Seems like I am always on the road.  I love the idea of getting on a plane and criss-crossing the United States.  82% of the time it’s work.  10% of the time it’s fun.   And the other 8% it’s just weird.

*Once saw Scott Bakula in the St. Louis Airport.  I was about to walk up to him (because I am, after all, me) when I saw he was with his son.  No sooner had I aborted the mission than his son had a complete and total tantrum there in the airport’s open atrium.  There was screaming, thrashing of arms and flailing of teeth.  I thought the kid was possessed.  Like any good dad, Bakula just walked away from the mop-topped demon seed.

*I once got bumped to first class because the gate agent thought I was someone famous.  He couldn’t put my finger on where he’d seen me, but he knew I was on TV.  Or maybe film.  Or perhaps a singer.  (Thankfully excluded?  Porn.)

*Flew on Valentine’s Day once.  The cabin crew had a contest to see who could come up with the best ValDay slogan for the airline.  I won first place.  (“Nice cockpit!)  And second place too.  (“Ready for an air-gasm?”)  True story.

*I usually fly Southwest.  And I usually roll my eyes when the flight attendants try and be funny over the intercom.  It’s the same schtick, different city.  Once I was on a Southwest flight where the attendants were very no-nonsense.  No funny business.  No comments from the peanut gallery.  It was refreshing.  We had an incredibly hard landing that left people dazed and disoriented.  It knocked the wind out of me.  The flight attendant clicked on the mic and dryly said, “A big thanks to our pilot, Captain Kangaroo for getting us to Raleigh safely.”  (Attagirl!)

*No airline has ever lost, misplaced or mishandled my luggage.  Weird, maybe.  Unheard of, probably.

*Once tried to squeeze on to a crowded hotel elevator with rapper Heavy-D.   I didn’t make it.   Good thing too.  The elevator got stuck.