Chivalry: Not dead, just having a bad week.

Apologies for the lag here in blog land. The past ten days or so have just been off-kilter for me. It seems that everything I do as of late has some sort of a false start to it or derails mid-process. That, and the listless physical feeling that’s been nagging at me for the past week finally developed into a minor chest cold. Nothing serious, but I’m feeling just lousy enough to add to that sensation that everything is just a little off.

I was supposed to have this entire week off to spend at the Nest. That plan got screwed up by my work schedule and an edict that our department head put on our “Summer Hours” program. In short, I ended up with Monday and Thursday off, a Friday holiday, and having to work yesterday and today. That alone makes for one screwy week.

So the updated plan became for me and Bill to go up to the Nest after my ComedySportz show last Saturday night and for me to leave Bill in Yulan while I zipped back to work for my two-day stretch. Well, we were expecting a delivery in Norwalk on Saturday afternoon before we left (our new fireplace unit, to be exact… yes, in the middle of summer. More off-kilterness.) Of course, the delivery didn’t show up on time, forcing me to go into the city solo and leave Bill at home to wait for the truck. The driver did finally show up, but once I got back from Manhattan at 9pm, neither Bill nor I wanted to make the drive out to NY State. So we decided to leave Sunday morning instead.

We stopped for groceries on the way up and the remainder of Sunday was a typical day at the Nest… eating, boating around the lake, etc. I took my first swim of the season, we had a brief (and really beautiful) rainstorm, and Bill and I watched a Netflix rental called Lars and the Real Girl, which was way better that I thought it would be.

At 3am, I woke up with a bout of asthma, feeling really wheezy and heavy-chested. And – OF COURSE – I left my inhaler and any sort of medication I have for said asthma at home. Brilliant, Glenn. Brilliant.

And, of course, the wheeziness wouldn’t leave me alone, so I finally abandoned Bill at around 2pm the following day and headed back to Norwalk. I was supposed to stay until after dinner… but that wouldn’t have been in keeping with the latest string of things going wrong and plans being FUBAR.

So, I’ve been back at work, feeling lousy and trying to just get through two very long days. I was supposed to leave right from work and go back up to the Nest tonight… but – you guessed it – that ain’t gonna happen either. I left all the stuff I was supposed to bring at home, and even took the wrong car this morning to get to work. Yes, the kilter is off. Way off. It’s just as well… I’m still feeling rather yecch, and I’ll do much better making the drive in the morning.

But wait, there’s more.

Bill’s employer is planning to send him to LA for week, the timing of which is still up in the air. He may need to leave Sunday night, which will mean my former week’s worth of vacation would be cut even shorter. He’s still waiting for definite word… and the holding pattern is just adding to the dizziness of this totally f*%ked up week.

So what was supposed to be nine days off in a row and a long vacation at one of my favorite places in the world has turned into two truncated weekends. Some vacation.

The good news is that my parents are supposed to come up tomorrow, and we have an amazing dinner planned on Friday night. Hopefully this will all stay on track. Hopefully.

* * * * *

It struck me last week that my pal Tina is the most intuitive person I’ve ever met. Seriously, you can’t get anything past her… she has an amazing knack for knowing exactly how you’re feeling. An even better knack for knowing exactly what you’re not saying.

We were supposed to record a new podcast last Tuesday. As you’ve read, I’ve been feeling out of it, so I asked to move it to Thursday. Thursday rolls around and I’m still not feeling like my brain and my life are fully engaged, but I decided I was going to give the podcast my best shot anyway. When I called Tina, it seemed like she was busy getting everything together for her vacation (which sounds like it’s going about eight thousand times better than my own), so I asked if it wasn’t a good time for her. That was enough to tip her off… she immediately tuned into the fact that I wasn’t there 100%. So, she offered to put the podcast off until next week. It was really kind of her.

It felt horrible to let her down twice in a row… on the flip side, it was such a relief. I love doing the cast, but I’m a fussy queen and want everything to be right. With luck, she understands… I think she does. Like I said, I can’t get much past her. I’m glad I haven’t ever been in the situation where I’d have to lie to the girl… she pick up on it like lightning. Seriously, it’s a talent. Consider yourself warned. :)

* * * * *

So, I’ve officially had my first altercation on the train.

Yesterday, the 6:07 out of Stamford was two cars short and PACKED. Every seat was taken and just about everyone who got on in Stamford was forced to stand. This meant people were packed together like sardines, standing everywhere, even in the aisles.

I found a snug spot to stand in one of the vestibules by the exit doors. It was hot, cramped and miserable… compounded by the fact that I felt like I had an elephant sitting on my wheezy, asthmatic chest.

Once the doors had closed and we were getting underway, I noticed a woman carrying a sizeable toddler, making her way through the car I was in just trying to find a spot to stand. After spending minutes looking like a salmon trying to make its way upstream, the poor thing finally just gave up. She had no choice but to stand in the middle of the aisle, with nothing to hold onto for support. And I gotta be honest… the kid looked heavy.

Seated directly behind her was a guy who couldn’t have been more than 25. He was fit, young and wearing shorts and t-shirt. He looked up, noticed her situation and went back to his GameBoy.

Hm.

It was probably everything combined – the cramped conditions of the car, the fact that I wasn’t feeling well and that my week has been SO messed up – but I just couldn’t let this go. The woman was obviously struggling and this a-hole just shrugs it off. Thus, my big, fat mouth popped open.

“Dude,” I said to GameBoy. “Why don’t you let the lady with the baby have your seat?”

GameBoy looks up at me and, without even the tiniest bit of irony, says “Why don’t you go f*%k yourself?”

Hm, part two.

You know those moments when there should be the sound of a needle dragging across a record, followed by the entire world stopping dead in its tracks? Well, this was one of those moments. There was an audible gasp from about a dozen people around me – apparently just about everybody nearby had tuned into the plight of mom and baby – followed by complete, stunned silence.

Before I could say anything, a big guy (my height and at least 50 pounds heavier) standing pretty much between me and GameBoy suddenly barks at the kid, “WHAT ARE YOU, A F*%KIN’ RETARD? LET THE LADY SIT DOWN!!!”

Without hesitating, GameBoy gathers up his stuff and gets up out of his seat. From the row of seats behind him, a woman who could best be described as a classic, little old lady says to the woman sitting next to her, in deference to GameBoy, “I certainly didn’t raise any of my children to behave like that.”

WWB (Woman With Baby) sits. GameBoy squeezes his way through the vestibule. As he passes me, he glares at me and mutters, “Jerk.”

Bzzzzzz. Wrong.

“I’m a jerk?” I ask loudly. “You’re the one who has to be told to give up his seat to a woman and her baby, and I’M the jerk. Yeh. Right.”

GameBoy pauses for a second. I don’t know whether the look on my tired, sweaty face let him know he was in for huge verbal beating if he took it any further, or whether he just sensed that everyone standing near him was ready to crucify him for being such a jackass. Either way, he just kept moving. All eyes watched him as he shuffled his way down the crowded aisle and out the door to the next car.

“None of my kids would ever behave like that,” the little old lady mutters.

WWB looks up and we make eye contact for a second. She offers a little smile, but the look on her face – just as tired and sweaty as mine – says “thank you.” She’s welcome, but I gotta be honest… I still wanna punch the kid with the GameBoy square in the mouth.

* * * * *

Waiting on the quote from our latest contractor (who, promisingly, was stunned when we told him about our two $57,000 quotes). Keep those fingers crossed.

Happy 4th to all.

Tschuss.