I almost believe in teleportation right now. Never in my life, have I had such a short trip.
This email is basically going to be a play-by-play of my Zero Full days in Farmington/New Britain. Some of these stories I told over the weekend, some, I did not. As usual, I didn't take any pictures, so I'll just try to describe things really well.
So, I'm in T.I.A., which again, is the finest airport known to man. I have a bloody mary and some french toast for breakfast, and I even got carded. Plane leaves, yadda yadda, nothing too crazy in thee good ol' T.I.A. (insert picture of me with a thumbs up sign while scarfing down some french toast at Chilis in the airport).
I'm starting to develop this bad habit of having to pee right when I get on the plane. It all started over a year ago when I took a very brief flight from the T.I.A. to the WPB Airport. That particular flight never reaches a cruising altitude and there was no way I was waiting an hour to go pee. So once we were allowed to turn on our electronical devices, I went for it and was scolded by the steward. This time, once I was allowed to use my electronical device, I asked the steward nicely (and yes I feel ripped for not getting a nice stewardess. I always get waiters and stewards, NEVER the esses. I like esses). Ocourse the steward said, no, no, no wait until the cruising altitude. But I REALLY had to pee. Atleast this gave fair warning to the guy in the aisle seat that I would be indeed getting up while he was eating. Naturally, some old lady in the front row, being the rebel she was, just went anyway, which broke the seal and led to me being able to break mine. (insert picture of me and the steward smiling and me with a thumbs up sign after I peed before we reached cruising altitude)
In the Bradley International Airport in Hartford, I used the facilities there too, and naturally some guy walked in and made the new standard, "Nobody better start tapping their foot in here" joke which got a few chuckles. (insert picture of me with the guy who made a really bad foot tapping joke, me with a big thumbs up sign).
Now I had to wait about 2 and a half hours for my bro to arrive, so I waited in the Sheraton Inn's "lounge" and basically drank some good yankee beer (Magic Hat No. 9), and watched two hours of "OJ" coverage. If you're stuck in an airport on a weekday afternoon, you really can't get much better than an "OJ" incident. Granted it was 2 hours of FoxNews saying, "We'll have a press conference shortly" (a conference that never came while I was there), but it was a still decent entertainment. (insert picture of a full glass of Magic Hat No. 9 Beer with a smiling but surly middle-aged female bartender).
My bro came and we started our drive from Windsor Locks to Farmington. While I was politely buzzed, my bro was VERY thirsty for a testy beverage, and hungry for some food. We take all these backroads on this drive, so we ended up stopping at Bishop's Corner for McDonalds. (I now get Bishop's Corner and Corbin's Corner confused, which means something if you've ever lived in West Hartford). While he went inside the non-drive thru Mickey D's (and didn't get a McLobster), I went in the package store and bought a sixer of Long Trail Ale, and Harpoon Octoberfest for the Hotel Room. (insert picture of me smiling with a sixer in each hand).
We got to our hotel (which was awful) in Farmington, knocked down a couple beers, and proceeded to my grandfather's wake. Everyone was in great spirits, there wasn't much crying at all. The pictures my Aunt Carol found were tremendous. One was of my grandpa's old polka band and even then, he had the "I'm a serious musician" glare going when his photo was taken. There's nothing quite as funny as the "I'm a serious musician" glare. The hardest part of that evening was after the priest said his part, he had his own moment of losing a man that had attended his chuch for many decades. You could tell the priest was devastated, and it was sad to see. (insert picture of me with devastated priest giving a more reserved thumb's up sign)
Afterwards, the family convened at my grandparents house, and we discussed memories, and baby names for my bro's other twin (the first one is Casey James Taylor, and Chachi didn't go over well to my disappointment). The highlight here was one of my cousin's boyfriends, who's a senior in college, asked me if the drinking age was 18 in my day. F'ing punk. Naturally, I had a snappy comeback which I can't remember and our whole family laughed at him before they proceeded to make "walker" jokes in my direction. It was fun. (insert in-action shot of me beating the snot out of some punk college know-it-all) The night ended with the Yanks rallying from 7-2 in the 8th inning and beating the Sox 8-7.
The next morning, my brother-in-law brought Jim and I donuts, and we went to the Church, which is really a beautiful one, in New Britain for the services. Unfortunately, there was construction nearby so I could barely hear what he was saying. I didn't take my communion wafer because well, I wasn't really in the mood to eat paper, but I did spread peace to everyone sitting next to me by saying, "Peace be with you". It's good that I did, because if I hadn't said that, my intentions on everyone would've been diabolic criminal intentions of death and destruction. (insert picture of me wishing death and destruction of all man-kind with two thumbs up and slanty eye-brow's here and maniacal laughter)
We buried my grandfather afterwards, my cousins speeches were wonderful, made me tear up a little. Next we went to the reception which was just awful. It was awful at my grandma's too, so atleast we knew it would be awful this time, but the food was gross (as polish food generally is), and there wasn't even non-generic soda. The banquet must have cost 50 dollars for everything, I swear. The highlight was my bro kept encouraging me to try to "bang" my grandpa's polish speaking care-taker in the bathroom because "women at funerals are really horny." (insert picture of me eating dark meat only chicken with a sad panda face and a TREMENDOUS thumbs down).
Then we convened back at my grandparents once again, a house I will never go to again. It's funny, I've spent so many times there in a state of "always wanting to leave" and sure I was excited to leave once again, but it was so easy, sitting there thinking, "wow, i'm never going to be sitting here uncomfortably again" I walked around their yard for last looks in the soft New England grass. The weather, though a bit dreary, was phenomenal, best described as brisk. I really have to get up there when it's cold so I can remember why I hate the weather there so much. The last few times I've been to New England, it's just so beautiful and the weather is soooooooo nice. (insert picture of me making a "snow" angel in the soft New England grass).
My bro and I said our goodbyes and made it back to the airport early. The bar in the terminal was effing closing at 5:30 or some shit, so we could only have one quick drink there. His flight got delayed so we went back to the Sheraton bar, and he knocked back another double jack and coke. This got fun, because he started checking out all the women and saying thing's like, "Zach, you should be hitting that" in one way or another, and seemed generally disappointed that I wasn't hitting on every woman that came within 15 feet of us. This was classic. My flight left at 6:45 and his was supposed to leave at 6:20 but got delayed until about the same time as mine. When we got back to the terminal, my plane was there and everyone was lined up. My bro and I went to his, and still no plane. "Where's you plane Jim?" I provoked him numerous times. He asked the lady, and she said it should be there any minute. "But it's still not there, is it Jim? My plane's right there. ... oh wait, my line's moving, I gotta go. Hope you're not here until midnight buddy." (insert picture of my brother, a little drunk with a sad "my plane's not here yet" face)
My flight back was arguably the best flight ever. Great tunes coming from my ipod, window seat, with ROW 3 all to myself. A sunset, and a sliver of a moon afterwards. I started thinking, watching all the small cities lit up with their street lights,
At night, we look up into the sky, and see all the wonderful constellations the stars make.
But from up here, looking down on the earth, all these cities are like the constellations man.
Eventually, I got a great view of downtown Tampa from the plane. I saw Davis Island and sort of my apartment and waved. (I didn't really wave). And we pulled a u-ey around MacDill Air Force Base. That was great to see, all the fighter jets lined up, ready for a Mexican Invasion, or atleast the next day's air show. However, I was a bit scared my "Wanted Level" was going to go to 5 Stars and heat seeking missiles would be fired at our plane. We landed, and that was that, I was back in Tampa, in all it's glory (insert picture of elated Zach heading to Mons Venus).
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