Highway to Hell

Hi, kids. Long time no write. I know, I know. But I just got back from Boston but no my arms aren't tired. Just my patience. The next time Envirocon asks me to go on a trip for them somewheres, someone make sure to kick me in the ass. Hard. That'll prepare me for the experience.

So I have to leave God's Country to go amongst the heathen and bring them enlightenment about affiliate marketing. Yeah, go figure. But a gig's a gig. And when your former boss's boss asks you to go, you don't ask a lot of questions. Well, not if you're smart. And we all know I'm not, so I kept my piehole shut and booked my last minute reservations. Through JFK.

Now I've done enough business travel that I never go through two airports: JFK and Ohare. And Hartsfield Jackson may soon get added to that list. But I didn't have an option, the direct flights from SLC to BOS (Banish Our Souls) were full. So Noo Yawk it was. Except that when I got to the Big Crapple, my plane was cancelled.

But that's okay because those same swell, friendly, helpful folks at Delta were willing to put me on the next flight to Boston. Which left about 24 hours later. And since I was going to Boston for a three day conference and I was having to travel there the first day since I live in the mild, mild West (and who starts a conference on a Sunday?), blowing off the second day whilst I diddled my thumbs in New York didn't seem like a good idear.

So our intrepid reporter (man I love hackneyed cliches like that but know I should avoid them like the plague) acted rapidly like the seasoned, grizzled, beaten-down travel veteran I am. I hopped a train to Boston. And other than forgetting that Grand Central Station and Penn Station aren't the same thing, I was fine. I'm such a Country Mouse sometimes. Hey, a train's a train, right?

Anyhow I finally got to Boston only about 7 hours after I was supposed to thanks to the fine people at Amtrack. Unfortunately, my luggage was still in New York but the fine folks at Delta assured me it would be there when that next day's plane arrived. Except it wasn't.

Now I have been travelling enough that I always carry a ditty bag (not a P. Diddy bag) with extra essentials like toothpaste, contacts, meds (I needs my Thorazine or I get snippy), skin care products and the like. I've learned that the hard way. So when I was faced with three days in Beantown and some humid conditions, I was less than enthused. The fine Delta people assured me my luggage would show up the next afternoon. And by "afternoon," they meant before 6 a.m.

So I replenished my supplies of clothing in the hotel gift shop. Hey, I wanted to wander around the conference in a sweatshirt that said BOSTON anyway. Though on the streets of the rougher parts of town, I might as well have been wearing a sign that said TOURIST - TAKE MY WALLET.

And you have not lived until you've watched Sportscenter in high def while you wash your socks and shorts in the bathroom sink and dry them with the hair blower. Classy.

Luckily, my luggage finally came the last day of the conference just in time for me to leave. And though my flight out of Boston was delayed 7 hours, I managed to escape with my dignity battered but somewhat intact. And at least I finally had clean underwear on. And there's nothing like clean underwear to improve your disposition. Other than a quick tour of Fenway Park when you're supposed to be sitting in a seminar about the Top 5 SEO Strategies.

Just a bit of advice for you fellow Country Mice out there. Take the Green Line to Kenmore and walk away from the Citgo Sign unless you're lucky enough to catch the D then you can get off right at Fenway. The Citgo Sign looks a lot closer to the Green Monstah on tv but it's really a couple of blocks away.

Or so I've heard. As far as you, and my former boss's boss, knows.