Daytime Pizza

Now that I'm back among the ranks of the unemployed and scarcely washed, I have fallen back into the routine of job hunting and boredom that I was encased in a few weeks back. Occasionally, however, something comes along that brings something interesting into my days.

Today it was pizza. Pizza itself isn't all that uncommon or special. Yes, a good pizza is to be cherished and devoured as if you were a Somalian shark, but for the most part, pizza is just pizza. Until the game gets changed. Pizza is such a standard palette that not much changes in the pizzaverse. Ever. Yeah, sure, some shitty delivery companies might stuff a crust with something you can't taste, or they might offer some sort of bullshit cheesy bread variety, but everyone, even the good places, do that.

For most pizza joints, their quality depends on the crust and the quality of the ingredients atop said crust. Everyone has a favorite place, and I am not writing to espouse the benefits of one over the other. This is about a pizza experience that blew my mind. And it came from an unlikely source.

Chain pizza restaurants have always been the innovators, when innovation has become necessary, from the stuffing of crust to the dipping sauces for unstuffed and boring crusts, to square pizzas, to whatever else you can imagine. Papa John's, a comparatively terrible pizza company for Connecticut, did something I had never thought of. The Chili Frito's Pizza.

Okay, so instead of sauce, they use chili (brilliant) and top it with cheddar instead of mozzarella (understandable with the involvement of chili) the beef, tomatoes, and onions. Then they cook the pizza, and after all of that, once the thing has been cut and boxed, they toss on there a SHIT LOAD of Frito's. WHAT? Putting chips on pizza is a fat guy snack sent from the Gods. Game changer.

What fat stoned slacker in the Papa John's test kitchen thought of this madness? And where can I send him a certificate of achievement? Now that this gap has been bridged, the possibilities are fucking endless. This is a Pandora's Box of gastrointestinal experimentation. What combinations are next? I, for one, am willing to take this as far as it has to go in order to find the bottom of the pit of fatness. Do you stay on the corn chip ship, or do you branch off into potato chips, or some of those bonkers health food kale chip abominations you see at co-ops? I mean, eventually you are going to run out of corn chip flavors and have to go to something else, right? Maybe just see what works slice by slice? Go out and get a bunch of chips and order a pizza, then go to town slice by slice, seeing what works the best.

My mind is ablaze with possibilities. I need a nap.

SD

Airplanes and Pugilism.

I didn't really want to write about a plane ride. Honest, I didn't. Plane rides always suck, and spending the better part of 14 hours in either a plane or an airport sucks even harder. So when the flight from Seattle to Cincinnati had cable, I was pumped. Granted, they only had 8 channels, but one was ESPN, so I got to watch live Sportscenter on a plane. That was pretty cool. And it wasted a couple otherwise tedious and exhausting hours. By the time I got home, I was so tired I could barely form sentences, and when I did I could only croak them out with extreme struggle.

But then I slept. A lot. I slept better than I ever had in my life. Moving from sleeping on a bed like a woodpile in Soldotna to a bed that was slightly better than a woodpile in Anchorage to my comfortable sleeping cocoon might have been the best thing that happened to me since I left home. Seriously, I forgot what a nice warm bed was like. It's glorious.

So planes and sleep discomfort are done for me for a while. At least I hope so. Thursday was relaxing and filled with good beer and football, and more sleep. Wonderful wonderful sleep. Tonight, violence! State mandated legal violence, in the form of Friday Night Fights at a shitty casino in Rhode Island.

There were 7 fights, most of them bad. Young fighters without much professional experience slugging it out makes for either a hilariously brutal or brutally boring fight. Most were the latter. Each fight had some sort of local flavor to it, with one or both of the combatants hailing from Rhode Island or Massachusetts. So the crowd was amazing. Every single variety of Rhody trash was there, from the coked up Guidos, to the fat middle aged white women showing off their variety of dream catcher tattoos, to the Hispanic chicks drunk of Rum and Diet Coke, to the way too young to be wearing those clothes girls, to the dudes who think they know a thing about boxing but still yell "PUNCH HIM THE THE DICK" every 10 seconds. The best was this woman who, being a fan of one of the fighters, a man named Ray, screamed "Go for the bawdy, Ray. Go for the bawdy, Ray." The Rhode Island accent is abysmal, probably the worst thing that can happen to ears, but listening to it holler about boxing is pretty damn funny.

The main event was a ladies fight. For the UBF (whatever the fuck that is) Super Bantamweight Title of the World, New London's own Shelly Vincent fought someone from Long Island. I forgot her name already. It was the most entertaining, vicious, and energetic boxing match I have ever seen. Really, it was all the great thing about the sport, rolled into two tiny, mean women who just wanted to brain each other with their hands. Each round started with a flurry of brutality that left one or the other of them stunned and backing up. There was real hate between them. None of this touching gloves before each round bullshit during the male bouts. Just pummeling. It was amazing.

Shelly Vincent ended up winning the title, bringing it to New London, where winners...winners never come here. Her fans might have swayed the judges, the bout was pretty even. They were loud, super into the fight, and for some damn reason, wearing Guy Fawkes masks. Are they supposed to make us think they are in Anonymous? Are they trying to be subversive? I don't know. It was weird. And there were a lot of them.

Boxing is a lot of fun live, even if it is in a shitty Rhode Island casino filled with shitty Rhode Island trash.

SD

Seattle has a place for planes to go part 2: The Layover

Back in Seattle for an extended layover. This time coming home. I like this airport, the seats are comfortable, there are plenty of places to stop off and have a pint when you are stuck there for multiple hours. I only have a few minutes to kill here before boarding a flight to Detroit, where I may or may not get stabbed. It's really a 50/50 proposition at this point.

Back in Alaska last night, the guy I was working for won, not that it means anything. I think that his Freshman term as US Senator will be relatively ineffective, as none of the established legislators are going to listen to some young whipper snapper and his big ideas for Alaska. If he's lucky, he'll get on some committee and make a splash large enough to get him reelected in 2020, and then he will actually be able to do something in the Senate other than collect a large paycheck,

I stayed up all night again, just like the way out, in hopes of sleeping on the plane. NOPE. In fact, I had a mild anxiety attack and started sweating like a fool. I had a window seat for fucks sake, I should have been a content little fatty and snoozed the flight away. NOPE. Not this guy, this guy isn't getting to sleep until he reaches his own bed. At, I assume, 1 Thursday morning, a full 44 hours after I slept last. Nothing good is coming out of that 

I have to get out of here now, as my plane is getting ready to board and some hippie is playing a flute in the terminal. 

See you in CT.

SD

Anchorage

After doing a full day of work yesterday, covering roughly 50 miles of the Kenai Penninsula, we left that miserable hole and traversed back up to Anchorage for the remaining days of this trip. The road up was treacherous. We had nice, dry conditions in Kenai, but once we got into the mountain pass, shit got real. It started to rain, then sleet, then rain, then the snow came, and the snow continued. It was snowing at a rate where it probably was a stupid idea to be driving, but there was no way we were staying behind. None. So we plowed through the snow and dealt with the sleet and rain, moving slower than we wanted, but quick enough to leave some of our team miles behind.

We did the 150ish miles in about 3 hours. It was literally all highway driving, but Seward Highway is dark as hell, and with the weather coming in like it was, I think we made pretty good time. It's too bad we weren't able to do that drive in the daytime. I'm sure the mountains, bay, canyon, and everything else on that road is a sight to behold. I guess a Google image search will have to be a next best option.

So around 8 at night we roll into the hotel in Anchorage. What an improvement. Holy crap. This place is like a palace compared to the King Salmon. The beds are soft, the bathrooms are nice, with a shower that doesn't hate you, the wi-fi actually WORKS. I have a buddy here from back home, so I had some fun, probably too much, with him after checking in and getting settled. There are several places to eat and drink within walking distance of the hotel. The continental breakfast here is far superior to the shitty diner food in Soldotna, even if the options are limited.

So I assimilated to the new group of people last night, had a few beers, and then we decided to go out. Unfortunately, everything was closed around the hotel, so we decided to go to a liquor store. It was midnight. I am not used to these places being open that late on Sunday, even the last couple of weeks, the closest place to buy beer on Sunday closed at 8. So we went to a Korean convenience store that sold beer. At midnight. Oh, you're damn right it was in the middle of the ghetto. Super sketchy. I was not prepared for this. I thought there would be an actual liquor store, with, you know, good lighting, and no candy. But this shady (in more than one way) store was full of beer and M&M's. It was a weird place.

So I stayed up too late drinking, which made for a grumpy morning. But I got through it. We got our assignments and almost peed it was so easy. Instead of one route being 14, 16, up to 30 miles per route, we got maybe 14 total miles over 5 routes. All in the same area. It was amazing. It went by absurdly fast, as we got used to hustling and working our asses off sans lunch break. We couldn't take the time off before, as we were hindered by the lack of daylight and had to finish our assignments. Today, it was so easy that we finished with hours to spare.

Tomorrow is the last day here. I wish I had been up here for the entire time, and apparently, people were campaigning for me to be in Anchorage. I don't regret coming here, and if it weren't for some bad luck, I might think about coming back to this place. Not now, though. I really hated it the last couple weeks, and a sour taste will be left from Soldotna and Kenai. But only have one day of work left, and then a party featuring an open bar. Then the long flight back home.

But now, there is a Giants game on, and I'll be damned if I'm not watching it.

SD

Some Good News

Finally!

After wallowing in my own frustration and misery for two weeks in the desolate crap hole of Soldotna, Alaska, I finally caught a break.

As a team, we did all the work we were assigned with 2 days to spare. So tomorrow night, we leave this awful place and go back to Anchorage. A city! An actual living city! A place with shops, and stuff to do, and maybe some culture. I don't really know about that yet, but who cares. For the final two days, Monday and Tuesday, I get to go somewhere were things happen.

No more dirt roads (probably), no more homes without proper identification (I assume), and no more dealing with racist hicks who are only here because they don't want to talk to people like me ever (almost assuredly). No more mislabeled streets (I will never forgive you Smoke Pole Ave.), No more threats against my life (unless I really fuck up), and no more boredom.

I'll still be doing the same mindless work with the same lumbering oaf, but that's okay, it's in a new place now with new things to see. I will miss the scenery out here, but that's about it. No more shitty hotel room. No more shitty hotel breakfast. No more shitty hotel shitter. Okay, that last one will probably not change, and honestly, the hotel we will be staying at will still suck, but at least it's in a new place.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to cut this short. I have to pack!

SD

Halloweiners

One of the best parties of the year is Halloween at the Oasis. My local. There are really only three things that I look forward to at the bar. Halloween, New Years, and Sailfest Saturday. I am pretty good on making each one. Not this year, at least not for Halloween. 

I had to make do in Alaska this year. I missed The Hempsteadys, the P-Funk of Street Punk, blowing the doors off the place, and all of the weirdness that I would have conceived of. Instead I was here, Bored. Cold. Without a mob to be idiotic with sans repercussions. After work I sat around, ate a grinder, a 20 inch monster grinder which was delicious, and watched TV. I wanted to go out to the bar that we went to last week. It seems divey and cool, like the bars I like at home. It took all of my effort to get 3 other people to go with me. Literally half of the team was apathetic to having fun.

Fuck that and fuck them. I wanted to have a good time on my own, so I gathered what amounted to a crew (?) of people and we went out. It wasn't fun.

One of the people I took with me, as it turns out, is a terrible drunk. I like to have a good time, to dance, to do shots as a group, to enjoy the experience. Other people don't have the same outlook on drinking that I do. Other people don't appreciate the power and majesty of alcohol the same way I do. And that sucks sometime. 

Random, offhanded incidents will set certain people off. So when I'm walking to the car, with the DD ready to bring the three drinkers home, and I get hit with a second story cigarette bomb, the bad drunks get mad. I didn't get mad, but another in my crew did. So I had to settle down a situation.

Did I want to settle down a situation? NO! Fuck no! I wanted to go back to the shitty motel and get some sleep for the next 4 days of bullshit I have to deal with before I go home. I don't ever want to have to deal with bad drunks, but when that's all you have, you deal. You cool your own heels and take it slow, maybe not do that next shot, maybe nurse this beer. I chose the slow path, and it worked. I was able to dissuade my coworker from beating the shit out of an old, scrawny drunkard, and get us back to the motel in safety.

At least I got home. We all got home. Safe. That's the most important thing. No one will have a warrant out on them in Alaska tomorrow.

What I miss is what happened at home tonight. I am sure that I am going to hear all about it this week coming up, and I am sure that I will yearn for some Hempsteady madness until, I don't know, New Years? or something like that.

The silver lining is, as I write these words, I can still listen to them, and imagine what I missed. What I saw tonight is a different story. There was a dude dressed as Chef from South Park. He was white, and in blackface. It was not okay. There was a fat chick dressed as I Dream of Genie. There was a dude who's costume was to get slapped in the face. It was not good.

It was not Oasis Halloween. At least there's next year. Right?

SD