Travel Travails

After getting up at 3:30 to get to the airport at 6:00 for a flight that left at 7:00, The Common Man did not have the energy to blog yesterday. He hopes you all understand and can forgive him for not being quite as dedicated as Mike Wilson, who live-blogged his own plane crash using Twitter (The Common Man's favorite line: "You have your wits scared out of you, drag your butt out of a flaming ball of wreckage and you can't even get a vodka-tonic.")

And frankly, the day didn't lend itself to putting The Common Man in the best blogging mood anyway. There was the lack of sleep the night before, which weighed heavily on his overall mood. Then, on the first flight, The Boy was acting more rambunctious than usual. Eventually, he peed through his diaper and into The Common Man's lap, meaning that your friendly, neighborhood The Common Man was soaked in urine for the rest of the day. At the second airport of the trip, things went from bad to worse. The plane was delayed for an hour because one of the flight attendants wasn't there yet (she was coming in on another flight, which was itself running late), and FAA regulations state that there must be 6 men and women on board to serve The Common Man drinks and sell him a $4 bag of mini-oreos, not 5.


Then, as the crowd grew ever more impatient and the moment of boarding came ever closer, the gate agent began playing a fun game. "When we begin boarding the plane," she said, "we will begin with passengers traveling in first class, then elite members, then we will be boarding from the back of the plane." Like any impatient mob, the fliers began pushing forward, sure that the boarding process was about to begin. "Thank you for being patient, ladies and gentlemen. What I said was, 'when we begin boarding the plane...'. We are not ready to board yet, and will not be for another 15 minutes. Please step back from the gate area."

Oh, Siren, you had tricked The Common Man and his fellow travelers, luring them in with your sweet promises of boarding and safe passage, only to rebuff them at the last moment and take from them their hope (The Common Man just finished listening to an audiobook of The Odyssey.), but he will not be fooled again. Twenty minutes later, the temptress and gatekeeper returned to the PA system and announced that first class passengers could begin boarding, rows 1-3. After giving them sufficient time to take their golden chariots and slave-driven litters down the gateway, she announced, "Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen, we will now be boarding all rows (long, heavy pause, in which the crowd surges forward once more like a tsunami upon the beach) in first class, rows 1-6." And the crowd receded from her, angry and resentful, muttering and threatening to surge forward again like so many waves upon the shore. Oh, how she had tricked The Common Man again, for he did not know that first class was 6 rows deep!

After dispatching the opulant first class passengers, she called forth the elite fliers and allowed them to board. Then she began the process of boarding the rest of the embittered crowd from the back of the plane. "Rows 36-41," she announced, again thanking the crowd for its patience, as though there were some other choice. After 4-5 minutes to allow the first group of plebs a headstart down the jetbridge, she came back to her podium, protected from the sweaty, grumbling, growingly hostile mass of (by now) semi-humanity in front of her. She spoke, "Now boarding all rows and all passengers on this flight."

The crowd sat stunned, as did The Common Man. He looked at The Uncommon Wife for confirmation. Had she abandoned the plan after 3 minutes? And what was to happen next? "Hold on!" yelled The Common Man, as 300 weary and desperate travelers rushed forward. Swept up in the momentum, The Common Man and The Uncommon Wife held tight to The Boy's stroller and were lifted to the top of this throng, riding it like a boogie-board on top of the wave, praying that it would deliver them safely down the jetbridge, and not send them spiralling off toward the rocks (glass windows) on either side of the door. And so it did.

And 3 hours later, The Common Man and his family made it safely to the American desert, where it was warm and sunny and gate agents are never useless teases whose only desire is to dash whatever slim hopes of happy travels that people have onto sharp rocks of despair. And so, The Common Man is in a much better mood today, eating his grandmother's chocolate chip cookies (mmm...the perfect food), drinking beer, and typing unmolested while The Boy's grandparents take him to Cosco. The next few days should be good and The Common Man looks foward to sharing them with you. In the meantime, just to irk Bikemonkey, here are The Muppets singing "Silent Night" with John Denver:

Saturday Beer Review: New Glarus Spotted Cow

For the first time in as long as he can remember, The Uncommon Wife advocated for a "pajama day" for the Uncommon family. She, The Common Man, and The Boy were to remain in their jammies all day, and simply enjoy being at home together on a crisp fall day. Fortunately, The Common Man had beer available for his sequestering. And since The Common Man isn't leaving the house today, he has chosen a beer that is both close to his home and close to his heart.

And in choosing a beer to siphon, The Common Man would be foolish not go with New Glarus's Spotted Cow. The Cow is a light "farmhouse" ale, cloudy in appearance and complex in flavor. The bitterness of the hops is mellowed by a slight fruity flavor and a bit of sweet corn. The result is a delightfully flavorful beer that leaves no aftertaste and is very refreshing.

Indeed, if The Common Man weren't duty bound to remain indoors all day, he'd say it's the perfect beer to take on a family picnic. The fruity flavor compliments the outdoors, while the low alcohol content (4.8 ABV) means you won't be acting drunk in front of your kids. Never underestimate the importance of saving face.

When you're sitting around, watching the Brewers beat the Phillies, there is no better beer. You support the local art of brewmaking, the local team, and display local pride. And if you're not a fan of the heavier beers, The Common Man believes you can drink this and not feel ashamed or less of a man. Saving face is important in front of the boys too.

All's Fair

Did it feel like forever for you too? The Common Man was only gone for two days, but feels like ages have past since he last spoke to you. He's sorry for that, but family obligations (preparing the boyhood home to receive 60 or so guests and then travelling home last night) kept him from writing before now. In all, it was a good weekend. The Common Man reconnected with family and friends (and family friends) and ate a lot.

Not at the Fair, mind you. Yes, The Common Man and his family attended the state fair on Saturday. But it turns out that 21 month old little boys aren't as interested in food-on-a-stick as their fathers. Little boys are more interested in seeing cows, petting newborn piglets, and wondering at the biggest boar in the state. Also, The Uncommon Wife is less inclined to sit and try new and exotic brews, and more likely to want to watch The Boy ride around and around in a car on the Midway.

So while the fair impressed The Common Man with its size, the variety of activities, and how ridiculously crowded it was, The Common Man didn't feel as though he got to experience everything it had to offer. He didn't get to slide down a long plastic ramp on a gunny sack. Or eat a bucket of chocolate chip cookies and finish it off with all-you-can-drink milk for a dollar. And he didn't get to watch nearly enough fashion victims stroll through the fair with their muscleshirts and mullets.

But the experiences The Common Man had were choice. Watching his son run through the "baaaa barn" and stop at each sheep's pen to say hello. Going through the 95 year-old tunnel of love with The Uncommon Wife. And soaring through the air with The Boy in a giant metal bee, while trying to convince his son to stay seated and not try to jump out. So while incomplete, it was the best time at the Fair that The Common Man can remember. Next year, he'll insist on beer, however.

Visiting Dignitary

The Common Man's father-in-law was in town last night to check out The Common Man, The Uncommon Wife, and The Boy's new digs in Wisconsin. He was traveling through on business, so couldn't stay for much more than a tour and dinner. In spite of the short visit, the house needed to be in father-of-the-bride level awesomeness.




What is it about father-in-laws? The Common Man wonders. What produces the aura that surrounds them? Do they carry around tanks of fear-inducing pheromones? And where can The Common Man get one so that he doesn't have to feel intimidated anymore when he goes to the auto mechanic? Do you have this problem? Where you start to flop-sweat at the thought that her father may think, even after four (relatively) successful years (hi, honey!), even for a second, that you're not good enough for his little girl? All the fathers-in-law The Common Man has encountered seem to have this power.

And The Common Man is even on good terms with his father-in-law. There is mutual respect there. The Common Man has contributed to the making of a grandson to continue the family line. The Common Man and his family live in a nice house in a nice neighborhood in a nice city. It's clear that The Common Man's father-in-law appreciates that fact and (in general) approves of his son-in-law. So why does The Common Man get a feeling that his father-in-law could decide at any moment to announce he's going to his car to get a shovel if The Common Man says the wrong thing?

His wife's dad approved of the house and neighborhood. He believes The Boy is progressing nicely. He announced his intention to return, perhaps even to stay a while. And so, The Common Man has earned his reprieve. It was a good visit and The Common Man is safe once more. But next time? Who knows? Such is the power of The Father-in-Law. You can never stop trying to impress him.