Of delayed flights and angry squirrels

4 March 2012

506

R. Linda:

I have been travelling I have, reporting from afar on the Romney presidential campaign. Southwest be me airline and there I was changing over to a connecting flight home when the weather cancelled me flight and the one I was on, routed me to the Las Vegas airport. Seems the tornadoes in the southeast were the cause of me having to divert to Vegas. I had me carry on, me luggage was being held for the flight out the next day (IF the weather was good), and I got a deal at the Bellagio where the hotel room was above the fountains. Well, the fountains are wonderful to watch, but on the weekend they run 24/7. I did not know this, thus the good deal. I had come in and the fountains had just gone off. I had got meself ready for bed and just as I closed me eyes, I heard this sound like firecrackers going off, pop, pop, pop! When the fountains come back on the noise carries upward and well, I got no sleep! So crabby me, the next day, was about to board me flight when we were told there were weather problems AGAIN and we could either stay in Vegas or fly to Denver, where we would have to wait it out. I opted to stay in Vegas because there is nothing to do in Denver (not even a decent Mexican restaurant as YOU well know) and to get to a hotel you have to rent a car which the rentals are way the hell outside the Denver airport and then it's another 20 miles to a hotel and homey wasn't playing that when he's tired. So I went online to Orbit.com and got a room at the Mandalay Bay this time, no more fountains but a great view of the Luxor and all those bright lights!

So I checked in, and I had the whole day to do whatever. So I went walking out of the lobby and I was accosted R. Linda, ACCOSTED by immigrants slapping brochures on their palms to get me attention and then handing me said brochure. I was like WHAT IS THIS? It was like a song and dance they did. And some had their kids along with them. I ignored them pretty much until this rather attractive Latino girl came walking up to me slapping the brochures and then did a bit of a twirl and back bent her outstretched arm to me holding one of the papers. Well, I couldn't ignore her so I took it. BEGORRAH it had 900 numbers and pictures of things I didn't know a human body capable of contorting itself into! I dropped it like a snake and she laughed. I found out these people cannot talk to you, so to get your attention they slap the papers so you see them and some even use clickers! You have no idea what it is like walking down the street with all these people running after you with their clickers clicking! It is up to YOU if you accept the offered porn. I had no clue, but the mothers with the children gave me pause. This is not a way to support a family, but I suppose this is all there is if you can't impersonate Elvis?

Well, the entire day I was harassed by these brochure-wielding palm-slapping clicker people. I ran into a casino to get away and won meself $180 on a game I had no clue what I was doing. The next day I got on me flight and we were to go to Cleveland but again the weather wasn't good, so I took the other flight to Orlando, Florida. There too was another overnight because of the weather. I got me bags and checked into a hotel and the next day started the whole process of bag check-in all over again.

"You're 48 lbs. we'll have to charge you." Said the girl behind the Southwest counter.

"Oh hold on dere, if it be 50 lbs. den ye can charge me," I said, me Irish was up.

"Well, technically, but this is almost to the limit." She said and banged a tag on the bag and off it went on the conveyor belt to the gorilla baggage handlers, her giving me a look like I was a cheapskate. I tell ya! So I get me on the plane and there are all these kiddies on board (did I tell ya I was at the airport in Orlando, Florida? Well, that was me stop-over so all the families that had been to Disney World were flying home to New Hampshire). It was wah wah wah all the way home. But before I could even sit down there was this woman in the aisle with a carry-on the size of a duffel bag. How she got it on I have no clue, but she was trying to stuff it in the overhead compartment. I stood there for at least 10 minutes holding up the line boarding, until she finally had it stuffed tight, but the hatch would not close. She didn't care, she sat down. I was hoping we had no turbulence and that thing didn't come flying out. But a steward was able to force the hatch shut. Why do people think they can do that, I have no clue, but common sense tells you the bag be too big! But that wasn't the end of it, she got up mid-flight to get something out of it! I won't bore you with the gory details, but I had a headache by the time we landed. And more of one when the pilot came on the speaker and said, "Welcome to Manchester, New Hampshire, there is snow on the ground and the temperature is a chilly 28 degrees. Quite a change from sunny Orlando and temps in the 80s."

The entire plane groaned they did. Yes R. Linda, the thought of snow and cold, oh my! So I got me car out of the long-term parking and got meself home quite worn through. I made no mention I had been to Orlando or the kiddos would have been at me that I didn't take them. Gees, it was business not a holiday for Gabe. Which on second thought if the kiddos were with me down there, it still would not be a holiday for Gabe. Anyway, I be no sooner in the house when the wife says, "Wouldya lookit that!"

I went to the window to see what she was looking out at and I tell ya we have five grey squirrels we have nicknamed the Flying Wallendas. They leap from high places to the bird feeder with the precision of accomplished acrobats and then leap and spin on tree branches back chasing each other. The one that shot me motor many years ago is one of them for sure and I recognised him instantly (must have been the Glengarry hat that gave him away) (See A Matter of Fudge, 25 Feb. 2008 for the photo of that damn Glengarry wearing squirrel).

"Why you, you, you . . . " I said, me dander getting itself up through the worn-out haze.

I banged on the window and he flew from the feeder, the Glengarry hat falling to the ground, and right onto the tree branch right in front of me and R. Linda, he gave me the finger! Yes, he did. Even Tonya asked me if he was doing that and at a closer look . . . well yes he was (see photo below). I was incensed over this I was. I got me coat and was going to go out and run them all off, but me wife told me to sit it down and she'd let the dogs out, which she did and that scattered the Wallendas back into a big old butternut tree where I was certain they lived. I even said to Tonya, they live in that damn scary tree (it looks like the tree from Poltergeist) and I should go cut it down.

 

Little f----er be giving finger he is!

"Gabe, remember two weeks ago I told you that you needed to fix the hole the ice storm made in the porch roof two years ago?" Tonya said as I sat down.

I looked at her with a sheepish expression because yes, I full well remember and like me typical self never got around to fixing it. I nodded in response hoping there wasn't more to this like her telling me to get out there and fix it now, but that's not what she had to say, well not quite yet.

"Well Gabe my man, that big fat squirrel you named Wendi Wallenda is not fat from feasting at the bird feeder, she's fat because she's pregnant. Anyway my dear husband, since you haven't even taken a look at the hole in the roof, she decided to do that for you. I guess the inside of the roof is nice and dry and dark, a perfect place to give birth to a least five or six kits, so she's been very busy making herself comfortable in there while you've been gone."

Uh oh. I looked at her feeling very guilty and went to say something in me own defence but she shushed me and went on.

"Yesterday, Mr. Kits your beloved cat, was going berserk because you could hear Wendi in the wall of the roof making her nest. He was so agitated, he meowed up a storm until I let him out and where did he go? Right to the porch where he sat on the railing trying to figure out a way to get up there onto the roof and kick some squirrel ass. This was at 10 p.m. last night. That cat had had enough and I for one did too, because to listen to that was creepy, especially at night. Right now, Wendi's at the bird feeder on this side of the house, so if I were you, I'd take yourself to the porch at the back and take care of that hole!"

Oh goody! What was I to do but obey so I got me work clothes on, dragged a hammer, boards and a ladder and out back I went. I proceeded to pound on the roof to make sure there were no other squirrels in there and then I started boarding the hole up. Meanwhile, Wendi Wallenda must have heard the commotion because it wasn't five minutes that I didn't hear angry chattering at me from the tree behind me. I had chills up me back that she wasn't going to jump me and attach herself to me head or worse face, and I'd be going for rabies shots. I worked faster than any Irishman ever worked, I can tell ya that. I had that sucker boarded up even if it did look like a crummy job, but it was done. I got me off the ladder as quick as I could and got the hell out of there because, by the time I was done, ALL the Wallendas were in the back sitting in the tree chattering angrily at me. I even think the one wearing the Glengarry pelted me with butternuts, but I couldn't be sure which one was doing the tossing.

I got in just as they started to jump out of that tree and a barrage of nuts hit the door like bullets. I saved the door from being chewed open by letting that warlike Mr. Kits out straight I was in, he was out and boy did they all scatter! So far, me patch job be holding, occasionally I see one of the Wallendas at the bird feeder, but none in the back surveying the former hole. I hope I didn't board any more of them inside there because that will be a bit of trouble.

Welcome home ME!

Gabe
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