The desire to see Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers in concert last summer outweighed the urge to remain at home and not drive 45 minutes north to Baltimore, Maryland on a hot and steamy, Sunday afternoon.
Running with people is the worst form of socialization there is. Let’s get one thing straight, right away. What I do isn’t even considered running. It’s more like stumbling forward while internally sobbing; my heart begging my legs to cease and desist. Continue reading “Running-ish”
The other day, at a three-way intersection, my car approached the stop sign at the same time as someone headed in the opposite direction. The other driver motioned for me to proceed, and I motioned for him to do the same. He smiled and firmly waved his hand. I did the same. Slightly amused and slightly annoyed at the standoff, I rolled down my window and yelled, “After you!” He acknowledged and headed down the road toward the rest of his life. Continue reading “Stopped”
Sitting in the exit row of a plane is something I take very seriously. As a relatively frequent flyer, I jump at the chance to bear responsibility for the lives of other travelers who are too wimpy to take on this burden themselves. In fact, most of these ingrates on the plane aren’t even aware of the sacrifice I am willing to make for them. They just sit back in their reclined positions, playing Sudoku and drinking Scotch, while I listen to the special instructions afforded to us as exit row specialists, also known as ERSs (a term I coined). Continue reading “Life as an ERS (Exit Row Specialist)”