humor

Surviving Airline Food and Drink — And Living to Tell About It!

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Forget the flight rules! From questionable coffee to Brussels sprouts and Bloody Marys, here’s what happens when you defy the “don’ts” of flying.

I read an online article about 3 things you should not eat or drink while flying. The first was coffee of tea because it is made with tap water not filtered water. I can’t imagine drinking airplane coffee anyways. I’d rather wait until I got to the airport and get to a Starbucks. They’re ubiquitous these days. The only resemblance airplane coffee has to Starbucks is the color. And then, it’s not all that close. Another tip was not to eat food that causes gas. It depends on whether or not you want the person next to you to change seats. If the flight is long enough you’ll have a chance to digest the gas inducing food and people in the seats next to you, in front of you, and behind you will all seek to change. Oh, be forewarned, they may call security and lock you in the bathroom. They recommend against his drinking bloody Mary’s because of the high sodium content. I guess the writer who is concerned about our health didn’t get the memo that alcohol at any level is not good for you. Here’s what I say, if your stomach can handle the airline tea and coffee go for it. If you want to eat a plate of beans or Brussels sprouts on a long flight go for it. And if you want your bloody Mary to steady your nerves go for it. After the plane lands you can tell the people you meet that you rolled the dice and ate and drank all the forbidden foods and drinks and survived. Heck, you may even sell a whole line of T-shirts saying something like, “I survived airline food and drink.”

Question for Readers:

What’s the worst (or bravest) thing you’ve ever eaten or drunk on a flight — and did you live to tell about it?

Podcast: Brains Over Brawn: Odysseus and the Power of Wit

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Odysseus shows us that wit, not muscle, often saves the day. Trapped in the Cyclops’ cave, he escapes through creativity, humor, and adaptability. In today’s world of challenges, brute force rarely works—but imagination does. Discover how ancient wisdom teaches us to pause, think differently, and find a new path forward.

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Backpack Chaos vs. Packing Perfection

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Forget professional packing hacks. Sometimes life (and travel) is about cramming socks, rolling shirts, and hoping you don’t miss your toothbrush.

I saw a headline on an online news magazine that read: “I’m a Professional Packer and These are the 5 Biggest Packing Mistakes to Avoid.” There was a photo above the headline with a suitcase neatly packed and everything perfectly arranged. I felt a knot beginning to form in my stomach. The professional packer’s sense of organization overwhelmed me. I’m lucky to know where I can find my toothbrush and toothpaste in the morning. When I travel I like to go as light as possible. That means I cram as much as I can into my backpack. Socks are stuffed into the bottom. Underwear on top of the shorts. Rolled up shirts go next. The way I figure it, I can stuff my backpack under the seat in front of me and don’t have to compete for overhead space. Of course there is a downside, with the way my clothes will come out of my backpack I won’t be invited to a state dinner. LOL

💡 Points to Ponder

  1. Do you overthink packing, or do you prefer a simple “stuff and go” method?
  2. How does striving for perfection sometimes steal the joy of the journey?
  3. Is packing light about efficiency—or about freedom?
  4. What matters more: wrinkle-free shirts or worry-free travel?
  5. Could embracing imperfection make your next trip smoother?

The Great Pear Heist: A 10-Year-Old, a Pitchfork, and a Life Lesson

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What do you do when a pitchfork-wielding man chases you for stealing pears? If you’re 10, you run—pear bag in hand—and hope your dad doesn’t find out.

What would you do if you were 10 years old and some adult was chasing you with a pitchfork screaming at you? This happened to me. I did this guy had a wonderful pear tree. It was August and the peers were ripe. My friend Mickey and I would sneak up to his property and stare at the Paris. If they were a pair or two on the ground, we make a dash for it grab it and run. This day Nikki and I laid on the ground near a blackberry, bush and starred at the pear tree 50 feet away. I had a small burlap bag with me as Mickey. We were going to grab as many pairs as possible and then take them to a local bodega and sell them to the owner. The owner of a pear tree and several others, and his yard was an older man. On your 10 years old everybody looks old. He did have white hair. And that made him old in our eyes. He was outside working on his grapevines. They were closer to his house. His back was turned into the pear tree. I turned to Mickey and said, “let’s go.”

Mickey shook his head. He said, “we’ll get caught.”

“no way. His back is turned he won’t even hear us,” I replied. I know sooner spoke, and I was up and running toward the tree. I wasn’t taking Paris off the ground. I was picking the premium pairs off of this tree. My burlap bag was half full when I heard a stream of words only my dad would say when he was angry. I looked to the grapevine, and the old man had a pitchfork in his hand and was running toward me. I took off for the rear of his property. There was a ledge that dropped 4 feet. I I cradle the bag that contained my fortune and jumped. I pressed myself against the side of that drop. I looked up and I could see the man above me staring further down the hill. He didn’t see me, but he was shaking his pitchfork letting me know that if he caught me, I would be sitting on the end of it. My heart was beating so loud I thought he may have heard it. He left. I waited a good 10 minutes and then made my way back up over the edge of the drop. He was no longer outside and I raced for the blackberry bushes and my escape route. Mickey was nowhere to be seen.

I did sell my pears at the local bodega. I only got a couple bucks. But that was a lot for a kid 10 years old. Once they had the money, I’d have to figure out how to tell my mom and dad how I got it because they would find out that I had an extra couple bucks.

before I could tell them, my dad calls me in the living room and says where’d you get the pairs that you sold at the bodega? How did he know? I waited for his belt to come off. I knew I was going to get several wax across my butt. It wouldn’t have been the first time. I must’ve been a slow learner. But my dad said, “I love peas that my favorite fruit you should’ve brought them home.” some years later I realized I was more like my dad than I imagined.

How to Turn One Bad Decision Into Nine Worse Ones (And Get Shot Doing It)

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Ever watched someone turn a dumb idea into a full-blown disaster in under three minutes? Strap in—our anti-hero’s greatest skill is making things worse.

it’s a fact of life, a bad decision if allowed to go on, checked, will lead to more bad decisions compounding the original error. Fiction writers use this all the time especially in those detective stories or the police procedurals. The antagonist makes a dumb decision like deciding to rob a convenience store. He goes into the convenience store, wanting the cashier to be cooperative and just hand over the cash. That’s in the register. This was the second mistake. He can interpret how the cashier will respond. So, he makes his third mistake, he takes a gun. He’s riding a losing streak of three straight mistakes when he walks in making his fourth mistake, his face isn’t coverage and the security camera gets a full frontal. He decides he’ll celebrate his newfound cash and grabs a six pack of cold beer. Another mistake. He walks to the counter, puts the beer on the counter and pulls his gun the seventh mistake. The cashier steps on the silent alarm. Our hero in this thing didn’t think about a silent alarm, so he’s up to eight mistakes. He has a serene in the background and glances toward the window. His nice mistake and final one. The cashier reaches under the counter, pulls his own gun out and shoots the hero. So what’s the lesson for us? When you know you’ve made a bad mistake stop making it. It’s it’s not gonna get better. Wishing won’t make cow poop turn into a five star dinner. Just walk away and start over. It applies to all parts of our life.

Three Engaging Questions:

  1. What’s the worst “snowball” decision you’ve ever made—and how fast did it roll downhill?
  2. If you were writing this anti-hero’s story, would you make him smarter… or double down on the dumb?
  3. Why do you think it’s so hard for people (or fictional characters!) to just walk away after mistake #1?

The Great Squirrel Conspiracy: Feathered Friends, Fuzzy Freeloaders, and a Backyard Soap Opera

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When bird feeders become squirrel buffets, and your fence turns into a squirrel speedway, who’s really winning? Discover how a neighborhood turned backyard chaos into unexpected joy.

The neighbors on both sides of my home, one on the east and one on the west, each have huge bird feeders. Their bird feeders are, in reality, squirrel feeders. The squirrels use my fence as a super highway going back-and-forth between the 2 yards. I’ve never seen the squirrels look fatter or healthier. I thought they outsmarted my neighbors. I spoke to one of my neighbors and he told me he enjoys watching the squirrels and he doesn’t mind feeding them. So little do the squirrels know they’re really working for their meal. They’re entertaining an older guy and his wife with their silly antics over fighting who gets to the feeder first. Sounds like a win-win to me. We need more of that in this world.

Questions:

  1. Are the squirrels freeloading geniuses or just fluffy little entertainers being paid in sunflower seeds?
  2. Who’s the real boss of your backyard—you, your neighbor, or the chunky squirrel with attitude?
  3. If a squirrel runs laps on your fence every morning, does that count as shared custody?

Shooting the Sh*t: Boston Sports Talk and Uncle John’s Life Lessons

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They talk about nothing as if they know everything. So did my Uncle John—and he made it an art form. One had a microphone, the other had a First Sergeant’s stripes, and only one really knew what he was talking about.

I catch the Boston sports talk shows via YouTube. I often wonder how people can be paid for speculating about sport’s teams. They have people like me listening to them and commenting on the YouTube videos. I don’t know what that says about me and how little it takes to entertain me when they are really talking about nothing. My favorite uncle, John, had a career military in the US Army. He was a first sergeant when he retired. When he retired he’d give me a call and say, “Ray, let’s shoot the shit..” and that’s what we would do for 45 minutes, we would shoot the shit. We would talk about nothing as if we knew everything about what we were talking about. In the end, we both left the call feeling pretty good about life. We solved multiple problems and some we kept for a future date. I miss those calls with my uncle John. The talk show hosts who speculate about my sports teams do a very good job of shooting this shit. They’re talking about nothing as if they knew everything. They’re not in my uncle John’s league. They didn’t spend 30 years in the military. I think you learned to survive in the military for 30 years by shooting the shit.

Oops, My Bad: That Time I Was Hilariously, Catastrophically Wrong

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Ever been so convinced you were right that you strutted like a peacock—only to trip over your own certainty? Welcome to the club. In today’s post, we celebrate those glorious fails that make us wiser, funnier, and slightly more cautious around power tools.

Writing Prompt: Write about a moment when you were absolutely certain you were right—only to find out you were spectacularly wrong. What happened next, and how did it change the way you approach being “right”?

Starter Example:

I was so confident that I installed the bookshelf correctly that I proudly placed my signed Red Sox memorabilia on the top shelf. Five minutes later, my autographed ball took a nosedive, and so did my ego. Turns out, wall anchors are not optional—just like humility.

The Annual Check-Up That Got Weirdly Cheerful

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Are you living a happy, peaceful life? Do you miss not being angry? Perhaps you feel if you don’t get angry you’ll forget how to do it. Your anger skills will start to atrophy. If your anger skills atrophy your blood pressure will return to normal, you’ll have to stop taking blood pressure meds. You’ll surprise your physician at your annual physical when they check your blood results. Here’s how that might go.

Doctor: “Zeke, I’ve got your blood test results. It’s vastly different from last year. “

Zeke: “I can take it, Doc. Tell me the truth. How much longer do I have to live. Three months, six months. Oh no, it’s just weeks. I didn’t see it coming.”

Doctor: “Calm down, Zeke. You’re not going to die.”

Zeke: “Is it Parkinson’s? Diabetes? Will I have to stick a needle in my arm ever day?” Don’t sugar coat it, Doc.”

Zeke: “Your Cholesterol is normal. Great HDL’s. Low LDL’s. Blood sugar is within acceptable ranges. Why, even your prostate is sparkling good. Your colon cancer screening was clean. I don’t understand it. You’re still overweight. You don’t go to the gym. What’s going on?

Zeke: “I stopped watching the news. I decided I’m not letting any politician take away my happiness.”

Doctor: “I wish I thought of that.”

Don’t let any fool take away your happiness. Give the fools a deaf ear and enjoy life.

Tariffs, Thrift Stores, and Turn-Ons: When Frugal Gets Freaky

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Who knew skyrocketing prices and budget-conscious living would light such a romantic spark? Apparently, nothing says foreplay like coupons, McNuggets, and two-step dancing at Toby’s honky tonk.

I watched a brief news clip where the narrator said Americans were becoming more frugal due to the increase of prices caused by the tariffs.. A late night talk show host later said that a survey indicated that a growing percentage of Americans believe that frugality is sexy. Imagine a brief conversation between a couple might go like this:

Joan: “It’s Friday, Harry. Let’s go out for dinner and perhaps a few drinks after. I feel like dressing up.”

Harry, feeling a bit excited about the evening’s potential said, “Any thoughts on where you’d like to go?”

Joan: “With all the price increases caused by the tariffs, let’s dine at McDonald’s and then head to Toby’s honky tonk for a couple of beers. What do you think?”

Harry: “When you start talking frugal, it makes me horny.”

Joan gave Harry a flirtatious wink and said: “Tomorrow, let’s go to the thrift store.”

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