Getting My Kicks Off Route 66

Many thanks to all for the nice words about my BIL. It was a really weird time. It wasn't a funeral, it wasn't a memorial, it wasn't a wake, it wasn't a party. There's no noun I can think of for sitting around with strangers who were acquaintances of someone you were related to by marriage. There's got to be a sniglet for this kind of event. I shook so many hands of people I didn't care about, that could probably run for mayor.

While I haven't attended many funerals (probably only 3), I did realize some things:

1) A great way to kill any conversation you don't want to have is to tell the speakee that you're travelling for a funeral. I'm using this on every plane I ever take again.

2) My brothers will never get along.

3) My parents continue to shrink. I think they're going to implode and just vanish at some point in the future.

4) Robert Montgomery Knight (also getting screwed on his flight in the Minneapolis airport) is bigger in person than he appears on tv but sounds exactly like he does on tv. Yes, my brush with greatness. I figure he was headed to Bozeman, MT for a little fishing and not a recruiting trip.

5) The graffiti at the bar I used to go to is still great. My favorite was "Don't let me get naked and don't let me start a tab." That's good advice, kids.

6) If you're having to "play a zone" while on the plane, you should be driving. "Playing a zone" is when the kids outnumber the parents. You can't cover them one on one, so you've got to go zone.

7) When did the airline industry become so cash-strapped that they figured the $2 they could get for a can of Pringles would put them over the top? I didn't see many takers either. If they're going to charge $5 for an alcoholic beverage, there really ought to be naked people on the plane.

And while I was gone on the death run, I did get my my swell new Air Jordan kicks. Mars Blackmon and Turtle ain't got nothing on me.

I'll bet I can dunk again. As far as you know.