Standing on the median at the Houston Intercontinental Airport Terminal C pick-up location, I could only gnash my teeth and seethe at the incompetence that was on display. This guy directing traffic — I like to call him Mr. I Have A Penlight And I Can Use It To Direct Traffic — was accomplishing nothing in regards to increasing the number of cars coming past him. There were orange traffic cones reducing what should have been three lanes of traffic into one. I suspect this was to accommodate the small size of his penlight. You can only wave that thing at one lane of traffic, maybe two. Three lanes and you might as well paint “Hit Me” on your forehead. He would constantly allow people to stop in the middle of this lane and pick up a passenger. Regardless of where anyone stops, the following sequence always occurs:
- The exchange of heartfelt hugs/handshakes/verbal greetings
- The picking up of packages/suitcases/crap that the traveler has carried from his/her point of origin
- The discussion of whether putting said packages/suitcases/crap in the trunk or backseat would be most appropriate
- The “last loop” around the car/truck/SUV to make sure packages/suitcases/crap aren’t left behind accidentally
- The excruciatingly slow departure because the driver can’t stop making eye contact with his/her new travel companion.
After watching this unfold for the umpteenth time, I yelled at penlight guy: “Hey, you can’t just keep letting people stop in the middle like that!”
Penlight Guy: [nods his head and tries to ignore me]
Me: ”You’re not doing any good directing traffic like this. You can’t keep letting the lane get blocked!”
Penlight Guy: ”What do you want me to do? Make them move?”
Entire Crowd and Myself: ”YES!”
Penlight Guy: ”Oh.”
Me: ”You’ve got to be the man. You can’t let these people walk all over you. You’ve got The Penlight, for crying out loud.”
Penlight Guy did a much better job of directing after we had this public exchange. I think I embarrassed him somewhat by questioning his penlight waving abilities. He was now moving beyond the small area he’d been standing in and his hand gestures had became more specific about where a car could stop. I’m sure by now he’s forgotten all that he’s learned and slipped back into his old habits. I wish I’d gotten his supervisor’s phone number so I could keep tabs on him. Good times.
This next paragraph is my not-so-funny story. Sorry. Bear with me. I swear this is being done so writing my memoires will be a breeze.
Saturday saw my attempt to get the Mitsubishi Eclipse inspected. I decided to hit up My Mechanic, the generic fix-it shop on Jones road that had given the Batmobile a hard time during my last visit. I mean, come on, flashing headlights? What’s wrong with that? Picky b*stards. They didn’t even offer to diagnose and fix them so I could pass inspection. The Batmobile continues to sit in storage awaiting electrical system diagnosis. My Eclipse nearly passed but I’d changed the battery last time I was in town and this yielded failure. ”Not enough data” was the complaint from the inspector. I was told to drive the car around and come back later. It was already near the end of the day, so I decided to bring the car back on Monday morning. I barely drove the car until Monday morning reared its ugly head. I found a nice 2.5 mile triangular loop on FM 1960, Falcon Road, and Windfern. In no time I’d driven 20 miles. I returned to My Mechanic and passed. The only downside to the story is that my car radio was not functioning because of the battery issue. After power is restored to it you need The Secret Code to set things right. I thought I knew that code. Wrong. I was completely locked out after making three incorrect attempts. Anti-theft technology! Bleah.
