Monday morning at 10:00am at the Marriott in Shanghai, and there is a small crowd of foreign guys sitting in the lobby bar watching a curling match on television.
I am torn between pity and envy as a shuffle into the long taxi queue and head to the office. I was never much of a curling fan, but I have of late become a great admirer of leisure.
UPDATE: took one look at the taxi queue and turned around and went back into the lobby and ordered a double espresso. I am 13 years and 4 months away from Social Security, but I am definitely too old to stand in any hotel taxi queue with more than four people ahead of me and no cabs in the rank.
Quaker Apple Walnut Medley, a tiny croissant, scrambled eggs, English Breakfast tea, 16 oz ice water. 500 calories and I’m stuffed.
I’m obviously in training for the Senior Menu phase of my life.
Our tiny but mighty troop, growing fast.
Seabee Scouts Can do.
“Noli pati a scelestis opprimi.”
That’s the correct translation for “don’t let the bastards grind you down.”
The chairs at the homeowners association meeting are guaranteed to cause hemorrhoids after five minutes. Two hours into this session, and I’m losing hope for my tuchas.
Seriously. My sigmoidoscopy wasn’t this uncomfortable.
The thrill of the refill. Twenty-four ounces of Scoutmaster juice.
This one is for Love’s Truck Stops. I’ve got another for Pilot and Flying J, ready to head cross-country again.