albadger | Entries tagged with evil

Longtime fans of this blog (why do I make that plural?) will remember when I re-read L. Frank Baum's the Land of Oz and was appalled by its disturbing, creepy ending. Put the scotch in my plans to re-read the whole Oz series, it did. Well, time goes by, I love my Nook, and I especially love not paying to read books... so back to the Oz series I go. And I've gotten farther in, through Ozma of Oz, Dorothy and the Wizard in Oz, and now the Road to Oz... and I'm speechless. I can do nothing but present you the passage in question.

"Will your folks worry?" asked the shaggy man, his eyes twinkling in a pleasant way.

"I s'pose so," answered Dorothy with a sigh. "Uncle Henry says there's ALWAYS something happening to me; but I've always come home safe at the last. So perhaps he'll take comfort and think I'll come home safe this time."

"I'm sure you will," said the shaggy man, smilingly nodding at her. "Good little girls never come to any harm, you know. For my part, I'm good, too; so nothing ever hurts me."

Dorothy looked at him curiously. His clothes were shaggy, his boots were shaggy and full of holes, and his hair and whiskers were shaggy. But his smile was sweet and his eyes were kind.

"Why didn't you want to go to Butterfield?" she asked.

"Because a man lives there who owes me fifteen cents, and if I went to Butterfield and he saw me he'd want to pay me the money. I don't want money, my dear."

"Why not?" she inquired.

"Money," declared the shaggy man, "makes people proud and haughty. I don't want to be proud and haughty. All I want is to have people love me; and as long as I own the Love Magnet, everyone I meet is sure to love me dearly."

"The Love Magnet! Why, what's that?"

"I'll show you, if you won't tell any one," he answered, in a low, mysterious voice.

Yes. That's right. The filthy vagrant has a Love Magnet, and he will show it to the little girl if she won't tell any one. Seriously, I'm speechless. And this is children's literature. Classic children's literature. This is going to disrupt my NaNoWriMo plans, I can at least say that.

Current Mood: shocked
Current Location: 94578

I'm now in NYC with mein host the rare and wonderful

dominicvine, and STILL NO BAG. Picking up the bag was Friday's assignment -- when I spoke to the Delta clerk who had tracked the bag to Asheville NC, I'd asked that they send the bag to JFK and keep it there (he offered home delivery but I couldn't expect Dominic to wait around for that) -- I told him I wouldn't be able to pick it up on Thursday, I'd get it Friday, don't move it. I was thinking, don't give them any opportunity for another screw-up. Oh, but Delta is shrewder than that.

Dominic offered to accompany me to the airport -- he suggested we combine it with a visit to Rockaway Beach, have a little fun -- but it was far too rainy and gloomy to enjoy any beach, plus we were on the A train that went to Far Rockaway rather than Rockaway Beach... and Far Rockaway is kind of a sad-looking place actually. So, off to airport. Delta has two terminals, Terminal 2 for Domestic and Terminal 3 for International. My bag's domestic, right? We went to Terminal 2, and were informed snippily that the bag was at Terminal 3, Area D.

I should add here that I contacted Delta before we left and verified that my bag was at JFK.

We slogged, soaked, to Terminal 3 -- no underground walkway, no awning, just rain -- and got to the baggage service area. Clerk took my claim number, typed it in the computer, stared at it for a minute, then started shaking her head slowly.

"Was your final destination Washington DC?" She asked me.

It wasn't that bizarrely incompetant on Delta's part, but close. In the notes that this clerk could dig up (so she told me; I didn't see the screen & don't put it past any Delta employee to lie), I was to have picked up the bag on Thursday, and since I didn't, it was "expedited" and delivered... to Sarasota. After I had expressly requested that it remain at JFK, let them know that I couldn't pick it up on Thursday, they send it to where it should have been days 3 days earlier. That doesn't make any sense at all.

I admit I exploded at the clerk. I don't really feel bad for that, which is unusual, but I do feel bad that Dominic had to see it. The clerk's been through worse; I'm enough of an actor to have noticed when she switched personalities, from snippy don't-bother-me-you-don't-know-my-job to how-dare-you to you-poor-thing. That's part of the training when you are front line for an incompetent corporation.

Well, day wasted... Dominic says he'll be at home working on things today, so he suggested it be delivered to his place (which is totally cool btw, great art on the walls, neato odd angles to the room layout, bitchin' view). I'm going to join

thornyc and

mudcub for a matinee in a bit, then I'm going to look for a really, really nice host gift to try to make up to Dominic for the trouble I've been.

Really, really nice. I've got it narrowed down to either Zach Galifinakis or a Faberge Egg. Good thing New York is such a great shopping town.

Current Mood: angry
Current Location: United States, New York, New York

I'm now in NYC with mein host the rare and wonderful

thornyc and

Current Mood: angry
Current Location: United States, New York, New York

Tale of two airlines: the one I normally take, and take for gtanted -- and the one I took to get to Sarasota. And will never use again.

My love for Delta started in San Francisco, with the ineptly mismanaged boarding process, disorganized mob scene, clerks arguing about which bags are too big to go in the overheard (their test bin is about half the size of Southwest's btw), being incredibly rude to the two passengers immediately in front of me (both of them non-white; me, treated okay -- white. Am I too conscious of this sort of thing?). We get on the jetway and one of the flustered clerks runs down, pushing past passengers, with a fist full of luggage check tags. "Bin space is full, we have to start checking carry-ons," he yells, going to the guy right behind me and putting a tag on his bag. Clerk turns to me, points at my bag and says, "That will fit under the seat." Uh, no, it won't. I tell him so. He grudgingly tags and takes my bag too.

And it wouldn't fit under the seat; my backpack barely does (it has plenty of room on Southwest). The tiny overhead bins are crammed to overflowing. The flight attendants have to push and slam to get the bin doors closed. The in-flight movie sound you need to rent headphones for, but the commercials that precede it for half an hour are free, and loud.

Get to Sarasota, and no bag. Talk to the baggage clerk there; he says that there's no record in their system that my bag even exists; the clerk in SFO didn't enter the info. Sarasota clerk believes me because I have the paper tag I was given. He sets up a record for my bag in their system. I post to FaceBook about it. People tell me about when Delta lost their luggage. People at the hotel tell me about when Delta lost their luggage.

Question: why does this airline exist? Does it get repeat business? I'm flying home on a different airline, and I'm good with that. In the meantime, I have one shirt, two socks, one boxer brief(s?), and no umbrella. At least it's sunny here. New York City, now...

Update: I pushed the "Detect Location" button and LJ came up with "United States, South Carolina, Spartanburg." I'm in Sarasota, Florida. Interesting.

Current Mood: angry
Current Location: Sarasota, Florida