San Francisco Training

I like to drink tea. Most of the country is made up of coffee drinkers it seems. The elderly lady at the gate asks me if I’m drinking a latte or cappuccino. I don’t even know what that means. You may as well ask me if I’m drinking a gooberding or a binkerwally because I still wouldn’t understand what you were saying.


A young lady floats like a ghost through the terminal. She’s about college-age and she’s clutching a pillow as she walks. She’s wearing a long, flowing white skirt and a winter flannel that makes her look like a cross between Urban Goth and Suburban Silly.


I’m one of the first to board the plane to San Francisco. I’m middle seat of three, but in the exit row so not too shabby. Guy sits down next to me with an attitude that would make Santa Claus depressed. He’s window. Thank goodness. Maybe the clouds will distract him long enough to keep him from talking to me.


Here comes a lady with a way oversize carry-on bag. She’s one of the last to board and she stops at my row. She proceeds to remove everyone else’s bags and coats from the overhead bin to make room for her own bag. This makes her very popular to the people in the immediate area. Kinda like how the I.R.S. is popular to American taxpayers.


There’s a guy with a really, and I mean a really, bad toupee in the plane seat in front of me. I can tell it’s a toupee because a dead cat on top of his head couldn’t be more obvious. “Dude! Embrace your baldness! Head shavers of the world, unite!”


We’re up, we’re flying, HOW FUN! I’m lying.

Although they may not rhyme, you'll love the time spent reading these helpful hints about behavior management. 

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About the Author

“Define success by the degree of dullness in your day. A boring day is an indication that you’ve prevented and handled situations so well that it never made the evening news. That’s a good day!”