarding passes, handed our checked bag to TSA, sat down to wait for the security check to open, and Le Duke had to go take a shit. He’s gone 30 seconds and they call my name requesting I return to the check-in counter. So, I wrangle up all of our stuff, and head to the counter who then redirects me to TSA. I approach the uniformed lady with my suitcase in front of her.

“Hello sir. It this your suitcase?”

“Yes, mam it is.”

She flips the already unzipped flap open and points at the gallon zippy bag laying perfectly centered on top of everything. I think to myself that I can’t take Le Duke anywhere.

“What’s this?”

I roll my eyes and sigh.

“That’s Scotch?”

“It’s what?”

“Scotch. Whiskey.”

“Why is it in this bottle?”

sigh… “Because my boss buys giant plastic jugs-o-Scotch and he did not want to bring the whole bottle to cut down on weight in the suitcase.”

“Did you know that you are not allowed to pack alcohol or any other liquids in containers without the original labels on them?”

I, being a smart ass think to myself that if I had known that, why would I have allowed Le Duke to fill a salad dressing bottle with liquor, that I would responsible for when it came to TSA screenings, but said instead, “No, mam.”

At this point, I noticed that the zippy bag had a fine coating of Scotch covering the inside of the bag. Good show me on the zippy bag. Then they, because there are three of them at this point, decided that they needed to open the bag and find out for themselves if I was telling the truth. Picture in your mind, if you will, a woman in a TSA uniform, flanked on either side by two other women in uniforms, all of them looking at a gallon zippy bag, coated finely on the inside by what looks like urine that has leaked from this salad dressing bottle. Then they open the bag and the entire airport begins to reek of whiskey. They then complained that they would be smelling like that all day, swabbed it to make sure it wasn’t some volatile chemicals, and then let us take it with us, warning us that next time we should not bring it.

Due to the “random screening” process that has nothing to do with my shitty beard, olive skin, or the fact that I had already been suspected of carrying potentially dangerous items onto the plane, my backpack got a thorough searching when I got to security. They ended up running it through the scanner three times. The last time they ran it, they removed all of the “electronic items” and scanned them separately. It was silly. Needless to say, they didn’t find anything and they sent me on my way. After that, it was all relatively smooth sailing. The only hitch we had on the way up was a light on a control panel went out and we had to switch to a different plane, delaying us about half an hour. Overall, compared to other delays we have experienced, it was nothing.

Then we got here, got to the hotel (which I am not impressed with) and met up with Wildgoose Johnny for dinner at Monk’s. Then we came back to the hotel, unpacked (to my dismay, I discovered that the zippy bag wasn’t sealed well by our loving TSA ladies and some of my clothes and books reek of whiskey), then I finished Prisoner of Azkaban and hit the sack. That gets us up to now.

The “Continental Breakfast” sucks here. I hadn’t planned on it being Shoney’s or anything, but I at least expected the coffee to not taste like burned cardboard. I returned to the room sans coffee in order to make some, hopefully, decent coffee in our coffee pot. Alas, no. It tasted just the same. So, I am going to stop typing now and go to Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee and donut holes. Wish me luck. More soon. ~SC