Oktoberfest
From: $Manager
Sent: Donnerstag, 28. September 2006 12:29
To: REC
Subject: Re: Where are you?!

REC, its already noon and you have not called the office to say your whereabouts. Are you working in home office?

# # #

From: REC
Sent: Thursday, September 28, 2006 14:14
To: $Manager
Subject: Re: Where are you?!

I'm in Prague. I'm not on holiday but I'm unable to work. I hope to be in the office tomorrow.

# # #

From: $Manager
Sent: Donnerstag, 28. September 2006 14:21
To: REC
Subject: AW: Re: Where are you?!

What does it mean you are in Prague?? You know that you can not take vacaction without first getting approval. I will have to talk about this to $ÜberManager and you may get the writte up for this. It is unacceptable and we will need to have a meeting when you return.

# # #

From: REC
Sent: Thursday, September 28, 2006 15:17
To: $Manager
Subject: Re: AW: Re: Where are you?!

There will be no meeting. This is NOT vacation. I'm here in Prague because I followed your directions to keep $Customer entertained. I escorted him to the Oktoberfest where, due to my connections I was able to get us into the otherwise closed Hobräu tent. $Customer was having a very good time. Too good a time, in fact. Suffice to say he's somewhat socially inept, even in the context of the Wiesen.

After having drunk four Maß glasses of beer he decided that he'd seen enough of the "cold-ass bitches" who shunned his attempts to become more sociable because "they must hate foreigners" and figured that what he really wanted to see was Czech capitalism in action, something he'd heard can be considerably cheaper than that business which is conducted in Germany. Due to my own consumption of seven beers, this didn't seem as bad an idea as it perhaps should have.

$Customer told the limo driver where to take us. The limo driver balked so $Customer handed him what appeared to be a couple hundred euros. After approximately three hours of driving, during which we discussed $Customer's plans as best as we could, we arrived on the strip as the A6 becomes the D5 at which point, $Customer found an object of interest but required some 11 minutes for the transaction. His business completed, he agreed that it was time to return to Munich.

The border guards were not of the same opinion. While we were waved through by the Czech guards on our arrival, the Germans decided to go by the book. Despite giving them my full information and it checking out, they refused to let me back in the country without ID, something I tend not to carry when dressed in traditional Bavarian lederhosen to participate in the Oktoberfest traditions. We drove to Prague and found a hotel.

I'm currently sitting in an Internet cafe near the Schoenborn Palace. The embassy says they hope to have temporary papers for me by tomorrow but will make no promises. $Customer has disappeared, presumably to the British embassy but for all I know, back to the strip along the D5 to further his understanding of Czech business.

Hotel, transportation and all other costs will appear on my October expense report.
(ReallyEvilCanine looks like an upside-down question mark with hair, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 12:17, Reply)

Long, but true story of self defenstration
I woke up one Friday morning and knew that I had plenty of flexi-time saved up so I just had to get to work by 9am so I could leave early and go to the pub. I was tired but had plenty of time in hand.

I discovered that whilst I could turn the handle of my bedroom door, it would not open. I was alone in the house and the door did not have a lock. I sat on the bed to wait for the fug of sleep to clear and then had another try.

Still would not open. I really needed the loo by this time so I had to formulate a plan. I had no phone, no visitors expected and nothing of much use - I had my house keys, a tie clip and my dressing gown. A MacGuyver like plan crystallised in my sleep fuddled, wee-needing brain...

I would use the serated edge of my backdoor key to saw through the wood around the lock. I should be out of my prison by Saturday afternoon! It set to with vigour, trying to ignore the pain in my bladder.

Stupid bloody idea. After 2 minutes I'd hardly made a dent in the door and bent my key. By this time, my head was starting to clear and a real plan formed.

I would jump out of the window! So, I wrapped my dressing gown tightly around my self, opened the 2nd storey window as wide as it would go and (clutching my house keys) jumped down onto the front lawn.

Of course, my dressing gown flew upwards and I exposed myself to the whole street, left two deep footprints in the lawn - but I was free and had not yet wet myself!

I went round to the backdoor to let myself in the house and discovered that my key was still bent. I had to get a brick from the garden to flatten it out before gaining entry. Once inside, the toilet was my first port of call, then I examined the bedroom door from the other side.

It would open fine from outside, but inside the handle turned without moving the catch. Should be easy to fix with the right tools, but I'd better get to work, I thought.

I left the door open and went to close the window. As I stepped into the centre of the room, a gust of wind blew through the open window and slammed the door shut. Gah! Trapped again.

With a weary sigh, I jumped out of the window for the second time that morning.

I got to work two hours late and emailed the story to my boss, who forwarded it around the company.
(andymurd, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 11:30, Reply)

I was once late for an important meeting in London.
It was one of those days when, if something could go wrong, it would go wrong. I had thrown a coffee down my neck and was eating a piece of toast while trying to put on my jacket when a large dollop of marmalade fell off the toast and landed on my white shirt. I ripped the shirt off shredding all the buttons like some overly keen porn actor and put on another. As I turned to leave the bedroom, I tripped over the cat and whacked my head on the wardrobe. Now I have a hurty eye and it's turning red already. Great!

Next up, I fumbled with the lock on the door which leads to the garage and........my car had a flat tyre and so I ran back into the house and phoned a mini-cab. I was told 10 minutes which I understand is the standard response. 35 mins later it arrived. The driver, the worst in London, of that I am certain, didn't come to the door but just sat there, in the car, fag hanging out of his mouth, leaning on the hooter. I got in the car and asked him if he could hurry as I was late and it was a very important day, in fact this meeting was probably going to change my life. He just shook his head and informed me that he always sticks to the speed limit. I'm sure he deliberately went slow just to be awkward, even on a part of the North Circular where it is a 50MPH limit, he stuck to just under 30. Cars were hooting and he just kept saying things like, "Well if you want a speeding ticket, you carry on. I have a clean licence and I intend to keep it that way..blah blah blah etc". I caught his eye in the rear view mirror. "It's fifty here", I snarled at him. "Are you trying to tell me my job?", came the reply. I wasn't going to ague with him in case he slowed down even more or stoped and thrown me out. Eventually we got to my destination, the BBC, and I jumped out of the cab, throwing a tenner at the bastard. As he pulled away, I realised I had forgotton my pass letter to get past the jobsworth at the gate. How did I know this, because I had left my briefcase in THE FUCKING MINICAB.

Eventually after several phone calls I was allowed through. Now panicing as I was almost an hour late the security guard stopped me and made me wait while he made me a badge. This took about ten minutes, a task I could have done in 2. I ran into the building, waited at reception while the girl finished a phone call, which seemed to take for ever. Eventually she directed me to the lifts and to the room where I should have been in an hour and a hald ago. I walked in, saw another receptionist, who was also on the phone and this time it was a private call which made me even more FUCKING ANGRY. By now the veins in my neck were popping and I snapped at the girl. She looked at me, finished her call and told me to sit down. I was sat there for almost 20mins when the person who I had the meeting with walked in. He apollogised to me for keeping me waiting as he had only just arrived due to bad traffic. He looked into my eyes and asked me, "Have you been in a fight?" I explained but was both angry and relieved he was late,I could have killed or kissed him. Not sure which. Oh, the meeting was a COMPLETE WASTE OF FUCKING TIME TOO!

I got home later that afternoon. Walked in, poured a large drink when the doorbell rang. It was the minicab driver standing there with my briefcase. He held out his hand and asked for twenty three pounds. It was only £9.30 to broadcasting house so I asked him why it was more now. He explained that he had gone to another job the other side of the river and his next fare had found it and that this was his second visit to return it. Without any cash as I only had a tenner in my pocket which I HAD TO PAY THE FUCKING CAB DRIVER, so I had to wander around the corner to a cash point and when I got back he had put the price up to £30 due to the fact he had to wait. It was around about now that I snapped. After the police had left I went back inside and finished off a bottle of Cardhu malt.

I was half way down the bottle when I realised I had to pick up my girlfriends kids from school, so I phoned a mini-cab. "10 minutes". "I tell you what, I'll walk". It rained. I arrived at the school soaking wet only to see my girlfriend already there. I had forgotton she had the afternoon off and had told me the previous night that she would PICK THE FUCKING KIDS UP! On the way back she kept sniffing the air and asked me if I had been drinking. I just looked at her and said, "Yes I have. In fact I've had lots, no loads actually, nearly a whole FUCKING BOTTLE OF FUCKING CARDHU MALT!" The remainder of the journey was silent.
(James Blunt Rhyming slang?, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 12:31, Reply)

I wish it was just an excuse
Pulled some bird and went back to hers. Next morning she had to leave early for work but let me stay a little longer. Eventually get up and make my way downstairs. She lived in Walthamstow in a house split into two flats with a communal front door. Turns out the other flat has double bolted the door.

Fuck. 10 years ago so didn’t have a mobile. Turned around to go back into her flat so I could call her to come and let me out. The door to her flat has closed behind me and now I’m locked in a 12 foot x 3 foot corridor in pissing Walthmastow. Fuck.

Started laughing about the situation until it dawns on me that she’s not coming home for another 10 hours and start to feel a little faint. Have to lie down as the claustrophobia takes hold. Start to panic and really need to do a shit.

Prise open the letterbox and study the road outside hoping to catch someones attention. First person walking by is a kid.

“Oi.” Kid looks around. “Oi, over here.” Kid looks confused until he see half a face in the letterbox. He comes over but he can’t speak any English. I try and tell him to get help and he wanders off. Next thing I hear some man shouting and this kid starts crying. Must have been his dad telling him not to fuck about with strange men in letterboxes. See the kid hurry by on the other side of the road.

Half an hour later a street sweeper comes past. After he’s stopped pissing himself laughing he asks me what I expect him to do about it. “I don’t know, call the police?”
“Alright then.” And he wanders off. Comes back about half an hour later. “I’ve called the police – they’ll come but they said it’s not a priority.”
“Cheers mate.”

Two fucking hours later some twat of a policeman turns up. “What seems to be the problem, Sir?”
“I’m stuck in a pissing corridor, mate. That’s the cocking problem.”
“What about going out the backdoor, Sir?”
“No you retard, I’m stuck in this corridor, I can’t get round the back.”

Eventually he goes off and calls this girl at work. Apparently they announced over a tannoy that there was a man locked in her house and could she please go and let him out. Quite embarrassing for her she later tells me.

She has to come all the way from South Kennsington which takes another hour and a half. As soon as she turns up I sprint upstairs to unload the mother of all shits and then finally leave that bastard place.

Turn up at work six hours late and have to explain the whole thing to my boss. He threatened to sack me if it happened again. WTF.
(Creamy Discharge Freeze Motherstickers, this is a fuck up, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 2:23, Reply)

Age six-ish after a few days off
Teacher: "You've been off school haven't you? What was the matter?"
Me: "I had dinosaurs."
Teacher: "Do you mean diarrhoea?"
Me: "Yes."
( krang, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 14:46, Reply)

I was late this morning....
My car got hit by one of those new Skodas, there was jam and sponge everywhere
(helenj, Sun 1 Jul 2007, 19:40, Reply)

tardy
urban myth probably:

4 students decide to go away the weekend before they all have an important medical exam on the monday. Waking up very hungover on the other side of the country on the monday morning they realise that there is no chance whatsoever of making it home that day, never mind in time for the exam. Phoning the professor, one of them explains that they have had a flat tyre with no spare and are still many hundreds of miles away and have been stuck all night.....could they possibly all take the exam tomorrow.. purlease!

The professor grudgingly allows it and they all duly turn up the next morning after driving all day to get back.

As the exam room is unavailable, they are seated in 4 separate offices, alone and no chance of contact between them. The exam is delivered to them and they start. The front page states that the exam consists of 2 questions, the first worth 10%, and the 2nd, worth 90%. With relief, they all handle question 1 with ease, it being on a topic they had all studied comfortably.

Question 2 was "Which tyre?"
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 29 Jun 2007, 11:44, Reply)

i suck part deux

I hadn't completed a university assignment that had to be sent via email in time, so instead I opened a jpg in notepad and sent all the crap from that instead.

Next day my lecturer asked wtf I had sent and I just shrugged and said 'hmmm, must have corrupted, I'll send it again tonight.'

Which gave me time to finish it. ;)
( Regger, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 16:29, Reply)

The Beano becomes reality
I'm jealous of this one because along with someone actually slipping on a discarded banana skin, it's something I've always wanted to see.

My colleague told me about a guy who was a bit late from his lunch break because he was so thrilled and couldn't stop laughing at what he'd seen.

Apparently he came running into the office, quite flustered and exclaimed, "Sorry I'm late but you'll never guess what I've just seen......a dog running from a butchers shop with a string of sausages in it's mouth!"

Marvellous.
( abefroman skating on the thin life of modern life on, Wed 4 Jul 2007, 9:20, Reply)

Train Trouble
Not me, but a couple of years ago a colleague arrived about 2 hours late for work. Being in the City you get used to the tubes being crap once in a while, so the bosses tend not to mind too much.

Apparently the train driver/guard had said "I have to apologize for the delay to your journey. I realise it is June and you wouldn't expect leaves on the line to be a problem, but in this case it's quite severe as the leaves are still attached to a tree".

Apparently no-one on the train could get pissed off about being late as they were all too busy laughing. Apparently eye contact was made between strangers in London on public transport - a first maybe?

Length? not sure, seems to work though. Be gentle, I'm new.
(Calamity wetter than a fish's wet bits - bloody rain on, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 18:52, Reply)

I had been warned not to be late for work again
so the next morning to prove a point, I left the house an hour early.

The traffic on the dual carriageway was crawling along, I couldn’t understand it as it was never congested, especially at 7am, but I didn’t worry as I had 2 hours to get to work...

...An hour and a half later and I was shitting myself, I had only moved a few miles and the clock was ticking. I phoned work on my mobile, it rings and rings and rings...finally it's picked up and it's only the bloody director! I start to explain who I am and the predicament I’m in when I see what has been holding up traffic...

...A man was pushing his car up the dual carriageway, not to the side of the road but UP the sodding carriageway. My blood literally boiled, I was seething with rage at this moron who was about to cost me my job, so I wound down the window and screamed YOU STUPID FUCKING CUNT!!! as I drove past...

...At which point I realised that I still had my mobile firmly pressed to my ear and that I had just informed the company director that I was going to be late for work because he was a stupid fucking cunt.
( Colonel Dracula Two manky hookers and a racist dwarf, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 12:24, Reply)

how about
this classic from virgin the other week:

"sorry for the delay. this is because our driver hasn't yet been able to get to work.

this is because HIS train was delayed."

useless cunts.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 11:23, Reply)

...
Stroll into the newsagents late one day, not particularly in the mood for being shouted at by the balding shopkeep.

"Why the fuck are you so late, you useless bastard!"

"FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF, YOU FUCKING BALDY SCOUSE FUCKING CUNT!"

And that is my best excuse to date.

Edit: And before you lot get any ideas, i was relieved of my duty that day.


click 'i like this' to see a pic of the shop keeper.
(Snailfighter Mk VIII MASTER of the bits underneath the ledges on fences, Fri 29 Jun 2007, 21:12, Reply)

The truth.
I was late this morning, and used the excuse of "my shower broke."

In reality, I got lost in deep thought while sitting on the toilet. I was thinking about UFOs.
( Digeridude Lord Wellington's Beef Trapeze, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 18:14, Reply)

Fake delay?
Drove a morning peak-hour train to Cannon Street some weeks ago - when we get there I'm due to 'change ends' and take the now empty train back to the depot.

Walking back through the train, a young bloke asks me if I could do him a favour - could he sit in the carriage and phone his boss to tell him he's going to be late, while I make a PA announcement claiming the train was 'being delayed'.

I nearly asked him if he was a fellow B3tan.

(And yes, I did help him out - I go the extra mile for my commuters! :-)
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 12:42, Reply)

Not late for work, but close.
I had another staff member who got so pissed on shift that he 'forgot' to close the bar. When I turned up the next day the entire takings for the night and the safe float were sitting on the bar with the front door wide open.

Where was he?

In the back lounge unconscious with his pants around his ankles, and to top it off - with his cock in hand.
( Silent5, Fri 29 Jun 2007, 5:49, Reply)

Badger Threat...
...No, seriously, here in the South, where trains run on power from a third rail, badgers pose quite a problem.

Their natural instinct during mating season is to follow the trails back to their home area and find a mate. Sooner or later they'll come across a man-made obstacle - motorway, barn or maybe even a railway line - where their other natural instinct kicks in - 'you don't climb over anything, you -being a badger- must attempt to go under the obstacle'. Cue many badgers providing a handy earth bond between the 750Volt third rail and the ground, which usually results in a dead badger and lots of nasty smelling smoke (and occasionally flames).

Only problem being, when you've got half a large badger carcass laying around the third rail, when you hit one at 100mph - it's not going to do your train much good.

Hence my announcement of 'this train is being delayed due to a badger on fire and wrapped around the underside equipment of the train'...

and a 45 minute delay as I picked dead mammal out of my shoegear.
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 22:42, Reply)

I do indeed
work for myself.

The hours are terrible, but who else here gets free handjobs from their boss?
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 30 Jun 2007, 16:50, Reply)

Being perpetually late I have run the full gamut of excuses now
but nothing I've heard beats this one...

I was working at a small web company. There were only five of us, and the guy who sat next to me was a bit of an odd sort. Half Scottish, half Greek, one of his amusing quirks was that he could never shit in the office bogs, he always had to make the round trip home and back if Mr. Brown came calling. Anyway, he didn't show up for work for two days without any notice or a call, and we were starting to get a bit worried when he showed up again on the third day. When questioned as to where he had been, he said that on his way home he had picked up a spicy sausage from the corner shop for his tea, but on eating it, it had made him trip out and hallucinate for 36 hours straight while he sat on the floor of a darkened room, sweating and gibbering. Three days late due to a psychedelic sausage takes some beating.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Fri 29 Jun 2007, 1:15, Reply)

Not an excuse per se
But last Monday, the 18th of June, I was a bit late to work. It was pretty bog standard, I'd overslept by 20 minutes and now I was going to be 7 minutes late, or thereabouts. Now my commute is about 25 miles, I work in the very centre of Bristol, so I commute by motorbike - a Yamaha Thundercat to be precise.

I was about 3 minutes from my work place and I realised I was going to be a bit late. I hate being late, I just don't like walking in and knowing I don't have a decent reason to be, I'm just lazy. I got a bit angry with myself as I thought this and I was at this moment filtering up to a pedestrian crossing. In a bit of a hurry and a bit angry to boot, I pulled away fairly fast from the lights when they turned green.

Mistake. Mr BMW was clearly also late and didn't indicate to turn across me. I hit his left headlight at an estimated 40mph, though my speedo is broken. According to a witness I did 3 midair flips, the last thing I saw of my bike was a massive cloud of steam as the radiator exploded, and then I settled in to my injury - compound fracture of the elbow in 22 places. Totally shattered.

So while I'm lying there and people start to come and look after me, a nice guy from a van I filtered past asks if he can call anyone. Most of my words are expletives at this point, as my elbow is shattered and dislocated, but I'm so full of adrenalin I stop moaning and say 'phone my boss, 0117 etc, tell him why I'm not there.' Then I burst out laughing. I had a good excuse for being late.

That's the relevant part over with-the unrelevant bit is the paramedics arrived, shot me up with morphine (useless), cut all my clothes off, relocated my arm on the road (most painful experience of my life), then I spent 7 hours in surgery, 12 pins, 9 plates. 5 days later I'm discharged. Still got to wear a cast for another 2 weeks.

If you've ever experienced the horror of Itchy Cast, click 'I like this'.
( Rookie You'll have to speak up, I'm wearing a towel, Sat 30 Jun 2007, 17:04, Reply)

I'd love to share my best excuse...
But the dog ate it.
(Dr Frank, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 20:32, Reply)

Oops I did it again.
Back when I was a little is0lati0n, sitting quietly in a classroom filled with other 6 year old monsters, the door opened.
Standing timidly in the doorway was a classmate, late and obviously scared of incurring the wrath of our (alcoholic, as it turned out) teacher.

He wandered quietly to his chair and sat down, when Mr Teacher Sir yelled at the kid as to why he was late.
In tears, he cried back that he had diarrhoea.

...And then there was complete silence as the boy let out a particularly wet fart.
Wet enough that he drenched his pants, chair and the floor.

At least the teacher had proof that it was a genuine excuse. Pity he scared the poor kid into shitting himself.
(is0lati0n, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 17:08, Reply)

I was once late for kindergarten

because I was terrified by a 'monster'. I started screaming, and refusing to go any further to school because it'd eat me.

It turns out that my friends were right: acid and teaching don't mix.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 12:48, Reply)

Gambling; With my future...
I had realistic sniffles, a realistic cough and sounded ill. My boss was sympathetic and said "DP, just have today off, and tomorrow. Get well. Give me a call tomorrow and let me know how you are."

I got off the phone, removed the cotton wool from my nose and cracked open a can, with my friend. We got into the car and set off for a heady day and night of drinking and gambling.

We had a great time, dressed in our finest suits and hats, throwing money around as if we could afford it, and drinking until we were stumbling around like things demented, before falling asleep in the field surrounded by discarded bottles of beer and champagne.

We got home, in a cab, and I was looking forward to having my second sick day to recover. However at 8 the next morning my phone rang. It was my MD. He knew something I didn't. He enquired as to my health, and gave me enough rope to comprehensively hang myself with.

What he knew, and I didn't, was that the local tv station had zoomed in on two unconscious revellers and uttered the words "Here are a couple of people who've had a good day!"

Sadly, tv evidence is very hard to refute.
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 28 Jun 2007, 11:41, Reply)

Camping
Travelling at high speed one day, my radio bleeped into life and the signaller made the internationally recognised indication that something was very wrong...

"Hello Driver of Train **** - can you come to a stand pretty quick please!"

Slamming on the emergency brake (and hearing the passengers coffee hit the bulkhead behing the drivers cab) I managed to stop and be informed by a concerned by no doubt p*ssing himself signalman that someone had pitched a tent on the line ahead.

So apologies for the 20 minute delay while me and the guard dismantled the tent, packed it all away and waited for the transport police to collect the owner's belongings....
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Mon 2 Jul 2007, 22:49, Reply)

Late for a gig
If you have read some of my previous posts you may know that I'm a musician in my life outside the day job. Anyway, one Friday a few years back I was booked to play at a wedding in a place called Banknock, which is about an hour from where I live. So I got home from work, reversed the car up the drive for easy loading, ate, washed, dressed, read the paper for a bit and left to go to the wedding.

I was in good time, so was pootling down the road in no hurry. Somewhere on the A9, around Dunblane, I thought, "Bugger, I can't recall putting in my hard drive" (I used to carry a removable drive with sound samples stored on it) and looked over my shoulder to check whether I'd put it into the back of the car.

It wasn't there.

But neither was anything else. No keyboards, amplifiers, stands, cables. Nothing. I'd forgotten to load the car. I'd even folded the seats down in preparation, but hadn't actually loaded anything in, which went some way to explaining why I seemed to be in such good time.

So I had to about turn and leg it back home, much more quickly, and pick it all up. Now, most weddings run late. Except of course this one. So when I screeched sideways into the hotel car park and ran into the function room, the rest of the band and the whole company were ready and waiting for me.

What a fanny.
( K2k6 has a proper job these days, Thu 28 Jun 2007, 11:35, Reply)

dads new job
A good friend of my was teaching in the far east at some very posh school and one normally bright and punctual child rolled up mid way through the day. When asked for his excuse for being so late he said "sorry my father was being crowned this morning" Yep dear old dad had been made king that morning, blinding excuse.
First page Yay!!
(The kneeling rifleman Is slowly getting there.., Thu 28 Jun 2007, 10:49, Reply)

Another story on the ex!
I had been separated from my wife for over a year (not divorced yet, but separated) when it came time for my parents' 50th wedding anniversary. Mom decided that what she wanted for the occasion was to take everyone to Disneyworld for four days, and because she was feeling kindly, she invited my estranged along. (Yes, she asked me first, and I said I was okay with it, as the kids would want her there.)

So the night before I agreed to stay over at my former house and sleep on the couch, and use the kids' bathroom in the morning. As I was there and she really didn't want to be in my presence, the ex decided to go out to a bar with a friend.

The flight was leaving, as I recall, at about 7:30 in the mornng, which meant that we all had to get up extremely early. I made sure the kids were all packed the night before and got the suitcases in the car, so when I awoke all I had to do was shower and dress and get the kids moving. No problem- we all got up on time and I fed the kids, and we were all ready to get in the car by 6:15.

Except for the ex.

I had awakened her at the same time I got everyone else going, but it turned out that she had not packed yet. She also had not written out directions for the kid who was taking care of the animals, and was moving extra slowly due to a hangover. So after much chivvying I got her out the door at about 7:00.

The airport is more than half an hour away, if you drive as you should. I got us there at about 7:25.

When we went to check in, we were told that our flight had already left, but another would be going in about ten minutes. So I checked the luggage and sent everyone ahead to the gate while I got the tickets straightened around.

Just as the girl at the counter was finishing that up (and she was busting her ass to get it done fast, no complaints there), my son comes down to find me with a look of urgency in his eyes. "Dad, the plane's about to leave!"

"I know, I know! We've almost got the tickets!"

I got them from the girl and thanked her for her efforts, then took my son by the hand and ran through the airport to the gate. (This was early 2001, when you could still do that.) We ran through the metal detector without a hitch, to be confronted by the ex. Her face was red and her eyes bloodshot as she screamed at me, "Goddammit! We missed that one too!"

I spoke in a very low and terrible voice. "I will only say this once. The kids and I were ready to go 45 minutes before you were this morning. We would have made that first flight if you had gotten off your goddam ass and been ready last night instead of going out drinking. You want someone to blame? There's a bathroom right over there with a mirror in it." And I stalked off to the desk to find out about the next flight.

The guys at the counter had witnessed the entire exchange, and were very nice as they found seats on the next flight- two up front and three in the rear.

Does it end here? Hell no.

We arrived in Orlando, but our luggage was somewhere else at that moment. Dad greeted us at the airport, and I asked him to take the ex and the kids to the hotel while I got the luggage. So when I got the bags together I took the shuttle bus to Disney and got to the hotel, got the key to the room where the kids were staying and took the luggage there.

No one was there. Not a note, not a phone call on my mobile, nothing. No sign of anyone.

I had been up since 5:00, was tired, hungry, and out of patience. I left a note on the table to the effect that I was going to find myself some goddam food and go enjoy myself for a time, and if they wanted me they could call my phone and I might answer if I was calm enough by then. I then went to the nearest restaurant and got a sandwich and three beers, then went and rode the Tower of Terror twice before my phone rang.

So why had I not heard anything? Why wasn't there a note?

"We left word at the front desk where we were going. Didn't you get it?"

No I didn't, thank you very fucking much.

For my parents' sake, I was civil to one and all, even the ex, for the remainder of our trip. But I swear, I could have committed murder and gotten off if I told that story to any sane jury...

And yes, six years later I'm still highly annoyed.

Sorry for the length and lack of humorous punchline- it was a rant that I just needed to get off my chest.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Fri 29 Jun 2007, 15:06, Reply)

Some days you just can't make it up...
Time and Time ago, when such things were possible*, I managed to get my hands on some particularly fine acid. As one does I called up a chum who would appreciate such things and we wandered around the Egyptian hall of the British Museum watching the stone statues of Sehkmet breathe and luxuriating in the wonderful texture of the walls.
After which we went back to my place and I spent some while counting all the freckles the dear girl posessed. We drop a few more tabs, wile the night away in various pursuits and eventually fall asleep.
Wake up the next morning only to realise that Im still seeing little stained glass people climbing the walls and that the girl I'm lying next to looks mouthwatering with the skin of a bejeweled lizard.

After a few tries I managed to get my huge brick of a phone to autodial the office and spoke to my boss.

"Sorry, not going to be in today. Still twisted from the drugs. May be in tomorrow."

Blank silence, "What ?"

"I've taken too many drugs and I can't even see straight never mind write decent code. I should be ok again by tomorrow"

"Oh, Ok..."

Headed in the next day and get gently asked if I was ok afer my overdose...


*Not like these modern days when it's either E's or nothing
( DukeEuphoria Comes highly reccomended, Fri 29 Jun 2007, 13:25, Reply)

The early man...
When I was training as a teacher, I was always first person in. This ran out to mean that if people were off sick they'd text me and email me their work.

One sunny Tuesday morning, I receive a MMS from Tom, another NQT.

On it, is a picture of a very fine, very naked woman, in what can only vbe descibed as a post sex doze.

It just said "I can't come in today, because I'd rather come in this..."
(gjb006, Fri 29 Jun 2007, 8:45, Reply)