So, yesterday, I had a plane ticket to go to Austin. It was Hiroshima day. August 6th. Also, Felicia, my first girlfriend's birthday. She's the bomb, get it? . . . .the bomb? I got a hernia operation a few days ago, and it's an excuse to not have to go to work for a couple of weeks, so I wanted to take advantage of that free time by visiting Texas and Michelle and hopefully get a tattoo from Larry if he doesn't flake out on me this time. Just kidding. I'm getting the twin towers after the planes hit 'em. I've been told that I'll get beat up. We'll just have to wait and see. I'll have the rest of my life to find out if the tattoo will result in violence. So, they gave me a big bottle of Vicodins after my surgery; fifty of them. I love those damn pills. It's the only kind of opiate I can enjoy anymore. I started off the day by eating 5 of them and drinking 6 Miller High Life's. I was already packed, so the only preparation was to get really, really fucked up as is my usual tradition for plane rides. I went to the store with all of my stuff and bought 3 24 oz. cans of Steel Reserve. That's some good shit, then I walked over to Jenny's. She was gonna give me a ride. Anybody that will give you a ride all the way to LAX is a good friend. You gotta admit it. I chugged 2 of the Steel Reserve's at her house while waiting to leave and petting Napalm, and then, I drank the third on the way to the airport in her car. In the process, I ended up eating eight more Vicodin's. They were actual name brand "Vicodin" no more generic Hydrocodone for me since getting on Kaiser. By the time I got to the airport, I was blacked out. an empty shell, or rather a big, full glass of beer. I'm not quite sure how I made it through security, but I did. I don't remember anything until getting on the plane. I have some recollection of that. I remember I couldn't figure out the seating arrangements. I remember seeing a bunch of really dull people, and I didn't want to be near them. I was listening to Abbey Road by the Beatles all day over and over and over. Damn, I was so fucked up. Over at the rear of the plane, there was nobody sitting over there, so I went and took a seat. I had a whole aisle to myself. The plane was about ready to leave. I barely made it. I sat down, and put the damn seat belt on and passed out within a few seconds. This male "flight attendant" woke me up by tapping me reapetedly, and shreiking, "Sir, sir, sir." His voice couldn't've been any more aggravating. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to have a word with me off of the plane. Please collect your belongings and come with me." I couldn't believe my ears. What in the fuck did I do? I flat out refused and went back to sleep. I wasn't doing nothing for him to be fucking with me; god damn, fucking asshole. THEY'RE ALL ASSHOLES!!!!!! EVERY SINGLE LAST ONE OF THEM!!!!!!! So, then, the next thing I know there's like 6 cops all crowded on the plane. They were all over. There was one in the row behind me, and he was leaning over my seat holding me down by the shoulders. Each one of these cops all had somehow managed to find ways of restraining me all at the same time. FUCKING ASSHOLES!!!!!! A drunk passed-out guy sitting there? The nerve of these people!!!! All I wanted was to go to Texas!!!! Why couldn't these people understand that?!?!? I had my damn safety belt on for shit's sake!!!!!!! What more do you want from me?!?!? I'll kill you all!!!! Of course, I didn't relay any of these thoughts to them right there. Your ability to get annebriated is severely hampered if you're stuck in prison, and then it ceases to be appealing. It's sort of a drag, really. They undid my seat belt and forcibly dragged me up to my feet. One female cop got my suitcase down from the overhead compartment. I couldn't believe it. They escorted me off of the plane to the amusement of everyone. Right out in the tunnel, they searched me and put the handcuffs on. They were adrenalized. They wanted me to fight them. They're bored airport cops. They found my vicodins and I explained to them about the surgery. "So, that's what happened to you. You know you're not supposed to mix those with alcohol." They took my tie off. I think they didn't want to escort me through the airport with a tie on. It just doesn't look right. It makes them look bad because a tie equals decency. I got escorted all the way outside by this group of cops. Everyone was staring. They can all go to FUCKING HELL as far as I'm concerned!!! "Watch your head," the man said while pushing me into the back of LAX police car. It seemed like half of these cops wanted me just to go to jail. The other half of them just wanted me to leave. While driving to the station, they told me that they had rescheduled my flight for tomorrow, so I could still go to Texas, but I had to come sober. We'll just see about that. It still hasn't happened yet. Maybe I better be careful though. They're probably going to watch out for me this time. "Do you have anyone that can come and pick you up?" "Yeah, my friend Jenny. Use my cell phone." To my surprise, the pig actually went through my backpack, found my phone, and called Jenny. "OK, you're lucky. She coming to pick you up. Otherwise, we would've had to send you downtown." Oh, thank god they didn't send me downtown. Downtown LA jail is the worst jail I've ever been to in my whole entire stinking life. That wouldn't've been pretty at all. Not one little bit. They put in my a holding cell, still with the damn handcuffs on for at least an hour. The female cop from before came and got me. She gave me all of my stuff, and walked with me outside to the waiting area to wait for Jenny. I was asking her all of these questions. She was my age. Asian. She was actually kind of nice. Then, I did some drunk dailing on my cell phone. I called everyone back in Austin and told them that I wasn't coming until the next day. I don't even remember all I said and who I called but I'm sure it was funny. Finally, Jenny got there and took me away. I felt like such a putz. So, although this blog entry may be a little more disorganized than the others, I just had to relay this highly amusing anecdote. Fuck tha LAX poilce!!!!!