The view from Mt. Hypocrite

A construction company knocked out the power. I'm no electrician but the problem in a nutshell was, don't drive a crane through a power line. Make a note of that. With the amount of construction that goes on around here, summer is always chock full of random power outages started by some guy whose English teacher was right. He never did amount to much. And always, it was totally avoidable. They just don't mind risking the incovenience of others.

So there I am enjoying the 98 degree day in the shelter of my breezeless house listen to my children melt and screaming for everyone to stop opening the fridge. Fun for me. Angry doesn't even begin to cover it. Every summer we go through this. And every summer those stupid selfish bastards take shortcuts and incovience an entire neighborhood. I hope they all burn in hell. This is what someone elses self absorbtion and a lack of accountability get you, a silent A/C and a lot of muttering.

Of course the problem is that I am them too. It's just harder to see when I am doing it. That's because self absorbtion makes it hard to see things other than me. But in the cold light of day- I am a scuzz ball.

Two weeks ago, I flew home from National Jewish Hospital the recipeint of such blessings and grace that it was literally astounding. I went hopelessly sick and returned firmly on the path of wellness. I had just been given my life back. How, you ask, did I celebrate this miracle? By using my previous staus as a sick person to screw over my fellow air travelers.

Yep, I did that.

See, SW airlines doesn't have assigned seats. Or a firm grasp of the concept of personal space. My 100$ round trip ticket was reflected in the cattle car accomodations. When I checked in the first time, I told them that I was a special needs passenger. It was valid. I needed space to give myself shots and access to oxygen. So they gave me the cattle car equivalent of a golden ticket- a little blue pass that meant I got on the plane first. Even before the mom's with babies. And they marked my registration in the computer.

Nine days, a new future, and a much healthier body later, I was checking in to fly home. The ticket agent saw the notation on my registration and handed me that magic blue pass. I didn't need it. I knew I didn't. But I took it. I didn't want to stand in line. I didn't want to jostle for a seat. I didn't want to be wandering up and down the aisle looking for a bin to stick by bag in. Too hard. I couldn't be bothered.

And that is how I decided to be a liar and a jackass for a piece of blue vinyl. Several years ago a brilliant politican and severely morally retarded human being remarked that he did something particularly loathsome because he could. I could get out of standing in line and competing to get a seat. And so, I did. I deserve to be a little too warm, maybe it will remind me of something.