Punking Fidel Castro / Bridge to Cuba

I was in Key West last year for a couple of days. A friend and I drove down from Miami. At one point, we were walking around and a friend mentioned that at one time around the turn of the last century, they were talking about building a bridge from Key West to Cuba. After all, it is only another 90 miles.

I got to thinking about how many boats it would take to evacuate everyone from Cuba. Every single person. Prep all those boats, then call Fidel Castro and tell him he has one an all expenses paid ski vacation to Vail or something. Just get him out of town. Then evacuate the island. Boy wouldn't he be surprised when he came back to an empty country. Is a despotic dictator really a dictator if he has on one to dictate? (And, I have always wanted to use the word despotic in a sentence.)

It was funny at the time, but maybe I had just had one too many virgin daiquiris with the little umbrellas in them.

Can I have your seat?

I have spent a lot of time in the air this year. And I really dislike being on an airplane for long periods of time. So, I carefully plan out flights, especially ones on which I won't get an upgrade. For the routes I take regularly, I know which seats and rows are better than others and request those seats. Twice already this year, I have gotten on the plane and found people assuming that they can have my seat.

On a recent trip out of LAX, I was in a pretty dark mood. After sitting in traffic for two hours driving to the airport from the valley and then spending 30 minutes in line at the security checkpoint, I was just ready to kick back and get the heck out of Dodge. I get on the plane with about 20 minutes left before departure and there is someone sitting in my seat. A couple that had gotten booked on the plane at the last minute could not get seats together. (The plane was completely packed.) So, "her" seat was a middle seat in the center of the plane.

When I said, "Excuse me, you are in my seat", her husband responded that they could not sit together so they figured I would not mind taking her seat (in the middle). I was fairly taken aback by this and said, well, yes I do. While the wife was moving back, the guy made a point of making sure that the flight attendants and everyone in that section of the cabin knew I would not switch seats with his wife. I then had to spend 5 hours sitting next to someone that sneered at me pretty much the whole flight.

I am generally a pretty nice guy. If they had even waited until I got on the plane and then made their case to me, I probably (begrudingly) would have switched seats with her.

Am I being unreasonable in feeling like these people were jerks? Their behavior sure seems rude to me.

Why am I Channeling Giovanni?

Long story. Essentially, I came up with the term several years back while spending a week with my friend 'mute in San Francisco. 'mute, is not of course, not his real name, but my nickname for him. I love Alaskan Malamutes and Siberian Huskies. One night, he told me he had a dream about a Malamute. After that, I just refer to him as 'mute.

Okay, see, there I go, off on another topic. I was about to explain the whole Channeling Giovanni thing. After running around with 'mute for nearly a week of pretty much carefree hanging out, I would occasionally go off in to a spontaneous or irrelevant burst of energy, thought, or discussion. 'mute would say "That's not RAAAHHTTT (right for those of you that don't speak Southern) as he imitated my accent." I would just respond, "Sorry, I must have been Channeling Giovanni."

So, the real question, is "Who is Giovanni?" Someone from years and years ago that I dated for a brief while. I had a brief fascination with him. No one ever brought out the range of emotions in me that Giovanni could. Mostly bad ones. He had one of the great speaking voices of anyone I have ever know; it was smooth, crisp, and covered with surfer jargon. He was (and still his) smart, hyper, quick to laugh, VERY type A, ADHD, outgoing, easily tweaked, and annoying. He would yell at bad drivers, honk his horn, was rude to waiters/clerks/my friends, and in general usually kept me afraid I would take a stray bullet if someone tried to take him out. One of my friends commented that Gio was fine as long as his face was buried in a pillow.

Last time I saw him, he had a "Flame Boy Approved" sticker on his SUV. So Giovanni!

It takes great cleverness to be able to conceal one's cleverness. -- Francois de La Rouchefoucald