Dear Bob Gunton...

Dear Bob Gunton…

As I’m sure you’ll agree, it was a pleasure to meet at the Atlanta International Airport a little over a week ago. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but as handsome as you appear on 24 and in the Shawshank Redemption, you were even more striking in real life. Once again, I apologize for so eagerly approaching you. As a blogger with tens of readers and a yeast biochemist with ones of individuals who are familiar with my research, believe me, I know what it is like to be harassed by the adoring masses.

Thank you for the sage advice to continue to “tune in to 24” for “another exciting season” and to “keep cheering for Ethan” (your character, the Chief of Staff to the President of the United States). Had our encounter not been so late at night, I’m sure we both would have had more interesting things to ask and say to each other.

Below is the picture we took in the airport. I figured you’d want it for your scrapbook or facebook page (which, oddly enough, I couldn’t find—please be sure to add me as a friend as soon as possible!).

I’ve told all my friends about our chance (nay, fated) encounter. I’m sure you have as well. Keep up the great work, and I’ll do the same.

Keep in touch,
Yajeev

P.S. I was so glad to see that you were completing sudoku puzzles on the plane. They say it really helps to keep the brain sharp.

The cutest con artist ever

I find myself once again blogging live from the Pittsburgh International Airport. I have spent the previous hour waiting patiently at my departure terminal, checking my email and the news over an airport McDonald’s breakfast. As per usual, I took extra care to order breakfast items that are accompanied by Monopoly game pieces. I peeled the game pieces from my food and set them carefully on the chair next to me. (To read about our other adventures in McDonald’s Monopoly, click here or here or here).

As I ate and surfed the web, a little girl, approximately 1-2 years old by my best estimation, began to walk around the boarding area, surveying the crowd for individuals with McDonald’s game pieces. She too had eaten at McDonald’s this morning with her father and had 4 pieces in her little hands.

She found two other McDonald’s Monopoly players and initiated a game of switcharoo, amusing herself to no end by picking up one person’s game pieces and delivering them to another in the boarding area. This went on for 20 minutes or so. I watched in horror as this miniature monster unknowingly tampered with my chances of winning big. On the inside I was piping mad, but on the outside, I participated joyfully, oohing and ahhing at the cute little princess waltzing around the airport. I did not want to be the bitter grown-up who refused to entertain the whimsy of small children for a miniscule chance at a major payday (which I feel is, of course, in all actuality, my birthright).

As the game progressed, the little girl’s father grew impatient with her, and he beckoned her, speaking in a foreign language. The girl was unresponsive to her father and continued to trade the extraordinarily low odds of each Monopoly player with the others.

Finally, when the girl, whose name I finally gathered to be Hannah, would not cease flirting with would-be passengers of US Airways 6651, her father stood up, marched over to her, took her hand in his and circulated around the boarding area, collecting all of the game pieces from the passengers with whom Hannah had cavorted. He then proceeded to slide the game pieces into his pocket, apologizing, in broken English, for the disturbance his daughter had caused.

It was at this moment that I realized I had been conned. This father and daughter duo had just scammed everyone at Gate B38 out of their game pieces! I bet they’re not even on my flight. When my aircraft begins to board, they’ll probably slip over to another gate and repeat the whole charade.

I’m onto them. It is unconscionable for a grown man to employ his own daughter in such an unethical (yet brilliant) scheme.

I wonder if they need a third partner.

Eat n' fly

Blogging live from Pittsburgh International Airport... I am seriously regretting my most recent action.

Directly across from the gate of my departing flight is the deliciously tempting Wok & Roll. I had finished my (rather large) lunch not three hours ago and to the moment of my fateful decision nary a hunger pang had been felt. The aroma and the sizzle of chicken frying on the stove drew me in.

My head said that I was not hungry. My heart said otherwise. Like my brother involuntarily purchasing the exorbitant gym membership from the comely young saleslady, I heard my voice placing an order for General Tso’s chicken with spicy rice noodles and watched as my hand extended a credit card to the lady behind the counter. It was an out-of-body experience: I had no control over myself.

I carried my fresh chicken to the table, sat down, and opened the styrofoam container. I was not hungry, yet the hand which had involuntarily volunteered my credit card was now shoveling forkfuls of chicken n’ noodles into my mouth. “No, no, no,” I tried to will my hand back to the table. It would have none of it.

By the time I had consumed nearly 2/3 of my unnecessary dinner, I felt ill. Finally my hands obeyed my mind and, reluctantly, closed the chicken and carried it to the trash can where it, with great resistance, dropped the remains of the meal.

I am now sitting at the gate, feeling overstuffed and sorry for myself... and sweating General Tso’s sauce.

My plane boards imminently. Wish me luck.