This is a story that begins with a disagreement. Just a disagreement between Leslie and I that continued into a Saturday night. We haven’t really had any disagreements in our 6 months together so I guess we were eventually due. It wasn’t even that big of a deal honestly. And it has minimal impact on this story to be honest. Just know that we had a disagreement that led to Shad and I enjoying ourselves on a Saturday night. Consequently, this led to me needing to go to the Village Inn on Sunday morning to help absorb the Saturday night leisures.

Everything was fine and dandy until I paid and walked out of the door. The greese was even absorbing my Saturday night. Then I get in the Jeep and turn the key in the ignition. No dice. Maybe I left the key in battery mode position when I pulled it out? Battery must be dead. Since the Village Inn is only a few blocks away from our apartment it was easy to convince Shad to come and help give me a jump. After all, I wasn’t about to ask some Pinellas County crazy to jump me. What?!? This isn’t Kentucky.

Shad comes. Jump doesn’t work. Shad takes me home and I reconsider all of my options. I am on the verge of panic mode as my timeline for vacation is rapidly approaching. Fortunately I have a girlfriend that manages to always come through in the clutch and is able to put disagreements aside. She helps get me a tow even though she is out at sea. On a side note, Shad and I wait at the Village Inn drinking glasses of ice water as we wait on the tow truck to come. The waitress notifies us that some charity event is going on and someone is about to get “pied”. After all, Village Inn is known for their famous pies. We follow the waitress around to the back of the building and some guy is ready to recieve a full pie to the face for charity. I’m still quite perplexed by this idea. We might be the only culture that does something for charity by wasting food. Are there not starving children somewhere that could use this food?

Anyways, Shad and I pull out our phone to get a quick pic for my blog and the asshole getting the pie stops everything. “WHOA WHOA WHOA guys! I know that I am getting a pie to the face and everything and I know that its funny. But guys, this is for charity. No pictures please. This is for charity and I just don’t appreciate the pictures. Please guys not pictures. I know you want to take pictures and laugh about it and post it on the internet but this is for charity guys. No pictures…” He kept going on in asshole fashion. Like jeeze dude. Seriously, stop being an asshole and get to your point. It will help you out in life. All you had to do was say “No pictures please.” But instead you acted like an ass and now I have no respect for you. Had we not been in Pinellas County and I fear for my life around every citizen I encounter, I would have definitely taken your picture and posted it all over the internet as “Asshole Gets Pied.” However, you seemed just crazy enough to pull out a pistol that I didn’t want risk it. So I settled for a picture of the Village Inn instead.

Anyways, I am fortunate enough that the car shop is still open and we determine that all I need is a replacement starter. My girlfriend Leslie was leaving for the OBX vacation the next day while I wasn’t leaving until Wednesday. Fortunately she was kind enough to let me borrow her whip on Monday and my Jeep was to be ready on Tuesday afternoon. I park her car back in her garage and get Dave to take me to the shop. Pay, grab my keys, and walk to the Jeep and turn the ignition. No start. Same problem as before. The technician comes out and tries to start it. No dice. Finally the manager comes out and tries to start it. He has the same problem. Then he turns the key 110% and the engine cuts on. He lets me know that it is my ignition in the column that is the problem and if I leave my jeep with him another day for $200 he can fix that too. What the hell did I pay them for? That was probably the original problem instead of the $450 starter replace I just paid for. Since the engine was already running I decided I was just going to take it home and take it to the Chrysler shop that I actually trust when I get back from vacation. Especially since I was already skeptical and questioning the shadyness of the Midas shop in Saint Pete.

I get a ride to work from a coworker on Wednesday and ask another coworker, John to drive me to the airport after work. I had a terrible day at work and as we are crossing the Howard Franklin the weather only worsens to match my thus far horrible week. I show my appreciation to John for the ride and go to self standing Kiosk to print my tickets. My connection flight to DCA has been cancelled. Great. The system wont even let me continue. The desk clerk tells me my best chance of getting to ORF on this particular night is through PHL. Makes no sense to me but I go along with it.

I now have an extra hour to waste in the airport so I decide now is a perfect time to get some Popeye’s chicken to make my day a little better. So I go stand in line to give my order. And I stand in line. And I stand in line. 30 mintues later(And only 6 orders later) I finally get to give my order for two pieces of chicken and an order of mashed potatoes. Piece number one ends up having absolutely no meat on it whatsoever. Oh well, I still have a huge thigh that will make up for it. I take a bite into the thigh. And it is frozen through. If I take another bite I know sickness will overtake me for the rest of the night. It wasn’t worth it to me to wait another 30 minutes to talk to incompetent Popeye’s staff members so I conceded and went to my terminal. What do I find out at my terminal? That my flight has been delayed an hour.

Assuming that my flight leaves precisely an hour from this point in time, I will have about a 15 minute connection window in PHL. I already know my options are not looking good so I hit panic mode and become frantic. I call Leslie in this frantic panic. She doesnt answer the first two calls because she is in a car with her family. She finally calls me back 20 minutes later and I am trying to figure out what I am going to do. I am hopeful that I can find a near airport to fly to instead but the connections she suggested the desk clerk had already ruled out on me. I become agrivated with the lack of options and distance between the Leslie and I and lose my head. She gets off the phone. Great! Now I am going to miss a flight and have another disagreement between my girlfriend and myself.

The plane evntually takes off with my anxiety at an all time high of whether or not I am going to make the connection. The plane lands in PHL a good 20 minutes after the departure of my connection flight. I already know I am going to be spending the night in Philly, a state I never thought I would be resting my head in when I started this day. A text message comes into my phone from Leslie. Apparently she was already on her way to ORF airport to pick me up, an hour drive for her. I call her immediately. She had been on the road for 20 minutes and here I am still in Pennsylvania. I told her to go home and I would call her when I had something more informative to tell her.

I finally get off the plane and make my way to the terminal where there is already a line of people at the desk. Knowing that I have no chance of going anywhere I go to the back of the line and wait patiently. “If you missed your connection stand in this line and talk to me.” The clerk announces. Sure. As I said before, no chance of going anywhere so I stand and wait patiently. Another group from acrouss the gate grabs her attention when I am next and she forgets all about me.

At this precise moment an early 20 something stoner comes down the walkway from the plane anoucing “Norfolk? Anyone going to Norfolk?”

“Right here!” I say, so he comes over in his tye dye Dead Head shirt and acts as if I am his best friend. This other emotional bitch comes walking down the gate path following him. I use the term bitch lightly as there is a noun starting with the letter ‘C’ that would better describe her with her following actions.

She’s already crying and normally I would ask her what is wrong but seeing as we are all stuck in PHL for the night I know what is wrong. I am a man who doesn’t like to waste words so I don’t have much to say to the girl. I decide to ignore her emotions and let her stand there and sulk in her sorrows. She’s ranting about how she doesn’t know where her luggage is. Big freaking whoop-dee-do. If you checked it, then they put it an airport code on it and it will end up at that airport. End of story. Chill out. I say these things in my head obviously as I want to have no interactions with this tempermental chick. She continues. “They made me check my bags…” So what? I’ve been forced to check my carry on bags before it’s not a big deal. “They made me check my bags because assholes like this…” She reaches out and grabs my carry-on suit case and shakes it, “take up all the overhead space on the plane.”

I have had a horrible day and snap my head back at this chick ready to give her a piece of my mind. Her long term mental stability is probably grateful because at this very exact moment the shitty desk clerk walks over and asks “Who is next?” As I have been standing here the longest it is obviously me but I get boxed out by tempermental bitch and she intercepts the question. At this point I am ready to give her a piece of my mind but she is so lost in her emotions that the clerk ignores her half put together attempts at spoken language. She comes to us and simply gives up a boarding pass with a piece of paper stapled to it and turns her head. “What am I supposed to do with this?” I demand. She looks back at me and states that I should “Call the number.” She turns her head. I read everything in my hand fully now. It is a boarding pass for 7AM and a paper with a hotel hotline. “Are you going to give me a discount for a hotel?” I demand. She turns back again and says “Call the number.” She turns away from me again. Seriously. This is the customer service that US Airways gives. That was the entire conversation I had with US Airways. I fly probably once a month and I have never had this sort of trouble. Whenever I have problems with Delta or anyother line, they offer me a free hotel or get me where I need to be one way or another. US Airways wont even tell me what the hell is going on.

At about this moment, the Dead Head comes back into my life. He is apparently on the phone with his mom who has just told him that our ORF outbound flight is still in PHL at gate A2. He asks the clerk to verify and she says “Just go!” I look at her and ask her “Can you just call the gate and tell them we are coming?” She responds “Just go!” At this point adrenaline is running through my body but I am also contemplationg who is more deserving of a title that starts with the letter ‘C’, the clerk or the emotional bitch.

The stoner, who fortunately checked all of his bags, takes off way in front of me. Meanwhile I am struggling running from Gate F to Gate A as I never check any bags. I have about 30 extra lbs worth of traveling gear on me and I am so out of shape. It was quite disheartening to see a stoner outrun me. But whatever. So we make it all the way to Gate A2 and theres no one there. WTF?!? So we run back to gate A8, the gate where the flight was supposed to leave from. An employee there tells us to go to Terminal B and catch the shuttle. So we sprint back down the A Terminal and then down to the B Terminal. We ride this random hidden escalator and a guard tries to stop us. We tell him that we are trying to catch our plane so we end up on one of those annoying airport golf cart thingys and he drives us to the next shuttle stop but the door is locked. “Sorry about your luck” he says and gives up on us. We are stuck in PHL for sure now. I am covered in sweat and close to a heart attack. I go to buy a water bottle and separate from the stoner.

I ask a police officer in the terminal what the hell I am supposed to do. I suppose he is used to the shitty customer service from US Airways so he actually is helpful and lets me know how to handle the situation. After about 20 minutes I find myself at a Clarion Inn about 5 miles from the PHL airport. You will be happy to know that if you have troubles flying with US Airways you are still expected to pay $100+ in cities that your connections fail to connect in.

I get checked in and finally make it to my room. I called the girl and let her know what the hell is up while I check out the sweet view from my hotel balcony that over looks a Denny’s and a strip club. Its 1 AM and I have a 7AM outbound flight. Last time I flew out of PHL I was in a TSA security line for 2+ hours. This meant I would need to be at PHL by 5AM which meant I would have to be up by 4:30 AM at the absolute latest. This would be the first time, and hopefully the only time in my life where I would request a wakeup call for 4AM. I needed a shower as I felt terribly disgusting but there was something dirty about this hotel room that grossed me out. The room wasn’t a bed bugs kind of dirty. It was more of a… someones drilled a hole in the room and has a camera set up for a peep show kind of dirty. I was mortified. But I showered and got ready for sleep. I can’t carry on with toothpaste and didn’t anticipate being in this situation. My toothbrush head was nearing death so I asked the front desk for tooth paste and a toothbruth.The toothbrush was so flemsy I legitamately was concerned that it was going to break apart in my mouth. This toothbrush was the kind of toothbrush that should only be used for cleaning dirty grout in bathroom tiles, not teeth. And the toothpaste was go pasty it was gross. It felt like I was brushing my teeth with Play-Doh.

Sleep wasn’t easy so I put on the TV to try and rest my spirits to help sleep come. All I could find on the television was Craig Ferguson with his horrible British humor. It is also important to know that on this particular day the Supreme Court made some sort of ruling about Gay Marriage. While it is finally about time, I must admit I am quite upset that I can no longer use the famous joke, “Well why don’t we let the gay’s get married. They are the only ones who still actually want to be married…” lolzzzz.

The next morning is terrible. So early. The lack of sleep to recover from a horrible week was setting the precedent for the vacation to be horrible and I was honestly quite worried that everything was going to go horribly. But after a coffee and a Diet Mountain Dew at the airport I was finally able to get my act together. Once my act was actually together and I was able to comprehend what was going on I was actually disappointed with how shitty US Airways was. The gate I was in didn’t even have a digital board. No shit. They just had a board on the wall where the slid in a tab with a city name on it. Departure times were specified by individual numbers slid into this board. It was at this very moment I decided I would never fly US Airways again.

Did I mention the plane I was going to fly on was a prop plane that was having trouble getting one of the propellers to start. I was so frustrated and underwhelmed with US Airways. But eventually, 20 minutes after we were supposed to depart, I boarded the plane and readied myself to be in ORF.

As the plane started to land we had a beautiful view of houses along the Atlantic coast. So beautiful I decided I wanted to take a picture of them with my camera. I reach into my pocket and pull out my camera to take the picture but I can get it to properly function. I just continously get “Camera Malfunction” messages. I was having problems with it the previous week but I guess I was now willing to accept that it had bit the dust. Fantastic. Just another thing to bring this perfect week together.

Leslie was there at 9 AM promptly to pick me up at the ORF airport wearing a very attractive black dress. I said some stupid joke but we both smiled. It was then I knew we were able to put our disagreements behind us and go about a merry way. The plan was to take us back to her parents house in Poquoson, Virginia. This was of course after the emergency stop in a Best Buy I requested to buy a replacement camera.

The house was amazing. Surrounded on three sides by ocean water and had a sweet southern charm to it. We spent some time chatting on the veranda/Florida room/sun room/lanai/whatever you want to call it before her mom saw my tiredness and offered that I go catch some sleep in the guest room. We caught some dinner with her family afterwards then set forth for the outerbanks.

Before reaching our final destination, Leslie suggested we stop in the Food Lion(yeah that’s right, I said Food Lion. I didn’t know they were still in business) and pick up some snacks for the beach. I can now blame my desire to try local craft beers on Chris from his visit a few weeks prior. After taking me to Cigar City Brewhouse I was convinced that local beers were the way to go. So while in the grocery store we stopped in the beer aisle and I found a beauty. The Southern Pale Ale.

We make it to the beach cottage and it is already dark. Les’ family is the complete opposite from me. They were all ready to go to bed and here I am fresh to the beach in my prime time to shine. I settled for a long walk on the beach with Les though.

The next day was slated for pure beach chillin. Remember, I am not a beach guy but I was ready to make the most of it. I was able to finish my current read ‘Bright Lights Big City.’ The book was fantastic. A second person narrative of a twenty something living in the city during the 80’s. Nothing else really needs to be said about it, if that doesnt appeal to you, then you have no soul.

I even tried an attempt at paddle boarding but the waves of the Atlantic Ocean bested me and left me bruised and bloody(literally). After soaking up the rays on the beach for a few hours we decided to go check out what else Outer Banks had to offer me. Unfortunately, this was going to be my only day on the Outer Banks so I had to do as much as I could. Leslie wouldn’t take me to the Grave Digger museum(little does she know next time we are going for sure) so I decided to settle for other sights.

The first thing that came to mind wass Jennette’s Pier. It was your typical run of the mill pier complete with aquariums and fishing but it did have one unique aspect, windmills. I am not really sure what the energy’s final application would be but it was definitely a sight to see. After messing around in the gift shop I learned that the Outer Banks had a rich history of shipwrecks and pirates but I didn’t buy any book to further my education on this topic. I have too much book debt as it is right now.

For dinner, the entire family decided to go to the Black Pelican Restaurant The Black Pelican originally served as Lifesaving Station #6 and was later converted to the restaurant. More importantly however, the site was also the location of the telegraph system used to inform the world that the Wright Brothers had made thier first successful flight. For dinner I had snow crab legs and I struggled greatly with them. Maybe it was due to the pressure of being surrounded by so many family members, who knows, but I was the last to finish my dinner.

After dinner, Leslie, her little sister and myself went to a set of gift shops and what nots that I believe were called the Kitty Hawk Surf Co. The stores consisted mostly of gag gifts or beach gear that I really didn’t need but there was one noteworthy item. The mechanical shark. Unfortunately the landing pad wasn’t inflated so my attempts to convince Les’ sister to get on were halted.

Leslie found a set of old school piloting attire.

This really concluded my trip for the Outer Banks as Leslie had scheduled a hair appointment at 10AM on Saturday morning in Norfolk. This meant I was going to have to get up at 7AM so I went ahead and called it a night.

Fortunately for me, across the street from the haircutting place was the Virginia War Museum.

I decide this is where I will spend the next couple of hours of my life as Les estimated her hair appointment would take in the ballpark of an hour to and hour and thirty minutes.

So I go in, pay, turn down the first hall way, and Leslie calls my phone. “Hair’s done” she claims non-schlantly. I had just paid $6 dollars for this museum visit and I wasn’t going to waste. I explain to the admissions guy that I have to go pick my girlfriend up and that I will be back in 5 minutes. He agrees that it is no big deal. Leslie of course gets in for only $5. It never ceases to amaze me where her discount works.

This marks the second time in the last few months that I visited a war museum so my philosophical brain started ticking. First of all, it is amazing that we still have them. We are to a point in time where we wont have new war museums due to are ongoing military presence in other countries and the lack of new American battlefields. Casuality counts are down and I believe that most non-military citizens view military life today as just another thing. As we continue to technically progress, I feel that world history will be altered by things like Twitter and renewable energies instead.

This is not to say I don’t respect our history, I just see our world peacefully changing for the better. I was also amazed by the fact that no visitor were in the museum. I am not sure how places like this continue to exist with no revenue. It just seems that our generation today has no concern with military history.

Some other thoughts that left me rattled came to me during the visit as well. There was a picture of an unidentified soldier that was killed during the civil war. It is a shame that a man gave his life for his country yet the country has no recollection of who this citizen was. There was a framed letter written to the parents of a fallen soldier that left me mortified. It was so cold and emotionless. There were ground spikes from the Vietnam War that send sharp pains through my legs just looking at them.

I made the comment that all of the equipment, guns, and uniforms from the wars presented in the museum looked so barbaric to me. I think Leslie was actually offended by this comment, as she defended her opposing view passionately and informed me that it is much the same today. This left me dumbfounded. How can our military be so far behind technically? But they always say that US government/military is the last to adopt new technologies. I suppose this is due to the fear of computer viruses and trojans and whatnot. Maybe the idea of was is just too barbaric for me. Who knows.

After the museum, we headed to Richmond. Leslie really wanted me to meet her newly married older sister and brother in-law. They had a very beautiful house that met every standard I expect a house in Richmond, Virginia to have.

There were no plans for the day other then steaks for dinner so I wanted to hit up this area called Carytown. It is the hipster spot of Richmond. Much like the Bardstown Rd. of Louisville, it was packed full of thrift stores, record stores, comic books stores, etc… AKA my paradise.

We visited all the stores but there was nothing I needed to have to add to my collections. We decided to hit the Galaxy Diner for a few appetizers to hold us over until dinner.

The diner was a futuristic inter-galactic looking diner where hipsters congregate to consume food. I was inpressed. This diner might do well as a chain. But isn’t that everything against what hipsters stand for?

We enjoyed our mini-meal and headed back to house. On the way I got a drive by tour of Richmond. The city really reminded me of Louisville. The beauty was very similar. I started to miss Kentucky a little on the drive. Florida is just not the same. And on that note, the trip was pretty much over, and I was headed back to the Sunshine state the next morning.