The element of surprise is highly overrated

I had this brilliant plan to surprise my dad for Father’s Day. I would tell him I was coming home on the Tuesday after Father’s Day but show up the Saturday before. It sounded like a great idea. You see since I was a kid I barely got to spend the day with my dad. Either camp started then and he had to drop me off somewhere in the middle of Texas and drive home daughterless, or I couldn’t work the travel in to my schedule. It was sad, and I would always feel terrible about it. What better way to make up for years of Father’s Day neglect than to show up at the door unannounced the night before? Well the universe does not like my joy of surprises and decided to turn the whole plan around on me.

Let me first say that air travel has become something akin to having teeth pulled without anesthesia while particularly snotty gnomes poke at your eyes with flaming daggers. I hate flying. Especially airlines like Continental and American. I hate them. Hate hate hate. This past trip I flew Continental in to Houston, which was a bad idea as flights hardly ever go smoothly when traveling through Houston. Unfortunately this is the only carrier that flies in to my home town. The weather decided to flare up on Saturday when I left New York, which caused my flight out of the city to be delayed by about two hours. These two hours on the runway were spent between a baby with a serious interest in touching me, and the passengers across the row with a very loud infant and a kid who felt that screaming was an appropriate and effective means of communication. Yay! Though I attempted to be productive during the flight it was difficult to muddle though statistical programs with the seat in front of me fully reclined (through take off and landing I might add). Bourbon and David Sedaris had to suffice in order to keep me occupied. For anyone wondering, those two are a great combination.

Despite the fact that most airlines put at least an extra hour in the anticipated flight time, we were pretty late landing in oh so stinky Houston. As our plane landed I was able to wave goodbye to my connecting flight – but I didn’t quite know this yet. I booked it to my connecting terminal and breathlessly asked the ladies at the gate what the status on the flight was. In the irritated manner of a seasoned airport employee one of the women informed me that I was 25 minutes late and the flight was long gone. I then asked if they had been informed by my flight from NY that it would be late and if they had been asked to hold the flight. They said yes but the pilot just decided to leave anyway. Now I’ve been delayed by late passengers before, and I was a little pissed that they couldn’t hold the LAST PLANE TO MY DESTINATION for a few minutes. When I asked about options I was told the first available flight would be at 9pm the next night – Sunday night. Now let’s get back to the point that I was trying to surprise my dad for Father’s Day. After some tearful haggling I realized the jig was up, and I’d either have to call my parents to ask for their advice.

Surprise Dad! I’m stuck in Houston! Maybe I’ll see you on Wednesday!

I am extremely lucky to have a father who can speak to anyone with an intimidating authority. Houston is a 6 hour drive from my home town and it was about 8 pm when all of this was going down. We worked it out so I was able to fly to San Antonio (only a 3 hour drive) in one of the first class seats that had opened up at the last minute. Flying first class makes an astounding difference in flying. They make you feel like a real person, you have leg room, and the drinks are free. Even though my first first class experience only lasted 45 minutes I managed to get two glasses of wine out of it. I was much happier.

Long story short my father kept up the ol’ tradition of traveling a long distance because of me on Father’s Day. This time he just didn’t have to drop me off. It ended up being very nice, and I even got to buy a new outfit since my bag didn’t get in until a day and a half later!

Boyfriend had a much more pleasant experience in his travels today. Yes he did cross state lines to meet my parents. And no we didn’t have to pick him up from Houston or San Antonio. I guess when you aren’t trying to surprise anyone flights will be on time and won’t leave you.

David Chase, you broke my heart

I've been meaning to blog about my trip to a fancy resort in the Dominican Republic and the searing pain of air travel since Thursday, but I'll pass for now and just bitch about the biggest television dissapointment in history. Yeah I'm still upset over the series finale of The Sopranos.

There was a time when I didn't invest in too many tv shows. The amount of television I watch has dramatically increased since the acquisition of digital cable (gotta get the money's worth), but I still don't get as emotinally invested in Flavor of Love Charm School as I do in the shows I've watched religiously for years. But don't get me wrong, I rush to the television set every Sunday night to see what Mo'Nique will make those gals do next. Like much of America I became hooked by The Sopranos and have felt tied to it for years. I've sat through most of the series at least twice during dvd marathons which lasted for days. I've agonized over the characters, story lines, and deeper meaning each episode might carry. I never considered it "just a mafia show" offering only gratuitous violence and hardcore nudey scenes. Though the show had whackings and boobs-a-plenty! The Sopranos took over a place the X-Files once had in my nerdy tv loving heart but with something a little deeper. I gave my devotion to that show and maybe I just expected too much in return.

For those of you who saw the finale on Sunday, will see it in the future, or have heard about it through the internet buzz that has been generated, I am in the camp of fans who were severely dissapointed by the "ending". I've read a few articles in the blogs, people's comments, and news stories in an attempt to make sense of what the hell David Chase was thinking. I appreciate bringing a more artistic and deep sensibility to a genre that tends to be associated with little intellect, but give me a fucking break. The Soprano's wasn't beatnik performance art. It was a show with fans who expected something. At least some ducks for crying out loud. The blank screen may be getting praise for being deep and artistic, but in my mind it was the moment where we finally got a view through David Chase's eyes as he shoved his head all the way up his own ass. I'm getting sick of people in the entertainment industry considering themselves too smart for their audience. You are nowhere without your audience and in that sense you owe them something for that. Maybe I'm just a yokel, but some artsy fartsy no ending ending isn't going to cut it for me. Let the hipsters obnoxious film students have it.

If only I had this kind of passion for real stuff.

Celebrity news is way more important than everything else going on in the world

Call me shallow and heartless, but that picture that keeps coming up in the news of Paris Hilton crying in the cop car gives me the same morbid pleasure I get from seeing how fat cheerleaders from my high school have gotten when I paruse MySpace.

And I love typing ridiculously long sentences. And watching shows like Best Week Ever and The Soup.