Efficiency and Organization

I must be the most organized and efficient man on the planet. After all, I had plenty of time this morning, waking up about an hour and a half before I had to leave for the airport. Sure, I was excited to get to San Francisco, but I had my morning routine ahead of me, and a trip west wasn’t going to get in the way of my coffee and paper habit.

So I fed JJ, my trusty hound, put on the coffee which was Italian roast for my early wake-up, went out to the long drive in my robe to get the paper, and barely got back to the house before “round 1” sent me into the bathroom. To save time I took the front page section of the paper with me. Like I said, I’m efficient.

I barely got through with the front page when I was finally capable of leaving the throne and going onto the kitchen to pour my coffee to settle down in my comfy chair to peruse the events of the previous day. After all, I still had over an hour before I had to leave for the airport. Lotsa time.

I can’t help but read all of the stories having to do with what’s going on in Israel and Gaza. History unfolding. I have many deep feelings about that whole operation, which I won’t go into here, but the stories are so compelling to me that I just can’t get enough, it seems.

Wife Connie suggested a long time ago that I might have better luck controlling my continual depression if I’d stop reading the paper and watching the news. I have to admit that a lot of the news is mostly depressing, but it’s the world we live in, and the never ending saga sucks me into the vortex every time.

So I checked the time after finishing the editorials and letters to the editor. Awright…I still have a good fifty minutes. I dove into the Local section and got through that in a minute or two. I was slowed down a bit by the obituaries. I have to check them every day to make sure someone I know didn’t die without my knowledge, or that I’m not in there. All clear. Next section.

Flipping through sports quickly got me to the Business section, which I always have to read in order to fool myself into thinking I’m taking an interest in my finances, and therefore my money is safe for the time being. Riiight!

The Lifestyle section always has Ann Landers and I’ve got to check her advice. She just so smart. And then comes the funnies. I never miss them. Even Nancy was sort of cool this morning as the author took us back to the very first episode, written in 1933, to where the strip is actually called “Fritzi Ritz,” about the aunt who adopts her orphaned niece, Nancy, and they move to Hollywood so Fritzi can become a star. The strip didn’t become “Nancy” until 1936, because of the popularity of the little fuzzy-headed orphan. “Blondie” was especially funny this morning and it set my mood to a positive tone. It would be short-lived.

And now, would I have time for the crossword puzzle? I checked. I had about half an hour before I had to leave so I put down the paper and into the shower I went. It was a quickie, and I wasn’t going to shave so I was out of there and dressed within fifteen minutes.

I checked my suitcase, packed the night before, and decided against a few things. So hung them back in the closet and picked out a few other shirts, packed them quickly, checked to make sure I had everything and closed it up. Time to check email and pack up the MacBook. Man am I organized.

Email NEVER takes a second or two and I wasted some time responding to a friend. I turned off the laptop and stuffed it into my backpack. I had already (efficiently) packed my iPod, cables, chargers for camera, phone, etc., so I closed that up. Done. Organized. Well, no. I needed a magazine. Back to the bathroom to pick up my new PC Photo issue and into the backpack. Oh, make sure I have a pen. Check. Oh yeah, Kleenex. Check. Oh, and leave the lights on for Connie when she gets home from work tonight. Make sure JJ and Kiki (cat) have water. Bar the door downstairs. Get my coat. Oh, God, which hat. I have so many and I need just the right one for Macworld. Okay, the black and white hounds-tooth cap will do. Get the last banana, grab my coffee, and out the door. In the name of efficiency I had already put my suitcase and backpack out on the side porch near the car. It was now past my time to leave by twenty minutes.

The drive to the Nashville airport from Hendersonville takes about forty minutes. If I really booked it, thirty five. I booked it to the tune of about 85 mph. I drove into the airport with plenty of time before my flight. It was a 9:50 AM flight, and it was only 9:15. I still had to park. I pulled into the economy parking lot, found a space, and waited for the shuttle which supposedly comes by every ten minutes. I must have just missed it because it was at least ten minutes before the next one showed. It does stop at every parking area kiosk so the ride to the terminal took a good fifteen minutes.

By the time I made it inside the terminal I had about fifteen minutes to get to my gate, which was C17, about a mile and a half from where I stood. I still had to go through security. Luckily they weren’t all that busy, and I quickly removed my stuff from the bag, separated everything into its own tray, and put my boots in the last one. Why oh why did I wear these lace-up combat boots?

Okay, I’m through, I’m putting everything back together and trying to lace my boots as fast I can. How is it that a grown man who has been tying his own shoes for at least a few years gets stymied by the damned laces right now? I slowed down. Way down. Success. I’m up and walking to C17.

Then, over the loudspeaker I hear “Will passenger Arthur Alinikoff please report to Gate C17 immediately?!”

I’m running now, towing my little wheeled suitcase behind me, backpack draped over the pull-handle and flopping around like a trout. What the hell are all these people doing here. Out of my way. Twisting and turning, the little suitcase cannot keep up and flips off its wheels. I have to stop to right it. They just don’t make these things to turn sharply when you’re running like a demon. I wonder why. A sign: Gates C3 to C25 this way. Ever notice how far apart the gates are? You will if you’re about to miss your plane and you still have fourteen gates to go.

Normally I’m in pretty good shape and I can run with the younger crowd on any given day. But today is different. I have had bronchitis for the past two months, hacking and wheezing my way through each day, using a steroid inhaler just to keep breathing, and taking drugs for no good reason other than to give the execs at the drug company a little extra in his/her Christmas stocking next year. Last Sunday was the first day I actually felt like a human being, but the cough remains and I still need the inhaler from time to time. In other words I’m still not breathing very well.

So this little jaunt across the C concourse was beginning to tell on me, and I must have been a sight to the guy standing at Gate C17 when I pulled up, wheezing and coughing like I just swallowed a used feather duster. But I made it. At least that’s what he said to me as he took my boarding pass and smirked at my obvious discomfort.

And now I sit between two people who have already experienced my breathing problems and sporadic coughing. I feel sorry for them, that they have to sit next to Typhoid Tucker, but it’s the last seat available, and I made my flight. Efficient and organized? You bet.