Apart from working on the Lil’ Zombie Halloween Special (which is still coming, just very, very slowly) and getting a start on the X-Mas special, my brother and Fuhrer-in-law could be having a baby at any minute. She’s gone into labor a couple times that they halted and I’d been called out a couple times to help out here and there.
In the course of helping out (and also in the course of limiting my further involvement in things) I went to Charleston the other day to pick up Der Fuhrer’s mother at the airport. My sense of scheduling has been off kilter ever since.
For those of you that don’t know, Yeager Airport in Charleston West Virginia is the most boring-ass airport ever built. Yes, it’s even worse than Pittsburgh International. They don’t even have a fucking magazine rack. They have a small pub and that’s it.
And you can’t even settle in and get comfortable because all the spaces in the parking lot have parking meters with one hour limits on them, so you’re constantly in some step of getting and feeding quarters into the damn things. Be warned! If you do find yourself at Yeager Airport the meters ONLY take quarters. Well, I’ll rephrase that, they will take other coins, they just don’t give you time on the meter for anything other than quarters.
Anyways, the flight was due in at 6:30 PM so we went to the Charleston Town Center Mall for a few hours and then headed up the hill to catch the plane. Well thanks to storms in DC the flight arrived at 10:45 PM, which explains part of why I’m pissed at the freaking airport. Sure it wasn’t their fault the flight was delayed, but god dammit, all there was for entertainment was a fuzzy television and copies of Graffiti magazine.
Graffiti, for those of you that are new here, is a free West Virginia publication that I recently interviewed for a writer/artist position with. The good news was that I was offered a job. The bad news is that I wasn’t offered any pay to go with it. Naturally I turned them down. Well apparently I should re-apply for an editor’s position because the issue I read at the airport SUCKED.
And as bored as I was it wouldn’t have been hard to entertain me.
I used to pick up Graffiti all the time in college and I don’t remember it sucking that bad, but then again I primarily picked it up to see who was going to be playing at my favorite bar The Nyabinghi Dancehall (formerly the Underground Railroad, currently 123 Pleasants Street) so I didn’t pay too much attention to the actual articles.
Anyway, the main point here is that airports and Graffiti suck. Both in the same day is almost too much to take. If anyone at Graffiti happens to read this I’m open for negotiations. You need an editor, writers and an artist and I’m all three, but I expect to get paid.