Home > My Everyday Life > Nork to Phx (27July2010)

Nork to Phx (27July2010)

beautiful Nork at dusk

Most jersey people, really dirty jersey folks, call Newark “Nork.” I am not sure if this is due to the lack of education in Jersey or if it’s just out of laziness, but that’s wh its written like that. Phx is short for Phoenix, one of my favorite places in the U.S. Hot as shit because the pavement holds the heat all night long, but in the heat of the night, this place is a true “hotbed” for everything a person could want to get into. On to the flight from hell…

Boarded no problem from the attendants as I rolled through with my longboard in tow. Found 19f, a luscious window seat just aft of the wing of our Airbus. I actually have 19f as a seat for every single flight on this trip except 1 of 28,000 in a lifetimefor the last return flight from Vegas. I just thought it would be funny to have the same seat all the way through, but this was as close as I could get it to work out. I met both of my single serving friends (Fight Club reference), a woman in her late 30s with a daughter and an early 20s Swedish kid traveling with his mom who asked if she could have my window seat, luscious 19f, in exchange for a middle seat between a business man who ended up drinking the whole flight and an attractive college student. Sorry Swedish mom, you keep your middle seat because 5 hours is too long for me to stay awake and I was planning on knocking out some sleepies. It’s never a good thing to pop off a couple snorts and snore with an attractive coed on your right, so I would rather be 4 seats away and pop off (insert wild west gun fire in here…poppa, pop, pop!). I never truly introduce myself to single servings because I know that when I rack out for the flight I will be doing any and/or all of the following items: (all of these have been verified by friends I have flown with or by

off the the left coast

me waking up to these instances described below.)

1) Snoring – normal occurrence for this dude. Anyone that’s ever roomed with me knows this is for reals. Vegas odds on this happening 1:3

2) Drooling – dribbling down my chin isn’t typical, but I have woken up in a pool of my own drool in high school English class and literally needed a paper towel to clean it up. Mr Ritchick thought it would be funny to let me sleep and cause the Katrina of drool-fests. Odds 1:6

3) Mouth breathing – Odds 1:1 this is going down. I have a deviated septum according to the military and have a really hard time breathing through my nose on most occasions. Here’s what it looks like: a pose that can be best described as neck cocked in an awkward position, mouth agape, lips and tongue chapped and a slight wheezing in my breath. Every woman I have ever had sleep over, I have prefaced with the phrase “I don’t sleep pretty.” They giggle and find out several hours later that this was no

the arm of evil

witty self-deprecating joke, its fact. I wake up many time looking like Tyrone Bigsby with my chappy lips and white dried up drool on ma fach. How I ever keep a woman around is beyond me. Hell after this post, Ill be lucky to ever find another lady to hang around.

4) Sleeping with one eye open – for years friends, family and strangers have noticed this phenomenon. Mom pointed it out first many years back. She said it’s because I never wanted to miss anything. Cute, but not true, it’s a genetic screw up, thanks. Ryan reminded me of it in elementary school, Kevin confirmed it again in middle and high school, and my DLI crew saw this the first day they met me when I passed out on the bus to our first technical school. (They actually took a picture of this horrible pose, the one described earlier, and have kept it between the 4 of them for the past 9 years, never letting me see it once. Funny guys, funny) I am not sure why this is the way it is, but I sleep with one eye cracked open. It is both a curse and a blessing. A curse because when a girlfriend sees this

a glimpse of evil

for the first time it is usually a crazy conversation about why I don’t get it fixed (thanks to all of you for bringing this flaw up to me. I never hit you up about farting or talking in your sleep, I wont name names). A blessing, I barely ever got pranks played on me because people thought I was fake sleeping. Only been written on once and I can’t really remember too many other pranks that succeeded. Odds 3:2

5) Leaning on peeps next to me – I was taking a flight back from Tucson to MD once and had a tiny little Asian man with glasses sitting next to me. I was in the middle seat and had nowhere to place my head. I fought sleep off for a while and finally crashed face down on the tray table in front of me until the person leaned their seat back and I jumped awake. Scared the little asian man once. Fell right back to sleep and woke up with a snort/ugghhh combo to see the little asian man trying to fight me off of him, saying “you no lean on me. Been several minutes already.” I can only

the profile of evil

imagine how long I actually leaned on this poor dude and he just endured a strangers head on his shoulders. Thank you little asian man with glasses for giving me a shoulder to rest my weary head on. I owe you a debt of gratitude that can never be paid. Odds are 1:20

6) Twitch – I think that everyone does this just as they are drifting into Z-town. You know what I mean, that little jolt, spasm, twitch that signifies that you are almost faded from this world. Odds are 1:5

Any and/or all of these things happen on EACH flight so I don’t introduce myself to anyone on the plane within 5 rows. I just want to stay that random weird sleeping dude. It’s hard to keep friends after sleeping like that so why spoil it for them and me?

Still sitting in luscious 19f, I find out that I have a young lady behind me about the age of 5. An inquisitive little tike asking a thousand questions a minute even before take off. Oh, and her legs are just long enough to push on the seat to scoot herself back up or to tap tunes as she hums. Joyous day. “Mommy you wanna color this with me. I love to color the bear, she is so colorful isn’t she mommy? Can you color this with me? Can I have a soda?” Insert the raising and slamming down of the window shades for several minutes, then sprinkle in some scratching of a pen on the tray table while kicking the seat in front of her, luscious 19f, with her off tune singing of some shitty Wiggles song. “Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, Mahmmy, MAHMMY, MOM!!”

I had tried to ignore this all and put on my headphones but remembered that there is a pebble of sand strategically placed inside of the headphone jack of my iPhone. No music from that so I try to just get back into dream world without any aid. I make it in and I am out for about 30 minutes at the beginning of the flight, then the kicking of the seat starts up again. I can only imagine what she looks like. I didn’t see her get on, only heard her asking a billion questions about scribbling some crappy crayon strokes, all outside the lines inevitably because lets face it she can’t be the next Picasso, and who colors a bear blue anyway!? Bears aren’t blue you little twerp! They are brown, black, or white if you are the island of ‘LOST’ and they aren’t nice like in the cartoons honey. They chase down their prey at 30 miles an hour, climb trees, swim and if they flew, they would be natures most terrifying predator. They maul children and campers, eat salmon, hibernate, and roar! That’s the type shit bears get into, not cuddling or eating pourage.

Mom asks if she wants a nap and she obliges. This is my time to shine. Sorry neighbors in my row and the rows surrounding me but I gotta get back into sleep because I only got 2.5 last night with all the family drama going on. Snore, snort, drool, lean, twitch, and sleep. 40 minutes later, a swift kick to the tail bone jumps me out of sleep and I happen to jolt awake enough that coloring mom scolds her little devil spawn for kicking the seat, luscious 19f. I am tempted to turn around and tell her mom to keep her f@ck!n& kid in check but had the entire following scene flash through my head. Amazing how fast my brain spirals out of this world and into the next.

I lean over seat and let out a barrage of expletives causing a scene on the plane. Coloring mom is shocked and becomes scared, shielding the tiny horned menace with her arms. The man sitting next to her tries to calm me down and I mush his face, telling him to “mind his business.”. From behind I feel an arm wrap around my neck and someone yell, “US Sky Marshall!” Great, now Im going to jail once we are on the ground and X Games becomes only a “what could have been opportunity.” The devil’s seed grins as I am dragged away in plastic tie handcuffs.

All this in literally the millisecond that it took me to jolt awake from a Bruce lee donkey kick to the butthole. I calmed myself and decided to look out the window. Insert more window shade raising and slamming so I decide to try to capture a glimpse of rosemary’s daughter. Here are the 4 pics I could get of the beast. She is as elusive as Bigfoot or Nessie the Loch Ness monster. A little blurry and grainy from it being a secret photo, but you can almost see the red glow of her evilness.

Now she’s whining and we are almost into phoenix. Her pointy ears hurt from the altitude pressure building inside. I thought that Satan’s kin would be immune to such pain since he is the one that invented pain and retribution. I threw up my voice recorder on the old iPhone and might have also caught some sounds bites of her shrill, screechy voice. Ill try to chop and cut the bites so they are suitable for submission here. 20 minutes of her whining and we finally land safely, probably much to her dismay.

We pull in to park, she pulls off the restraint designed to hold her evil at bay and her full potential is finally unleashed. She bounces off the walls, my seat and finally my head. I caught a swift elbow to the back of the head landing like a Chuck Norris roundhouse kick. Coloring mom yells at her in a whisper to say she is sorry. She peers her beedy little soulless eyes over the seat and says the following and I quote. “Sa-sorry for bumping your seat…..but, YOU put your seat into my play space.” Coloring mom says “that is no way to apologize to him.” Devil-daughter responds with “So!” and continues to wreak havoc on the surrounding passengers.

She finally disembarks the plane and it seems to get cooler inside. The evil has gone.

I’m the last one off the plane, as usual, because people get pissy if you are the kid with the skateboard. I would rather just wait for the cluster F to subside. Out of the plane and into my “home” airport of Phoenix. I miss this place every time I land here. Wish I had a day to hang in Tucson with the crew, but I gotta handle some bidness in LA.

Categories: My Everyday Life
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