Boca or Bust

It was a friday in late january
when we decided to take
that fatefull flight. In
hindsight, it might have been
the "the best flight ever"
With that, i digress.. I had
purchased my plane ticket
about a month prior to this
day, but my friend, ("Last-
minute Jesse") conveniently
reserved his seat, that day.
My weekend excursion to
florida was a no-brainer,
however this was not the
case for Jesse. For him,
this flight would mark the
begining of a one-month
poker stint from Vegas to
L.A., and now including
a short stay in southern
florida. Jesse seemed
hesitant to leave his east
village apartment, so
i eased his troubles with
a timely Ed Moncada quote:
"All I need is my brain and
my laptop" and we were
off...

Upon arriving at the airport,
being the high maintainence
travelers that we are, we
proceded to the special needs
check-in desk. For lack of
better words, the middle-aged
black woman behind the desk,
seeming tired from a long work
week, wanted nothing to do
with our enthusiastic aprroach,
and especially nothing to do
with our "Special Needs"
Instantly, Jesse turned on his
sarcastic charm. The woman
smirked at his humorous antics,
and then decieded to bend the
rules a little and give us two seats
together in the first row. She
explained how these seats were
subject to change if in fact some-
one injured or handicapped
needed the extra roomy bulk-
head seats.

With confidence soaring, we
approached the x-ray machine.
After about four passes through
the arch, i was told to step into
an area for a secondary security
check. At this point I was
feeling pretty vulnerable, No
belt, and no shoes, suddenly it
hit me. I was carrying a box
cutter in my back pocket, the
same kind of knife they used to
hijack the planes during the
9-11 tragedy. It took another

20 minutes to complete the

"bulk weapon pat down search"

But it was all worth the wait

for the shotgun seats of the

plane. The composed gentleman

sitting next to us (David Leid)

seemed to have an entertaining

and yet relative story for every

comment that Jesse and I spewed

at him; and his timeless advice

about girls and money seemed to

fuel Jesse's ongoing crush of the

attractive stewerdis. The flight

was already "classic" with or

without the impending heads-up

poker match between Jesse and I.

We played a best of three

tournament using hershey kisses

and tootsie roll pops. I lost both

games, and fittingly Jesse won

the final hand with a wired pair

of black Ace's.

Best flight ever?