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The Weasel and the Rats

By Weasel

I never thought of my trip as interesting enough to write a story about it. But after reading Sixxo's fine work of craftsmanship, I decided that my story was so much more interesting, that I could safely put the pen to the paper. What follows is a true, historical account of what happened to me in Bedford, Texas.

The date is 1 month PSV (pre-sixxo-visit).

I live on an island on the west coast of Canada. There is a small int'l airport here, but nothing big enough to get me to Texas. I'd have to make a short 30 min connecting flight to the mainland. My flight was at 12:30; I got there at 11:30 and was going to have lunch with my father before I left. So we pumped the parking meter full of quarters and found out that the 12:30 flight had broken down and a replacement was leaving in 10 minutes. If I ran I could make it. If my dad ran he couldn't get his quarters back out of the machine, so he probably shouldn't run.

So much for lunch.

I spent more time on the runway in the small 24-seater, 2-prop aircraft, than I did in the air. The in-flight meal was a mint with a creamy chocolate center. There were a lot of rowdy kids on the plane, around 10-15 of them, and I got the pleasure of sitting next to a nice mid-30's woman who was very talkative. And the mother of one of the rowdy kids. They were on a school exchange program to Japan; I was on my way to Texas to the biggest online-game-programming company in the USA. She was immediately impressed and mentioned that her daughter was single.

The mother was immediately pelted with every little peanut that the daughter had.

I don't think she liked me all that much.

Ah well, what's done is done, and if she doesn't want me then too bad. She's missing out on a big opportunity here. Me, Mr Bigshot, flying down to *Texas*. Oooo, Ahhh.

The plane landed without incident in Vancouver, BC. Otherwise known as Hollywood North for it's huge movie industry. The Matrix and the X-Files were mostly filmed in and around this city. Vancouver has an airport to match it's size. It took me an hour to walk from the small-plane-domestic bays to the large-plane-international bays. Not counting customs and paperwork.

This particular airport likes making money, and it has a $5 airport improvement fee. There was a line of about 5 people waiting to pay, and a line of 10 people waiting to go through the gate. (A Guard checks your receipt before letting you through.) I got to the desk after about 3 minutes and the lady says that because I'm from a connecting flight, I'm technically "not at" the airport and don't have to pay the fee. Great. Now the airport's getting all metaphysical on me. So I move on to the line waiting to get to the terminal. It moves rather slowly, and I make it to the guard. He asks for my receipt. I don't have one, obviously, because I'm from a connecting flight.

"I need a receipt, sir."
"I'm from a connecting flight so I don't have one."
"Do you have trouble reading? Did you not notice the line of people? You have to go back and pay at that desk there."
"Are you having trouble hearing? I said I'm from a connecting flight, I don't have to pay."
"That's for the ladies at the desk to decide, not me."
"They've already decided that, and they've decided that I don't have to pay."
"Sir, please go back to the desk or I'll call security."

Knowing that I'm running low on time, I give a big disgruntled sigh and head back to the desk. I'd gladly sacrifice another 5 minutes or so, so I can shove a *doesn't need to pay* stamp in that guy's face.

You know in big tourist towns, you get the groups of 20-40 japanese-speaking lost-looking tourists? Guess who was waiting to pay their airport fees? I swear I heard the following conversation 20 times, at LEAST:

*Japanese person tries to walk by the booth*
"Excuse me sir, sir, could you... yes, you... You... could you come here... You have to pay the airport improvement fee, sir..."
"The.. The.. fee?"
"The improvement fee, you have to pay it." *points to sign*
"I... I no understand"
*holds up 5 fingers* "You have to pay *fiiiive* *dollllarrrs*"

You get the idea. It was agonizing. After probably 20 minutes one of the Japanese folk gets this great idea that they should explain, in their native tongue, to the others what's going on. Suddenly the remaining 15 people dive for their wallets and start waving 5-dollar-bills in the air. It was like something out of a movie.

I approached the ticket counter... There was two lines and two booths; I chose to take the left booth as the line was shorter. It was moving rather quickly at this point; 15-20 seconds per person now. I pull out my ticket and am poised and ready... And it turns out that the guy in front of me doesn't want to pay the improvement fee, he wants a REFUND. See; he had missed his flight and wouldn't be flying from this airport anymore. No problem; he just hands in his ticket and gets his $5 bill. BUT NO! This guy used his credit card to pay. The desk-lady gets on the phone to her supervisor, and 10 minutes later he arrives with the necessary paperwork. By the time I get to the gate, the guard had left. No sweet revenge for me. *sigh*

Luckily I wasn't too late; other problems were holding up the plane. I made it on time just fine. Most of the people on the airplane had sweatshirts and jeans on, due to our Canadian climate and the miserable day at hand... But I thought ahead. I thought, "Texas is f***ing hot, I'll wear shorts and a t-shirt." Well, the air conditioning was turned up so much that I had to get up and walk around a few times to stay warm. That's right; Me, a grown man, asked for a *blanket*. *rolls eyes* I was also subjected to the horrors of "Mission to Mars," but it was an otherwise uneventful trip.

I stepped off of the airplane and into the well-air conditioned terminal. The only reason I'm staying warm is because I'm moving around. I walk for 20 minutes until I reach the baggage check where Rafter was due to meet me. Time ticks by. I begin to fear the worst. I phone the office (luckily 1-800-PLA-YNET actually works in the US, unlike Canada) and beg on several voice mail accounts for help. I decided to check outside - maybe he's out for a smoke or something. The doors automatically open before me, and I get hit with a sudden wave of heat. I could hear Jim Carey saying "Smokin'!" in my mind. It was disturbing. It was soo hot...

You: How hot was it?

It was Sooo hot, that I immediately turned around and went back inside. It felt like my rubber soles were melting. It was, I beleive, 104 F degrees that evening. I imagined all the gum that gets stuck to sidewalks actually sticking to my shoes instead of becoming a new layer of rock-hard sidewalk. *shudder* But I guess that's the norm for all you southern-US-folk. The time was about 8:30 PM.

Background: Air Canada, Canadian, and Canadair are 3 different airlines. Air Canada and Canadian merged, and I think Canadair went bankrupt or something. So my ticket said I was landing at the Air Canada gate, but the Air Canada gate got merged with the Canadian gate on the other side of the airport.

Rafter was at the wrong gate waiting for me.

After about 45 minutes I spot rafter, he "just waves, no insulting signs, and no sign of Tongue", as Sixxo said.

Rafter has a cool Jeep.

It goes fast.

The Rats were holding a chat session that evening, so there were a few of them hanging around when I got to the office. I first met Rafter's spacious office. Not the best /looking/ office, but it was the most /comfy./ Complete with couch, plush chair, coffee table, computer desk/computer/computer chair, TV, DVD player, and a whiteboard. And when I was there there was a package of American Macaroni or something like that... In a little gift basket on the corner of his desk. I think it was Tongue that wanted it, but Rafter made him starve. Snail and Mo share an office, and it looks the homiest - pictures, plants, models... It's a very nice layout, looks very pretty indeed. I beleive they've won the office of the month award for every month; but I could be wrong. (I don't see how though.)

It was pretty late so not everyone was in. (Coughs uneasily as yet another line from Sixxo's article is lifted.)

I sat down at Mo's machine and played a little bit of WWIIOL - I jumped into the opel and rolled it before 10 seconds were up. Of course; if the shocks of the Opel had been tweaked in this beta copy I wouldn't have rolled, but I spring-boarded off of a small bump. I also drove a few other vehicles but they weren't as fun, so never mind about them. The Opel rules.

That evening we all went right across the street to Bennigans - a nice Pub with nice waitresses - and "The biggest gathering of Rat's in a long time," according to Mo, uh, gathered. We all sat around and drank, and drank, and... uh... When the jukebox played music we didn't like we hit the little reset button on the back. Ok, DocDoom did it once. It was quite the jolly ol' time.

Salad showed me the Snake several times. Get your mind out of the gutter =) He also has a delorian. And the sun shines out of his arse.

At the table with me; Mo, Tongue, Snail, DocDoom, Killer, Salad, Ramp, and.. damn! It was so long ago, I don't remember them all =) Snail had the potato soup and killer had something disgusting looking. Mo and I commented on the disgusting yellow snot-looking stringy thing, wading in the pool of oil and semi-translucent brown syrup.

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