Early Morning 

One second I’m doing the wave with the little mermaid downby the sea, the next clock-click there’s a Klaxon of discontent collapsing theworld into oblivion.

WRET! WRET! WRET!

“Come Back!” A moving crew has Ariel and her gang in a van,while another attendant folds the backdrop into a void and rolls away. I’m toolate. It’s gone.  The noisecontinues though, for my pleasure.

WRET! WRET! WRET!

See?  Stillgoing.  I’m staring into the black,and the noise won’t stop.  Theblack.  Why is it black? 

The noise?

My alarm?

Morning?

I reach up over my head where the noise box sits. Itvibrates as I feel for the off button.

WRET! Warmer!

WRET! Warmer!

WRE—

It’s silent.

Still black though. Why? I lift my head to see the clock:4:30

Crap! Why so earl—oh…

And the first synapse fires like a hand crank engine.  Well, except the second synapse warnswe’re on a tight schedule: there’ll be no hand cranking this morning.

I’m leaving an airport in four hours. The third synapsereminds me.  After that everythingis up to speed with the daily sports, weather and news at my neuro-tips.  Today is the day I’m flying out to seethe Pirate Queen; It’s gonna be over 100 degrees; The Angels won yesterday; Mylucky number is 9;  I need to getup.

I know me in the morning.  I’m not a morning guy. That’s why I did all my packing last night.  I don’t trust me. Last time I packed in the morning, I forgot my pants.

“Sorry sir, our airport has a must wear pants policy.”

“Uhm yeah, but you can see I’m not hiding anything!”

I may be the bottom monkey in the barrel, but I’m learningand I’m climbing.  Right now, thismonkey is climbing out of the bed. I take my shower, move the Rob accessories into the shaving bag, and fitthat into my luggage.

I actually have to unzip the suitcase to squeeze the shavebag into it.  I’ve overpacked.  Don’t roll your eyes, it’s not myfault.  I took the biggest bag Ihave.  The problem is, that thePirate Queen needed stuff.  It’s her fault I overpacked.That’s right, it’s a stereotype, and yet she’s pulled it off without evenmaking the trip.  That’s right,she’s that good.

Maybe I should explain. Since she’s moving, she needs placesto put her stuff (yeah, I feel a George Carlin skit coming on too, but I don’thave time, I’ve got a plane to catch. Pretend I went through the skit, youlaughed. We all had fun.)

“Do you need me to bring anything?”

“No.  I wish Ihad an extra garment bag though.”

“I have one. I’ll bring it.”

“Ok.. But that’s it.”

“Fine.  Itsounds like the car will be full. Do you need me to bring a foldable roofrack?”

“Ok, but that’s it.”

Yeah, so I’ll skip to the end of the Steve Martin sketch…

“And the roll of packing tape, but that’s all I need.”

“Fine.  I’ve gotit.”

It’s no big deal. I’ve got a bag big enough to carry it all,and I’m flying on Southwest. I get 2 bags for free.

The shuttle arrives, I grab my suitcase, and my carry on,make sure the cat’s fed, everything is good. It’s 5:30, and I’m out the door.

Yay Rob!

I get to the airport. The attendant is very friendly, and she helps me with my baggage.  The morning synapse firing is startingto slow down though. 

“Just this one bag, sir?”

“Yeah.”

“Sir, you’re over the weight limit.  I’ll have to charge you.”

I have one bag, and it’s full of other bags, and I’m overthe limit.  Oh, the irony!  Apparently irony is as far as my braingoes.  It’s the bright and shiny 3stops before logic. I pull out my wallet, pay the overage fee and walk to theboarding gate.

Yeah, you’re already there. You’re in the front of the smartplane. Me, yeah, I’m back at the bottom of the barrel. You know what I shouldhave.  I paid $50 bucks when Icould have opened up my suitcase, pulled out a suitcase, and checked it as asecond bag.  That thought didn’t hitme until I got my first coffee.

I hate mornings.