Not Dead Yet

Although nothing has been recently published to the contrary, you can rest assured, gentle reader, that the staff at FPPInternational didn't all die in a horrific grease fire, nor were they exterminated when innocently driving past an exploding meth-lab/trailer in Waterville. All in all, things are fine in Washington/Fpplandia, albeit a tad boring, which will possibly explain the lack of recent updates.
But still, stuff has been going on.

For example...
Team FPPInternational climbed up come rocks.


Team FPPInternational recently took in some local culture.


Team FPPInternational recently eulogized the death of a dirty, messy old pal.


All in all, life is slow, too damn slow, but not terminated. So stop yer worrying. Things'll get exciting soon, as they always do in this part of the world, when the rains set in.

Summer Sports Poll

Lotsa sports action this summer: the latest being super-juiced A-Rod getting plunked on the pinkies, instead of hitting homerun 600.

Which leads me to the sports question:

Who's the biggest douchebag in sports this summer? Feel Free to vote for your fave.


The contestants are...
1. King "me me me me" James


2. Tiger "$700,000,000.00 is a lot to pay for some skanky strange" Woods

and...
3. Now replacing OJ Simpson as sport's least favorite Juiced star, A-Rod.

Washington Summer: Hike and Brats

The continuing adventures of a Washington State summer 2010 have now evolved to include the annual Bastardes Amores hiking trip, which in the past has featured grilled legs, bee-sting attacks, frozen alpine landscapes, and a Hoh River Rumble.



This year however, in an attempt to free ourselves (our fat-assed-middle-aged-selves, that is) from the constraints of traveling on single track hiking paths, opted to make a first ever Bastardes Amores canoe trip up Ross Lake, from where escape into Canada is not only possible, but encouraged.

The canoe trip was a complete success with not one craft flipping nor sinking in the lake, and not one elderly shoulder exploding after three days of paddling.



An ascent to the top of Desolation Peak was also on the menu and middle-aged, fat-assed quadriceps proved adequate, if not optimal for the elevation gain.

No liquidy-chilly deaths recorded, the Bastardes make the trip back home, where BQ-pal and Texas-Adventure-Tourer CDveston was waiting on his big BMW.

A stop in Deutsch-themed small-town Washington hamlet Leavenworth was made for Brats and Biers, after learning about Sir Thomas Crappers massive contributions to Seattle's early days.


After gullets were filled with fine German fare, the drive continued, reuniting LaFlaca with her Dinky and all was right with the universe again. Smooth sailing.

Welcome to the NW

Three weeks late, but aged to perfection...

For the first time, FPPInternational wishes all its readers greetings from the final stop of the trip, Seattle, WA.



Things thusfar, oddly enough, have been relatively slow. Although trips have been made all over the state, nothing of major importance has occurred. Such is the nature of vacation time, one could suppose. The dedicated journalists at FPPInternational, however, know that the truth never takes a holiday.

Upon arrival in the Emerald City, FppPals Ross and Sarah threw a BBQ for the newly arrived Colombian contingency, replete with ribs, wienies, children and dogs.



On the telecommunications front, FPPInternational has finally entered the last millennium, having purchased a DroidPhone, which does more by nine o'clock AM than anyone else in the organization does all damn day. As a matter of fact, DroidPhone is responsible for editing this post.
So, plans are being made, futures organized and fates unified. So, until more photos are taken, keep your ears clean, wear a jacket and look both ways before crossing the road.
Ciao for Now!
FPP

The Bottom-Right-Hand Corner

Ah, Miami....

When you're there for only a day and your dog pees in an art gallery, life seems sweeter than a box of Dots at the movies.

Pals Chris and Roxy met us at the Renta-car joint and gave us a tour through the city over/down there (or up there for you BQers). Things were smooth and the whole team had a rockin good time.

Immigration was a breeze; Dinky was the first piece of luggage off the plane, and the rental car was spacious. USA-living starts out smooth. And for the first time, Miami was a fun place to be. Thanks Chris and Rox!

Adios

For the first time since its messy birth, the idiot savant (mostly idiot) news-child FppInternational will no longer be headquartered in the port of gold, BQ.
So Long, Colombia.


The days of FppInternational have technically ended. FppInternational will now be known as FppNW and will replace Rum with Coffee, Palm Trees with Pines, Beach trips with hikes, and Salsa with Grunge. That's right, damas y caballeros, FppIncorporated is moving to Seattle. At this moment, as I type, the entire editorial staff of FppInternational is safely contained in the fuselage of a jumbo-jet zipping in a NW direction, although features editor Dr. Dinkus Reichlin, PhD created some problems at MIA.



Thanks to Alaska Air, and its free in-air wifi, the entire staff is able to maintain the highest standard of reporting known in the world of the fourth estate...
and...
Curses to Alaska Air, for overselling the plane, and not giving us seats until I explained that features editor Dr. Dinkus was already squirreled in the belly of the great aluminum beast, Editor-in-Chief Fpp informing gate-guy, "I don't care if I have to fly that fucking thing, we're getting on that plane." ...
and...
Kudos to Alaska Air gate-guy for not reporting that comment to MIA airpor- guys with tazers.

The details of this trip have been, and continue to be multi-faceted and aggravating, but finally, the end is in sight, and,so, sadly enough, is the BP (Belligerent Pricks) oil spill out the left-hand side windows.

To make a long long story bloggable, more on the events of the past two months will be reported from the safety of the ground, but for the time being, Adios, Colombia. TQM.

Nothing

There is nothing funny about this.


Nothing.

The Sensitve Men in Colombia

Colombia, and more specifically BQ, is filled with sensitive men. By this I do not mean Phil Donahue types. I mean men who take stupid things personally. My wife understands them. I do not. A little story, complete with dialogue...

Every morning, before the sun comes up if I have work, I walk Dinky. To walk Dinky requires: a ride downstairs in the elevator, leaving the building, walking Dinky, picking up some poo, walking some more, returning to the building, being let in, riding up in the elevator, and finally re-entering the apartment. My building has three doormen who work shifts and alternate the night/early morning shift every day. Their names are Davison, Nargel, and Antonio. Antonio is the only one with a normal name. He is, however, not a normal person. He is a 56 year old Costeno Sensitive Man.

On the mornings when Antonio is on duty, without fail, I have to wait to be let in, because he is doing something, also, without fail, there is a blue liquid floor cleaner in pools on the floor from the door into the elevator. Elevators are small, confined spaces. So, a week ago or so, I asked Antonio if he could please wait, as a favor to me, to pour that stuff in the elevator until I have gone upstairs with Dinky, cause Dinky sits in it and tries to eat it, and in the confines of a small room like an elevator, it's hard to control. He seemed to have a hard time understanding what I was saying. So, I restated, could you please wait five minutes to spray that stuff in the elevator, because Dinky thinks its a melted blue-raspberry snowcone.

Good, I thought. Problem solved.

This morning, I was walking Dinky as usual, and when we returned, there was Antonio, who told me, "I spoke to the administrator of the building, and I am supposed to clean the elevator."

"Yeah,"I said. "I'm sure you are. I would just like you to wait five minutes to dump that stuff in the 'vator."

So he leaves and gets the stuff, the blue stuff, in a big plastic milk carton with the word floor cleaner written on it with a sharpie. "It's for the elevator, too." he said.

"I'm not asking you not to clean the elevator. Just to wait five minutes until I am upstairs to pour this stuff on the floor of the thing."

"Sometimes you're gone more than five minutes."

"Ok. ten minutes. Could you please wait ten minutes to pour that stuff on the floor."

"The administrator wants me to clean the elevator."

"You could spend the ten minutes mopping up the rest of the blue stuff and then spray it in the elevator after I go up with my dog." Antonio was starting to get teary-eyed, and confused. "I am the only person up at that time, and it would be nice to not ride in the elevator with my dog with pools of blue stuff."

"The administrator said I'm to clean the elevator. Snifle."

Now I am no longer entertained at all. "I'M ASKING YOU, AS A FAVOR, LIKE A PERSON, LIKE A HUMAN BEING, TO PLEASE WAIT UNTIL I AM UPSTAIRS, THAT'S ALL. I AM THE ONLY PERSON IN THE BUILDING AT THAT TIME WHO IS USING THE ELEVATOR. PLEASE."

snifle

"HOW OLD ARE YOU?"

"Me? My age? I'm fifty-six."

"Ok. please. You are a man. I am just asking you a favor. Please. One man to another. Please. If your bathroom there was broken and you needed to use one and you asked me to use mine, I wouldn't have to make sure it was OK with the administrator, I would say, 'Of course, Antonio, I would be happy to do you a favor."

"Sometimes you are gone more than five minutes."

"YOU ARE A FREAK!" I stormed out of the lobby, with my dog.
I told my wife immediately, and she said, "He thinks you're criticizing him, and he's taking it personally."

"Well now I am criticizing him, for being an idiot."

And now I must clean the blue spots off my dog's ass.
ciao for now.
FppInternational

News Haikus 22, BP Spill. The Electric Car

Can someone please create a reasonable electric car soon?


Exxon still hasn't paid up for the Valdez spill. BP is proving to be BiggerPricks than even Exxon. Dick Cheney shoots old men in the face. Daniel Day Lewis was fucking scary at the end of that movie, in the bowling alley. George W. Bush. Can't we all just agree that if you're into oil you are in the top .0001% of super-cocksuckers who should be killed by an overdose of hot sauce in the lungs. It's 2010, cars should fucking fly, let alone be powered by something other than caveman technology (uhhhh, I don' know, burn shit.). Everyone from Sarah Palin to that fat fuck Rush Limbaugh to George Bush to King Abdullah and the terrorists his country supports to anyone who says global warming isn't real (that mankind has no impact on the earth's climate) to the presidents of BP, and of Exxon to Hugo Chavez to Putin to etc etc etc.....
You lying, manipulative assholes, FUCK YOU!
A HAIKU
Oil Oil Oil Oil Oil
If you profited from it
Drown in it in hell

The Worst. The worst worst worst worst worst.

Jireh Travel in BQ, and more specifically Jaime Ariza, are/is the worst travel agents in Barranquilla and probably Colombia, and maybe even the world.
I am not joking.
The worst. Agggghhhh!
I don't have the vocabulary to explain how bad this idiot/team of idiots is.
HULK SMASH.

NEVER USE THIS TRAVEL AGENT!

NEVER.

When the revolution goes down and the streets are pooling blood and Jireh Travel has the last ticket out of the warzone, get a camel or a bicycle or a Yaak or some waterwings or a good pair of shoes.
Jaime Ariza is a liar. A lying liar. A lying troll of a liar. He's incompetent and smelly, and I hope he eats something that turns his insides out.
Really.
Right now I hate nobody more than I hate this guy. I have been complaining about him to the school where I work (their official agent) for four years now. I want him drawn, quartered, flayed, buggered, and dipped in sweet and sour sauce.

ARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH.

my wife now hates him too.
And she has to go pick up the tickets from him, because if I go down there, it'll get ugly. Eleanor Roosevelt ugly. Dutchess Margaret of Tyrol ugly. Gheorghe Muresan ugly. ugly.
Travel plans are coming along.

BTW. aren't travel agents all now officially obsolete?

Spring 2010 - L'Ultima Beach Trip

As time winds down, bags get organized, tickets get purchased, junk gets aligned, furniture gets sold, trips to the beach lose their preeminence, and probably shall not be descried again in these latitudes for a fair bit o time.



So, once more unto the beach, dear friends, once more, or close the wall up with our Gringo dead... dog in tow.

Although it really hasn't made any serious impact on anyone yet, the idea of no longer being able to travel for fifteen minutes to play in the sand and surf any day of the year, is a little disheartening.



I am sure there will plenty of opportunity to sunbathe in January where we are going.

News Haikus 21, Rock of Brain Damage

Who woulda thunk that CC Deville would NOT have been the first member of poison with bon-a-fide brain damage?
Well, honestly, we don't know that that's not the case, we only know that right now, Bret Michaels is all brain-damaged up, which is too bad if you are his mother or ... ... ... insert cricket noise ... ... ...

Honestly, I have nothing about Bret Michaels. I really couldn't care less. But, as a bald sommbitch, his whole bandana thing is a little tired. Does he shower with the fucking thing? Even Micheal Stipe gave up the ball-caps for a smooth scalp (of course he started wearing dresses and stuff immediately after that).
Anyway, although this is apropos of absolutely nothing preceding it, my pal Chili and I once decided, beyond the shadow of a reasonable doubt, that EVERY ROSE HAS ITS THORN is the worst song ever recorded in English. and so, Bret Michaels having brain damage is really not news worthy.

So, sorry reality TV, sorry other guys in Poison, sorry CC Deville, your muse is now wondering how to get that pesky square peg in that round hole. Are you really surprised?

Haiku...
Damn glam rock suckers
Who will defend our spandex
rights at old folks home?

News Haikus 20. The Damned Swiss Again

I know it's been a while, but I have been preoccupied with repairing the damage of the damned Swiss.

Just when I thought it was safe to be a Swiss-American, Ben Roethlisberger goes and molests a woman, again.
Damn it, Ben, some of us are still living with the stigma of the Grimm-Hoffmann Affair, WWII Nazi banking, fruity panted dudes guarding the Pope's digs, and Renee Zelleweger.


Now we got this jackass to deal with. I tell, ya, folks, the Germans, Japanese, Americans, and French got it easy. This joker's antics have made the Swiss the most hated people on earth. Thank God we've still got those little red knives everyone needs.

By the way, speaking of the Pope guys, as soon as I'm not employed by the Catholics, it's time for a papal/boy haiku.


Now give the Seahawks their 2006 superbowl rings, goddammit.

HAIKU...
Big Ben, a true gem,
Has been getting fan mail and
Thank you's from Kobe.

What a Long Slow Month It's Been

Actually, that's not so true.
The post-carnival malaise of life in BQ has been absolutely digestible, tasting of lemon-square cookie/cake bars and featuring some serious clicks in the upward direction temperature-wise.
I know very little about global warming, other than it is a pain-in-the-ass, and nowhere is this more true that BQ.

It's really getting hot here.

A few things have been happening though in the last few months which have virtually nothing to do with the weather.

First of all, Gio had hisself a birthday, which we celebrated out in a vacation pad halfway between BQ and Cartagena. Nobody enjoyed it quite like Dinky, as nobody else really fancies the thrill of chasing after coconuts.

Secondly, my best bowling pal from the Tamba-Cho days, Bryan, and his beautiful Minnesotan/Texan wife, Dana, came to Colombia for a few days; so, we went bowling, of course, and then went to Cartagena, where there is no bowling, but there are mustachioed tin men in yellow-lit plazas.

Speaking of Tamba-Cho bowling here's a blast from the past from JJ's Club in Kyoto. One and a half stars-worth!



Finally, it's getting hot. Hot I say. Hot. And the Huskies just won the Pac-10 championship and are on to the dance. GO DAWGS!

stay cool, out there, enjoy your daylight saved.
Kisses
FPPInternational

Captains Carnaval

Once again, Carnavals have arrived full force in BQ.



Which means, among other things, chaos, chaos and more chaos...



This year, I must admit, for the editors at FPPInternational, the flesh is willing, but the spirit is weak, and few events have been attended and even fewer given attention. Are we getting too damn old for this silliness?

News Haikus # 19, Conan the Destroyer

Five years ago, when the head offices of FPPInternational we still FPPDomestic and based in NYC, some pals came to the big apple for a visit. A whole bunch a touristy shit was seen and done and, among other things, we four Washatonians (spelling?) agreed that a trip to see the Conan O'Brien Late Night show would be a cool way to kill an afternoon. He was, and I think still is, our hands-down fave talkshow host (if I can speak for Chili, Strando and The Weatherman--That's them there, in NYC).



Anyway, we got into studio and watched the taping of an episode. It was a good time, and although freakishly tall, thin, pale and coifed, Conan seemed a true class act.



Lately the shakeup at NBC has proved that estimation correct, and the estimation that his late-night rival Jay Leno is a complete douchebag. Anyway, The staff here at FPPInternational are collectively saddened at the end of Conan's tenure at the Tonight Show and we swear we will never ever watch a minute of The Tonight Show with Leno, unless Neil Young is on there singing a duet (triet?) with Willie Nelson and Elvis Presley.

Seems I am not the only one. Other folks think Jay's a fuckstick as well. Check out Jimmy Kimmel...



So, until then, adios Tonight Show, Johnny Carson's empire is now a shitty little G-rated monkey show featuring a whiny, Buick-jawed turd....

Haiku...
Spin, spin Johnny. I
Hope Ed is drunk, 'cause Tonight
Will never be worse.

Digital Malaise

We offer you our sacrifice, Oh Holy Techno-splat...

A final comment on the January 2010 Adventure in Southern Colombia...So. The trip to the Amazon over, we mounted our 737 to get back home....But not before realizing that neither of our cameras would work anymore.

That's right. After wrestling with four TRONEX batteries purchased in Leticia before heading into the jungle (I swear TRONEX was all they had at the "supermarket" in Leticia. I wasn't just being a cheap-ass), which didn't ever power up the camera long enough to get a picture, after all the events were catalogued, both of our camera completely pooped out, at roughly the same minute, and to this day neither of them will start up, and that's using non-TRONEX batteries. So, our adventure complete, it seems that the gods of digital digitalosis decided to punish or reward us for our sins or virtue.

Either way, we're gonna have to get ourselves some fancy schmancy new picture taking device.

Hope all is well,
Kisses,
Fpp

BTW...Carnivals arrived in BQ this last week in the shape of a drunken old lady using a vacuum cleaner bag as luggage. The mayhem is thick in the air like carrot cake.

Hearts of Darkness in the Southern Hemisphere, Days IV and V

Polishing off our Amazon adventure meant a leisurely stroll through the Jungle, checking out trees, plants, bugs, animals, and air that can kill you.

The return trip to Leticia was uneventful, and really really slow



The final movement in our Super-southern adventure was to go canopying with our best friends, 300,000 mosquitoes. It was a nice little capper and we got back to our hotel, showered up and left the Amazon for more familiar climes. So long to the Jungle. Back to work. etc. etc. etc.


Sorry about the lack of audio here, you will have you find your own, inner Sammy Hagar.

News Haikus 17. The Haitian Spin

Sorry to actually post something from these idiots, but...





O'Reily wants to know what China has donated. The Chinese were the first nation to respond when this thing went down. They had aid workers on the ground in Haiti in hours, beating the American response team by about an hour. I am not saying the Chinese are the greatest things since sliced pie, but why does everything with these dipshits (O'Reilly & Rush, not the Chinese) have to boil down into a contest ending with "America beats everyone, but Obama still apologizes to the world?"

Ah, Rush, you make O'Reilly look sane. "Three days. And when he came out, after those three days, he was clearly irritated that he had to do it. He didn't want to do it."

or "He lives for serving those in misery."
How in the hell did a bastard who helps people in need ever get elected President of the United States?

Something Rush doesn't seem to get...
What Exactly was Obama supposed to say about a failed plane bombing? What he supposed to threaten to find the rest of the guy's pants and burn them too? The Christmas pants-burning terrorist attempt was OVER within seconds. There's not much a US President can do once the event is already over.
Rush and his cronies seem to like presidents who make grandiose statements about stuff they can do nothing about (see George W. Bush), instead of presidents who respond to events that can be responded to. Anyone remember Katrina? Remember Bush's 'response'?
No one was in danger of being blown up from the Nigerian pants burner two minutes after he tried to blow up the plane, which leads me to believe that some knee-jerk response to such an event is ineffectual, unnecessary and probably, way too late anyway; whereas, people are still in the rubble down there in Haiti (up there for the staff at FPPInternational), and this merits a timely response.

And, by the way, how nations respond to calamities can be checked...

And, by the way, Haiti isn't the only natural disaster in recent times, check out Cuba on this one, and Djibouti, they offered 50,000 bucks to Katrina relief. Djibouti. They don't have $50,000.


And from even deeper down the nutjob tank



My favorite line there is "They got together and swore a pact to the devil. They said, 'We will serve you, if you get us free from the French.' True story. And the Devil said, 'Ok.'"

HAIKU:

Rush Responding to
Haitian 'quake is like a Don
Rickles Eulogy.

Hearts of Darkness in the Southern Hemisphere, Day III

The Adventure in the Amazon continues with a morning paddle into the shiznit. The guide said, "we're going to go look at some lilly pads." Awesome. Lilly pads. Ok. Whatever, it's early and I just ate a bunch of eggs. I'll go look at some Lillypads. Lillypads were the least of what we saw.

Nothing says "wake up and breathe in the morning freshness," like fire ants and screaming monkeys.

FPPInternational Sports editor LaFlaca was good enough to shoot some footage of me paddling us through the jungle, and I was good enough to paddle. And since my Sony Vegas software went kerplunk and stopped working about six months ago, I edited some of the video and pics together using a trial version of a piece-of-crap software that I downloaded. I did not care for the program at all, but I did like the little video, so I uploaded it, even though it has that goofy title "purchase now" BS throughout.



Really, though, this was one cool paddling adventure, unlike anything else I have ever done. The sense of being absolute away from everything that one knows is positively thick in the air. Alice never made it this far into Wonderland and the Mad Hatter would have been positively aghast and in a tizzy, rabbits and cats being the least of his concerns.

Bienvenidos alla jungla.

After the paddle back to the pad and a lunch of fish (of course), we went out and caught some piranha, using little cubes of beef on hooks on sticks with four feet of fishing line on them. The deadly little buggers flipped around in the boat like farts in skillets (to quote my grandmother) and were consumed at dinner.

The vicious little monsters have virtually no meat on em at all. But eating a piranha is like reading "The Most Dangerous Game" with a class of eighth graders. General Zaroff's bed is indeed soft and we do not remember having ever had better digestion.

Hearts of Darkness in the Southern Hemisphere, Days 1 and 2

For the first time since 2001, The editorial staff at FppInternational hopped over the equator.


To celebrate the new decade, the FPPInternational jokers voyaged into the dark netherlands of Colombia, the Amazon. But the Amazon is a monster, you say, where oh where did the FppInternational staff venture to? Worry not, intrepid readers, in Colombia, your Amazon choices are pretty damn limited. If one examines the little map here, a handy trapezoid bugger hanging off the bottom of the country will be observed. That, my friends, is the Colombian river-front property on the Amazon. And that is where we went.In doing so, we actually spent most of our time in Peru and a snippet in Brazil. But we were never officially anywhere but Colombia, and man did we see some jungle stuff. In fact, the editors at FPPInternational are almost 100% in agreement that the Amazon is the single coolest thing in Colombia, if not in South America.

Day one involved getting into Leticia, via Aires and Bogota, getting ahold of some amigos, planning the next four days, and getting some sleep. All this foolishness was accomplished and on the morning of January 7th, we yumped our little yimmities onto a little wooden craft and took off on a three hour tour into the jungle, and out to our new digs.

The ride on the boat was very cool, then very very cool, then downright amazing.

You know where you are? You're in the jungle baby, and you're gonna take some pictures.

We arrived at our pad

and had some lunch and met our pals. Then, after an hour's siesta went out on the river for a little swim in the big brown and some dolphin spotting.

"Dolphins?" you say, "On the amazon?"
You're damn skippy.

The river is absolutely rife with dolphins, both gray and pink. And FPPInternational sports editor La Flaca, was simple gaga over the slipperly porpoises and their sunset antics.

However, the little buggers were sure hard to catch on film, especially when the batteries in camera 1 were completely depleted. That's Ok, more tomorrow.

Aires II-IV, The Other Flights and Capital-City Capers

All right, so the Aires folks treated us badly on the way to Bogota, but would their nefarious dealings with team FPPInternational.com persist? For the answers to this and other Bogota related questions please keep reading



Ok. So the first flight was a bit of a pain-in-the-ass. Aires, however, did recover their reputation a bit.

Flight II, Bogota to Leticia...
This one I love. Tuesday night in Bogota, after our Embassadorial Adventure, La Flaca got a text message on her phone saying the following day's (Wed. Jan. 6) flight to Leticia would be two hours late. The text asked her to call a number which is impossible to call on anything except a home phone for confirming our rez. Eventually, thanks to the helpful staff at Bellissimo Italian Trattoria in Bogota, we were able to get ahold of Aires. After confirming everything for the now 1 pm flight, La Flaca asked, off the cuff, why the flight time was changed. "Weather," the woman said.
wait...
weather?
On a cloudless, breezeless night, weather? Fifteen hours in advance, these people changed a flight because of weather?
That's some serious fucking Doppler.
BTW, the next day at 11am and 1pm, the weather was fine. and the plane was an only an hour late (2 pm). Oh, and we were in the dead-last row this time, not second, and we sure-as-shit didn't exit out the back door this time. Oh, and La flaca's seat didn't have a seatbelt.
Consenus...
Aires Rocks!

For some reason, the flights back were less interesting, and this morning, EARLY this morning, on our Bogota to Barranquilla return-em home flight, we were in the first, yes, you heard right, first row, and the damn thing was on time, and the front door worked, and I was the second guy off the plane.

Home Sweet Home

Kisses
FppInternational

Oh, and as far as Capital City Capers go, after much back-and-forth, and hither-and-thither, The entire staff at FppIntenational is now permitted to enter the United States without a hitch, although features editor Dr. Dinkus Reichlin Phd. will have to mind his damned p's and q's.

The Aire up There.

A couple months ago, the three major Colombia airlines (in order of size and prestige: Avianca, Aero Republica, and Aires) had a big ol' fare war and we, being dutiful citizens, fired a couple shots ourselves, securing a couple trips BAQ to Bogota in October and BAQ to Bogota to Leticia (the Amazon) in January. Well, it´s January, and after a couple hitches (well, one hitch, the price for changing our dates went from A. free to B. eleven dollars to C. three hundred dollars, in the span of about forty minutes) we finally embarked on journey number two. Journey number one having involved an extra two hours added to our wait in BAQ on the way down.

Anyway, on an oddly foggy January fourth morning we went to the airport to fly to Bogota, the capital of Colombia. Because of the fog, the plane we were waiting for went to Cartagena instead of BAQ. Goddamnit. So, finally, the fog clears, the plane shows up, and our pal Becky gets off of it. She isn´t happy, and wants to go home. We get on the plane.

Have I mentioned that we're meeting friends in the Bogota airport to get some apartment keys so we have some digs for the next two days?

It doesn't matter though, cause the dude with the keys is waiting for our jet, and, because it went to Cartagena, it's about two hours late, again.

So we land in Bogota, everyone is a little irritated with Aires because of the delay, but it's a sunny day and the birds are singing. Then the jackasses at Aires can't figure out how to get that damned gate thing to line up with the door of the plane. We backed up. They tried it again. We went forward again. No dice. Shit! We sat in our little itty bitty seats (Row 2 by the way, the closest I have ever been to being the first SOB off the plane, I was stoked!) for forty minutes. Until finally someone opens the back door and pulls up some stairs and buses us (buses us, seriously, about fifty yards. No shit) to a door. Did I mention that for the first time in my 100 plus flights I was in one of the first two rows and was almost guaranteed to be one of the first ten assholes off the plane? So, Aires fucked that up for me, which is ok, I still have my dreams. To make a sad story short, we arrived in Bogota, unharmed, but still have three flights to go, Bogota to Leticia, Leticia to Bogota, Bogota to Barranquilla, all on Aires. I am expecting to make it home just before Easter.

Kisses from the Colombia Capital,

FppInternational