Fact of The Matter

I just returned from a family ski trip in Steamboat, Colorado. The flight from Chicago was direct to a town about 30 minutes from Steamboat. Everything went smoothly, we were on time, arrived early, no baggage issues. But an interesting thing happened at the United counter when we were checking in. The United agent, a very nice, overworked/uninterested/friendly woman, said we were all set and have a nice flight. But we had no boarding passes. She had forgotten to give them to us. As she printed out the tickets, she noticed a discrepancy, two tickets were premier class, and two were coach/regular tickets. She took the tickets back, mumbled incoherently, and I asked if the flight was full. She said no, without quesiton, and handed us four tickets, all premier class. This was in stark contrast to our flight to Colorado where the flight was maybe 40% full, and sitting in coach, one row behind the emergency exit, the male steward rebuffed my request to move forward one row, one empty row citing "an upgraded section" blah blah blah. I pressed with genuine sincerity with the old good samaratan rebuttal. My neighbors were impressed. I was turned away again.

The fact of the matter is that I could have just sat down in the emergency exit and no one would be the wiser. But I didn't, and I should have. A lesson to the world, you can either wait on old ladies to take an extra step or you can just simply sit down and play dumb. If you can tell me which one is dumber, then you're already there, aren't you?

Something old, Something New

I don't know how the rest of this goes, but I'll give it a whirl. There are some points in my life that I can recollect clearly, explosively accurately, and I wonder why I can remember a three second period in a hockey game when I was twelve, but I can barely put my finger on exactly what my mother was like when i was ages 6-12. I can remember the days spent in my driveway shooting hockey pucks at a goal on a frozen day in late December, but I can't remember what happened on the day when my mom's mom died. I wonder whether this makes me simply forgetful, regrettably selfish in my choosing to bolster my self image, or an anomaly, turning away the most important moments in my childhood and allowing the moments spent with the person that brought me into this world to simply slip away.

The New

My best friend/brother is getting married in a few months and he's named me his best man. I feel like it could be the most important moment in my life. Up to this point. I've spent the past three months figuring out what to say that sums up how I feel about my friend. I've found its incredibly difficult to wrap up 20 years of history into a tightly wrapped presentation spanning no more than ten minutes. My father says I'm personable and that I like being around people, but from what the past three sleepless nights have taught me, I honestly think that I'm going to be telling inside jokes and funny stories that only the wedding party and a few of my friends in the audience get. That would be great if it they were the only people in the room, unfortunately, there are about 400 other people that will wonder why is this gentleman carrying on about the time in high school when...and then I think about what I'm trying to get across, that this speech is just a microcosm of what I want the greater world to think of me. And that the two are inherently connected. And I wonder. Can one bring respectability to the other? Or is one an anchor dragging down the other. I'm not sure the right answer. It seems like such an uphill battle. I can hear my fathers words right now, "Draw up a plan. Take it one step at a time."

Something borrowed, something blue.