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6,456 is the number of miles that I have flown between Tuesday and Thursday last week. Houston to an overnight in New York. Back to Houston. Houston to Los Angeles and back to Houston in a day with filming customer videos in between all the flights.

We lucked out and flew home from L.A. first class, a nice treat after all that traveling and work. Now I don’t know if you picked this up from my awesome blog title but I’ve never flown first class.

First off we had to run to the gate because we took a detour on the way back to the airport to try In-N-Out Burger which was a worthy risk. But I did miss one of the best parts of flying first class which is looking down your nose at the lowly peons as they brush past you in a huff to get into their teeny coach seats while you stretch out in an extra wide seat while shaking your empty whiskey glass at the flight attendant for a refill. The sounds of the ice cubes clinking the glass rubbing in your superiority even further.

Secondly, I thought that warm towel thing was just a joke in movies. It’s not. It’s so not. And the towel was so warm. So refreshing.

I rubbed it all over. Aaaaaall over.

Then came the dinner options. Yes, options. Wow. First option was some shrimp pasta thing. Second option was a roast beef sandwich. From what I could see the shrimp pasta thing had no pasta. Which I thought was weird. I got the roast beef. Which was as good as any kind of airline food-first class or coach. But the thing about this meal was that it was served on a tray complete with a table cloth, single serving salt and pepper (in actual shakers) and real honest to goodness silverware. Couldn’t that be used as a weapon for terrorists?

Lastly the flight attendant kept refilling my glass, (yes glass with an etched Continental Airlines logo) with Coke so I was all hopped up on sugar and caffeine all night and kept Ali up all night by talking about everything and everything and everything and everything and well… everything.

Or as Ali would say I say it, “Kawffee Tawk.”

The other morning Ali looked at me all sad and pathetic and asked me to go to H.E.B. on my lunch break to get her a pound of coffee because she was all out. Ali likes the Breakfast Blend, and to her the H.E.B. kind is the best.

As I walked around the plethora of whole bean dispensers looking for Ali’s magic Breakfast Blend beans I noticed a weird middle aged man staring at the bean grinder. Intensely. And at that moment I knew he was going to be trouble.

I found the mystical Breakfast Blend beans and filled up a pound bag and walked to the grinders as far away from the weird dude as possible. But they were for hippie organic coffee only. So that meant I had to go stand next to weirdo goober person.

“Hey. Getting some coffee?” he observed annoyingly.
“Yeah. Looks that way.” I say with as much jerkiness that I can muster.

See, I hate small talk, especially with strangers. I don’t like talking to a lot of people I actually know, why would I want to talk to you, old weird dude?

“I never liked coffee all that much.” He followed up with.

And at that moment, I knew that I had been given the opportunity to screw with this guy.

“I can’t get enough of it,” I said, which is a huge lie because I hate coffee. But hey, any chance to screw with somebody, I jump on it.

“How much does a bag that size last you?” He asked, pointing to the one pound bag in my hand.
“Hmmm. About 2 or 3 days I guess.” (It lasts Ali 2-3 weeks.)
“Wow! You must drink coffee all day long!”

These types of people always find Ali and I. They want nothing to do but talk our ears off and we have no idea how to stop it. Most times I try to ignore them and move on as fast as possibly, but I think from now on I am just going to engage them right back.

And have fun with it.

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