Vancouver, Where Dreams Come True-ver (Part 1)

Just like the Vancouver public transit vehicles that apologize to you when they’re not in service, I’m also terribly sorry, eh, for this delayed trip report.  You know how it is: full-time job, two classes, two pets, one husband–life can be quite demanding at times.

So, continuing from where we left off last week, my co-workers barely made our connection in Toronto (where our layover was a generous 35 minutes. Plenty of time to get through customs and buy food for our impending 5+ hour flight to YVR), but we did, and were pleasantly surprised to find Air Canada sporting individual entertainment systems on their flight.  I got to watch Wrath of the Titans (don’t get jealous now) and Batman Begins…[suspense building]…for free!  When’s the last time you got anything free on an American carrier?  You can’t even get a full can of soda on flights anymore (US Airways, ya stingy jerks…!)

After what seemed like an incredibly long nap, I woke up in Vancouver, British Columbia! Look at them thar mountains!

Flick-fil-A: The Dark Knight Rises

Yeah, yeah, so movie reviews should probably be posted close to the film’s release date for maximum impact and, you know, relevance.  Well, when has that ever stopped us here at LEG+JCB?

Now, just off the bat (har har), I really enjoyed The Dark Knight Rises. It really does a good job at providing an emotionally-satisfying end to the trilogy (kinda like the finale to “Lost,” whatever that means to you). 

But, of course, since I’m a huge nerd, I have a bunch of nitpicking to do:

**Warnin’: spoilers!**

This is what a two-minute window to draw a doodle will get ya.

Honey, You Mean HUNK-ules

Hey y’all!  Just a quick, belated plug for my guest post for This Happy Place Blog’s “EndEARing & Underrated” Disney film series.  My contribution is about 1997’s criminally under-appreciated “Hercules”–I hope you’ll all give it a go.

I also want to give a shout out (a phrase I really dislike, by the way.  Can we come up with something else, like “I’d like to take a moment in order to acknowledge this person’s value”…rolls right of the tongue, no?) to the Disney bloggers I’ve had the good fortune of interacting with recently, who’ve been so supportive and gosh darn enthusiastic about everything.  You don’t get that in many corners of the internet, so it’s a nice change of pace.  If you love all things Disney and want a refreshing, non-troll-y take on things, make sure to check out This Happy Place Blog, Mouse on the Mind, and the Disney Hipster Blog.

 

Thanks, Kermit

Now for something completely schmaltzy:

(Apologies for the cut-off on top–my scanner’s being a butt.)

If y’all didn’t hear, The Jim Henson Company has severed all ties with Chick-fil-A, the gay-hating fast food chain of oh-so-delicious chicken (I obviously have a conflicted relationship with Chick-fil-A).  Having a high-profile entertainment company, particularly one that produces content meant (in part) for children, denounce bigotry is a huge deal.  It’s another step toward creating a culture of greater inclusion and tolerance, which is hopefully all the next generation will ever know.

Now, Disney actually owns the Muppets (the Jim Henson Company sold the rights in the early 2000s), so it’s unclear what this means for Kermit and Miss Piggy and Camilla the Chicken (hopefully, she’s nowhere near this situation!).  Nevertheless, having Jim Henson, father and soul of Kermit the Frog, and his name associated with a denouncement of Chick-fil-A’s opposition to gay rights puts Disney in an awkward position.  Do they go against the wishes of Jim Henson’s family for whatever monetary incentive Chick-fil-A may provide in the future, or do they uphold the Jim Henson Company’s longstanding celebration of diversity and equality?

Queue-Jumping

Annnnnd…we’re back!

As a pre-Vancouver trip report, I wanted to share my experience on just trying to get on the plane at Philadelphia International.

A few co-workers and I were to catch the 7:00AM flight from PHL to Toronto (then connecting on to Vancouver).  Now, I know our carrier, Air Canada, flies out of the domestic terminals at PHL, so I showed up first at the airport at around 5:00, giving me an hour-and-a-half before the plane was scheduled to begin boarding. PLENTY of time.

First snag: You can’t check-in online for an Air Canada flight that  leaves out of PHL.  This must have something to do with the fact that the airline…flies out of the domestic terminal and they need to check your passport or something. Okay, fine, no problem, I’ll just use the kiosk at the airport to do a self-check-in, since I only have a carry-on bag.

Snag #2: Well, I’ll be…there’s no self-check-in kiosk at the airport, meaning my co-workers (who were also unable to check-in online) will need to go to the counter to check-in and get our boarding passes.  Well, that’s not too bad; when I get to the airport, there’re only a dozen people in line.  I’ll wait for my co-workers to get here and then we’ll hop in line.

Snag #3:  The line to the counter isn’t moving.

My boss, Rachael, gets to the airport at around 5:30, so we get in line because I start panicking a little.  Um, why isn’t this line moving?  I’ve been here for 30 minutes already and barely an inch!  At this point, I start worrying if we’re even going to make it on the plane, since after check-in, we still need to go through security…on a Monday morning…in PHL.  At least if we get in line, we can get closer and hopefully get to security around 15 minutes before boarding begins.

A few people get in line behind us, and Emily, our third and final co-worker/traveler, arrives at the airport.  At first she doesn’t see Rachael and I, so we shout and scream and gesticulate wildly to get her attention.  She sees us, and then joins us in line.

I share how glad I am that Emily made it, trying to keep my confident composure while internally freaking out that we’re going to miss our flight.  We all laugh nervously, as it’s getting past 6:00AM and the check-in line still hasn’t moved.  Only 30 more minutes before boarding!

“Excuse me,” comes a quaint, tea-infused voice from behind us. “Are you queue-jumping?”

We all stop talking.

“What?” Emily asks, turning to the crumpet-y source of the voice.  It’s a girl, probably no older than 17, with her arms crossed and looking peeved.

“Are you queue-jumping, pip pip?” she reiterates.

Now, we’re all a little sleep-deprived, so we really didn’t understand what this girl was saying.  “Are you asking if I’m cutting the line?” says Emily.

“Yes, are you queue-jumping, blimey bollocks?”

“Well, I’m with these people,” says Emily, gesturing to Rachael and I.  “We’re traveling together.”

“You can’t queue-jump, cheerio guv’nor bangers n’ mash,” says the girl, obviously from Great Britain, feeling indignant that some blasted Yankee would try to make it onto one of her Empire’s planes before she could.

“We’re a group,” Emily responds.  “We’re together.”

“You have separate passports,” says the girl, smirking, like she has the upper hand.  “You have to check-in separately. No queue-jumping, jolly good higgledy-piggledy.”

Now, the girl had a point; I wouldn’t want people cutting in front of me in line, though I would’ve probably just stood there, blood boiling instead of actually saying anything.  Nevertheless, we are AMERICANS, gosh darn it, and we deserve to go first! (Also, we were tired and probably didn’t fully comprehend the situation.)

Emily finally relented, with a pointed, “Well, good morning to you, too!” and an under-her-breathe, “How many world wars did we save you from??” and then moved to the back of the line.

At around 6:25AM, we finally get checked in and rush up to security, where Emily ends up beating the British girl by several people.  Sweet American justice!!

And thankfully, since basically everybody on our flight had the same snag at check-in, they held the plane an extra 15 minutes, so we were able to make it on to our flight…where we discover that the British girl is sitting in Rachael’s seat.

“Um, excuse me,” says Rachael. “I think you’re in my seat?”

Sheepishly, the British girl checks her boarding pass and realizes she’s in the wrong.  Just like at Yorktown, we boot her out and back to her own seat.  VENGEANCE IS OURS!!

USA! USA! USA!

All Aboot Points, Eh

Next week, a few colleagues and I will be flying an aeroplane beyond Castle Black and the Wall to the Great White North, land of maple, moose and Molson.  You got that right: MINNESOTA!

Just kidding. I wouldn’t wish Minnesota on my worst enemy (I’ve actually never been there, but I wasn’t a huge fan of the mom on “Bobby’s World”, which is the only thing I’m basing my opinion on.)

No, silly, we’re going to Canada!  POUTINE! (That’s Canadian for “Yay!”)

As some of you know, I’ve turned into a bit of a hotel/airline points fiend in my old age, and a business trip is a great way to build up some points on somebody else’s dime.  No downside there, right?

Welllll…maybe.

Draw-Off!

Periodically, Lance and I will challenge each other to a draw-off.  One of us pics a topic or theme, and then we both have to draw our interpretation of it.  (Note: Lance tends to giggle incessantly during this exercise–it’s actually kina cute!)

Past topics have included:

• The moment we got engaged
• Eating at Ruby Tuesday
• When we adopted Kitty

Our latest draw-off happened a few days ago.  The prompt?  Our furry friend brigade, Ripley and Kitty.  Here’s what I produced:

Cute, not terribly funny (can’t hit ’em all outta the park), inoffensive.

Then Lance shows me his. Parents, you may want to hide your children, for you’re about to look into the Hellmouth:

I mean, besides Kitty’s wheel-legs and extraneous flipper…WHAT THE SUPERFUDGE IS WITH RIPLEY’S EYES??  I think Lance just broke the last seal to Hell, Sam and Dean!

(…Ooh, Dean!)

 

X-Kitty

When we rescued Kitty all those years ago (well, like two), she came factory-declawed.  I wouldn’t declaw a cat myself, but, you know, it has its advantages and we weren’t going to turn her down.

And so, for many a year (read: two), declawed Kitty and her two daddies were happily living life, chock full o’ purring, belly rubbins, and lap-sittin’.

Then the big, bouncing monster known as Ripley came along.

Kitty, ever the lady, didn’t want to seem rude at first, and would graciously allow Rip to get close to her; I guess she assumed he’d just bow to Her Majesty, but unfortunately, that approach was more like “a precursor to a pounce,” and soon Kitty was underfoot (err, paw).

Eventually, Kitty tried to assert her dominance by batting at Rip’s snout any time he got too close. The bad news?  Without a sharp-clawed deterrent, Rip just saw Kitty’s bats as a cute, rhythmic petting.  He didn’t really take the hint that Kitty is boss and doesn’t care to play with him.

I feel bad.  Kitty is my princess and deserves better than to be under constant threat of a dog-based terror attack.  I need to give her the tools in which to defend herself.

Kitty needs to be weaponized.

Gentlemen, we can rebuild her.  We have the technology.

Regaytionships: FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

Just the other day, I said to Lance, “Y’know, like 95% of our fights are really dumb.”

“More like 100%,” he replied.

Then maybe 12 hours later, the following happened:

Flick-fil-A: The Amazing Spider-Man

My first conscious memory of Spider-Man was a commercial for the ’90s animated series on Fox Kids (remember that rad theme song? RAD. “SPIDER-MAN. SPIDER-MAN. SPIDER BLOOD SPIDER BLOOD RADIOACTIVE SPIDER-BLOOOD!“) I was around 7 or 8 and had mostly stayed away from superhero comics up until that point; I’m not really sure why–it might’ve had something to do with the fact that anybody who read superhero comics in the early ’90s was a HUGE NERD who should be avoided.

 

(THAR BE SPOILERS AHEAD, MATEY!)