Wednesday's Official "Person I'd Like to Smack"

I don't know that this award will become a regular Wednesday thing, but today I felt like pointing out who I think deserves a good smack. Feel free to add your own recommended "smackees" in the comments section. Also feel free to change what they deserve too, as some people may deserve more of a "punch to the throat" than a mere smack.

Adam Duritz of the band Counting Crows
Will someone please just smack the crap out of him? I've had that horrible "Accidentally In Love" song stuck in my head for weeks now. That annoying song just keeps conjuring up images of the horrible video, too -- which, if you haven't seen it, stars Adam Duritz as a scary-ass dreadlocked CGI bunny stealing the girlfriend of some guy in only his underwear who's cooking breakfast in the kitchen for said girlfriend. If I were this gal and I found myself waking up one morning with the choice of sticking with the freak bouncing around the kitchen in his underwear while breaking eggs all over, OR some f-ed up looking rasta CGI rabbit who's in my bedroom trying to seduce me -- I would reconsider the choices I've made in my life that led up to this screwed up morning. Then I'd run away screaming and swear off drugs and alcohol for the rest of my life. The sooner this song and video make their way from the regular playlists of MTV, VH1, and all radio stations -- the better.

Okay, I feel better now. Had to get that out.

The Wrath of Dr. Khan

My stomach sucks. I've discuss this before. I've got some annoying problem with serious acid reflux that, despite changing my diet and trying several OTC drugs, is still a problem.

Now that I'm down in Maryland, I had to pick a new doctor. Yesterday was my first appointment with her. She's very nice, contrary to what image her name brings up. She is Dr. Khan. All I could think of while waiting in the lobby was Captain Kirk clenching his fist and yelling out, "KHANNNNNNNNNN!!!!'" But fortunately, my Dr. Khan did not inspire such outbursts - although it was tempting to yell that out when she first entered the checkup room I was in. I instead thought better of starting off our doctor-patient relationship on the wrong, Star Trek inflenced, foot.

Anywho, I told her of my stomach woes. She said it was one of two things: serious acid reflux, or gallstones.

Let me move past the acid reflux and straight to the gallstones. That medical term makes me think of old people. I thought, Come on, healthy 26-year-old gals don't get gallstones! But, as it turns out, gallstones are actually quite common in young women.

But before assuming it was gall stones, Dr. Khan told me to go on an eight-week trial of more prescription meds for acid reflux. Apparently, if there is something wrong in your stomach, it takes about eight weeks to heal. So if the wonder drugs didn't turn out to be a wonder, then I'd have to come back in for a sonogram to see my gall bladder is suddenly a quarry. Hooray, I thought. Let's keep our fingers crossed for acid reflux! Especially after I read through WebMD's wonderful guides to the gallbladder and gallstones. Eesh, I'd rather not break my 26-year-old streak of no surgery, thank you very much..

But, if I suddenly turn yellow and get the eyes of drug addict, I'll be sure to call up my ER for an immediate gallbladder removal.

So, The Wrath of Dr. Khan turned out to be quite knowledgeable and caring. I grabbed my prescription and headed off to my pharmacy, where I then learned more about the horrors of prescription drug costs.

Thankfully my health insurance includes a prescription drug plan. My copay for the eight-week supply of my wonder drug was $90. The full cost? $270. Thanks very much, next time I'll chop off a right leg for you -- only wait,the prescriptions for healing that would cost another $5,000.

Sigh. Keep your fingers crossed, people of My Blogland, that I do not have a quarry in her gallbladder and rather instead just has a stomach that only needed eight weeks of a hugely expensive drug to make it feel better about itself.

You can dress her up....

On the more humorous side of my trip to NYC, I was there to attend a special dinner for folks who have spent the last three years helping everyone affected by 9/11. I was very honored to be invited, yet thinking that since that the event was being thrown by a non-profit, I thought it would be a regular small-time dinner and nothing fancy. Boy, was I wrong.

The dinner was held in this very nice building in the financial district of NYC, right by Wall Street. There were red velvet ropes lining off the entrance, my name had to checked off the list to get in, and the space it was held in was a very trendy art gallery. It was a very dressy affair, so I wore a nice business suit and all. The lights were down low, drinks were free, lots of delicious hors-d-eouvres (sp?) were being served, and there was even faint techno thumping in the background. Much trendier than anything I'd ever been to before.

I had to check my bags -- since I hadn't had the time to stop by my friend's place (where I was staying) before getting there. The woman handed me my claim ticket and I walked off. Then I realized my suit had no pockets, and I certainly didn't want to lose the ticket to my clothes and supplies for the next day. So I did what any logical person would do. I put the ticket in my sock.

That was much funnier on the way out, when I walked up to the claim check gal and said, "I promise this isn't gross, and you don't have to touch the ticket if you don't want to, but I didn't have any pockets..." and then I pulled the claim ticket out of the ankle part my sock. The woman just laughed and said it was no big deal. I was glad she didn't look down at me for that, but I honesly didn't know where else to put the ticket without losing it.

I can just hear my mom saying, "And how many purses have we bought you over the years?" ---- so I won't tell you where I put my wallet.

Travel

So I didn't end up in Florida last week, but I was in Boston for a fun long Labor Day weekend and then in NYC for two days last week covering the 9/11 anniversary.

I know most can remember how terrifying 9/11 was, but I think many of us really forget the human loss aspect of it. Thursday afternoon I was in a non-profit's office that is 20 floors up and right next to Ground Zero, or 'The Pit' -- as it's now referred to. What a powerful view. I had not been back to the site since I first covered 9/11 on-site in October of 2001. It was sobering then, and it was this time as well. I'll post some photos of that view ast week in my photo album later this week.

In any case,the human effect. I sat down at the window over-looking the site and chatted with the vice president of the 9/11 Families Association. He was amazing at describing the day of September 11, how the towers fell, and just the emotions of the day. He's a retired firefighter, and later revealed to me that he lost his son -- a firefighter -- in the South Tower that day.

"I still have to stop before I talk about him," he said to me, pausing for a moment. His eyes were a tad watery, but his strength really amazed me. He was able to talk about his son and searching for his body for three months at Ground Zero. That's right, this gentleman had worked with so many other firefighters at Ground Zero trying to recover bodies and also remove debris.

"That was my mission -- to find my son. There were a lot of other dads -- retired firefighters -- that came looking for their sons there soon, and brothers looking for their brothers."

I'm grateful to him for sharing his story with me and reminding me about the realities of the human impact of 9/11. I think so many of us can easily just gloss over those feelings, but it's important to be reminded, which is why I'm sharing this story with you.

He said so many people say today "It's been three years, why can't folks just get over it now?" Well, he said, only 292 whole bodies were recovered at Ground Zero. He said he was lucky because his son was among that count -- he found him three months later. Yet so many other families weren't as lucky, they had little or no remains of their loved ones. Some are still receiving numerous calls today as more remains are identified. Try finding closure with that being a constant.

I know the anniversary was Saturday, but I hope everyone took some time to really think about it. I've been very fortunate to have visited the Flight 93 site in Shanksville, Penn., and speak to residents of that tiny little town that was forever changed on September 11. I've also been fortunate enough to have seen Ground Zero a month after the attacks and then again last week. I'm also fortunate enough to have met the gentleman I spoke with last week, as well as so many of the amazing and wonderful people who have worked so hard to help NYC residents ever since 9/11.

Not sure how to end this, I'm just glad I'm able to pass some of these stories on.

Blame the tropics

What is going on in the tropics? Here I just come back from Florida a week ago, and now I most likely will head back next week -- depending on where Hurricane Frances makes landfall. Apparently this past August tied for the most active August as far as tropical conditions go. Crazy.

Anyway, some tidbits from my last trip to Florida. It really is the land of the old people. I was waiting at the airport for my flight to Tampa, and the gate area was like a nursing home. There were seven or eight elderly folks in wheelchairs waiting to board. The pre-boarding time for those with special concerns took longer than the regular boarding time.

But I made it to Tampa okay. And just to make me fit in to the local atmosphere better, Budget Rent-A-Car gave me a free upgrade to a Buick Regal. So I made sure to drive in the right lane of the highway at 25mph with my turn signal on -- just to truly get the Florida experience.

Anyway, Florida in August is hot. Hmm, I can describe that better.

Florida in August is a climate that only Satan himself could have created. Yeah, that's better.

Florida in August is so freakin' hot, I even saw Satan fanning himself next to the pool at my hotel. That works.

I was fortunate enough to have rented a car before showing up in cover the ravaged lands of Florida, yet my company and my foresight were not enough to have reserved me a hotel room. This lead to me driving around for three hours the first night trying to find anything that wasn't booked solid. For some odd reason, we hadn't thought of the fact that every relief worker and their mom were now in town to help out, so there was no room at any inn. I finally found a room at the overpriced Crowne Plaza Hotel in downtown Tampa.

I won't complain about that, though, considering there are so many folks in Florida now who don't even have a home. Hurricane Charley left a path of destruction like I have never seen in my life. Entire mobile home parks were leveled. Metal was twisted and bent around trees, and huge steel telephone and light poles were bent in half. Powerline poles were snapped in half like matches. Insane.

But with the bad, comes the good. The relief workers are amazing, and so many are doing all they can to help. I was humbled and honored to be able to be down there to write about it and see it for myself.

I was also able to find humor in many situations. As I cruised around in the ol' Buick -- which I lovingly named The Tank because of its size compared to my Saturn -- I saw and experienced some funny things.

Some of the more creative resident spray-painted signs I saw include the following:

-Hurricane Charley Blows!
-You loot, I shoot
-Chuck Farley

In my six days of Florida travel and disaster coverage, I drove over 1,400 miles. The damage is spread from Punta Forda up into Orlando and Daytona Beach. That much driving will cause anyone to act a little weird at certain points in the day. I wrote a song about The Waffle House by my hotel to the tune of 'God Bless America.' I accidentally cut off a state highway patrolman, who was nice enough to let me off after I apologized profusely. He even said he had other things to do.

I also found some of the damaged businesses that proudly proclaimed they were still open very funny. I passed a Hooters in Kissimmee that had a huge banner up saying 'WE ARE OPEN!!!!' I cheered and promptly thanked the Lord right then for making sure the folks of Kissimmee could still enjoy the wonders of Hooters. THANK YOU, JESUS!!!!

I did have some downtime to both relax and see some local sights. I saw the Salvador Dali museum in St. Petersburg, which was awesome. I also spent 45 minutes on Venice Beach, where the water was about 80 degrees. And the rest of the time I was writing or driving.

Next week, I may be there again, only on the other side of the state this time. Sheesh, the hurricanes won't stop! PEOPLE OF FLORIDA, GEORGIA, SOUTH CAROLINA AND NORTH CAROLINA , AIM YOUR FANS TO THE WEST!!