Goin' back to Cali

Finally made the move after nearly 7 months of living apart. What a relief...to have my family back with me here in LA.

Last week in Brooklyn was a blur...cleaning, packing, sending our stuff onto a truck into the hands of 3 large guys with many tattoos whom we may never see again. Finally sweeping up the floors and trying (with some success) to scrub away the dog's paw prints from the walls - hoping to get our full deposit back quickly from the landlord.

Had one fabulous meal at my favorite restaurant on 5th avenue, Belleville, before spending the night at a beer garden with our neighborhood friends. We've got reservations on Sunday night for a similar style place on Sunday night - gotta love the bistro menu and atmosphere...and the ability to find a few good local versions in our corner of Los Angeles is definitely a plus.

More later...

What shall we do with the drunken mover?

Send him home and get a replacement.

Seriously.

Movers came to my place on Tuesday to pack us up (thank you, corporate benefactors) and one of them was wasted. I didn't realize that at first, despite the clues:

A) He smelled like gasoline
B) Every time I said something he agreed with, he would should "f%@k you, that's awesome!" and try to shake my hand.
C) I caught him taking a swig from my half-empty bottle of Jameson's Whiskey

What does one do when confronted with something like this? I suppose a more upstanding citizen might put hands on hips and feign some kind of superiority over a guy who needed to steal a drink at 10am on a Tuesday. But I shy away from confrontation in a life-long quest for efficiency and the avoidance of mental strife.

As soon as he saw me, the mover put the bottle down and said, "I was just fooling around." The crew chief, who was working his tail off, looked at me and shook his head. I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "just keep packing, please."

30 minutes later all 3 movers took a break. 45 minutes later Drunky McSwearwords was gone, replaced by a guy with more tattoos and a fearsome work ethic. The other movers were very profesional about it, to their credit.

JetBleh

"Lady, stop treating my $3,000 dollar suit like it was a piece of garbage!"

So sayeth the bloated tool in the seat next to me on this morning's flight from NY to CA. The flight attendant was just trying to make room in the overhead bins where this, ahem, gentleman had lain his oh so riche coat down for a little nap.

Some observations:
- it was a blue suit with purple pinstripes. Me thinks he could have found the same thing for 90% less at the Men's Wearhouse. (He's gonna like the way he looks!)
- only a true jacka$$ would declare the price of his item in public like that
- the flight attendant was pretty snappish with him in return. As she walked away, he mouthed lots of foul things at her back. I was so hoping for a TSA-fueled showdown...but it was not to be.

Generally speaking, domestic plane flights are not much more than a Greyhound bus with wings. But I have a few suggestions to help improve the atmosphere:

First, if you're a hasidic guy bringing 2 hatboxes on board, next time have them shipped - if you live in CA but had to buy them in NY, you can afford the postage and the waiting time.

Next, if you're a petite lady with a small bladder, request an aisle seat. Your lack of a view is probably less important than my desire to get more than 20 minutes of shut-eye before having you tap on my shoulder. Jeez, the 8-year-old in between us chugging Gatorade had to go fewer times than you...

Finally, bring your own food. I bought a yougurt and a small cup of coffee at the airport for $6. Six bucks! That's more money than the real mother of Brad Pitt's kid makes in a year!

M