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Suffering the Benz Top Posts

When I migrated from Movable Type to WordPress, I realized there’s a lot of crap on here. More than 600 posts over the past seven years. Someone beaming in from the Google Transporter would be hard pressed to figure out what’s going on here. So I’ve pulled together my favorite posts in a single category that I’ve labeled Top Bob.

Here they are.

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Dog Bob Top Bob

Carousing with Gilligan

gilligan.jpgozzy.jpgIt happened again. Gilligan and Ozzy made a mad dash for freedom the other night. I was a little surprised they took off because I was throwing a big, bone-shaped floating toy into the cove for Gilligan. An engaged Gilligan is generally a good Gilligan. But he took off, clenching that goofy fuzzyellowbone and oblivious to my fading shouts. Ozzy was close at his heels, charging into a night of debauchery.

I found the toy up by the road. Gilligan and Ozzy were nowhere in sight, but dogs where barking all over in the surrounding neighborhood. A party was brewing. A full-out dog kegger.

At 11 p.m. I’d resigned myself to the fact they weren’t coming back and that they’d be spending a 20-some degree night outside. At Lara’s insistence, we cracked the garage so they could get in there if they returned.

Next morning I went straight to the garage to see if they were there. Ozzy scampered for the driveway to escape my wrath. But then I heard a noise in the back corner of the garage. I looked up just in time to see Gilligan stretching in the front seat of my Lexus convertible, which was parked with the top down. He hopped out as if he’d just driven up in it and I was the valet he was tossing the keys to.

Needless to say, that’s not the reception he received …

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Top Bob Travel Bob

A refuge for the big, the fat, the muscular and the tall

Sometimes the travel gods smile upon me, other times they smite me.

Yesterday, they were playing the prankster.

I was arrived at the Kansas City airport in time to stand by on an earlier flight to Chicago, where I was connecting to Beautiful KnoxVegas. With a gentle nudge from the travel gods, I made the flight and when I got to Chicago I started getting United Airlines e-mail updates on the flight I was supposed to be on. It was delayed. Again. And again. And again. Sadly for the poor people who didn’t get the earlier flight, the 4 p.m. KC to Chicago plane didn’t leave till 10:21 KC time, more than six hours late. I definitely would have missed my connection, and this surreal experience.

While I was milling about the concourse waiting for the Knoxville flight, I saw a lanky guy walking around looking a tad confused. I had him pegged for a Tennessee boy through and through, and on the way out to the plane I chuckled when he was amazed that we were walking across the tarmac to climb into the 50 seat Canadair Regional Jet.

“I’ve never been on one this small,” he said, clearly nervous.

I tried to be reassuring. “They’re good little jets,” I told him. “I fly them all the time.” But i was thinking: “I hope this 6-foot-6 beanpole isn’t sitting next to me …

He wasn’t. He was one row head of me, across the aisle. And I was in the 13th row, right next to the pisser. Several other large people lumbered aboard. The largest ended up sitting right in front of me. And then Muscle Man boarded … and sat down in the window seat right next to me. Shit.

Turns out Lanky Dude was really from the Bay Area and was making his first trip East of the Mississippi to visit his sister in Oak Ridge. He looked at Muscle Man and asked him if he played for the Chicago Bulls, despite the fact he was “only” about six foot tall. But the dude was cut. He laughed and said no. Rather than putting on my iPod to block out all human interaction, though, I kept the ear buds holstered. It was just a hunch.

We ended up having one of the most fun and entertaining hour-and-a-half flights I’ve been on. It started when the flight attendant looked at our two rows sympathetically, We were a refuge for the big, the fat, the muscular and the tall. All the biggest people on the plane were in our two rows at the back of the aircraft, which set off a round of jokes.

Lanky Dude was kind of dorky, but he was a good guy. The rest of us live in Tennessee, so we started giving him grief about what to expect. The moonshine. Catching catfish by hand. Neyland Stadium.

Muscle guy apparently played college ball for a small school in Mississippi, which mightily impressed Lanky Dude (and me, for that matter). We spent the entire flight cutting up and joking with the flight attendant. I even bought Muscle Guy a beer. The big guy in front of me talked about his world travels, including charity work he’d done in Haiti. He’s a native Knoxvillian, so he had plenty of inside info for Lanky Dude, including inside info on grits and sweet tea.

When we landed, Muscle Guy gave Lanky Dude his number and told him to call if he wanted to go out and catch some catfish by hand. We’d all bonded in that stupid little tin can. It was one of those sublime experiences that makes travel worthwhile.

As we came out of the concourse, Lanky Dude’s sister was there to greet him. I told him to have fun in Tennessee while he sauntered up to his sister like the Scarecrow dancing down the Yellow Brick Road. I hope he has fun on his Tennessee sojourn. The image of this talk, skinny white geek and the muscular African American dude wading in Watts Bar Lake stalking catfish won’t leave my mind …