Sunday, May 11, 2008

jfk > burbank

By Pauly
Hollyweird, CA

I woke up early still giddy from the record-setting day at Coventry. I checked traffic first thing in the morning and we were still on fire and of to an extremely great start for a Saturday. There was a very good chance that it could outgun Tao of Poker for a second straight day (which it did).

Over the last week, the Joker and BTreotch hand been following Radiohead and caught four shows in three states. The Joker live blogged the setlists and hilarious commentary from the shows via his crackberry. He wrote some gems including...
I gave a high five to the kid playing YEM and a kid with a clemson plate is puking off the bed of his 4 door diesel dodge pickup while his girlfriend waits to drive out of the lot...

in our observation, the girls wearing black dresses with sleeve tattoos at radiohead shows are usually pretty hot, but not very talkative or warm and friendly...

We pass up a face value 14th row seat from a pregnant girl. Lots of pregnant girls at radiohead shows for some reason. We have seen 5...

Weather looks threatening. Ticket scalper with baby stroller is shaken down by cops...

Strawberry Shortcake is going through her crystal/stone bag to give a guy something to hold to change his energy, cause he is mad about something...
That stuff was gold! for sure. I'm not a crackberry kinda guy, but I'll do my best to update the setlist(s) on Twitter for tonight's concert at the Greek Theatre. Nicky and I are seeing Grace Potter and the Nocturnals and Phil Lesh and Friends show on Twitter.

Anyway... I wrote for a bit on Saturday morning before I went to the Greek diner for the last bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich that I'd have for a while. I'm gonna quit bacon cold turkey for the rest of the month.

I packed 95% of my gear on Friday and finished up the process in less than two minutes. The car service showed up early and my driver was the Big Pussy look-a-like. He had not driven me in a while and was in a a jovial and chatty mood. He drove super fast and dropped an f-bomb on every fourth word.

Big Pussy loved to talk about sports betting. He said that he used to be a bookie many moons ago. He also boasted about "a great fuckin' system" for winning at baseball. He couldn't stop talking about the big bet he hit early in the week when he nailed back-to-back four-team parlays in the MLB for almost four grand.

He handed me a copy of the NY Post. He asked me to turn to the sports section where he scribbled down his picks for Saturday's games. Several teams were circled and a couple of team names were written down in the margin... Yankees, Mets (in first game of their doubleheader), Cardinals, and the Phillies. I told him that I didn't like the Cardinals or the Phillies... but I liked the Cubs and Red Sox with both New York teams instead. That's when he said he was going to bet both... his way and my way. (By the way, I would have won my end of the four-team parlay and he lost his end!)

Somewhere in Queens, Big Pussy clued me in on how certain umps in baseball and refs in the NBA and NFL are on the take and helped fixed games. He bragged about how his crew had a couple of college hoops refs in their pocket during the early 1990s. Most of them worked the lesser know leagues like the MAAC and Patriot League.

"It was so fuckin' easy to get to the fuckin' refs because they suckin' didn't make a lot of fuckin' money and some of those greedy motherfuckers all had fuckin' gambling habits."

Big Pussy told me about one game involving Rutgers and "Fuckin' Delaware State Community College by the Fuckin' Sea" where they made a killing on the game. Their guy on the inside kept Rutgers' two best players off the court with several ticky-tack fouls. They got bench by their coach when they got in foul trouble. Rutgers won by only a few points, but they didn't cover which was the most important thing since Big Pussy and his crew had all bet against Rutgers.

Of course, he could have been lying to me or re-telling a story that he overheard and he inserted himself into the hero roll. I'm too lazy to sort through every single game that Rutgers played in the 1990s so his story is unconfirmed. It didn't matter... I believed him because tons of games are fixed. I just wonder how many games that people trued to fix... but failed?

There was light traffic on the roads for a Saturday and it only took us 25 minutes to drive JFK airport. There was a super long line at security and at one point it didn't move for ten minutes. Some fat guy wearing a TSA vest and sporting a bad combover was barking at everyone in line.

"The line is not moving because people are carrying liquids through the x-ray machines. Remove all liquids immediately!"

I had an hour to kill before my flight so I grabbed a couple of Cliff bars and called BG. We caught up for a bit before I went to find my gate... which ended up being in the temporary terminal and you have to take a shuttle bus to get there. I got caught up waiting for a bus and stood behind a woman with two screaming kids. She wore Chanel sunglasses and had a super expensive hand bag. She had a nanny... a smoking hot Russian chick. I spotted a back tattoo when she bent over to pick up something that the kid in the stroller tossed. I prayed that they were not going to be on my flight.

As I stood in front of the gate, the Chanel woman and her Russian nanny and two screaming kids rolled up. I overheard the mother say, "If you be quiet we'll have ice cream on the plane."

That's when the kid began incessantly screaming about ice cream.

"Where's my ice cream!"
"I want ice cream!"
"Mommy! Where's my ice cream!"

The mother fucked up big time. What was she going to do when the kid got on the plane and realized their was no ice cream?

I must have had some bad plane karma because the rambunctious ones were seated in the row in front of me. They got on the plane first during pre-boarding and almost ten minutes passed before the time my rows were called. They were still getting settled into their seats. The oldest child (about five) was sitting in the aisle and wouldn't get up. I glimpsed at one of the flight attendants. She had her hands in her face and looked like she was about to cry. My guess was that she spent the last five minutes trying to help them get settled in and it didn't work. The kid from hell began throwing things before the nanny shoved her in the row to let everyone else pass by.

I sent a text, "cryin baby in front keeps askin 4 icecream. does pfizer make chewable valium?" Then I called Nicky to tell her about my impending anguish. She said she could hear the kid screaming on the other end.

I popped a Xanax and for the next six hours, that kid terrorized plane. If we had an air marshall, he would have shot her before we left JFK. She was a bad seed and would get her sister all jacked up and the result? She would start crying. The mother did nothing to quell the mutiny except to occasionally bark out an idle threat every fifteen minutes. The hot Russian nanny with the back tattoo had her hands full and she was doing a horrible job. I started to think that the nanny was only hired as a fuck toy for the husband, because she had no idea how to handle the kids.

Since there was bad weather in the midwest and south, the flight was a little longer than normal. Our flight pattern took us up to Canada and over the Great Lakes before flying southwest towards Los Angeles. Somewhere over Nebraska, the kid from hell ran up and down the aisles doing gymnastics and used the arm rests. I had the aisle seat and she wouldn't leave mine alone. That's when I complained.

The little hell cat tilted the entire back of the plane. I had never seen so many adults that angry. I'm surprised someone didn't snap and lock the kid in the bathroom.

Then it go ugly. One female New Yorker in her 40s finally lost it and confronted the mother. She said something to the effect of, "I have two kids and know that they can be a handful but your kids have not shut up for three straight hours. You're a terrible mother and ruined the flight for everyone on the plane."

I thought the two were going to have a slap fight in the aisle in front of me. The flight attendant stepped in and gave the mother a stern warning. She told the mother to calm the kids down immediately otherwise the mother will get thrown in jail for not controlling her child's air rage and law enforcement officials will be waiting for her as soon as she got off the plane in Burbank. At that point, the mother switched seats with the nanny and sat in between her children.

The other lowlight of the flight was discovering that there was no more BBC America on the channel roster. It was replaced by CW. I watched ESPNews which had breaking news about the NY Knicks new coach... Mike D'Antoni. Isiah is gone. All we need to do is get rid of Marbury and maybe the Knicks can start doing something.

I watched the Yankees game and they won. I also watched a bit of the NBA playoffs for the rest of the flight. We were ten minutes late to Burbank. I always forget how sunny California until I leave step outside the airport and have that moment of temporary blindness as my eyes fight to adjust to the sudden influx of sunlight.

Nicky picked me up at airport and was actually on time. It was only 5pm local time but my body's clock read 8pm and I had not eaten in almost 12 hours. We went to Mo's since it was very close by and on the way home. They specialize in burgers and I went for the bleu cheese burger with caramelized onions.

As drove back over the hills down Laurel Canyon, we listened to Radiohead. A slew of fire trucks and ambulances raced by us as we waited for a light at Sunset Blvd. That's when Nicky noticed a huge fire in Hollywood hills.

I wanted to go see Stanton Moore play at The Mint, which was located five blocks away from Nicky's apartment. We motivated around 10:30pm and walked over to the club but it was sold out! We walked back home and watched My Morning Jacket on SNL instead.

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