what's grosser than gross?
last night a bird flew into my apartment.
will and kelly and i were all sitting in the TV room looking through old videos. this apartment is absolutely tropical in the winter, heat pipes and radiators a-blazin'. to keep it liveable, we cracked the window open a little for a burst of the frigid outdoor winds. apparently, we cracked it open too much.
it was surreal. he was little. he was not a pigeon, nor was he a sparrow (or whatever those little brown "regular" birds are). he was black and round and had a long thin sharp beak. he didn't fly around, even when approached. he must have been hurt. or just determined to stay inside.
so i'm flipping out and i'm on hold with 311 (in a mad rush to get nyc animal control over at 9pm to remove our uninvited guest) while kelly is steering will, who has ingeniously grabbed a blanket my grandmother made (apparently intending to suffocate the poor fucker) to nudge the little vermin back out from whence it came. will thought better of the blanket and instead chose a dirty dishtowel, which we later discarded.
all the while the kitties could not figure out the wave of instinct that washed over them and remained mainly still.
all in all, i think the whole ordeal lasted under three minutes, but it seemed like ages. birds should not be indoors. period. i never understand why people take them as pets.
like i need something else in my apartment that doesn't pay rent... sheesh!
Wednesday, March 9, 2005
Friday, March 4, 2005
Continental Airlines-- Absent Minded Professors of the Not So Friendly Skies
So Will and I went to Oaxaca Mexico for Matt and Fany's wedding last weekend. All in all it was a beautiful and fun-filled weekend extravaganza... only snag is that my bag didn't arrive when I did and it decided to extend it's vacation four days beyond mine, all courtesy of the doofuses at Continental Airlines.
Ok, I understand that every suitcase can't make it on time to every destination. Fine. And having my bag not show up in Oaxaca gave me the perfect opportunity to practice my Spanish (which I knew more of than I expected...) We were staying at a charming little hotel in town and, although it got a little warm wearing jeans and a sweater in the noontime blazing sun, it wasn't so bad getting my suitcase the next afternoon.
My frustration subsided as the festivites got underway. When a whole town gathers in honor of your friends' wedding, it's pretty hard to stay upset over a little delay in luggage. The return trip, however, proved to me that Continental Airlines has put a ton of money into a hip new ad campaign, but not a dime into customer-employee communication training.
We landed in Newark surprisingly early, especially considering that most of the Northeast was attacked by a blizzard while we were traipsing around on Tequila. Sounds like a boon, no? Get home a little early, unwind from vacation... sounded good to me. That is, until the Captain got on the mic and told us that another aircraft was in our gate and we weren't going to be able to "deplane" (i HATE that word for some reason) for at least 30 minutes.
Ok... I'm tapping my fingers on my armrest and my temper is shortwiring, but I figure it's just going to be over before I knew it. It got a little more trying when the flight attendent flipped out on this guy who tried to get up to pee, screaming that the Captain had not turned off the fasten seatbelt sign!!! I thought that was just a little bit odd, but whatever-- it was almost over. Then Captain Asshole takes hold of the Airwaves one more time and tells us that on top of the 30 minutes we've already been waiting, we're going to now have to wait another 30-45 minutes.
I'm sure you can see where this is headed.
I push my signal button to get the attention of Stewardess Ratchett. She comes over and I suggest that maybe the Captain find another gate for us to pull into. I mean, come on. We were slated to roll into #139. Are you seriously trying to tell me that there isn't one empty gate in the whole of Newark Liberty International? She talks to me like I'm four, asking me if I heard what the captain just said. I can hear the internal monologue of the woman next to me. She's cheering me on in silence for fear of the wrath of the polyester-clad waitress in the sky.
And then my bag didn't show up. Grrrrr. The line at Continental Baggage Services was out the door. Now that place is, in fact, the angriest place on earth. I figure, though, that I'd been through it before and my bag would be delivered to me sometime around midday Tuesday. It is now Friday night and Will just said that they guy is ringing his buzzer with my suitcase. Four days late.
Continental Airlines, I shake an angry, angry fist at you.
Ok, I understand that every suitcase can't make it on time to every destination. Fine. And having my bag not show up in Oaxaca gave me the perfect opportunity to practice my Spanish (which I knew more of than I expected...) We were staying at a charming little hotel in town and, although it got a little warm wearing jeans and a sweater in the noontime blazing sun, it wasn't so bad getting my suitcase the next afternoon.
My frustration subsided as the festivites got underway. When a whole town gathers in honor of your friends' wedding, it's pretty hard to stay upset over a little delay in luggage. The return trip, however, proved to me that Continental Airlines has put a ton of money into a hip new ad campaign, but not a dime into customer-employee communication training.
We landed in Newark surprisingly early, especially considering that most of the Northeast was attacked by a blizzard while we were traipsing around on Tequila. Sounds like a boon, no? Get home a little early, unwind from vacation... sounded good to me. That is, until the Captain got on the mic and told us that another aircraft was in our gate and we weren't going to be able to "deplane" (i HATE that word for some reason) for at least 30 minutes.
Ok... I'm tapping my fingers on my armrest and my temper is shortwiring, but I figure it's just going to be over before I knew it. It got a little more trying when the flight attendent flipped out on this guy who tried to get up to pee, screaming that the Captain had not turned off the fasten seatbelt sign!!! I thought that was just a little bit odd, but whatever-- it was almost over. Then Captain Asshole takes hold of the Airwaves one more time and tells us that on top of the 30 minutes we've already been waiting, we're going to now have to wait another 30-45 minutes.
I'm sure you can see where this is headed.
I push my signal button to get the attention of Stewardess Ratchett. She comes over and I suggest that maybe the Captain find another gate for us to pull into. I mean, come on. We were slated to roll into #139. Are you seriously trying to tell me that there isn't one empty gate in the whole of Newark Liberty International? She talks to me like I'm four, asking me if I heard what the captain just said. I can hear the internal monologue of the woman next to me. She's cheering me on in silence for fear of the wrath of the polyester-clad waitress in the sky.
And then my bag didn't show up. Grrrrr. The line at Continental Baggage Services was out the door. Now that place is, in fact, the angriest place on earth. I figure, though, that I'd been through it before and my bag would be delivered to me sometime around midday Tuesday. It is now Friday night and Will just said that they guy is ringing his buzzer with my suitcase. Four days late.
Continental Airlines, I shake an angry, angry fist at you.
