April 16th, 2008 by aarondietz

I worked all weekend, pretty much, so I didn’t have a chance to go see the Dalai Lama speak.

On Sunday, I woke up late. I had intended to get into work by 11, but I didn’t leave for work until about 12.

I walked about two blocks before figuring out that I had forgotten my security card to get into the building. I started back for it.

When I got to my apartment, I figured I might as well take out the recycling.

This meant that I went around to the back of the building to drop the recycling off. As I was headed back to the front, I saw two people carrying coffee cups from Uptown Coffee. That made me really want coffee, and since I was already late, I figured I might as well get some before I went to work.

As I was walking toward Uptown Coffee, a motorcycle cop pulled up out of nowhere to stop traffic. He let me walk across the street but stopped all vehicle traffic.

Someone asked him, “Is this for the Dalai Lama?”

And I don’t know what the cop answered but I knew that it was. I stopped walking and waited by the side of the street.

Soon, fifteen or twenty motorcycle cops sped around the corner and drove by. They were followed by the Dalai Lama motorcade, and I didn’t know which car the Dalai Lama was in, but I suddenly felt happy.

April 16th, 2008 by aarondietz

The following is based on events that happened on March 27.

I’m first in line at door 2, the gate to Dallas. The announcer calls out, “Last call for Dallas, door 2.”

I take this as my cue to exit through door 2 so I can get on the bus before it leaves. Naturally, I start walking through door 2.

Apparently, though, the bus isn’t ready yet and instead of telling me this, the security guard simply pushes the door back in my face, shoving me back inside. Excellent communication skills.

Later, the security guard opens the door and treats me like an idiot for trying to board earlier. I tell him they said it was last call. He tells me that they said “line up”. Now, even supposing he’s right (and he’s not), it’s hardly acceptable for him to communicate my supposed blunder by shoving the door back in my face and then ignoring me for ten minutes. Will there be a nasty email to Greyhound about this? You bet. Will it matter? I don’t know. I complain on principle.

Also, the bus winds up leaving an hour and a half late. Come on, Greyhound, I can get lateness from Amtrak. If you’re going to treat people like shit, at least leave on time.

April 14th, 2008 by aarondietz

The following is based on events that happened on March 26 and March 27.

At the Broken Spoke, I am comforted by the fact that even in Texas, one can walk into a men’s restroom and find anti-Bush graffiti.

The next morning, I eat at Las Manitas, a place with good food, good service, and excellent copy–whoever wrote the story on their menu did a fantastic job.