608… always late.

608 was the number of my company, back in '67, at USN boot camp. We always seemed to be late. So, our little diddy went like this… 608 – always late – hurry up and wait. So, here we are, in the Munich airport, up at the butt crack of dawn, trying to catch a flight to Amsterdam. Brother Dave sailed right through. Our e-ticket failed, so we had to go that special line. You know that line, where all the misfits and retards go… well that was us. “Have you changed your ticket?” … No. Finally, the big computer spits out two boarding passes. We check our bags (I’m tired of carrying that freakin bag!) then slice through security like a razor though Velveeta. Keep your shoes on and your belt too. Liquids, they never even asked. The Amerikans are WAY more uptight than the Europeans.
We were up at 4:00 this a.m. Flipped on the German TV… they were broadcasting the pres debate. Over on channel 14, they were showing a model taking off all of her clothes and writhing around on a bed… there are some things I like about this country! Then again, I wasn’t singing its praises yesterday, when the dipshit cab driver dropped us off at the wrong hotel. We had to schlep our bags a half mile to the correct hotel. Nothing that 1.5L of beer couldn’t fix.
Flying used to be so romantic. Now, its like a root canal.
Oh well, they’re calling us. Ciao.