Vail Daily column: Idiocy is as idiocy does
I, ladies and gentlemen, am an idiot.
Now wait, I know what you’re thinking, “Hey Richard, we’ve known that for years now. Why act like it’s such a brilliant revelation.”
Well, to begin with, I’m not acting like it’s a brilliant revelation, as you so succinctly put it. In fact, I’m not acting at all, just stating a relatively newfound fact, at least on my end.
“OK, we’ll bite. Why are you calling yourself an idiot … this time?”
I don’t recall doing so before, but whatever, here goes.
I had to fly to Texas last weekend. Sort of a big deal, I suppose, in that my brother and I, for the first time in the 30 years that I’ve lived in Happy Valley, had to have a “sit-down serious discussion with Mom and Dad” concerning their future.
And it wasn’t the type of “sit down” that one can have over the phone or Skype but the kind that needs to be done face to face.
You know what I mean.
Both being in their 80s, they finally reached the conclusion recently that, perhaps, there just might possibly be a point in the future when one or both of them might actually cease to exist.
And that future could be relatively near.
So off I went, sans my own personal family, just me and a rental car and a carry-on suitcase, large enough for a few days’ worth of clothes, toiletries, chargers of all types and, last but not least, my laptop.
Believe it or not, but I’ve never traveled without checking a bag and then using a backpack to carry on my electronics and such, which I could always stuff under my seat, thus avoiding ever having to use the overhead bins.
(Hold tight, we’re getting close to the idiot part.)
This is my 747th column on a Tuesday in the Vail Daily.
“Hooray, we’re so happy for you.”
Hey, back off; it’s not an ego thing, it’s an important part of the story.
“Sorry … ”
Anyway, I usually start writing on Friday or Saturday, and they’re always due Sunday night. I began No. 747 on the flight down last Friday morning and had the majority of it done before landing.
The 48 hours with Mom and Dad were pretty intense, or perhaps emotional is a better description, but it’s safe to say the last thing I thought about during that time was my column.
Therefore, I didn’t touch the laptop again until late Sunday afternoon on the flight home, but I pulled it out before stuffing the bag in the overhead bin and had No. 747 all nice and finished before landing.
It was at this point the nice stewardess lady requested I put it under my seat for landing.
So I did.
We landed, I grabbed my suitcase, smiled and said, “Have a good night” as I exited the plane, went straight to my car (which was parked in the reserve area up front for plugging in electric vehicles — pretty cool), hopped on Interstate 70 heading west, waved at all the tourists very slowly heading east (“Ha-ha, suckers!), made it home, pulled in the garage, kissed my wife, walked upstairs, turned on my computer so I could transfer the file containing No. 747, opened my suitcase and …
Like I said, I’m an idiot.
Richard Carnes of Edwards writes weekly. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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