Ok Sherman, set the way-back machine to last Thursday the 12th. It's about 2:30 in the afternoon. One of those cold Texas afternoons where you just want to sit inside until you pass out while drinking cheap gin out of a paper cup. I was draped over the brown plastic lobby seat like an old suit thats been draped over a brown plastic lobby seat waiting for my pla-........eh. Sam Spade I isn't.

Okay, it's 2:30, we're at the airport and still an hour left to go before our plane leaves and I'm observing the other passengers. First thing I notice is that watching the European travelers is more interesting than watching mom dad and junior from Denver. The Europeans always have the wacky footwear. Speaking of clothing, what is it about having a lot of money that makes you lose your cotton picking mind when it comes to picking out clothes? I would think that having enough money to line the cat shit box with would give you better fashion sense. There are two couples sitting across from us talking about Nascar for some odd reason. The first couple has the guy wearing a camouflage shirt. I don't quite understand the wearing of cammo in an airport unless he just bagged and field dressed a grizzly in the newspaper stand. Is it just cool? His girlfriend was nondescript so I'll let her slide. However the other couple, who this is really about, were the rich ones with the Lois V carry-on bag the size of my front door. The husband resembled George Costanza's father-in-law from Seinfeld and was wearing these stupid ass brown bowling shoes with velcro on them. Apparently he is also blind. His wife was an attractive blond of maybe 45 or 48 and was wearing what looked like a jacket made out of a porcupine. It looked like the coats the mom and dad wore on that John Cusack movie "Better off Dead" (Gee, I'm real sorry your mom blew up Ricky.) I guess money cant buy some people sense ........ or vision. I could probably sell that woman a hat made out of a kangaroo's bladder if I charged her a thousand dollars for it and swore Meg Ryan wore one to the oscars. I could tell she was a smoker from the sound of her voice and the cough that sounded like she was trying to cough up the rest of the porcupine.

Oh, No offense to any gabrillionaires out there reading this who were about to buy me a BMW, I'm sure you look stunning in YOUR badger coat.

Of course she reminded my smart ass that I hadn't had a smoke in three hours so I told Kim and Paula that I was going to go look for the smokers zoo. You've seen em, they gang us all up in a room with windows so everyone can come look and point.

I think I walked halfway to Vegas before I figured out that DFW didn't have one and that I had to go back outside to smoke and then go back through security to get in.

Four-Thirty Thursday.

We have been in the air for about an hour and a half when the pilot comes on the speaker and tells us:

"Ladies and gentleman, this is your captain speaking. We're currently cruising at an altitude of 35,000 feet. Those of you on the right side of the plane can look out and see Santa Fe New Mexico, and those of you on the left can see blablabla. Aaaaaand for the gentleman in seat 21A you'll have a stunning view of the starboard wing."

I don't know why he mentioned it because all that anyone could see was thick white clouds. He could have said " Everyone on the left can look down now and see superman, and for those of you on the right, there's an amazing view of King kong eating Japan.

Tomorrow on The RANT.

Our daring trio of world adventure travelers land and find that all the freakin travel plans are all kinds of fucked up, Vegas appears to be the capital of shady characters, and that this town is home to the world famous pound and a half hot-dog. MMMMMM-MMMMM.

This and much much more, including....VEGAS PORN!

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