I made a quick trip to Houston this week, and the flight home provided an interesting experience.
I took Southwest Airlines, and I had a quick stopover in Dallas.
Everything was going smoothly until right before the first flight was to leave. The pilot came on and said we had to evacuate the plane, power it down, then restart it because the computers in the cockpit weren't working. For some reason, FAA regulations require clearing out the whole plane to do this.
So we did, and we were more than an hour late getting into Dallas. I was dreading what the next 12 hours would bring because I was supposed to be on the last flight to OKC. My flight was supposed to leave Dallas at 9:20, and we didn't land in Dallas until 10 p.m. I had already given up, but just to be sure I checked the departures list when I got off the plane. No Oklahoma City flights.
I found the nearest agent and asked what I was supposed to do. He referred me to a counter on the other side of the airport. I stopped and watched some of the Eagles game on the TV, then casually walked to the counter. All of a sudden they called me over the PA for the entire airport, "Matthew Franklin, please report to gate 9, your plane is departing."
I took off in a dead sprint, and one of the flight attendants who saw me yelled out, "I guess that's Matthew!" Hilarious.
Evidently they held the whole plane just for me and one other guy who was on my flight, but he had talked to a more competent agent than I did and was informed that they were holding the plane for us, so he didn't take 10 minutes to watch a football game.
I got about 150 angry stares when I boarded the plane. Since Southwest Airlines has no assigned seating, I looked for the first available seat and was somewhat shocked to find an aisle seat on the third row, next to a young girl.
When I sat down, the middle-aged woman in the window seat said, "Get ready. She likes to talk a lot."
I was so happy to be going home that night, I didn't care if I was sitting between two gay NFL offensive linemen who hadn't showered.
I quickly learned that this little girl didn't know the woman next to her, nor anyone on the plane for that matter. The woman in the window seat seemed pretty happy to have me there, and so did the little girl.
First, the girl offered me pretzels. I said no thanks. Then she pulled out a bag of about 12 packages of pretzels. "See, they gave me all these pretzels. Are you sure you don't want one?" No, thank you though.
The questions and comments came rapid-fire for the duration of the 45-minute flight. These are the exchanges I can remember, which probably account for about half of the total dialogue.
"I want to take a nap. Can I take a nap?" Um, sure.
"Can I lay my feet on you?" Sure.
"Can I lay them like this?" (One on my knees, one in my ribs.) Sure.
"Are you sure it's OK if I lay like this?" Sure. (She laid down for about 20 seconds).
"Can I have a piece of gum?" Sure.
"My mom doesn't like it when I smack the gum."
"Boy, you sure are a nice man." (I almost laughed out loud at that, since I had only said one word to her the whole time.)
"What is your name?" Matt. What's your name?
"Avery. My mom picked it out of a book for boy names. Or at least I think she did. It sounds like a boy name."
"What's your last name?" Franklin. (For some reason, Window Seat Woman then butted in with, "I think she wants to know your last name, not your middle name.")
"My last name is (I don't remember). My middle name is McKenzie (it wasn't McKenzie, but it was something like that.) I wish I could go by McKenzie instead of Avery."
Me: "Then go by it. It's your name, you can have people call you whatever you want." (Probably should have had some parental consent before saying that...)
"No, I like Avery. It's unique."
Me: "It's a very pretty name."
"Thank you. What is your wife's name?" Missy.
"What is your daughter's name?" Addison.
"How old is she?" 2.
"I'm 7."
"Do you have a dog? I have a dog, her name is Roxanne." Yes, we have a dog named Bailey.
"Do you have a cat? I don't have any cats." No cats.
"Do you have a (insert animal name here, and she probably asked about it)" No. No. No. No. No. No.
She then picked up my arm and starting slinging it around. I asked what she was doing and she said, "I don't know, just playing."
Then she saw my wedding ring and asked about it, said it was pretty. I said thank you.
"My parents got a divorce." She went on a 5-minute monologue about both of her parents, where they lived, what they did, how often she got to see each of them, etc. Evidently her mom put her on this plane alone, and her dad was supposed to pick her up at the airport. It was sad.
"Why were you in Texas? I was there with my mom."
"Where do you live? I live in Dallas."
"What is your job? My dad works on oil rigs." No time to answer these questions because she was on the next ones already.
"Can I text my mom?" No, they don't let you use cell phones on the plane.
"Can I use your phone to call her then?"
"Do you want a pretzel?" No thanks.
"What time is it?"
About this time I noticed that just one row behind me, there was a middle seat open between two strikingly attractive young women. The next 20 rows were totally full. I had to chuckle at the irony there, although at this stage in my life I'm glad I sat next to Avery instead of the pair of nines.
As the plane started to land, I helped Avery put her shoes on. As soon we hit the ground, her ziplock of 12 pretzel packages on the floor slid to the front of the plane. Avery instantly unbuckled her seat belt and lunged for them, but since the plane was rapidly slowing down she flew out of her seat. I grabbed her, but she still smacked her head against the seat in front of us.
Fortunately, that didn't seem to bother her. As soon as the plane stopped, she stood on her seat and announced that she was taller than I am.
As we walked off the plane, she saw her dad in the lobby and ran to him. "Daddy! Daddy! This is the man I talked to on the plane! He's really nice."
I smiled and said "Goodbye Avery."
My left ear is still sore, but I wish that sweet girl nothing but the best in life.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Merry Christmas
Sorry for the delay between blogs, but there are a couple pretty good reasons for it.
1) Our laptop is being sent off for repairs, so I'm on the ole desktop, which hasn't seen any action in about 14 months.
2) We've had a major change in our lives since my last post, as Missy's grandpa moved in with us. He's 90 and not in great health, but this is a great opportunity for Missy to use her nursing skills and for both of us to show the love of Christ and be servants.
There have been some challenges but I definitely feel this is the right thing for us to do.
Usually I like to blog about a stupid story or something funny, and that kind of silliness will return to the Lucky Life blog within days. But this time I wanted to write about what Christmas was like for me growing up.
Unlike most families, who allow one or multiple present openings on Christmas Eve, we had a strict not-until-Christmas policy. Unfortunately, Christmas at the Franklin household usually began before dawn.
My little sister Allison or my little brother Andrew would wake up somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 a.m. One would wake the other up, and they would unintentionally wake me up with their excitement.
They would then argue about whether it was late enough to go wake up Mom and Dad to begin the festivities. No later than 5:30 a.m., they would blitz through Mom and Dad's doors to announce that it was Christmas. I came in behind them, but I had to be there because we weren't allowed to start Christmas until the whole family was there. (By the way, this is not just an early childhood tradition -- we started Christmas this early all the way up until my dad passed away when I was 25).
Mom was pretty eager to get started, but Dad liked to get some play out of it. He would go through some elaborate stretching exercises before getting out of bed, and then he always said he had to shave and brush his teeth before we could start.
The whole family would go downstairs together, and mom would make some delicious cherry bars. Christmas was the only day all year that we would eat cherry bars.
Our other tradition was the reading of the Christmas story from Luke Chapter 2. We three kids memorized it -- my part was the first 7 verses. We'd recite the Christmas story, have a family prayer, and then open our presents. Present opening took a long time because we all had to take turns opening one thing at a time.
I have nothing but fond memories of my childhood Christmases. Now I'm married into a new family, and we've combined some of our traditions. Missy's family likes to sleep later, which is more my style anyway, and I got to enjoy her great cooking.
The Franklin clan is now all over the world. My mom and my sister live in different parts of Asia, but this year they got to meet in Thailand for Christmas. My brother still lives in the Oklahoma City area so we'll get to see him.
I'd love to hear some more unique Christmas traditions. Just post them in the comments thread below.
Merry Christmas everyone!
1) Our laptop is being sent off for repairs, so I'm on the ole desktop, which hasn't seen any action in about 14 months.
2) We've had a major change in our lives since my last post, as Missy's grandpa moved in with us. He's 90 and not in great health, but this is a great opportunity for Missy to use her nursing skills and for both of us to show the love of Christ and be servants.
There have been some challenges but I definitely feel this is the right thing for us to do.
Usually I like to blog about a stupid story or something funny, and that kind of silliness will return to the Lucky Life blog within days. But this time I wanted to write about what Christmas was like for me growing up.
Unlike most families, who allow one or multiple present openings on Christmas Eve, we had a strict not-until-Christmas policy. Unfortunately, Christmas at the Franklin household usually began before dawn.
My little sister Allison or my little brother Andrew would wake up somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 a.m. One would wake the other up, and they would unintentionally wake me up with their excitement.
They would then argue about whether it was late enough to go wake up Mom and Dad to begin the festivities. No later than 5:30 a.m., they would blitz through Mom and Dad's doors to announce that it was Christmas. I came in behind them, but I had to be there because we weren't allowed to start Christmas until the whole family was there. (By the way, this is not just an early childhood tradition -- we started Christmas this early all the way up until my dad passed away when I was 25).
Mom was pretty eager to get started, but Dad liked to get some play out of it. He would go through some elaborate stretching exercises before getting out of bed, and then he always said he had to shave and brush his teeth before we could start.
The whole family would go downstairs together, and mom would make some delicious cherry bars. Christmas was the only day all year that we would eat cherry bars.
Our other tradition was the reading of the Christmas story from Luke Chapter 2. We three kids memorized it -- my part was the first 7 verses. We'd recite the Christmas story, have a family prayer, and then open our presents. Present opening took a long time because we all had to take turns opening one thing at a time.
I have nothing but fond memories of my childhood Christmases. Now I'm married into a new family, and we've combined some of our traditions. Missy's family likes to sleep later, which is more my style anyway, and I got to enjoy her great cooking.
The Franklin clan is now all over the world. My mom and my sister live in different parts of Asia, but this year they got to meet in Thailand for Christmas. My brother still lives in the Oklahoma City area so we'll get to see him.
I'd love to hear some more unique Christmas traditions. Just post them in the comments thread below.
Merry Christmas everyone!
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Trust me, I'm a professional
Although most people don't understand it, playing poker and gambling are totally different things.
I earn a consistent (if fluctuating) middle class income from playing poker. I don't do slots, I don't do blackjack, I don't bet on sports.
The risks taken at a poker table are no different than the ones taken every day on the stock market or in the business world. Whether it's buying stock in a certain company, opening a restaurant on a certain corner, or calling a $500 bet with a pair of nines, the good stockbrokers/restaurant owners/poker players have done the research to make the best possible decision. Sometimes they don't end up being the right decisions, but in the long term they make a good profit.
Having said all that, I did some straight up gambling the other day and it was pretty fun.
I had played all day and was down $290 when my game ended. I was pretty disappointed in myself because I felt like I didn't make good decisions in the important spots, so when the opportunity came to make another bad decision I of course jumped at it.
A few of my buddies had decided to put in $60 each and send one guy over to a poker table. His goal was to go all in as often as possible to screw up the other game and hopefully get lucky and make a little money. I've never done anything like this before but for some reason I tossed my $60 into the ring, giving the five of us a total of $300.
My friend Rychy took the seat and bought in for $200. He went all in on his first hand without looking and lost. So he put our other $100 on the table and went all in on the next hand.
The table probably thought he hadn't looked but this time he had, and he had pocket jacks. He won the pot to get up to $200. About a minute later he was all in again, this time with K-J. He made a full house with that and was up to $400. Then he called a raise with Q-T and flopped a straight. Some poor sap had pocket aces, and he busted those to double his stack again to $800.
By now the whole room is curious about what's going on, since four guys are standing behind a table and loudly cheering every time their man wins a pot. Soon Rychy had about 20 people in his cheering section.
Figuring he'd found his lucky hand, Rychy called yet another raise with QT and ended up making three of a kind when two tens hit the board. His opponent had absolutely nothing but tried to bluff Rychy all in, so he doubled up to $1600. After stealing a few small pots with big raises, Rychy cashed out $1800 half an hour after having just $100. Splitting our profits five ways, we each made $300. Suddenly my $290 loss turned into a $10 win.
It didn't take me long to realize how stupid it was for me to throw away $60, even though it ended up working out. I told my buddies that I would never be participating in that game again, and they made fun of me.
I pride myself on making a living because of my good decisions and avoiding the pitfalls of real gambling. As most of my friends would attest, it's just my luck that the one time I screw up and gamble, I get lucky and make $300 off it. All I can say is, good things happen to good people. :)
I earn a consistent (if fluctuating) middle class income from playing poker. I don't do slots, I don't do blackjack, I don't bet on sports.
The risks taken at a poker table are no different than the ones taken every day on the stock market or in the business world. Whether it's buying stock in a certain company, opening a restaurant on a certain corner, or calling a $500 bet with a pair of nines, the good stockbrokers/restaurant owners/poker players have done the research to make the best possible decision. Sometimes they don't end up being the right decisions, but in the long term they make a good profit.
Having said all that, I did some straight up gambling the other day and it was pretty fun.
I had played all day and was down $290 when my game ended. I was pretty disappointed in myself because I felt like I didn't make good decisions in the important spots, so when the opportunity came to make another bad decision I of course jumped at it.
A few of my buddies had decided to put in $60 each and send one guy over to a poker table. His goal was to go all in as often as possible to screw up the other game and hopefully get lucky and make a little money. I've never done anything like this before but for some reason I tossed my $60 into the ring, giving the five of us a total of $300.
My friend Rychy took the seat and bought in for $200. He went all in on his first hand without looking and lost. So he put our other $100 on the table and went all in on the next hand.
The table probably thought he hadn't looked but this time he had, and he had pocket jacks. He won the pot to get up to $200. About a minute later he was all in again, this time with K-J. He made a full house with that and was up to $400. Then he called a raise with Q-T and flopped a straight. Some poor sap had pocket aces, and he busted those to double his stack again to $800.
By now the whole room is curious about what's going on, since four guys are standing behind a table and loudly cheering every time their man wins a pot. Soon Rychy had about 20 people in his cheering section.
Figuring he'd found his lucky hand, Rychy called yet another raise with QT and ended up making three of a kind when two tens hit the board. His opponent had absolutely nothing but tried to bluff Rychy all in, so he doubled up to $1600. After stealing a few small pots with big raises, Rychy cashed out $1800 half an hour after having just $100. Splitting our profits five ways, we each made $300. Suddenly my $290 loss turned into a $10 win.
It didn't take me long to realize how stupid it was for me to throw away $60, even though it ended up working out. I told my buddies that I would never be participating in that game again, and they made fun of me.
I pride myself on making a living because of my good decisions and avoiding the pitfalls of real gambling. As most of my friends would attest, it's just my luck that the one time I screw up and gamble, I get lucky and make $300 off it. All I can say is, good things happen to good people. :)
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
My last (possibly forever) visit to IHOP
This happened a few weeks ago, but it was too blog-worthy to leave alone.
I covered Bob Stoops' press conference in Norman, and I decided to go to IHOP to write my story before heading south to Riverwind for a poker session.
I wasn't even hungry, but I wanted to order something since I was taking up a table. I glanced through the menu and noticed they had a new strawberry cheesecake dessert, so I ordered it. You could get the cheesecake by itself for $4.69 or get it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream for $4.99. Obviously I got the ice cream.
I got started on my story and tried to fire up the internet, but it wasn't working. I mentioned it to the waitress but I wasn't really worried about it since I've filed lots of stories from IHOPs and they usually have reliable wireless access.
After 15 minutes, I still had no dessert and no internet. I thought it was odd since they just pull these desserts out of the freezer, but my story was almost done and I didn't really care about the food. Finally, the waitress walks up with a plate piled high with pancakes covered in strawberries. She also brought me a separate bowl with one scoop of ice cream.
I said, "No, I didn't have the strawberry pancakes, I had the strawberry cheesecake." She apologized and went back.
Another 15 minutes goes by, and as I'm finishing the story the waitress walks up with -- guess what -- some more freakin' pancakes covered in strawberries! I said, "No, I don't want pancakes. I wanted the strawberry cheesecake." She said, "Yeah I know, there's cheesecake bits inside the pancake."
(Huge sigh, palm pounding on forehead.)
I said, "Bring me a menu," and I pointed to the strawberry cheesecake on the menu. She said, "Oh, you just wanted the cheesecake."
It only took a second for her to bring that out, while I still couldn't get the internet to work to send my story. I asked for my check along with the cheesecake, though I should have never given her a dime. I kinda felt sorry for her.
So she brings the check and the cheesecake, while informing me that IHOP's internet is down today. Nice. And my check is for more than $10 despite the cheesecake being listed at $4.99 on the menu. They charged me $7.99 for strawberry cheesecake pancakes and $1.99 for a side of ice cream, plus tax.
I said, "I got charged for the strawberry cheesecake pancakes but the cheesecake I ordered was only $4.99."
When she got back from fixing that, she made sure to mention that she had to eat my pancakes because she gets one free meal a day, and if she didn't eat them as her meal she would be charged personally for them. I couldn't even muster any fake sympathy for that. I gave her a $20 bill and waited for the change.
She returned with a $10 bill and said, "Hey, you never ate your ice cream." That would be because it was totally melted by the time I got the cheesecake. I said, "You still owe me money. Remember, the cheesecake was only $5."
I found some matches in my car but getting an accelerant would have been inconvenient, so I decided not to burn the place down. Besides, I still had to find internet access to send my dadgum football story.
I covered Bob Stoops' press conference in Norman, and I decided to go to IHOP to write my story before heading south to Riverwind for a poker session.
I wasn't even hungry, but I wanted to order something since I was taking up a table. I glanced through the menu and noticed they had a new strawberry cheesecake dessert, so I ordered it. You could get the cheesecake by itself for $4.69 or get it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream for $4.99. Obviously I got the ice cream.
I got started on my story and tried to fire up the internet, but it wasn't working. I mentioned it to the waitress but I wasn't really worried about it since I've filed lots of stories from IHOPs and they usually have reliable wireless access.
After 15 minutes, I still had no dessert and no internet. I thought it was odd since they just pull these desserts out of the freezer, but my story was almost done and I didn't really care about the food. Finally, the waitress walks up with a plate piled high with pancakes covered in strawberries. She also brought me a separate bowl with one scoop of ice cream.
I said, "No, I didn't have the strawberry pancakes, I had the strawberry cheesecake." She apologized and went back.
Another 15 minutes goes by, and as I'm finishing the story the waitress walks up with -- guess what -- some more freakin' pancakes covered in strawberries! I said, "No, I don't want pancakes. I wanted the strawberry cheesecake." She said, "Yeah I know, there's cheesecake bits inside the pancake."
(Huge sigh, palm pounding on forehead.)
I said, "Bring me a menu," and I pointed to the strawberry cheesecake on the menu. She said, "Oh, you just wanted the cheesecake."
It only took a second for her to bring that out, while I still couldn't get the internet to work to send my story. I asked for my check along with the cheesecake, though I should have never given her a dime. I kinda felt sorry for her.
So she brings the check and the cheesecake, while informing me that IHOP's internet is down today. Nice. And my check is for more than $10 despite the cheesecake being listed at $4.99 on the menu. They charged me $7.99 for strawberry cheesecake pancakes and $1.99 for a side of ice cream, plus tax.
I said, "I got charged for the strawberry cheesecake pancakes but the cheesecake I ordered was only $4.99."
When she got back from fixing that, she made sure to mention that she had to eat my pancakes because she gets one free meal a day, and if she didn't eat them as her meal she would be charged personally for them. I couldn't even muster any fake sympathy for that. I gave her a $20 bill and waited for the change.
She returned with a $10 bill and said, "Hey, you never ate your ice cream." That would be because it was totally melted by the time I got the cheesecake. I said, "You still owe me money. Remember, the cheesecake was only $5."
I found some matches in my car but getting an accelerant would have been inconvenient, so I decided not to burn the place down. Besides, I still had to find internet access to send my dadgum football story.
Monday, December 13, 2010
New Format
I've decided to tinker with the ole blog a little, and I hope you enjoy it.
I like telling stories, so I'm going to focus more on story telling than breaking down poker hands. I'm sure there will still be some poker stories, but it will be less poker and more life.
We had an amazing two weeks in France, and I could probably write a book about that trip. For now, however, I'll just tell one of my favorite stories.
We visited a famous cemetery right in the heart of Paris. It spanned several square miles, with who-knows-how-many graves because in Europe they stack 'em right on top of each other, and families will often be buried together. With great landscaping, massive sculptures and an awesome view of the city from atop a hill, it was more like a park than a cemetery.
Many famous people throughout history are buried in this cemetery, and we had a map showing where they were within this massive graveyard. But even with that, it was hard to find any single grave because, as I said, they only allow about 6 inches between each tombstone.
As we looked for Jim Morrison's grave, we met a couple from Australia who had a 4-year-old daughter. Addison went right up to her and held her hand as we tried to find the grave together. We found it, talked with the couple for a few minutes, and then went our separate ways. Having fallen in love with her new friend, Addie bawled when they walked the other way.
About 30 seconds later, we turned a corner to find the same family about 20 yards away on our aisle. Addie got very excited and screamed, "Look! A friend!" The other girl ran to Addie, but her dad seemed to be in a hurry and quickly summoned her back, and they turned another corner. Addie bawled again. She was inconsolable.
Not one minute later, we walk around another corner and see the same people about 30 yards ahead. "Look! A friend!" Addie yelled. This time the dude wouldn't even let his daughter
get close. When they left her sight, Addison bawled again. We finished up at the cemetery and headed for the subway. Guess who was there?
"Look! A friend!"
I like telling stories, so I'm going to focus more on story telling than breaking down poker hands. I'm sure there will still be some poker stories, but it will be less poker and more life.
We had an amazing two weeks in France, and I could probably write a book about that trip. For now, however, I'll just tell one of my favorite stories.
We visited a famous cemetery right in the heart of Paris. It spanned several square miles, with who-knows-how-many graves because in Europe they stack 'em right on top of each other, and families will often be buried together. With great landscaping, massive sculptures and an awesome view of the city from atop a hill, it was more like a park than a cemetery.
Many famous people throughout history are buried in this cemetery, and we had a map showing where they were within this massive graveyard. But even with that, it was hard to find any single grave because, as I said, they only allow about 6 inches between each tombstone.
As we looked for Jim Morrison's grave, we met a couple from Australia who had a 4-year-old daughter. Addison went right up to her and held her hand as we tried to find the grave together. We found it, talked with the couple for a few minutes, and then went our separate ways. Having fallen in love with her new friend, Addie bawled when they walked the other way.
About 30 seconds later, we turned a corner to find the same family about 20 yards away on our aisle. Addie got very excited and screamed, "Look! A friend!" The other girl ran to Addie, but her dad seemed to be in a hurry and quickly summoned her back, and they turned another corner. Addie bawled again. She was inconsolable.
Not one minute later, we walk around another corner and see the same people about 30 yards ahead. "Look! A friend!" Addie yelled. This time the dude wouldn't even let his daughter
get close. When they left her sight, Addison bawled again. We finished up at the cemetery and headed for the subway. Guess who was there?
"Look! A friend!"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
