kevinwhipps.com

Farewells

May 10, 2008 – 3:14 pm

Remember that bookmark post I wrote a few days ago?

Well this isn’t it.

It is however, the first part of said bookmark, but not the entire thing. Life changing stuff comes later.

Sold my truck.

Yup, I’ve even taken a deposit on it, so as of right now, I’m just waiting to shoot the truck for a magazine and then get the other half of the money and it’s his. I paid off the truck on Friday, and now it’s just a quick detailing job and a few pics away from leaving my house and moving on to the new owner.

So who’s the new guy? Well he’s a kid who’s in the scene, and he’s seen my work before, and he loves it. Apparently he was trying to raise the cash to buy it back when I first put it up on the market, but once it dropped 10g’s, he was good to go. He didn’t ask to see the truck, or drive it, he just met me at Starbucks one afternoon, handed me a grip of cash, signed some docs and it was good to go. He’s not even going to drive the thing until Monday when he comes to get it.

I spent this morning taking care of some little odds and ends, like filling up the EDC with fresh oil, and replacing a bad door popper, but at one point I started to clean out the truck and that’s when it all sort of hit me. As I was going through my glove box, I found all sorts of little mementoes - little stops along the way that reminded me of things that’s happened with the truck. A receipt from Napa from when I replaced my shocks, Sirius Radio channel guides, and the Transformers DVD I watched at Reso while I was in line. Then I searched a bit harder, and found the paperwork from World of Wheels, a flashlight I bought this year on the way to Sema, all things that had a little bit of signifigance in my life in one way or another. It was a little sad.

Of course with the good comes the bad, and although it’s a big step forward for me financially that we’ve sold the truck, it’s always sad to see something you’ve put so much work into leave your hands. I’ve spent a little over 3 years building the truck, and I’m almost on the 4 year anniversary of the purchase. I’ve spent a lot of time with that truck, and I hate to see it go.

Anyways, let’s talk about something more fun; New trucks.

Selling the ‘04 gives me enough cash to pay off the ‘04 and the ‘01, and come Tuesday the ‘01 will be paid off and free and clear for the first time since I’ve owned it. I’m also taking the insurance off of the ‘01 and ‘04, leaving me just with the monthly bill for the dually which I’m only keeping on because I need some kind of insurance. I do need to get something new though, something reliable for day-to-day commuting.

Problem is, I currently have 2 car loans on my credit, and my credit has suffered as of late, what with all the big purchases we’ve been forced to make in one way or another, and Kirsten is unemployed. Knowing that, I can’t exactly claim that we make as much as we used to, and it’s frustrating.

The bigger problem though, is that right now I’m under a deadline.

I’ve gotta get something by the beginning of June. Otherwise, I’m a little screwed.

Why?

Oh that’s the other part of the bookmark.

The part I’ll talk about Tuesday.

Maybe Monday if you’re good.

Kevin Whipps |

Projects, '04 Silverado, Money |

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Pepper

May 9, 2008 – 11:57 am

15 minutes later, she was put down.

I’m gonna miss you, Pepper.

Kevin Whipps |

Pets, Stupidity |

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Bookmark

May 7, 2008 – 9:13 am

I want you to go ahead and jot down May 5th on your calendar. Write it down somewhere and remember that day.

That’s the day my life changed more than you could ever imagine.

Just can’t talk about it quite yet.

Bookmark it.

Kevin Whipps |

Stupidity |

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An evaluation of the situation at hand

May 2, 2008 – 2:08 pm

First thought?

We’re fucked.

Second thought?

Shit, I just paid for that air conditioner for the garage. I wonder if he still has the money.

He did and now I do.

Of course that was yesterday, not today, not January 25th when things started coming to a head, and not back in ‘04 when Kirsten started with the company, so let’s start there and work our way forward.

_____________________________________________________________________________

When I met Kirsten on my birthday in 2005, she was working for a company that I’ll call CabinetCo, doing processing work for a salesperson. The company was fairly small and specialized in kitchen design, but only the cabinet work. No counter tops, no tile work, just cabinets. The workflow at the time was a little wonky.

Let’s say you want a kitchen. So you come into CabinetCo, and they set you up with a designer to help design your kitchen. Once they design it for you, then the designer hands it off to Kirsten for fine tuning. She’d go through and make the plans accurate, then once the customer approved, she’d process the order through their system to get things ordered properly, get the job on the calendar, and get the job done.

At the time, the company was pretty small, so there really wasn’t a processing department, there was pretty much Kirsten and one other girl shoved in a corner. Better yet, Kirsten’s designer was a bitch. She’d yell at Kirsten, she’d manipulate things and she’d fuck her on commissions. By the spring of ‘05, she was thinking about leaving.

But then she got transferred to another designer, who really pulled her out of the fire. She wasn’t ideal to work with, but she was more fun. As things got busier, a processing department was created, and she assumed a quasi-manager position. She also flexed her IT skills and became the in-house computer repair person. She also was training every new employee, sales person or processor, and even training some future managers. The owner once told her, “I don’t know how the company would have come this far without you.”

The owner is a very religious man, a guy who on every invoice that goes out puts a donation to charity on the bill. You can’t curse around him, and he thought that the last Die Hard movie was too violent for him, not just his kids. He’s always been very nice to me, and very nice to Kirsten.

The company has been doing well for years, and then recently things started taking a downward tick. The custom shop was closed down, people started leaving the company, and things didn’t look bad, but not really that good either. Then came January.

It was January 25th when I got a call from Kirsten.

“Kacy just got laid off!”

That’s right, Kacy, Kirsten’s hot friend from work and bridesmaid at our wedding, was laid off from work. After Kacy packed up her things and left, the owner pulled Kirsten into the office and said to her, “Kirsten, don’t worry about your job. Your job is not in jeopardy.”

Things weren’t getting better though, and Kirsten was starting to complain. Salespeople were fucking up orders and causing chargebacks, Kirsten was being chastised for not anticipating what a salesperson wanted, and it was getting ridiculous. It all smacked of Deja Vu.

Then, Kirsten’s grandmother passed away. We flew to Chicago, went to the funeral, and the day she gets back to work, she gets reprimanded by her boss. The owner of the company, the sales manager (who Kirsten trained), and her direct manager, told her how she needed to be nicer, how she needed to do what the salespeople wanted her to do, because they made the money and she didn’t. Now in all fairness, let’s point out that Kirsten was a little stressed. She had a grandmother who was dying, and a wedding to plan, plus a ton of work to do. But what her boss wanted her to do was coddle the salespeople when they got stressed out, and don’t worry about your own problems, just push those aside. The salespeople are important.

Timing is everything, isn’t it?

Flash to yesterday, and her boss telling her that he had to let her go because he was told by the other two owners that he had to cut costs by a certain dollar amount, and she was the easiest way to go. Her direct supervisor was working on it up until the morning of, and there was nothing they could do. Kirsten had to go.

The department is now left with a veteran who’s “pretty much” full time, one girl who’s been there 6 months, and another who’s been there just over a year.

Not sure how they expect to get things done, but whatever. Not my problem anymore.

That brings us back around to yesterday, and the plan of attack.

Let’s just put it all out there, because it’s all about honesty.

We’re in debt. 3 car payments, lots in credit cards and a house. Now we’re not locked in some wonky mortage payment, but our plan for the past few months has been to get out of debt via three methods:

1. Money from the wedding
2. Profits from the sale of the truck.
3. Tax Refund Cash

I don’t owe a shit ton of money on the truck, but I do have two trucks to pay off, the ‘01 and the ‘04. By selling the truck in the 20’s, I’d be able to pay off two trucks and a chunk of credit cards. Then we’d take the money from the wedding, plus the money from the tax refund and we’d be good to go. If the truck didn’t sell by the end of the honeymoon, then we’d pay off the green truck with the money from the wedding and tax refund, and that would put us in a good scenario.

Well we get back from the honeymoon and BAM! $3g’s on the dogs. We didn’t have enough money to pay off the truck anymore, but we did have enough to fill the gaping hole in the roof of my garage with an air conditioner, so I got a good deal from a friend in the club I’m petitioning, and on Tuesday I give him a chunk of change to get it done.

Then of course, Kirsten gets laid off.

Now I’m in panic mode. I knew she could get a job at Kacy’s new work, which could overall be a money saving deal. It’s less than a mile from the house so she wouldn’t have to commute, and I’d take over the xB so we wouldn’t have to buy a new car. Problem is, the new job would pay half for at least 90 days.

The weekend before the lay off, I talked to Kirsten about her job. “Just don’t lose that job,” I said, “Because you’re the bread winner in this family.”

This new paycheck amount would mean that I would make more than her, and I don’t make dick.

So what could I do? It took Kacy 6 weeks to find a job, and unemployment is high. There’s a very good chance that she won’t get a job immediately and that we’ll have at least 2 weeks without a paycheck. I plug things into my spreadsheet and realize that with the possible new paycheck parameters we’d be in the hole $700 a month, and that’s on the assumption that I sold my truck. Otherwise, we’re in a LOT more.

What I did was everything I felt I could do to make more money and get us back to the same spot as before.

1. I applied for a retail job, part time.
2. I marked the truck down to $17500 for a quick sale.
3. I emailed my editors to ask for any work I could.
4. I got the money back for the a/c unit.

Now we have a **little** bit of cash in the bank. Enough to cover a few weeks anyways, and hopefully she can get the job before we hit the shits. If not, then we have to do some serious work to get out of debt and stay afloat.

I’m not sure if we can do it, and I’m scared out of my fucking mind.

Guess we’ll see how it goes.

Kevin Whipps |

Kirsten, Money |

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You might have noticed…

April 30, 2008 – 4:08 pm

…That I dropped the price of my truck to $17,500.

That’s because today, Kirsten got laid off, and I’m fucked.

If you know ANYONE. Please. Let me know. $17,500, as is, done.

Kevin Whipps |

Projects, '04 Silverado, Money, Stupidity |

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Addressing the important issues

April 22, 2008 – 2:36 pm

A month or so ago, I handed the keys over to Slinky, and delivered a juiced Toyota Matrix which he drove back to Kansas. That broke out into a fight online, which then worked out into us exchanging emails, which then led to him sending me one which I didn’t respond to.

He’s probably wondering why, so here’s my explanation.

I got the email about a week before the wedding, and I decided that it was not the time for me to get embroiled in yet another conversation about the project, so I put it aside. I had already written a response that rivaled some of my other blog posts for length, but I decided that my wedding was more important to me and I should focus on that.

So I did.

Then I got back, thought about it some more, and then decided I’d rather bring it up here instead.

I could go through and rehash the whole argument, and go into my side and the other, but really at this point none of that matters. What does matter is two things:

1. Slinky drove the car home to Kansas 16 hours with no problems.
2. I put out the best quality product I could with the components I was given and I completed it in the time allotted.

Now how would I do things differently or how do I wish things would have gone through?

1. I wouldn’t have taken on the project until after the wedding. Taking it on prior was just a time crunch. Having to go out of town on two separate occasions during the build certainly didn’t help, but neither of those events were planned.
2. The money. Sorry to say it, but I’m notorious for undercharging. I put a ton of time into the car, and frankly, I didn’t get even my hourly rate at my day job for the work I did, and that sucks. I did give him a rate, I did do the job at that rate, and I’d never even consider asking him for more money. It just taught me a lesson, something which is very much in the forefront of my mind.
3. I would have asked more questions. I had no idea that the parts were used until I got into the build, but that’s my fault. Ask questions or else it can bite you in the ass.

Now Slinky’s side of thing is that I “slammed things together last minute” and “could’ve put more time into it.”

Knowing what I just wrote above, and knowing where I’m coming from, can anyone see how that’s insulting? I underbid the job, crammed it in before my wedding because he needed it done (He was going to drop it off 2 weeks before the wedding and pick it up at the end of April, a plan which meant I wouldn’t touch it until the 14th), and I had less time to do it in than I originally allotted. There was some other personal stuff that came up that I’m not willing to discuss, but those issues put me off of the project for a full weekend at one point, and because of that I really only had a few weeks to really get things done.

Of course all of these things are just excuses, and they would be the type of things that I’d say if I hadn’t gotten the job done on time, or if things hadn’t fallen into place. Instead, the only issue that we had was that I didn’t have enough drive time prior to the pickup day to test it out. I drove it to work or back one day, drove it around town another, and I was confident it would be fine. He wanted 2 weeks of drive time under my belt before he got it, which is understandable and something I had agreed to at the beginning, but at the end of it all, it got him home and everything was fine.

So what did I learn from this?

No more installs.

Might wanna bookmark this one, because I’m sure I’ll go back on it, but really it seems like the right thing to do. Sure, I’ll do the oddball job where I fix something real quick, something that takes a day or two to do, but nothing that takes 4 months and a ton of headaches. I just don’t think it’s worth my time to do it.

Which brings up another interesting concept, the one about me opening a shop.

Don’t think I wanna do that anymore.

As I’ve said many, many, many times before, if I could do one thing for the rest of my life, it’d be build custom cars and trucks and write and photograph them. On the building end of things though, I think I’d rather it be my trucks.

My ‘01 isn’t done yet because I just haven’t had the time to get it done. Between doing the Matrix, working on everyone’s other projects and the wedding, shit’s been on hold. As a result, the truck is still sitting there languishing. I NEED to get it done.

So for the immediate moment, no more working on other people’s shit, other than the occasional quickie project.

Now since I’ve discarded the shop idea, maybe I should bring up what I would like to do.

The plan is still the same; Build cars, write and photograph them. The focus now though, is going to be on the writing.

Right now I’m writing for 2 blogs, and I’ve got the opportunity to do a weekly column for another. I’m not at a place yet where I’m making enough money to quit at BusCo, but I’m getting closer. If I could get a few more blogs under my belt, or do some more freelancing, then I could do it fulltime and be good to go.

Once again, the problem is timing. It takes months to get paid for freelancing, but if I space it out right, I’m ok. I keep having freelancing opportunities pass me by because I can’t do work on the weekdays. I can’t travel to shows out of state because I’m tied up. It’s ridiculous.

The problem is the transition. Making the jump from full time to freelancing is pretty scary, so what I want to do is beef up the blogging to the point that I can go full time without taking a big hit to the pocketbook, and then put some cash away so I can make the leap. I’m hoping I can do it by November, just in time for Sema.

I’ve got a lot of things I want to do, and having negative influences in my life just isn’t worth it. Doing the Matrix put my relationship with Slinky in jeopardy, made me stress out even more, and wasn’t worth what I was paid. Getting paid for writing though, is worth it. Time to make it happen.

Kevin Whipps |

Projects, '01 Sierra, Money, Stupidity, OG AP - Slinky |

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Tock

April 17, 2008 – 11:39 pm

They called it a mass.

The reason that my oldest dog Pepper, my tri-color beagle is bleeding out of her nose at random is because of a mass in her nasal cavity. It took a little over a thousand dollars and a scope to find out that my dog has cancer.

I say that, but right now the doctors are only 80% sure it’s cancer. Won’t know for sure until the biopsy comes back Friday, but I’ve been told that the likelihood of it being anything else is pretty slim.

It seems like we can’t do anything to get ahead either. This scenario with Pepper has cost us a grand, and we just spent a grand at the vet last week for boarding and dental visits. We’ve spent $2g’s on dogs in 2 weeks, and it’s looking like more is on the way. We did get a good amount of money for the wedding, and I do have a tax return on the way, but pissing it away on stuff is really making me frustrated.

It’s not that I have a problem spending money on my dogs. In fact before we found out about the results of the test, I told Kirsten that I’d be pissed if the tests were inconclusive. Once I knew the results, I felt like that test was worth every penny. At least now we know what to look for.

We took Pepper home that day, loaded her up with medication, and tried to sleep while we heard this dog snore loudly and drop snot and blood out of her nose onto the floor. All night she was bleeding and it didn’t really stop until sometime during the day on Thursday. We came home and she was happy like nothing was wrong. She just happened to be breathing funny.

See that mass is located in her nasal passages right above her soft pallet, and it’s pretty big. The doctor went in with a scope and cut away a good portion of the mass, but the blood just didn’t clot for hours. Now it’s not like they can put a gauze on it or anything, it’s in her skull. All we could do was deal with it and hope.

The big conundrum here, which is a problem for most pet owners, is the “when” factor.

When do I make the decision to put my pet down.

I’ve been around a lot of dogs in my years, and I’ve seen a lot of them get put down. One of them though, affected me in such a way that it’s really skewing my perspective on what to do with Pepper.

It was my dog Copper. He was a dauschund like Scrappy, except a red one. He was 9 or so when I got him from the shelter, but he lived with me for a good 5 years or so. He had pretty bad arthritis, but he functioned pretty well. He used to lay on my chest while I watched tv and fall asleep. He was my best friend in the whole world.

He was getting on in years in 2002 or so, and I was worried that his medication was a little bit too mild, so I took him to the vet to ask her if he could be upped on his dose. She looked at him, looked at me and said, “I think he should be put down.”

Now my vet doesn’t fuck around, but I was in complete shock. Copper was fine to me, he was just a little grumpy. No reason to get rid of him or anything. Instead I got a higher dose of the meds, and took him home. Copper would be fine.

A month goes by, and one day I come home from work to see Copper laying on a pillow by the front door. He got up as I was coming in, and screamed suddenly as blood and feces exploded out of his ass. The stench was unbearable but so was the look on his face. He was shaking and went pale, something I had never seen before. I called up my folks, wrapped him in a blanket and took him to the vet. It was time.

Copper had lost so much blood that they couldn’t tap a vein. It took 30 minutes for them to finally find one, and once they did he started biting my arm violently, angry from the pain. Then he suddenly went limp, and he was gone.

I cried so hard at that moment, that I’m still embarrassed about it.

I wasn’t man enough to admit that Copper had a problem, and I should have put him down when my vet recommended it, just so that he’d be ok. He didn’t need to suffer like that, not at all.

Now I wonder if I’ll know with Pepper.

The doctor says that the cancer is in a place where that it could grow back into the brain and cause her to have seizures. It also could grow larger and affect her breathing. It all depends on how aggressive the cancer is, and what we decide to do about it. Both Kirsten and I are in agreement that there’s no reason to put Pepper through chemo, and the only thing we can do is make sure she’s happy. If she stops eating, or stops playing, or stops having fun then it’s time for her to go.

I just hope I’ll know when it’s time.

Kevin Whipps |

Pets |

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The Lion, The Witch, and the Retard

April 17, 2008 – 11:06 pm

I kinda left something out of my whole wedding story, but in all fairness, I finished writing my story prior to the events taking place, and I couldn’t exactly jot it down while I was on the plane. My deepest apologies.

The whole fiasco with our flight out of Hawaii started at 12:30pm at our rental car carrier, with dropping off our classy Corolla. Once that was done, we took a shuttle to the terminal so we could get ready to get out of Dodge. We had arrived early intentionally, knowing that the gates in Hawaii can be difficult to navigate, and that we still had to go through an agriculture check, drop off our luggage, and pick up our boarding passes. It was about 1:15 when we made it to the gate, and I had already spilled a drink on my new shirt.

“Great,” I thought, “This is going to work out well.”

We got to the gate and that’s where we found a nice lady who didn’t understand or speak English very well, who told us that we couldn’t enter the seating area until the plane left the shoot. We were the first there, but soon thereafter other people started showing up, and they were kept at bay by the 5′2 foreigner with indescernable shouts. Might have well been talking in clicks and whistles.

Finally we’re let in, and Kirsten and I take a seat near the gate. We were there about 5 minutes when I was introduced to a guy who would soon become the focus of my trip.

I heard him before I saw him, the voice coming loudly and sounding very much like it was coming from someone who couldn’t hear very well. Sure enough, as he came into view I noticed the twin hearing aids flanking his head. I didn’t pay much more attention to the guy other than that, he just seemed like he was a 40 year old deaf guy. No biggie. He walked off with who I assumed was his mother, and then I didn’t think anything else of it.

1:30 rolls around and now we’ve got a gate change. Time to move from gate 26 to gate 25, which one would think would be an easy transfer. No, it’s a bit of a jaunt really, and although it wasn’t a problem to move gates, it was a bit irritating. I had the best seat in the house.

We get to the new gate and plunk down in our seats. This gate was a giant room more than the open courtyard look of the other gate, and it even had its own bathrooms. There were plenty of seats, maybe 300 or so, and the place was at about 50% capacity with people slowly trickling in. Around 2:00pm, about 30 minutes before we were supposed to board, we get the intercom.

“Aloha passengers flying on Hawaiian airlines flight 36 to Phoenix. We have overbooked this flight, and we need to free up 10 spaces for the flight. We’re offering $400 in Hawaiian airline travel vouchers, a free 1 night stay at the Marriot in Waikiki beach, free dinner and breakfast, a shuttle to and from the airport, and a guaranteed seat on tomorrow’s flight at the same time. If you’re interested, see us at the front desk. Mahalo.“

I turned to Kirsten.

“You know, if we didn’t have to get up for work at 5am on Monday, I’d take that deal. I mean we’d be home at midnight, and I don’t want to take anymore time off than I have to.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, “just don’t tell anyone we didn’t take it. They’ll all think we’re idiots.”

Truth be told, there wasn’t much we could do with that remaining day. We’d have to get there, then eat dinner, then we couldn’t drive anywhere because we wouldn’t have a car, and we wouldn’t be able to do much else. It’d be almost like a wasted day. Besides, the dogs had already been dropped off at our house from the boarder, and we needed to be there to take care of them. No biggie, we’d just come home.

Around that time, the deaf guy and his mother walked over and sat down a few spaces from us. At this point, I got the vibe that this guy really wasn’t aware of all his faculties, something I really noticed when he ran towards the window towards the plane and pointed to his mother and said, “PLANE!” really loud.

After a little bit he ended up walking by me so he could sit next to his mother, and that’s when I got a really good look at him. He was about 6′5 or so, and he was wearing a purple shirt with jean shorts. He walked hunched over, and he had a little bit of a pot belly. The really startling thing was his glasses, which I noticed when I caught his eye at one point. I say “eye” because I don’t think anyone has seen him look at them with both eyes, since each one points in opposite directions. Some optometrist out there did some physics homework, because his glasses were built like soup ladles with a deep bowl effect to them, so that the light would bounce off the lens and he could maybe catch something blurry through his wall-eyed condition. He was like Mr Magoo but retarded.

Throughout the next few hours, there were 8 of them in total before we left, I watched the guy wander around the airport unattended, and stare at people. I’d be at the bathroom, I’d pass him in the hallway staring at the girl who was reading a book. He was really infatuated with women, and had a creepy way of staring at them and making them uncomfortable. Hell he made me uncomfortable.

He obviously wasn’t too comfortable with the flight delay either, and was starting to get a little loud at one point. Being that I was sitting in the same aisle as him, he walked by me quite frequently, and I started to play out a scenario in my head about what I’d do if he went ape shit. I took a honest assessment of the situation and decided that if he got crazy, and I got involved somehow, he’d win. He had retard strength on his side.

Around 10:45 or so we finally board the plane, and I remember clearly looking at my watch at 11:15, right as we were taking off. I wanted an estimate for our arrival, and an accurate way to figure out what was left. I passed out a minute or so later, ready to sleep through the 5 hour flight.

“Meal sir? You want a sandwich?”

A flight attendant had woken me up out of a sound sleep, and I was confused.

“Huh? Meal? Turkey sandwich? No. I mean, yeah. Yeah, I’ll have the sandwich.”

I ate my meal and tried to go back to sleep, but I had no luck. The chips had given me indigestion and now I was stuck watching “We are Marshall” with the free headphones that the flight attendants gave us as a thank you for waiting. Movie wasn’t too bad, but it wasn’t my thing either. Whatever the deal was, while others slept, I watched the movie.

The plane was a 767, which means the seating goes 2-3-2 so there’s two aisles. Every 15 aisles or so there was a divider that had a screen on it that the movie was projected on. That wall also indicated where the emergency exits were. I was one row back from the screen and sitting on the aisle, meaning that if the plane went down, I was in prime position to hop on that life raft and get eaten by sharks.

About halfway into the movie, I noticed the retard coming down the aisle towards me. He stopped for a minute to stare at the 15 year old girl sleeping ahead of me, then turned to his left to look at the emergency door.

I looked at my watch. It was 1:45, and we were definitely over the Pacific Ocean. We weren’t anywhere near land, and if the plane went down, we were absolutely fucked. After a quick glance, I noticed that I was the only person awake. The flight attendants were 20 rows back and chatting it up, and I was the only person watching the movie.

Then, he took a step.

Towards the emergency door.

I unbuckled my belt.

There was no way I was going to let some retard open the emergency door at 35,000 feet because he had to take a tinkle. I knew I couldn’t take him, but if I could tackle him to the ground, and stop him from opening the door, then I would at least do something good. It was like I was Wesley Snipes in Passenger 57 and I had to take out the bad guy. I started to shift in my seat.

The retard took a closer look, turns away from the door, and walks back to the bathroom. 5 minutes later when he walked past me again, he went straight on past the door and sat in his seat.

The next time I saw him was at the baggage claim in Phoenix, and he was being loud with some people who looked like they were his relatives. I was glad that I was back home and away from the scenario, and I felt bad for him at the same time.

I doubt I’ll ever see the guy again, but I’ll make sure not to get on a plane with him anytime soon.

Kevin Whipps |

Stupidity |

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