ramblin' in the blue
getting vegas
that's not sad
tri-fi acronymity
cable virgin


Tri-Fi Acronymity

With my newly returned license from the DMV, I couldn’t decide which car to take to the airport, my BMW, or my SUV. Couldn’t go in the ATV. My BMX was out of the question, and so were my classics: My LTD, my GTO, my AMC Rambler, and my beater GMC truck. My LNG-powered retired city bus was in the shop. I’d get better MPG and higher MPH with the 525. And it didn’t need any STP. So I took it, punched up some RPMs, and hit the freeway’s HOV lane. OK, sure, I was in that lane, driving alone. I was still excited about my new DVR-equipped RCA LED with a gazillion DPI: FYI, VCR, you’re DOA, and DVDs, so are you.

A little background. I’d been MIA from my scene for a long time. I’d been a PFC caught DUI, a.k.a., DWI, you know, for testing out a hellish BAC. But the FBI, CIA and the KGB were convinced there was more involved, with things like THC, LSD and UFOs. So I’d been catching up on my R&R and PDQ I was glued to the tube, watching cable: NBC, ABC, CBS, TBS, BBC, USA, TNT, QVC, CNN, HBO, UPN, MTV, SAP. Oh, and the sports: the NFL’s AFC and NFC, there’s NBA, MLB, PGA, CFL. It was LOL. But all this checking on RBIs, ERAs and betting on who’ll be MVP makes my wife crazy. And when my sports mania collides with her PMS, It’s CYA – uh, I mean (don’t laugh) CMA.

So I’m cruising on the diamond lane thinkin’ about whether it’s really worth it to get a GED, an MBA, a PHD. But I’d need a good GPA and an SAT to go to USC. Then maybe I could be a CPA, a CFO, or even a CEO. I could get a loan from the SBA, get a DBA, be an LLC. I could do a PPO, LBO, IPO an M&A, tell all to the SEC, and set up an IRA. With a good HMO, I could get EKGs, EEGs. And if I tore up my ACL I could get an MRI. Hell, if the business took off, I’d be helping the GNP and maybe even the GDP.

But next to watching cable, I knew my heart was more into cooking meat on the BBQ for a hungry crowd. From my POV, the most FAQ should be this: Is it more important to be a VIP who’s a profit-making SOB or one who gives TLC? As I pondered this question on the way to JFK I stopped for some KFC, and wondered: Should I start a B&B? I could serve FDA-approved MSG-free BLTs and PBJs , each with an RDA of protein and other good stuff. Guests could listen to my sound system playing BTO, ELO, REM and R&B. Old SNL reruns could be on the screen.

Or I could just go to work at REI.

At the airport, my posted ETA for LAX was confusing. The times were in both EST and PST. Why not throw in MST and CST, I grumbled.

I asked the lady how long the flight was. All flight info was TBA, she said, FAA rules. Apparently my flight was on an old TWA SST heading in from SFO and DFW on VFR. It’ll be a crowded flight she said, could be SRO, as she looked me over with snake eyes, like I just sent in an SOS, was in dire need of a shave and an ESL course. BFD, I said taking a seat, fishing out my PDA and my GPS, wishing I had an ISP to feed me a DSL on an IBM CPU with plenty of RAM.
Then it hit me: I knew my mission. It was crystal clear. I wanted to drive CODs and RFDs for a high-tech worldwide parcel delivery company: And no, not DHL.

Had to be UPS. There was one more test to take. Yep, the heck with my flight.

I drove back to the DMV.