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#11
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Ten Days in Hell - Trip Reports
I suspect my wife will see to that. The idea that I would ignore this
warning and not get a check-up would make her...testy. She is one person who is definitely not intimidated by my usual bluster. I'll have it checked out, though I dread the notion. I'm a skeered of needles. Come on Marine, a little needle is nothing. And nothing compared to the vast amount of innoculations we received prior to the Asian Vacation. But, I digress. If you humped a ruck through the rice paddy you need to speak with the VA about your hidradenitis suppurativa. I had to dump some stinking powder over me for two years in order to remove the various bugs and fungus that wanted to make a home out of my skin. And I have to wonder if maybe you brought back an unwanted stowaway. As usual, a great trip report and excellent read. Unfortunate about your derriere, but no one can make claim that your postings are not candid. |
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Ten Days in Hell - Trip Reports
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#13
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Ten Days in Hell - Trip Reports
"PTRAVEL" wrote in message ...
Sorry to hear of your woes. I always enjoy reading your posts. I hope everything checks out okay (and keep wearing those TSA tee-shirts!). Not to worry, I'm already back up to speed! I've got a small hole where I hadn't one before, and some antibiotics to makes sure it keeps draining, and (gag), my wife and I went out and bought me some 'panty liners' to make sure I don't ruin too many more pair of trousers in the next week or so while I finish healing. I'm good to go. And I'll be wearing my favorite anti-TSA tee shirt on the plane tomorrow, promise! My wife picked me up at the airport this morning when I got in from Phoenix, and whom should we see as we left the airport? Officer Dickhead, that's who. I pointed him out to her as the 'cop who sprayed me with spit while he read me the riot act'. He just stared daggers at me. I imagine we'll meet again - but this time, I'm not ready to pass out from pain. Best Regards, Bill Mattocks |
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Ten Days in Hell - Trip Reports
I certainly hope that you have a substantial equity position in the company
you work for. If not, I hope you got a bonus. -- Binyamin Dissen http://www.dissensoftware.com |
#15
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Ten Days in Hell - Trip Reports
gee, Bill... more information than I wanted to know... (you couldn't just
have anything common, could you...) ;-) "The Bill Mattocks" wrote in message om... Hello again! This is your intrepid road warrior, the irrepressible, nonsensical, indefatigable Bill Mattocks here to regale you with yet another tale of derring do. And everyone who wishes me ill will be well-rewarded, so if you really, really, dislike me, you'll enjoy this story. Our story this time begins in the land of enchantment, New Mexico, from whence I hail. I had an assignment to travel to Wichita, Kansas, to teach a class or two on my company's products to our clients there. I made my plans, and on Wednesday, September 3rd, I sallied forth. I should pause here on a sidenote and tell you about a small physical problem of mine, since it figures heavily in the story later on. I have a skin disease known as Hidradenitis Suppurativa (HS), which is a rather naughty little disease that is not talked about in proper society, because it is characterized by painful, bleeding or oozing boils in the nether regions as well as the armpits and sometimes the back of the neck of sufferers. There is no cure, and nobody knows how you get it. But it hurts a lot, and ruins a lot of trousers in the most inconvenient and embarrassing way possible. On Tuesday, September 2nd, I had noticed that I seemed to be brewing a big one on my buttocks. Not that this is terribly unusual, but it boded ill for the upcoming trip. Such problems usually resolve themselves in a week or so, and although painful and unsightly, they are not life-threatening or severe enough to seek medical treatment. Or so I thought. Because this disease sometimes produces boils in places that give me a definite list to port or starboard, I sometimes walk with a limp, and therefore, find a cane to provide suitable assistance. On this trip, I took my cane as I felt I might end up needing it. Going through ABQ security, they made me take my belt off. When it came through the other end, it looked 'funny'. When I tried to put it on, the metal buckle shattered. Yes, like it was made of powder, it just fell to pieces in my hand. Of course, there was no store selling belts on the concourse, either in ABQ or later in PHX. I walked around all day with a cane in one hand and holding up my pants with the other. My first trip was on HP, ABQ-PHX-ICT. No major problems, HP was kind enough to give me my usual free upgrade to FC on both outbound segments. The PHX-ICT segment was on an RJ 700, so it had a FC section, and it was quite nice. Despite my earlier complaints about not having NeverLost with Hertz at ICT, I was able to find my way around without too much trouble, as the local roads were indeed laid out in a grid, although I found myself out by the old airport, where there is much construction. I was in some small physical discomfort by then, so I did partake in some over-the-counter medication and a small bottle of Jack Daniels (for medicinal purposes only). Plus, I bought a new belt. I got through the week with no serious problems, although the cane had definitely been a good idea. By the end of the week, the boil had not yet come to a conclusion, nor had there been any fireworks of the pain-relieving sourt, so my poor ass was beginning to hurt rather a lot. I left ICT on Saturday, September 6, bound for home. My flight, HP FLT 6152, was rather a nightmare. First of all, it was a small 50-seater RJ, with no FC section. I found it painful to sit down, but managed eventually. Then, as the tug that pushes the plane back from the gate tried to do so, it became 'stuck' to the plane. Yes, that's right, the damned tug was stuck to the plane. We could feel it in the plane as it jerked back and forth, trying to dislodge itself from the RJ. How does one get an airport tug stuck to a plane? At one point, I was treated to the unnerving sight of seeing a second tug appear, take a position just under the left wing, take a good run at the first tug, and apparently crash into it at high speed! The plane jerked a good couple of feet forward, but we were still hooked firmly to it. The maintanence guys finally just showed up with wrenches and removed the long traingular tongue from the front of the tug, leaving it intact and sticking onto the plane's landing gear. We then taxiied back to the jetway and disembarked. They called the 'real mechanics' who were of course off-duty on weekends. We left ICT 2.5 hours late. Although I had scheduled a 2 hour layover in PHX, it was insufficient, and I found myself in PHX for an additional 4 hours, catching the last flight of the evening home to ABQ on Saturday night. This left me somewhat...angry. I was especially angry since HP employees in PHX would do nothing towards getting me home earlier. I asked them to put me on an earlier Southwest flight, of which there were several. I was told in no uncertain terms that they 'don't do that'. I limped down to the Southwest Customer Service Center and was told that yes, HP buys tickets on Southwest for stranded passengers all the time. So I limped back to HP Customer Service, told them what I had learned, and was told again that there was no way they would do anything for me except put me on the next HP flight home. I cursed rather loudly and colorfully and flung my HP Platinum card at the Customer Service drone, informing him that he could put the card wherever he felt it would do him the most good. I got in ABQ very late, very angry, and very much late for my preparations for my next flight - the very next day. Sunday morning, September 7th found me in a very bad humour. I was hurting very badly now. In fact, it was so bad that I was doubting that the problem I was experiencing was really my HS acting up - it should have ruptured by now, ruining my clothes but giving me physical relief. Instead, it was larger, more painful, and I had a nice fever to go along with it. When I tried to put on a pair of jeans to get ready to leave, the pain was so intense that I crashed to the floor and writhed around a bit. Very entertaining. My poor wife's eyes were big as saucers, but she knew better than to try to stop me from going on my assignment. They will cart my fat dead ass out the door before I will fail to perform my job. My wife drove me to the ABQ airport. Unlike my usual attire, this time I wore no "TSA SUCKS" tee shirts, just a regular pair of chinos and a dress shirt. I was in way too much pain to bend over and take my shoes off, so I went through with them on. I beeped. I was directed to the secondary screening, where I was subjected to the usual anal probe. But it got more interesting... The guy inspecting me was interested in engaging me in twenty questions. I was sweating bullets by this time, and when they made me sit on a chair so that I could have my feet wanded, I was in agony. I bit my lip and answered his questions with single syllables, which eventually made him ask me if I had a problem. I said, "Yes, of course I have a problem, I hate this. I just want to get out of your face as soon as possible, so get on with it." Oh, wrong answer. He went and got his supervisor immediately. I heard him tell the supervisor that I had told him to "Get out of my face," which I had not. But they're all idiots, so I was not surprised to hear this lie. I stood up when the supervisor arrived and began questioning me on my 'problem'. He told me to sit down again. I did, forgetting that I was in a lot of pain, and when my sore infected ass contacted the chair, I yelled "****!" Big mistake. An ABQ cop was on my like white on rice. He demanded my ID, told me I was under arrest (this is my second time being threatened with arrest in the ABQ airport, not a great batting average). He told me that even if he did not arrest me, he was going to bar me from the airport permanently. He yelled and sprayed spittle in my face, he was so close to me. Like Marine Boot Camp, it was. I just said "Yes, sir" and "No, sir" and did my best to look insignificant. He ran my ID to see if I was wanted and after telling me several more times that I was most definitely under arrest, he gave me back my ID, made me apologize to the screener and his supervisor for shouting "****!" and told me to get my **** and get the hell out of his area. I hobbled over to the desk, got my ****, and got the hell out of the area. When I stood up, I nearly passed out from the pain, but damned if I was going to croak in their 'Federal Security Zone'. I'd drag myself out of the airport and die a free man if that is what it took. I had another HP flight, FLT 792 from ABQ-PHX-SJC. Short layover, but I made it, and yes, I did get FC upgrades on both outbound segments. It helped, but sitting down was now a five minute operation in sweating and cursing under my breath. It had been a rough day. I got into SJC, got my rental car, and drove to my hotel. In the lobby, I found a guy who had no luggage, no ID, no credit cards, but a five-year-old daughter and a sob story. Seems his wife had kicked him out of the house with nothing but his daughter, and he needed a place to stay, and all he had in the world was a crumpled up 'free night's stay' coupon at the Marriott Courtyard, and the hotel would not take it, and on and on and on. He was thirty some years old, drunk, and crying like a baby. I told the hotel to put his room for the night on my credit card, had them turn off his phone and cable TV, warned him not to steal anything and to stop blubbering and act like a man, checked in, and went to bed. He was still blubbering his thanks as I hobbled away. I felt sorry for his daughter. I checked with the hotel in the morning, he had checked out on scheduled, didn't wreck the room, my credit was safe. Whatever. In the morning, I drove to work, wishing I was anywhere else. I taught class all day, and in the evening, I drove over to the San Jose Medical Center, where I checked in to the emergency ward. I reported the problem as a 'boil on my left buttock' and then I waited. And waited. The San Jose Medical Center reminds me slightly of a beach. A lot of stuff washes up there. 'Nuff said. They called me back, had me put on a tiny robe, and ignored me for another four hours or so. I nearly fell asleep, pain and all. When I was finally seen, the doctor took one look and pronounced that I had an 'abscess' that had become infected, and it would have to come out surgically. She gave me the old KY finger up the bum to make sure that it was not connected to any vital parts that would have required me to check in for an extended stay. None. So it was just to be a cut and drain type operation. Indeed! They hooked me up to an IV and when they were ready to cut me, they dropped in some stuff that knocked me out in about one second. While I was out, they did the cutting and draining, and packed my ass with a few yards of cotton gauze. I woke up about four minutes later, babbling. They tell me the stuff they use is like a truth serum, you tell the most interesting secrets while you are out cold and you don't remember it. Well, I didn't remember anything, but they told me that I raved about how good my wife's BBQ cooking is. Oh yes, and how I thought the design pattern on an orderly's shirt was a bunch of eyeballs that were coming to get me. Hmmm. They told me that my injury might have been caused by an ingrown hair that got infected, or it could be that I have adult-onset type 2 diabetes. I'm supposed to get a physical when I get home and have that checked. Apparently, abcesses of the butt are fairly common with diabetes. Dunno, never had THIS problem before, I thought it was just my HS acting up, except it never erupted on its own. They finally discharged me after midnight. I got a prescription for antibiotics (Keflex) and pain killers (Vicadin). They told me to leave my rental car and take a taxi back to my hotel. I think that they knew that I was not planning any such thing, because they called the cab and waited to see me get in it before they let me go. But I gave the cabbie a twenty, slid out the other side of the cab, and drove my rental car back to the hotel. No way in hell I was leaving my rental car with my laptop in the back seat on a side street in THAT neighborhood overnight. I was born at night, but not last night. I noticed when I paid the cabbie that someone had been in my wallet, I was missing about 80 bucks. I didn't care. I just felt SO much better after they cut on me. I went to work the next day, taught my class all day, and then on Wednesday after work, I had to go back to the hospital to get the gauze taken out of my ass. Like an Indian rope trick, it was. Yards and yards all coming out of my left butt cheek. I felt like yelling "Hey, everybody, look, I'm a pinata!" I managed to talk them into NOT repacking the wound, since I have to fly home tomorrow (Saturday) and then out to Wilson, North Carolina on Sunday. No time for visiting doctors and doing more Indian Rope Tricks with my ass. They agreed, since it appears that I am healing well and the wound is draining properly (and ruining more pants, of course). SO, this has been an interesting couple of trips. It has been costly (two ER co-pays of $50 each, my end of a 70/30 insurance split after I pay my annual $300 deductible, having food delivered to my hotel every night since I felt too sick to go out, and having some money stolen from me), and it has been extremely painful. Almost worse than the time I taught a class all week with a broken wisdom tooth and the nerve exposed, but then again, this might have been worse. That's the end. Tomorrow, I have an early flight home (HP FLT 202, SJC-PHX-ABQ), then on Sunday it's HP FLT 182 from ABQ-PHX-RDU. I'll be in Wilson, NC for about three weeks, perhaps coming home on weekends. The pain is gone, but the drainage remains. I have not touched the Vicadin. What a trip! There was pain, doctors, handouts, police activity, bizarrely-broken planes, angry pax (me), and about twenty yards of gauze in my ass. What more could a road-warrior ask for? Best Regards, Bill Mattocks |
#16
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Ten Days in Hell - Trip Reports
Bill - you are my new hero. I'd have flung myself in a wood chipper had I
had these problems. You da' man. "The Bill Mattocks" wrote in message om... "CLK" wrote in message . com... Bill - This has to be your best story. While I'm sure some of it was true, there is no way all of that could have happened to one man on one trip; sounds like a condensation of your life's problems. It was all on TWO trips - ABQ-ICT and ABQ-SJC. Ten days, two trips. And it all happened on these last ten days. I even left some stuff out - for instance, when I arose this morning at zero-dark-thirty in San Jose, CA, my toilet had flooded during the night, and I stepped in utter darkness into a 1 inch deep lake in my hotel bathroom. Your post was great, however. Job would be proud to have someone suffer more than he did. :-) My suffering was minor compared to that of many. Mine is over, theirs goes on and on. But the story, I am proud to say, all happened as described. Stuff happens to me. Best Regards, Bill Mattocks |
#17
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Ten Days in Hell - Trip Reports
Talk about a guy who if he didn't have bad luck would have no luck at
all. Eric |
#18
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Ten Days in Hell - Trip Reports
"DALing" daling43[delete]-at-hotmail.com wrote in message ...
gee, Bill... more information than I wanted to know... (you couldn't just have anything common, could you...) ;-) Now, what fun would *that* be? Besides, I'm all better now. And, I'm in Wilson, North Carolina now. Right in the predicted path of the hurricane. Out of the frying pan... Best Regards, Bill Mattocks |
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Ten Days in Hell - Trip Reports
Binyamin Dissen wrote in message . ..
I certainly hope that you have a substantial equity position in the company you work for. My stock options are so far underwater, I have to send them down air tanks from time to time. If not, I hope you got a bonus. I get a paycheck. These days, that's a bonus - and I'm happy to have it. Best Regards, Bill Mattocks |
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Ten Days in Hell - Trip Reports
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