Moving Day(s)

I think that the next time I’ll chose the option pictured above. Little did I know when I contracted a moving service that it must have said “Three Stooges Moving Company” somewhere in the fine print.

It was an interesting day(s) to say the least. The movers were supposed to arrive at noon. Noon came and went, then 1:00, then 1:30… I have learned patience of late, but this seemed wrong. I contacted the movers and got voicemail. 2:00, 2:30, I called their Quality Control department and got a real person. Quality was questionable - control had gone missing… as did the driver. 3:00, 4:00, and finally a call… the mover would arrive at 6 PM.

Well, no… but a very nice young lady with a small car arrived. The look on my face must have been priceless when she told me that she came to move me. She moved me all right, practically into hysterics. I told her that if she could fit the contents of a three story house into her car, then have at it. She left a bit confused… then came another phone call… the driver will arrive by 9PM and the young lady is coming back to help him. Great… more waiting, and only three hours to kill with a confused stranger.

By 10PM, he finally arrived… and was going to start moving??? As he did his best to explain in some strange mixture of English and what sounded to be, by turns French, Portuguese, Yiddish, and Pig Latin, he was only going to wrap up the furniture and then return in the morning to load the truck. The man of unknown ancestry and the young lady with a decidedly urban tone to her speech patterns (in Maine?) were having difficulty understanding each other. It sounded like a bad day at the United Nations. That went well… until 1AM!!! That’s when they started arguing in my bedroom about the young lady returning to help in the morning. Eventually he said, “I go now… I get sleep… I be back… Two hours in morning… mooch mahanda, va hammeeshy oosh goosh”

OK, then. I was hoping he didn’t mean “Two hours in mourning,” because I was not going to open the door for some sad stranger speaking in tongues at 3 AM. My concern was unfounded. He did not return until 9AM, and the aforementioned young lady came soon after. He assured me, “two hours.” The two hours were finally over at 3PM… time must pass differently in Esperantoville.

Didn’t I already write a blog where I said “moving sucks?”

So 24 hours later than planned, I am finally on the road and enjoying the pleasures of picking up an unsecured wireless signal. Let the adventures continue…

FAGAT'S 2006

FAGAT’S 2006
Wilting Manners

Food

31

Décor

31

Service

31.5

Cost
If you have to ask, you can't afford it

Hurricane District
(bet. Ree Pair & D’isaster)
Wilton Manors, FL
954-555-1212
www.wiltingmanners.com

Key to Ratings:
Food, Decor, and Service are each berated on a scale of 0 to 30.
26-30 ...over the moon
20-25 ...pretty damn good
16-19 ...OK, I guess
10-15 ...mediocre
0-9 ...merde

Cost reflects our survivor's estimate of the price of stay with one slap and tickle.
If you need more information, please visit our HELP ME! section

Review
Still “magical” with “fireworks nightly”, this “original” and “whimsical” establishment “has” to be the “crème de le crème” of a town that defines “off”beat. A rare mix of the spartan and the exotic, kudos go to host “Manners Dave” and his “dazzling”, “innovative”, haute new age, old soup can, American cuisine.

Mixing the casual with “nudist” flair, one has to experience “nude” breakfast, “nude” internet, “nude” television, and “nude” bathing to fully appreciate the full range of “nude” offerings. For a real “treat”, be sure to request the “nude” coffee and cartoons in “bed”.

Oversize fluffy towels, tongue scrapers, vase o’condoms, fabulous “Iguana” view, and an eclectic selection “of” movies ranging from the absurd “to” the yet more absurd, are but a sampling “of” the tasteful, yet tasty, amenities offered.

A consummate host, “MD” will treat you to service unlike anything you are likely to experience elsewhere in this “under repair” corridor. Book early, only parties of one accepted – and strictly limited to “ME.”

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Things I Didn’t Say

I think I scared a few people today... While flying home from a great, albeit short trip, I learned that there are some things that are probably just not socially acceptable.

I was given a gift of a stuffed animal (a little furry lion) on this trip. It really means a lot to me for many reasons – a couple of them being how it reminds me of who gave it to me, and the fact that I have never been given a stuffed animal before. I didn’t want to squish him with in my luggage, and I also didn’t want him to suffer the indignity of being crammed in an overhead compartment.

So there I was, a grown (?) man, sitting in my window seat, wearing dark sunglasses, obviously experiencing a slow leak from the corners of both eyes, and holding a little stuffed lion in my lap. Needless to say, nobody bothered me on the entire fight.

But that’s not what I intended to write about...

There always seems to be so much that doesn’t get said during special moments in my life. This trip was one of those. Sometimes, they actually occur to me when I can say them, but for whatever reason, they don’t get said. Sometimes, they come to me too late. So, here are some of the things I didn’t say...

Thank you for sharing your home, your friends, and your life with me. Thank you for sharing what lives in your eyes; a window to those places where we really live, really dream, really know where the truth resides. Thank you for your smile, laughter, and moments of childlike abandon interspersed with the intensity of all that was explored, known, and shared.

I take with me tender moments, unspoken, eyes open, eyes closed, in a rare expression of “being.” But best of all, allowing me the opportunity to appreciate what it means for you to be “just you.”

So if you find yourself in a similar position, don’t hold back – just say it. Or, quite possibly, you will also wind up having people pointing and staring at you while you’re doing something equally socially unacceptable.