Fort Worth/Dallas Airport

Due to storms we have to fly a little north of our regular route to Fort Worth, at least that is what the Captain said, so we arrived a little late to the gate.  I didn’t mind, we were still quite early so I had plenty of time to get to my next gate.  The Captain also said to check your gate on the big screen monitors as they can change frequently and without much notice.  I suppose I should have taken this more to heart.

To get to the main terminal, a person has to go on a tram pretty much like the one in Tampa.  However, this tram was far more interesting as it went over a highway and around several curves.  I was delighted with the short ride and seriously would have traveled the whole route to the four different terminals had I thought I had the time.  So far, so good.  I found a place to sit and wrote in my journal that this airport was a pleasant surprise and I wouldn’t hesitate to fly out of it again if the opportunity arose.

I checked the big board as instructed by the Captain and found my gate without any problems whatsoever.  I sat for a bit writing and then decided to stop at the Pizza Hut shop to get a soda for the two hour trip to Cedar Rapids.  When I came back I glanced back up at the board and everything was still the same so I sat down again to write some more.

At 7:10 I decided I best check on my boarding because my ticket said boarding started at that time and I hadn’t heard any boarding calls yet.  I went to the big board and low and behold, my flight was no longer listed.  I checked for it on all seven boards just in case they had somehow put it out of alphabetical order but it wasn’t there.

Confused I went to the lady at the gate who was flirting with a flight attendant.  She seemed annoyed right off that I interrupted her but I was a bit concerned about my flight.  She informed me in a very superior tone that my flight had already left.  She said they had made an announcement that the gate had changed at the last minute AND that they were moving up the departure time.  She also said she called my name a couple of times and I didn’t respond.  Well, she called it at the NEW gate so why would I respond??? I was pissed.

I asked her when the next flight was and she said “I can get you on a flight to Des Moines yet tonight.”  To which I said I didn’t want to fly into Des Moines.  Her reply was “Well, it is in Iowa” as if getting to the state was the best I could hope for.  I suppose she thought our state was so small that it would be just a few minutes hike between airports.

I told her no, that I couldn’t do that.  She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes in annoyance.  She decided she would give me a “distressed traveler” voucher for the Comfort Suites that was “close by” the airport there in Fort Worth.  I asked if I could stay in the terminal and she said all the people left by 10:30pm so I should go to the hotel and fly out on their 6am flight to Cedar Rapids.  Then she pretty much turned her back on me to start flirting again.

I tried to call my sister and son collect but that is a real mess these days so I quit trying and decided to try on the internet instead.  There is a terminal there that advertises email access at a cost of $1 for four minutes.  Well, that gets you onto the computer but to actually go to your email site, that costs another dollar.  I paid the $2 and left her a quick email before it went dead and then went to get a soda. 

I was walking back by the pay phones trying to digest my dilemma when the one I had used before started ringing.  I picked it up and it was my sister calling me back from Iowa.  I told her the situation and asked her to notify my son so he wouldn’t wonder why I didn’t pick up the dogs that night.

After I hung up with her, I called the hotel shuttle to be picked up and had to get directions to the lower level so I could meet the driver.  It took a little while and it was sweltering hot outside but eventually I got picked up and whisked over to the hotel which ended up being about fifteen minutes from the airport.

As I checked in with a refreshingly helpful desk clerk, the phone rang with more pickups from the airport of people who had also missed their flights.  Off the shuttle went to retrieve those distressed travelers – the desk clerk says this happens every night just about.  You would think the airport would figure out a better way to do business then.

I went to my hotel room – watched a little bit of tv and then went to bed.  I didn’t sleep much as I was afraid I would oversleep my four alarms – two on my cell phone, one on the alarm clock provided in the room, and the wake up call from the front desk.  By the way, the hotel was very nice.  The desk clerk said it had only been open for two months.  I was impressed with it’s nice decor and the amenities.

My only problem in the hotel room was finding the closet.  It is successfully hidden from view behind a large floor to ceiling mirror that sits flush against the wall.  I finally noticed the clasps on each side so knew that was the closet.  I pulled it open and the door swung right into my right foot cutting the top of it.  I already had two raw heels from wearing terrible shoes to the trial so this was more insult to injury.  The words that flew out of my mouth were less than lady-like but damn it hurt.

My mood, which had been so much better after testifying and knowing I was headed home, went south again.  I sat on the bed crying as I tried to stop the blood from flowing out the cut – it wasn’t the cut that made me cry but the frustration over missing my flight, dealing with a rude flight desk person, and all the other stuff that followed.

I think this downswing of my mood is what prompted the nightmares I had that night.  The one I remember the most is a blue car sinking off the Sunshine Skyway and me trying to figure out how to get down to it to save the woman inside.  It was not a good time.  There was another one in there about alligators and sharks but I don’t remember it as well.

Finally I drifted into a doze but it seemed like it was only for a few minutes as then the alarms started going off indicating it was time to get up.

Carrabba’s Bar and Grill

I was pleasantly surprised to find Carrabba’s had a restaurant in the airport.  This is the favored Italian restaurant Holly and I would go to in Sarasota.  Their food is quite excellent. 

I was seated in the outer seating area so I could people watch while I waited for my food.  I ordered the Messaluna – a half-moon shaped raviolis stuffed with chicken and cheese.  Of course to start off is the hot bread with olive oil – hmmmm.  

Across the little hallway from me is an elderly Italian man who seems to have taken exception to something about me.  I’m not sure if it had to do with my tshirt and shorts, my lack of ordering wine to go with such a great meal, maybe it was my moaning at that first exquisite bite or maybe I wasn’t holding my bread right as I dipped it.  Whatever the case, he kept talking to his son in his native tongue but gesturing towards me.  I heard him say, in English so made me believe it was said for my benefit, that we Americans don’t know how to enjoy fine cuisine.  I thought he was nuts because I was enjoying mine quite a lot.

I watched people go by when I could ignore this man.  It is so funny to see how different people dress to fly on a plane.  Some are dressed to the nines in little mini-skirts and big floppy hats with a big bow around the band and others, like myself, are dressed in tshirts and shorts.  I saw several cowboys wearing their tight jeans, big ten gallon hats, and, of course, their cowboy boots walking around – no idea where they were going in that getup.

I saw a woman who had to be in her 70’s wearing a polka dot dress that was too short.  She had polka dot earrings, polka dot shoes, polka dot hat and probably polka dot underwear though thankfully she didn’t bend over for me to find out.  The outfit was hideous because the polka dots were in different colors depending on which article you looked at and the big polka dot bow on the hat made her head look enormous.  Her husband was in a tshirt and jeans. 

The thing I noticed the most about her though was her hooker boobs that had to be triple D’s or something.  At that moment I understood why my son claims it should be a law that as women get older, they have to downsize their boobs.  It looked comical yet in a sad sort of way.

I bought an ice tea at a little shop before going through security to get to the outer terminal building.  Once there I had to go through more security.  I was told that I couldn’t bring in my new bottle of ice tea so they took it away from me and I had to buy another on that side.  Why the security guy, who saw it in my hands, didn’t tell me I couldn’t take it to the other side is beyond me. 

I went to my gate and sat down to wait for my flight – I still had two hours to go and would have loved to sleep but there wasn’t anywhere to do so.  Instead I wrote in my journal and people watched until it was time to board the plane.  My first seat was going to be a window seat so I made sure I went to the bathroom before I boarded - didn’t want to make whoever I sat next to get up so I could use the tiny bathroom on the plane.

As we took off, I settled back using my jacket as a pillow and tried to doze as much as possible.  I took some awesome pictures of the clouds but otherwise ignored everything that went around me.

Spilling My Guts

I turned toward the voice – it was a young man who identified himself as a reporter for the Herald Tribune there in Sarasota.  He wanted to know if I had a few minutes to answer some questions.  I almost said no but a part of me felt that 911 was given a bum rap and this could be the way to correct that.

We stepped to the end of the hall where three officers sat taking a break from the trial.  I answered all of the questions – how did the call make me feel? What ran through my head when the phone went dead? It went on for about twenty minutes.

I told him about the stresses of 911 – how a person answers a call that is horrible, helps do what they can, disconnects only to take the next call which potentially could be as ghastly as the last one.  I told him how we make a connection with the caller – even calls that only last a few minutes.  We take on the responsibility for helping that caller the moment we answer the phone.  We aren’t machines – we care about each emergency call and want to save everyone.

The reporter seemed flabbergasted that the staff involved in Denise’s call didn’t get to go home right after taking it – shouldn’t the supervisors sent us home due to the stress? I shook my head – we stayed, it was our job to be there and to keep answering phones.  We couldn’t stop – it isn’t like 911 calls can go to voice mail for us to pick up at our leisure.  My shift didn’t end until 11pm – Denise’s call came in at 6:14pm.

I won’t say I didn’t get up from my cubicle and go out of the room crying – I did and I spent awhile crying before I could compose myself enough to go back in to continue my job.  I have had people die on the phone with me, had people discover a loved one who committed suicide, had people who were choking, children whose parents find them not breathing, etc., etc., etc.,  You do the best you can do, hang up and take the next call – heart break and personal drama have to take a backseat to that.

The reporter took about five pages of notes as I praised the 911 call center under the umbrella of the Sarasota Sheriff’s Office – they are an awesome group, their training is very in depth, and we bond quickly into a family like atmosphere.  My supervisor on shift that night was incredible – she knew exactly what to do and did it.  She had to notify North Port PD to alert them to the kidnapping and notify the entire state because we had no idea where Denise was.  She did a phenomenal job and when it was done, she sat and cried with me.  No one, unless they are put in that situation, can understand the feeling of total helplessness one feels when a call doesn’t have the outcome we try so hard for.

Everyone in that room stood poised, ready to jump in the moment we had a location to rush too.  Officers were on the alert immediately and everyone wanted to help.  It was so difficult to have to stand by and do nothing.

Once the reporter had everything he needed, we shook hands and parted ways.  I have no idea if talking to the press was the right thing to do but it felt good to explain how much we all tried for a successful conclusion to this call. 

I headed to the lawyer’s office to pick up my travel bag and change into shorts before going to the airport.  One the way up the elevator, indeed the whole building, briefly lost power which gave everyone inside the small square box a moment of panic.  Luckily it kicked back on very quickly and we arrived safely at our destination.

I had a few minutes before the cab (um…executive sedan) arrived so I sauntered over to Tropical Smoothie on Main Street for a Tidal Wave.  I hadn’t had one in over a year – it was delicious.  The walk over was very hot but I cooled off a bit with the iced drink and then walked back in the heat.  By the time the executive sedan had arrived, I was sweating up a storm again.

The ride to the airport was spent listening to the driver tell me very graphically how his cousin was murdered a decade or two ago and how that trial went.  He said that murderer is p for parole soon – I hope the guy doesn’t get it because the murder was rather gross.  My driver dropped me off at American Airlines gate more than four hours before my flight.  I was starving so decided to check out a restaurant.

Imagining…

My gaze met Denise’s husband’s gaze and then went to her father’s.  Both were looking at me.  I wondered what they thought about while sitting there listening to the Defense whine about the poor, poor Evil One’s rights.  Did they wrap themselves in the warm folds of the blanket of Justice or did they want to exact a pound of flesh from the monster who kidnapped Denise from the security of her own home where she was with her two little children, then raped, shot and buried her in a shallow grave? I know what I would be thinking if it were me sitting there.

I have an awesome imagination and would not stop from using it to come up with extremely cruel, tortorous techniques that I would employ on anyone who did to my child what he did to theirs.  I would have no mercy, grant no quarter.  Did that make me a monster as well? Maybe but there would be no power on earth or heaven that could stop me from avenging my child if I were given the chance. 

The battle over the transcript is completed and I’m asked a few more questions before the Judge rules in our favor – the jury could see the transcript and read along while listening to the tape.  They can not, however, take the transcript from the room or use it during their deliberations.  My purpose for being brought to Florida was a complete success.

The Judge ordered the jury back into the court room – I remembered to stand this time, having forgotten to when they left the room.  I was, in fact, one of the only two people who remained seated the first time – the other person being the Court Reporter.  Actually, I was confused when the Judge said the Juror’s had to leave the room and thought he meant I had to as well but I was motioned to stay in the box by a deputy who saw me gathering my purse and getting ready to leave.  So I sat instead of standing – duh – I was so nervous but still, it wasn’t proper of me to do so.  But I remembered to stand when they were brought back in so that was good. 

They filed back in - we all sat – and the Prosecutor asked me most of the questions about the transcript that she had asked in their absence again so the jury could hear my answers this time.  The Judge asked the Defense if they had any cross examination.  The Defense said no but they wanted to make sure it was on record that they objected to the whole thing and that their objection was over ruled. 

I wiped makeup all over my face as I attempted to dry the tears that had been streaming down my cheeks through my entire testimony.  I’m sure I looked a fright but didn’t care by this point.  I couldn’t wait to escape the courtroom.  I almost bolted before the Judge officially excused me but managed to rein myself in.  As I walked past Karen she mouthed a silent “thank you” – it was a great victory for the prosecution.

I got out of the court room and stopped by security to ask for my cell phone back.  The deputy didn’t want to give it to me unless I was positive I would not be testifying at all the rest of the day.  I assured her I was through and leaving momentarily for the airport.

Half crying I turned to flee towards the exit when a voice called my name…

Into the Lion’s Den

Even as I took my seat the Defense was on their feet to object to my very presence.  They were adamant that the tape not be played but the Judge waved their objections aside impatiently.  He reminded them that he had already ruled on this point last week and wasn’t about to address it again now.

The Defense requested a side bar so the judge hit a button that filled the room with a loud humming noise so no one could hear what the lawyers were arguing over in front of him.  I glanced over at the Defense table and inadvertently made eye contact with the Evil One.  I tried to project all my hatred and anger into my glare as our eyes locked – I wanted to see even a small signal of remorse.  But my righteous anger could not penetrate the swirling fog of evil that surrounded him.  There was no remorse, no guilt, no shame in those cold eyes glaring back at me.  I almost think he was enjoying the attention.

Regretfully I couldn’t hold the stare.  The power goes to the one who holds the stare – it is weakness to be the first to look away.  I loathed being the weak one but his malevolence was boring a hole into me psyche.  Niche’s saying  about those who deal with monsters must make sure they do not become a monster and if one stares too long into the abyss, the abyss stares back, popped into my head and I had to look away.

Karen brought me back to the warm folds of impending justice – I wrapped myself in Justice’s reassuring blanket.  As I sat there feeling very self-conscious and not liking how the lawyers and Judge talked about me as if I wasn’t in the room, the Prosecutor put up a form on an overhead projector and started asking me to point to stuff.  This wasn’t in our pre-trial briefing – I wasn’t sure what I was suppose to do.  As I stood to point with my finger at something, she said “use the laser pointer.”  I had no idea what she was talking about.  The only thing near me was a box of Kleenex and a pen.

Blushing with inadequacy, I noticed the pen wasn’t a pen at all but a little laser so I picked it up and pushed on the clip thinking the light would come on.  It didn’t.  I foolishly said I didn’t know how to work the thing to which I swear I heard snickers in the crowded room.  I was mortified that I was behaving so stupidly.  How could the jury believe I’m competent to take 911 calls if I can’t work a damn laser pen??? I took a deep breath, glanced the pen over and figured out how to make it work but the whole thing made me feel even more self conscious and foolish.

I started answering all the standard questions the Prosecutor threw at me – my name, where I lived now, where I lived at the time of the call, where I worked now, where I worked then, etc.  Almost right away the Defense was on their feet again to object to something.  The Judge ordered the Jurors out of the room so he could listen to the lawyer’s arguments and render a decision on what the jury would be allowed to hear. 

The objections were in regard to the transcript of the tape.  The Defense objected to the idea of a transcript – probably because it revealed even more what a cold bastard the Evil One was.  I was questioned about a few things on the transcript – asked to clarify things I said.  A couple of times they argued about something I said on the tape and I wanted to interrupt them to tell them the answer but I’m not allowed to speak unless spoken to…hmmm…is it because I’m a woman? Just kidding.

The Judge told the Defense that I certainly could tell who said what because I was, of course, there at the time of the call.  The Defense said they still wanted it on the record that they objected.  Whatever.  Then, because the Judge ruled the transcript could be introduced as an evidence aid (not evidence itself), the Defense started tearing it apart over things they wanted omitted.  One of the things they wanted out was the last two lines when I’m saying “don’t…don’t…Kris, I lost her.  He got the phone away and hung it up.  Can I call it back?” in utter panic.  The Judge agreed it wasn’t germane to the call so that was to be stricken from the transcript and the tape had to be stopped before that part could be heard.  It wasn’t important anyway.

The Defense wanted an earlier part where I said I thought Michael King (ie Evil One) didn’t know she had the phone and that she couldn’t hear me talking to her because she didn’t have her ear pressed against it, taken out of the transcript but the Judge refused.  He declared that to be important and that, if I as the 911 operator perceived that she had the phone and he didn’t know, then the Jury could hear it.  It really is evident in the call anyway.

Because the Defense kept standing up to object to every little thing in the transcript, the Prosecutor’s staff said we should go through it page by page to make sure we got a ruling on every sentence so there wouldn’t be any objections while the tape was playing.  The Judge seemed pleased with this idea so they began the process of dissecting the call while I sat there in the witness box with nothing to do.

Unfortunately, that gave me time to let my eyes wander around the courtroom…

Pre-Trial Preparations

Karen, the prosecuting attorney, picks me up shortly after 7:30am.  She is very nicely dressed – I notice her professional appearance immediately.  She didn’t even have to introduce herself, the suit said it all.

Once we arrived in her office, she sat me down at a computer and told me I would have to listen to the call several times to refresh my memory.  I really didn’t think my memory needed refreshing and didn’t want to listen to the call but I was there to assist her and this case, not do what I wanted.

Listening to the call the first time sent me into a wave of panic and sickness.  It was all I could do not to throw up at her desk.  For some reason I had forgotten the terror and panic in Denise’s voice during the call.  I had remembered it that she was calm and I was panicked but it was actually the other way around.  By the third time through, listening got a little easier.

Once I had listened to it the three times, Karen gave me a transcript of the call that a specialized team had come up with and had me listen to the call several more times while following along in the script.  I must say, it made a huge difference in understanding what was happening in the call.

We then sat and went over a few questions she was going to ask me.  By this time, it was past time for us to get to the courthouse so we headed over.  It was hot and sticky outside which meant two things – I started sweating immensely and secondly, my new shoes rubbed unbearably against my sweaty heel which served to peel the skin back like pealing a potato.

Karen had forgotten something so I had to continue on to the courthouse alone.  I walked in and there is a huge line of people waiting to get through security.  I go to the back of the line wondering how we are ever going to get through it anytime soon.  Well, I needn’t of worried because Karen walked in, called me over and promptly marched us to the head of the line where we cut in front of everyone and went through security.  I felt pretty important being whisked through the line instead of having to wait the ten or fifteen minutes it was going to take all those other poor people to get through. 

Karen motioned a deputy over and had me locked away in a little room within minutes of my arrival.  There was no windows and nothing in the room but two chairs and a little round table.  I didn’t care – I felt sick and didn’t want to see anyone anyway.  I was told the third person to make a call to 911 in this case was testifying first.  I’m sorry I can’t remember her name off the top of my head.  Her call went to Charolotte County – it was her telling them she saw someone in the back seat of a car trying to kick a window out and screaming.  She thought it was a child but couldn’t be sure.  The 911 operator’s supervisors told the operator to ignore the call – a very costly mistake.

After a few minutes the Victim’s Advocate is brought into the room with me.  She had stepped out of the court room for some reason and isn’t allowed back in until the court takes a break.  It is a strict rule that the judge put into place so people wouldn’t be disrupting service by going in and out.  We sat there discussing silly things – vacations and different states.  She is the person who is the liaison between the family and the public/legal team.  I told her to tell the family how terribly sorry I that I could not have done more to save Denise.  I knew I wouldn’t get the chance to tell them myself and wasn’t sure I could have even if I had been able to.

After about thirty minutes the door opened and the same deputy who locked me in there told me they were ready for me.  She ushered me to a security area where I had to remove my shoes, have my purse searched and hand over my cell phone.  I’m trying to rush but she keeps asking me questions about my cell phone so I pause to answer her.  As I pause, she glances up and exclaims very loudly “What are you doing? They are waiting for you!” to which I turn to go in when she says just as loudly “put your shoes on and take your purse” which means I had to turn back to get those things.  She sighed loudly and it was obvious I was annoying her. 

What annoyed me though was that the door was being held open by another deputy so EVERYONE in the courtroom heard her exasperation’s.  I was so embarrassed.  I walked into the courtroom and everyone was looking at me.  I wanted to sink into the carpet.  There were about a dozen deputies in the room standing guard over various areas.  One very nice one ushered me halfway into the room where another one took over and guided me to the stand.  I felt every eye in the place boring into my back as I stumbled my way to the middle of the room where I had to take the oath to tell the truth, the whole truth, so help me God.  Then I was sent to the elevated chair in the wooden box.

I took a deep breath, turned and faced not only the most evil presence I have ever encountered but also the eyes of Denise’s tormented family.  I sat down, fighting back tears.

The Hotel

My hotel was the new Homewood Suites on Fruitville.  The hotel was completed over a year ago – before I moved away – but I still think of them as new.  The owners took some abandoned buildings on that site and renovated them into a nice hotel.  At the desk was a very pleasant young woman who was quite good at her job.  I got the run down on where everything was and my key for my room in no time flat. 

I went to my hotel room and immediately called Holly on my cell phone because local calls at the hotel are fifty cents per call.  Again, I don’t understand such fees but whatever.  Holly and I chatted for a few minutes and she decided she would come over to the hotel to see me “in a bit.”  She had to get dressed and drive over – she lived a ways away.  So after hanging up with her I unpacked my bag so I could hang up the skirt and blouse I had brought for the court room.  That done, I decided to get something to drink.

The hotel only had Coke products which wasn’t going to do it for me so I decided to walk the block over to Walgreens for a Diet Pepsi.  Unfortunately, while I was gone Holly got to the hotel and the desk clerk told her I had just left.  Holly has liver cancer and is in the process of numerous chemo treatments so, needless to say, she was too weak to sit there and wait for me.  Not only weak but also concerned about what germs people might be carrying around her because, as most people know already, chemo knocks out your white blood count so infections and virus’s are devastating.

So I missed my best friend and I was heartbroken.  I got back to my room and sat there crying because seeing her was suppose to be the highlight of my trip.  I called her and offered to bring a taxi to her house and only stay a few minutes but being out in the heat had done her in – all she could think about doing was going back to bed.  I was so depressed over causing her pain and not being able to see her.

My other friend, Ronnie, was suppose to call to go out to eat with me but she never did and didn’t return my call either.  I guess she ended up having some domestic situation that she had to deal with.  So, having nothing else to do, I sat in the hotel watching Closer reruns and then the season finale.  I went to the little store in the hotel and bought a can of Chicken Noodle soup and cooked that for my supper.

The hotel room was quite nice.  It was two rooms and a little kitchenette complete with stove, refrigerator, garbage disposal, dishwasher, microwave and coffee maker.  I was quite impressed.  In the cupboards were pots/pans and dishes.  The tv was a big screen tv with a good picture in the living room and a smaller tv in the bedroom.  Both rooms had separate air conditioning controls so that was also nice.  In the bathroom was a huge tub that would have been great for soaking in but I never got around to it.

The lawyer had thought she’d meet me that night to go over my testimony but it ended up not working out so she was going to pick me up at 7:30 to go to her office.  To be sure I would be ready, I set the numerous alarms I had for 6am.  It wouldn’t have mattered though because I couldn’t get any sleep anyway.  I tossed and turned until 3am – got up to write in my journal for a bit and tried to sleep again around 3:45.

The hotel served supper which I didn’t know so I could have had tacos for free but oh well.  They also served a hot breakfast so I ate some scrambled eggs and an english muffin for breakfast before the lawyer got there.  It was time to go face the reason I had been brought to Florida.

Brooding

I have a headache.  I know – such is life.

Went today to Barnes and Noble to buy a journal – ended up getting the same one I bought for my friend Holly in Florida.    On the front it says “Inspire, Dream, Hope, Believe, Imagine, Create” which I think will stimulate my mind, heart and creativity.  I also stopped at Walmart for a few things including a new purse exactly like my old one which broke yesterday.  I like the new one as well though it doesn’t have the design the other one had.  I could have gotten that one again but there was a pretty solid brown one so decided I wanted that – I love brown.

Well, anyway.  I have been having a creepy day.

My son said I was the only person he knew who looked a gift horse in the mouth- he was speaking about my upcoming trip to Florida.  I have been informed that a subpoena sent to me for the trial that starts the 24th.  I will only be in Florida overnight.  He thinks I ought to ask them to give me a flight a few days out so I can spend some time down there rather than fly right back.  I told him I don’t have the money for hotels, cabs, etc., to stay extra days.  My best friend has cancer so is unable to be my chauffeurand I will not put her out by asking to stay with her.

I am also afraid that the I will get down there and miss it so much I will want to move back.  I live somewhat in denial – it is a nice place to live when I can get away with it.  I really don’t want to move back to Florida but I would love to go sit on a beach for awhile.  I have to say, I do miss it in many ways.  I love Florida and could see myself living there again but only if my son lived there as well – since that is never going to happen, I don’t have much to worry about.

I’ve had many things to think about tonight – many things I am going to have to come to terms with.  Not sure I’ll be able to do it much though now because I have been consuming margaritas.  OK, I’ve only had two but I do plan on having at least one more.

I watched two boring movies – “Bog Creatures” and “The Haunting of Marsten Manor” or something like that.  Right now I’m watching Pink Panther Two while simultaneouslylistening to my stereo.  Don’t know which I want to do so guess I’ll do both for awhile.

Python Update

Was just reading that the State of Florida is issuing python hunting permits in an effort to curtail the continued thriving of the snake.  The decision to kill the snakes comes from the death of a two year old child who was strangled by the family’s pet python as she slept in her crib.  Florida will make it illegal to bring a python into the state as pets.

So far only licensed & renowned snake experts are allowed permits - three have received them so far.  The State requests that the pythons be put to death humanely which, according to the American Veterinary Medical Association, is swift decapitation.  The snakes can not be shot.

In their homeland of Burma, pythons are known to stalk and kill humans as part of their cuisine.  Maybe we are considered a delicacy.    Therefore, once the population of animals easier to catch is diminished, authorities worry that the Florida pythons will begin feasting on the two-legged animals…namely, us.  As I said in the original post on 4/22/09, these pythons can grow in excess of 26 feet and one that size could swallow a human whole.   I wonder how long we take to digest? Do our bones dissolve or eliminated with the waste?  Um…never mind, that line of thought will give me nightmares.

I don’t have anything against snakes in general.  However, these pythons are in a place near and dear to my heart – the Everglades which supports the largest population of alligators in Florida.  If I had to chose between a snake and an alligator, the gators win every time.  Snakes are just too sneaky to feel comfortable with.

Course, if it came down to snakes or spiders – yup, the snakes win.

Steve McNair

I am saddened by the loss of former NFL player Steve McNair.  He was a great football player who played some thrilling games that kept us all on the edge of our seats.  He also gave to charities, inlcuding for hurricane victims and children summer camps.  He took the notion that kids looked up to football players as heros very seriously and worked to be a good role model for them.

Of course he was also human and, as such, made mistakes and possibly some bad choices but who of us hasn’t? The integrity of a person lies not only in how they conduct themselves during the good times but also working through the hard times and taking responsibility for their choices.

McNair may not have been a superhero, but he was a damn decent human being who will be missed not only by sports fans but also those whose lives he would have touched had he been given the chance.  My thoughts and prayers are with his family and friends.