feel the confidence in my firm handshake!

Think highly of thyself, dost thee?
Wow, like a dang week dude. Nearly a whole week without a proper entry. I guess there were some mitigating circumstances. One, I don’t work on the weekend; two, I’ve been busy as crap. So, the three day weekend took care of Monday, and Tuesday and Wednesday I didn’t have a second to breathe. So now it’s Thursday, and I’m sitting in a hotel room in Austin, TX. Business took me here, to meet with some customers, but I’m staying through Sunday to go visit my brother in Killeen. He ships off to Alaska next week, and my trip to Houston matched up with his last weekend in town – so I decided to catch a Sunday, rather than Friday, flight, and hang out with him. Should be cool.

I was thinking the other day, how much doctors much hate WebMD. I mean, that site can be a pretty dangerous place for those with a hypochondriac side. It’s so easy to search this huge repository of symptoms and see what crazy diseases you might have. They even have this handy “symptoms checker” page where you can pick from a big nice list of elemental problems to diagnose your ailment. I can imagine some dude going into the doctor with a ream of WebMD printouts, thinking the combination of his shortness of breath and numb toes is anything from West African Mandibulolitus to Fendabular Tindanation. And while I was over there, I found a funny page under the symptoms. The “symptom” is “fishhook injuries.” That’s a symptom? I looked for the microwave and tandem-bike injuries symptoms, but surprisingly they weren’t there.

There’s something “grownup” feeling about being in a hotel room, even more so when you’re on a solo trip. Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve always kinda liked staying in hotels. I think because, when I was young, staying in a hotel meant we were on vacation or a trip. My brother and I always got to share a bed and we would all hang out as a family. Now that I’m all grown up and staying in hotels when I travel, I get some piece of that sensation every time. I like the feeling of being “important” enough to have to travel somewhere for someone. You know, someone is putting me up in a hotel and taking me out to dinner because I’m here to help them in some way. Makes me feel all yuppie or business-class or something.

Kinda like the “importantness” I feel waiting for the daily parking shuttle to the airport terminal in the morning. Rubbing shoulders with the other suits, all of us with our laptop bags and corporate-logoed Polos, getting ready to be flown to God-knows-where… and all these dudes looking at this twenty-something punk kid, wondering why he’s here. What the heck is so important about him that he needs to fly somewhere? That’s right other coach passengers, I think I will bust out my laptop and work on a PowerPoint presentation – just because I can. What? You’re surprised I’m taking an important meeting from my cellphone while I wait for my connection? Sound odd to hear me call shots into the little headset/mic combo dangling from my ear? Wise up old-money, here’s my business card – call me and we’ll do lunch; that is, if I have time to fit you in. I’ma come up in your world with my khakis and dress shoes and exude import – I wear a badge around my neck for God’s sake! Feel the confidence in my firm handshake! I own you!!

Goodnight all, blogging should resume as normal now that things have died down a bit. Until tomorrow, peace out.

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