Not Accepting Traffic

My pregnant wife and I spent about half a week on the ground in the Middle Northeast last week on a quick trip to see my in-laws. Traveling, for me, is always a trip, literally and figuratively, and this last jaunt was no exception. I saw and experienced a lot during my five day/four night all expenses paid by me vacation to Connecticut. Here’s a recap:
Tuesday 5:40 p.m.: The captain of my private jet informs me that in fact he is not the captain of my private jet, we’re on a Continental Airlines commuter plane and we’ll be late getting off the ground because the shining oasis of Newark, N.J., “is not accepting traffic” because it’s too busy.
Tuesday 11 p.m.: After another delay in Newark that allowed us the chance to indulge in a mini meat lover’s pizza, we arrive in Hartford, Connecticut -- our baggage, including all of our underwear and grooming products, does not.
Friday 9:32 a.m.: Riding on the No. 6 subway to meet my friend Cory at Union Square, I realize how times have changed since I lived in New York City eight years ago. It used to be that when you heard someone talking to himself on the subway, it was a good idea to subtlety scooch away. Now, with the advent of those fancy hands-free cell phones, more and more people appear to be talking to themselves. They still look crazy, though.
Friday: 1:30 p.m.: Over lunch, Cory and I discuss our long-delayed plans to write a script for a “Three’s Company” movie. The passing of John Ritter and the recent death of the great Don Knotts severely limits the big cameo appearance audiences will demand. Joyce Dewitt just doesn’t have the star power to pull this off.
Friday: 2:45 p.m.: We start the initial brainstorming session on a Broadway musical version of the 1980s fish-out-of-water sitcom “Perfect Strangers.” You don’t remember Cousin Balki and Cousin Larry?
Friday: 3:40 p.m.: While walking in Greenwich Village, I spot Elizabeth Berkley, star of “Saved by the Bell” and “Showgirls,” sitting outside by herself eating a massive burrito/crepe-type thing.
Friday: 3:50 p.m.: I think, “I should have gotten a picture of Elizabeth Berkley eating that thing.”
Friday: 6:42 p.m.: After eating all of my favorite New York foods, I learn that my digestive system ain’t what it used to be.
Saturday 4:15: Behind the ticket counter at the Holiday Cinemas 10 in Wallingford, Conn., I spy what appears to be a life-size Elvis Presley mannequin dressed in the famous shiny gold suit. Although I’m a big Elvis fan, this thing is sort of creeping me out and I complain to the young ladies behind the counter. They inform me that the mannequin is made with real human hair and real human teeth.
Saturday 5:30 p.m.: Discover that none of the special effects in Mission Impossible 3 are as interesting as watching Tom Cruise jump on Oprah’s couch.
Saturday: 6:50 p.m.: Saw man in ice cream parlor carrying an infant in a pouch around his chest. Wondered how I will eat ice cream when I have a baby.
Saturday 10:45 p.m.: My 15-year-old sister-in-law Natalie and I come to the sudden realization that there is absolutely no cheese in Asian cuisine.
Saturday 10:46 p.m.: I get inexplicable craving for Kung Pao chicken with peanuts and provolone.
Sunday 1:20: The little guy checking boarding passes quickly accepts the beautiful Chinese/Peruvian Mrs. Van De Voorde’s pass but stops me for further inspection. “I’m sorry,” he says, “you have the same last name.”
“She’s not too thrilled about it either,” I said.
Sunday: 5:20 p.m.: We arrive at the Greenville-Spartanburg International Airport smarter and much more cultured than when we left.