LAX Sucks After 10pm
So this is how it starts, eh? My twenty-four day odyssey through Taiwan, Philippines, and Sri Lanka for my cool international job. It starts with a plane full of California Junior High School students rowdy after a week of vacation in Washington, DC.
What I hoped would only be five hours of annoyance became seven when we waited on the runway for a storm to pass. Luckily, as this was the flight home, they were subdued hooligans, heading home tired.
Read More“Beertown” not “Beantown”
First I started with hard core hotel porn. What is “hotel porn”, you ask? Just check out the Hotel Marlowe website or better yet, peruse the “Hotel Marlowe” Flickr tag. Hot, eh?
From the funky rooms to the great service, and of course, the leopard-print robes, Hotel Marlowe is swank-city. Swankiness that includes sex-music CD’s!
Not one to let such opportunity pass me by, I head out, wandering around Harvard Square area, alone and sober. Looking to fix both predicaments quickly, I took an alley option and found myself on Winthrop Street.
Read MoreNavigating Boston’s MBTA “T”
Dear Boston Tourist:
If you believe that your journey from Logan International Airport into Beantown via the Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority, or “T” as it is known locally, will be easy and quick, I am here to disappoint.
First off, that MBTA T Map you are looking at is deceiving you. Your exit from Logan will not be on a clan and modern subway train. I know, that line around the airport may seem to be signifying a train, but its really a bus. A bus you’ll need exact change for.
Read MoreI Hope They Serve Beer In Hell
Reading I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, I laughed so hard, so often, I could only finish a chapter at a time – my face ached and stomach hurt that much from all my laughing. I wanted to read the book on an upcoming plane flight, but there’s no way. I’d be laughing so much and so hard, the flight attendants would make me sit on the wing.
Read MoreThe 23 Annual Sallie Mae 10K
This run is my marker, my litmus test to see how far I’ve slacked in the off season and how hard I’m training now. Each year for the past three, I’ve checked my run in this race. If I do well, I know I can focus on the bike and the swim, confident the run is already ready. If I do poorly, I know I am in trouble.
Arriving at the Start Line without bike trouble, I grab my race number and get in the bathroom line. Long it is, slow it moves, the Port-a-Potty dance is another annual tradition, one I could live without.
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