I left my house last Saturday morning and returned at dinner time yesterday. That full week away represents the second-longest span I've ever spent away from my family, trailing only a combo canoe trip/OBFT excursion from a couple of years ago. I spent four days in Las Vegas facilitating a strategic planning session for an elite youth soccer league, and parts of three days in San Francisco doing an entirely different kind of planning for my real-world job. My brain got used hard, and the nights weren't really restful. So while I've got a lot on my mind, none of it is particularly organized.
But a couple of things might be worth the attention of this august assemblage.
The first of these are music related. Many of the big festivals have released their 2017 lineups. And if you're anywhere near Boston May 26-28, it's your duty as a music fan to find your way to Boston Calling. I'm not one for hyperbole*, but this lineup is as good as anything since Woodstock. The undercard, the goddamn undercard, features Bon Iver, Sigur Rós, The xx, Run the Jewels, Solange, Weezer, Cage the Elephant, Tegan & Sara, Wolf Parade, Mac DeMarco, Danny Brown, Flatbush Zombies, Frightened Rabbit, Car Seat Headrest, Deerhoof, Modern Baseball, Mitski, PUP, Whitney, The Hotelier, Strand of Oaks, Hiss Golden Messenger, and Kevin Morby. That's fucking crazy, and we haven't even talked about Tool, Mumford and Sons, and Chance the Rapper, who anchor each day's lineup, nor Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats, Major Lazer, Brandi Carlile, and Buffalo Tom, who somehow aren't even considered the undercard. Fuck me, but that's a sick festival bill.
* I am very much one for hyperbole
Giannis Antetokounmpo did freaky stuff. Again.
On my flight back to DC, I got up to use the restroom about halfway through the trip. As I stood waiting for one of the two rear lavatories to open, I heard a panicked voice from behind me say, "Please. I'm going to be sick."
Without looking back, I stepped forward into the galley, past a startled flight attendant. Her first reaction was to try to stop me, but then she gasped and said, "Oh, my." as the woman who owned the first voice fainted and collapsed on the floor between the two lavatories.
The flight crew swung into action, grabbing an emergency first aid kit, calling for medical professionals on the plane to report to the scene, and assisting the stricken passenger. Two doctors and a nurse practitioner responded as the ailing woman recovered consciousness after a minute or so. They took her blood pressure, hooked up a portable heart monitor, administered oxygen, and tried to figure out what kinds of drugs were contained in the kit (answer: an amazing variety of both orally and intravenously administered chemicals).
They got on the phone with first the pilot, and then a physician on the ground, trying to diagnose the patient and to figure out if we needed to divert to Des Moines. As the patient finally stirred and then sat up, the crew decided it was time to let me and one other guy who were stuck in the galley get back to our seats. After we finally drained our bladders, 45 minutes after we first tried to go to the head.
You don't get that kind of action on just any flight.
My next flight is on Friday. It's to New Orleans, as I bail out on the Inauguration festivities/end of days to spend a couple of days with some friends from my neighborhood. I didn't plan it as a protest against the coming dread, but it sure is convenient. We're gonna drink a lot, see John Boutte at d.b.a. on Frenchman Street, check out the World War II museum (as a means of pacing ourselves), eat some killer food, and drink some more. If the world ends while I'm in Crescent City, I'll miss my family, but I'll be consoled by the sweet narcotic effect of free-flowing alcohol in go cups.
Bless you all, Gheorghies.
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18 comments:
I'm due for a return to New Orleans. It's been about three years.
It's not really in my musical wheelhouse but the new xx album is really good. In other "related to Boston Calling news", he's not for everyone, to be sure, but Danny Brown is fucking dope.
If you want to see Whitney, you don't have to go to Boston.
Frenchman St is my favorite street in that awesome town.
I am scheduled to attend a conference in NOLA the week between JazzFest weekends. Could be entertaining.
100% agree with TR on Frenchman.
Also, if we never do a fairly large GTB summit in New Orleans, we have failed.
Meatloaf almost was the singer for Total Eclipse of the Heart. That's my Cliff Clavin fact of the day.
I once dated a girl who wanted to dance with her Dad at her wedding to that song. She, obviously, had issues.
Rob while you're boozing it up in Nawlins, we'll be fighting the good fight for you thanks to KQ. Check out her awesome site -
pussygoestowashington.com (SFW)
Of all the things that disgust me about Greg Schiano's tenure as the Bucs Head Coach (there are many), none make me as mad as his refusal to re-sign Michael Bennett.
mr kq, a guest blog spot is all yours/hers if you'd like it. just say the word.
Tom Selleck almost playing Indiana Jones always blows my mind
Can you imagine how that would've impacted the manliness continuum?
The Dion Lewis game. Belichick out here Belichickin.
It's nice to see Clowney healthy again. The dumb ass Clowney is a bust crowd can shut up now. He was so much more dominant at South Carolina than he ever got credit for. He's dominating like that again. It's fun to watch.
I was wrong about this game too. At least so far. Thought it'd be a blowout and that Belichick would peacock his way to a win. It's a game so far. That's a welcome surprise.
John Wick 2. February 10. Get some, Mayhugh and Teej.
Pats are even whinier than normal. Lots of former Pats on the Houston coaching staff. I think that helps them somewhat.
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