On the road again....

Seems a befitting title for this next segment in my life. Not that I'm a fan of wailin' Willie, but if you'd ask my co-workers about my vacation, they typically answer with, "aren't you always on vacation," or "what exciting place are you going to this time?"

No, I'm not always on vacation. In fact, I think that the annual allotment of vacation that I have is no different than that of any other worker. It's just that when I take it, I tend to take big chunks at a time which SEEMS like 52 weeks.

Anyhow, I'm venturing to Florida again. Yes, the annual trek to a place where my family loves to go. This time, I'm actually flying down first rather than driving. This was largely determined by how Easter, the school system spring break, and my work schedule all aligned. I AM, however, a bit disappointed by not having the opportunity to stare and gawk at a strange kid playing out "Get Smart" in the middle of a Culvers near Peoria.

Hoping not to disappoint, I hope to have some hardy laughs even if I'm flying down.

Take, for example, the bus depot.

Like Amy Winehouse to recreational drug use, bus depots and people watching go hand in hand. My brief stay was no disappointment. After being dropped off by a wonderful co-worker after work, I arrived at the bus depot about 45 minutes early to find a great menagerie in full swing. I went in the bus terminal to purchase a bus ticket for my ride to O'Hare International, only to be overwhelmed by a funky smell that can only best be described as that of a combo of gardenia and feet. I have no idea if it was eminating from the oily-haired woman sitting alone in the terminal, the guy behind the window selling the tickets, or what. It certainly was unpleasant, causing me to sit outside instead.

There were many different people milling about, but the one situation that caught my eye was an Amish guy getting out of a Toyota Rav4 (not driving it, mind you)to pick up his luggage. I was expecting a very large red and white checked gingham table cloth attached to a stick (a la Huck Finn) to be pulled from the bottom of the bus as it was being unloaded. Alas I was disappointed to see that his black bonneted wife stepped off the bus, and he fetched a normal huge backpack made from synthetic fibers. I was trying to figure out how all of this was allowed without going via horse and buggy, but then I really didn't care. Even more surprising was the African-American driver that seemed to know the guy on a first name basis. Talk about a social juxtaposition...

Anyhow, getting on the full bus, I ended up sitting to a young guy reading one of the Harry Potter books, and in the midst of a myriad of college aged students coming from Madison. And they looked like they were coming from Madison.

Anyhow, I pulled out my Kindle (thinking I was just as hip as the texting, iPod listening, laptop toting 20-somethings on the bus)to commence reading Chelsea Handler's latest book. I think I probably caused a few heads to turn (with the thought that now I must be some strange "differently abled" guy laughing at something for no apparent reason), but I couldn't help myself. After all, I was annoyed by the phone of a young guy sitting in front of me beeping every time he received a text message. So what if I laugh?

I got to terminal 2 at O'Hare International, walked up, over and down to the Hilton Hotel where I am to stay the first night. I didn't know exactly where to go in, but once I did, I was assisted by a young Asian woman who's rapid-fire speaking caused me to miss half of what she said. I'm hoping I didn't agree to some insurance seminar or registered for an Amway convention...

I ordered room service, which I'm certain will cost me several shekels, a carafe of wine, and am watching TV, to await my next leg of my journey tomorrow, at the butt-crack of dawn, which I'm certain...as my niece Sarah would say...isn't gonna be pretty.