That's right kiddies! You're old pal the 'Bear is back home and ready for action. Well, sort of. Ok, to be honest, your old pal the 'Bear is back home and that's about the extent of it. Where to begin, where to begin?

Well, after they took my computer away Tuesday morning, I felt so fuckin' cut off from the world. It was odd. It was like ½ of my brain had been removed and I was walking around in a daze. Of course, it could also have something to do with the fact that I hadn't been to bed yet and ended up staying up about 36 hours straight. The last day was good, though. I got to finally wander around and, even though most of the planes were long gone, still got to see some cool shit. Got Icebear Jr. a cute little onesie that says "Future Pilot" on it. Got the wife a T-shirt that says "My husband is a pilot...my next one will be normal." and got Demonchild some little die-cast planes. Figured he'd care less about clothes...should have gotten clothes. We all went and had a great dinner that night, but sadly, I had to get up early to head out Wednesday morning.

I made it to the Milwaukee airport with plenty of time (which is good because I missed the exit once and went about 15 miles out of the way before I realized it) and was actually looking forward to going home. Luckily, we had another MD-88 and I was, once again, on the 2-seat side and my "neighbor" didn't show up so I was able to rest in peace. I slept most of the 52 minutes to Cincinnati. In Cincinnati, I hunted down a McDonald's because I had left so early that I was starving, and it was already noon. I was under the impression that my flight left at 1:30 and it's a good thing that I like to get to things very early because as I round the corner to the gate at 12:45 and see that the plane is leaving in 5 minutes I almost shit my pants. Running up to the gate, I stick out my boarding pass as the guy smiles and laughinly says, "Oh goody, you're here, we can finally take off." If I hadn't been so tired I would have smacked the black right off of him, but I just let it slide. [I'm not racist, I find something to hate about everybody.] As I walk down the jetway, my stomach sinks. On the earlier flight, I found out that the overhead compartment over my seat has emergency shit in it, as do the ones to the front and rear of it. My seat is almost directly opposite the galley so there are no seats across from me, so I had to put my carry-on in the bin for row 28 or something, and sit in row 34. This usually isn't a problem because they load the plane from back to front so I had plenty of spaces to choose from, being one of the first ones on. However, since I'm running late for this plane and most of the boarding is done, I figured that there would be nothing available for my bag. Well, luck smiled on me again, because the flight wasn't even ½ full. In fact, the four rows behind me were empty. I was, literally, the last person on the plane. Unfortunately, that's where my luck would end.

I had been talking to the wife almost every day that I was gone, as most of you may know from reading our diaries, and she kept mentioning that she wanted to meet me at the airport. Even though I had a car there in the long term parking, she still wanted to meet me and I couldn't talk her out of it. So, I told her what time, approximately, we would be getting in and left it at that. Well, I slept most of the way from Cincinnati to Ft. Lauderdale. The flight attendants said I was an excellent passenger. Go figure. Anyway, we were supposed to be into FLL around 3:15-3:17, but had a bit of a SNAFU. There was a thunderstorm directly over the airport so the captain aborted the approach and turned around and headed down to the bahamas. As we neared Nassau, he turned back around to shoot the approach again. He came on the PA and told us that a medical emergency flight had gone in before us and things had cleared up so we were on our way. And that, really, was the worst of the flight, but not the day.

After waiting for everyone to get off the plane, which, oddly, took a long time for as little people were on it, I headed right for the baggage claim area. Last year, when I got back from OSH, the wife and Demonchild were waiting for me at the stairs down. Well, when I didn't see her there, I figured I'd go ahead and go to the baggage claim area, get the big-ass, fuckin' awkward Eddie Bauer bag I was kind enough to bring home and wait for her. Luckily, it was one of the first few off. So I grab it and start looking for her. And looking for her...and looking for her. After standing around, getting pushed and prodded and almost having to throw down with a bitchy 80 year-old (I could have taken her too), I decided to call my mother-in-law and see if the wife still planned to meet me or not. I dig the change out of my pocket and get a hold of mother-in-law. Well, she'd dropped the kids off 2 hours earlier and as far as m-i-l knew, she was still planning on meeting me. Ok, so I guess I have to find her. So I meander back to the baggage carousel and look around. I go outside to where all the traffic is coming through and wait. I go back inside and wait. I go back outside and wait again. After waiting outside another 45 minutes to an hour, I decide to try and call my m-i-l again. Except I don't have enough change. I can't go get anymore without having to lug all this heavy shit with me (which I don't want to do) and I'm afraid the minute I go upstairs, out of site of the traffic, she'll drive by, so I go stand outside again. After standing outside for another hour or so, I finally decide, "fuck it". I'll take the shuttle over to the parking lot and put the bags away. Then I'll come back over to the airport and try to find her. So I wait another 20-30 minutes for the damn shuttle bus.

After finally getting on the shuttle bus, I relax a little. I have a comfortable seat, it's air-conditioned and I'm on my way out. I kept looking back, checking the traffic to see if I saw a little blue/green car, but never did. After about 15 minutes, we pull into the car park and I lumber out and head to the car. After dumping my fuckin' heavy-ass luggage, I head back to the station to wait for the next shuttle. Aha! A pay phone, but shit, I don't have any change. Well, I break down and call my m-i-l collect, and, luckily, she accepts the call. When I ask her if she's heard from the wife yet she says, "Honey, she's at home." I was furious! She's home?? What the fuck is she doing home? I thought she wanted to meet me? I waited for 2 plus fucking hours because she wanted to meet me and she's home?? I stomp back to the car, pay my $40 for parking for 2 weeks and head home. As I drive, my anger starts to wear off, but I'm still mad. When I finally get home, she answers the door, wrapped in blankets, with an "I'm sorry" look on her face. Ok, I'm not mad anymore. But still! It's 6:45! I got into the airport at 3:30. I've been there over 3 hours. I lumber into the bedroom with my carry on and start emptying out clothes and she lays on the bed and uncovers to reveal her nakedness. She starts motioning for me to lay down next to her, and at first I was going to resist, change clothes and go to the place where the concert was, but instead I sat down with her. 10 minutes later we're fuckin' like psycho rabbits. Sadly, after all of this ordeal, I was just way too tired to go to the concert. I was really bummed out about it because I really wanted to see Nile, but oh well. I'll get their new album next month and make up for it. So, things weren't all bad, but I was fuckin' beat.

After our little welcome home sexfest, we had to leave and get the kids. We had sushi that night and then went and got some movies, went home and relaxed. I tried to relax the rest of the week, but we had the big move coming up on the weekend so we were busy getting things finalized and packed up and shit so my plans fell through. Ah yes, the move. Well, I'll have to do another entry tonight to tell you all about the fun that was. In fact, the quote for my entry today was actually meant to go along with all the stuff about the move. I hadn't planned on taking up so much space telling about my trip home. Let's just say that on Saturday, I entered a world of pain and I'm still wandering through seeing the sites. Oh well, it's a story for another time. Check back here to catch it.

Remember, all of you, the 'Bear loves you. Really, I do.

"Where are we going and why am I in this handbasket?"

Icebear

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