11.30.2009
11.29.2009
"It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year"
Do you see this?
Any guesses as to what it might be? Hmmm?
No, it's not a Magic Eye poster from the '90s, it's not an M.C. Escher piece reenacted with vehicles, it's the Black Friday madness that occurs every year on the day after Thanksgiving. Any guesses on what time I snapped the photo? If you said 5:15 in the morning, you'd be right.
To some people Black Friday is game time. The Type A within comes out fighting for a parking space, fighting to enter the store, and fighting to grab that prized item from the sales flyer before they all disappear. You would think someone like me, who lives in a house across from the shopping Thunderdome would be first in line for that party. You would think someone who frequents Target two to three times a week would be there in the middle of it. You would also be wrong.
It's just really, really not worth it. I love shopping in brick and mortar stores, and I prefer the instant gratitude of picking up an object, inspecting it, and standing in line (well, okay not this part), but I like going, buying and going home with the item all in a span of under an hour. Internet shopping requires a wait. It also involves a degree of risk. If it doesn't fit in the store, you know right away. If it doesn't fit and you bought it online, there is a small amount of hand wringing until your return is processed and the money is credited back to you account. If the alternative is facing the madness pictured above, then I'll take the risk. That image might look like a bunch of cars defying the logic of spacial reasoning. That might look like a welcome challenge to a hardcore holiday shopper. To me, it looks like a glimpse into hell.
Any guesses as to what it might be? Hmmm?
No, it's not a Magic Eye poster from the '90s, it's not an M.C. Escher piece reenacted with vehicles, it's the Black Friday madness that occurs every year on the day after Thanksgiving. Any guesses on what time I snapped the photo? If you said 5:15 in the morning, you'd be right.
To some people Black Friday is game time. The Type A within comes out fighting for a parking space, fighting to enter the store, and fighting to grab that prized item from the sales flyer before they all disappear. You would think someone like me, who lives in a house across from the shopping Thunderdome would be first in line for that party. You would think someone who frequents Target two to three times a week would be there in the middle of it. You would also be wrong.
It's just really, really not worth it. I love shopping in brick and mortar stores, and I prefer the instant gratitude of picking up an object, inspecting it, and standing in line (well, okay not this part), but I like going, buying and going home with the item all in a span of under an hour. Internet shopping requires a wait. It also involves a degree of risk. If it doesn't fit in the store, you know right away. If it doesn't fit and you bought it online, there is a small amount of hand wringing until your return is processed and the money is credited back to you account. If the alternative is facing the madness pictured above, then I'll take the risk. That image might look like a bunch of cars defying the logic of spacial reasoning. That might look like a welcome challenge to a hardcore holiday shopper. To me, it looks like a glimpse into hell.
11.14.2009
Blowing off the dust
I'm still here, I just haven't posted in awhile. I have a new job, but it's not keeping me any busier than usual, it just seems that the longer I stay away from writing, the less inclined I am to write. Every day I think of something I could write about, but then a few days pass and it doesn't seem quite as interesting or appealing anymore.
New job is great. I can not get over some of the perks, even small things like no vending machines in sight because the fridge is loaded with juice and soda for everyone to take. It seems so trivial to get excited about it. I used to not be able to find a plastic spoon on days when I flaked and forgot the spoon for my morning oatmeal. The supply room didn't even have any, but there were boxes and boxes of coffee stirrers for the taking. You either had to improvise or hope that a co-worker would be merciful and share from the secret stash of plasticware in his desk drawer. Oh, and plastic knives don't seem to run out at the same rate of spoons and forks. I forgot my spoon and decided to check out the kitchen at the new place. I opened the cabinets first, thinking there might be some in a wayward box. No luck. I opened the lower cabinets. Nothing there. I opened a drawer and--gasp--they had knives, forks and spoons, there for the taking. Believe me when I tell you I wanted to cry. They had spoons!
I've been driving too. Taking metro has been a source of entertainment for about five years but it's not the best option for me now. There is a station one mile from my job but adding that walk to the rest of the trip--well, it just would eat up a lot of time, so I drive now. It's just me, my car, my music and the million other idiots in their cars around me. I hate seeing the miles rack up on my car. Wear and tear, I think, every time I witness the odometer turning a new number. The nice thing about public transit is that if something breaks, it's not your problem. Yes, I know, I pay my fare, and I pay my taxes, but I'm not the one making the maintenance appointments and paying the hefty fee. I know this is what cars are for--to be used, not to be spirited away behind garage doors like some kind of heirloom, but at the same time I would like to keep my car as long as possible. Enter the beater.
I haven't bought it yet, it's just an idea for now. I want something boring and reliable, but able to keep up in traffic. Something that won't make me wince when I see its first door ding. Something else to take on the wear and tear. The other idea would be to move closer to work. What a novel concept. Stay tuned!
Okay, no, don't stay tuned, it will be months before anything is certain.
I will keep you posted.
New job is great. I can not get over some of the perks, even small things like no vending machines in sight because the fridge is loaded with juice and soda for everyone to take. It seems so trivial to get excited about it. I used to not be able to find a plastic spoon on days when I flaked and forgot the spoon for my morning oatmeal. The supply room didn't even have any, but there were boxes and boxes of coffee stirrers for the taking. You either had to improvise or hope that a co-worker would be merciful and share from the secret stash of plasticware in his desk drawer. Oh, and plastic knives don't seem to run out at the same rate of spoons and forks. I forgot my spoon and decided to check out the kitchen at the new place. I opened the cabinets first, thinking there might be some in a wayward box. No luck. I opened the lower cabinets. Nothing there. I opened a drawer and--gasp--they had knives, forks and spoons, there for the taking. Believe me when I tell you I wanted to cry. They had spoons!
I've been driving too. Taking metro has been a source of entertainment for about five years but it's not the best option for me now. There is a station one mile from my job but adding that walk to the rest of the trip--well, it just would eat up a lot of time, so I drive now. It's just me, my car, my music and the million other idiots in their cars around me. I hate seeing the miles rack up on my car. Wear and tear, I think, every time I witness the odometer turning a new number. The nice thing about public transit is that if something breaks, it's not your problem. Yes, I know, I pay my fare, and I pay my taxes, but I'm not the one making the maintenance appointments and paying the hefty fee. I know this is what cars are for--to be used, not to be spirited away behind garage doors like some kind of heirloom, but at the same time I would like to keep my car as long as possible. Enter the beater.
I haven't bought it yet, it's just an idea for now. I want something boring and reliable, but able to keep up in traffic. Something that won't make me wince when I see its first door ding. Something else to take on the wear and tear. The other idea would be to move closer to work. What a novel concept. Stay tuned!
Okay, no, don't stay tuned, it will be months before anything is certain.
I will keep you posted.
10.29.2009
The more things change, the more they go back to...
the same derned template!
If you're one of the two semi-regulars who read this, you'll see that I've gone back to the old set up. I am still not happy with the look but I'm toolazy challenged to figure out how to design a new template and the others I've seen online don't exactly match what I have in my head (so, yes, in a way, I would love finding someone who really can read my mind--I'd be set for clothes, music, and basically whatever else I wished for on a whim).
Stay tuned. Or don't.
If you're one of the two semi-regulars who read this, you'll see that I've gone back to the old set up. I am still not happy with the look but I'm too
Stay tuned. Or don't.
Vacation, pt. III
7. Sunrise, sunburn
Yes, I got burned. Yes, I brought sunblock and very stupidly skipped a day. I'm shedding my skin like a damned snake.
8. Wedding
Eventually we did attend the thing that was the reason for our vacation. The groom was one of my husband's college classmates and a friend of ours. Their wedding was right on the beach, ditch your flipflops at the door type deal. The guests received rose petals to toss at the bride and groom as they departed down the sandy aisle. I had to throw over three heads (and remember, I am 5'3"). Needless to say, I got a little overzealous and beaned the poor guy next to me while executing my power rose petal toss. Luckily we knew each other, but still--mortifying. I am not athletically gifted in the least, and moments like that allow my klutzy side to shine through.
9. Monday, Monday
We were on the beach Monday morning, and home that night. We saw the photos we took after arriving at the Punta Cana airport and passed on the $9 price (does anyone actually buy these photos?) We had to go through customs at the Miami airport, which was possibly laid out by the late Dr. Seuss. They even seemed to know it was bad as they had paths marked out in different colors for weary travelers. If you were going back to D.C., you followed the giant yellow decal dots on the floor.
10. A new day
My husband had to work the next day, so he really wanted to get onto the earlier flight (we looked up flight times using the wifi network at the Punta Cana airport). We sent off the luggage and somehow Mr. Charmer sweet talked us into an earlier flight. Pessimist that I am, I would have waited it out. Standby usually doesn't go well for me, so I'd rather not get my hopes up. I also know that he mentioned the delay from the other day and his opinion of American Airlines afterwards. The gate agent looked up. "Well, it's a new day," she said as she handed us our tickets for the earlier flight.
Yes, I got burned. Yes, I brought sunblock and very stupidly skipped a day. I'm shedding my skin like a damned snake.
8. Wedding
Eventually we did attend the thing that was the reason for our vacation. The groom was one of my husband's college classmates and a friend of ours. Their wedding was right on the beach, ditch your flipflops at the door type deal. The guests received rose petals to toss at the bride and groom as they departed down the sandy aisle. I had to throw over three heads (and remember, I am 5'3"). Needless to say, I got a little overzealous and beaned the poor guy next to me while executing my power rose petal toss. Luckily we knew each other, but still--mortifying. I am not athletically gifted in the least, and moments like that allow my klutzy side to shine through.
9. Monday, Monday
We were on the beach Monday morning, and home that night. We saw the photos we took after arriving at the Punta Cana airport and passed on the $9 price (does anyone actually buy these photos?) We had to go through customs at the Miami airport, which was possibly laid out by the late Dr. Seuss. They even seemed to know it was bad as they had paths marked out in different colors for weary travelers. If you were going back to D.C., you followed the giant yellow decal dots on the floor.
10. A new day
My husband had to work the next day, so he really wanted to get onto the earlier flight (we looked up flight times using the wifi network at the Punta Cana airport). We sent off the luggage and somehow Mr. Charmer sweet talked us into an earlier flight. Pessimist that I am, I would have waited it out. Standby usually doesn't go well for me, so I'd rather not get my hopes up. I also know that he mentioned the delay from the other day and his opinion of American Airlines afterwards. The gate agent looked up. "Well, it's a new day," she said as she handed us our tickets for the earlier flight.
Vacation, pt. II
3. Welcome to the Dominican Republic
We arrived in the Dominican Republic at around 10 p.m. Part of the excitement of visiting the Caribbean is flying over the island and watching that midnight blue water go to turquoise. American Airlines, thanks to your incontinent plane, we got none of that! You stole my joy!
We were ushered out of the plane, across the tarmac and to the airport gate. People lined up and there was an assembly line where you took a picture with two women in traditional dress, and then went on your way to customs. I have to say whoever thought up that one was a true business person. I am sure I looked like hell after spending an entire day in airports and on planes, but bless them for trying.
Customs was quick, which is to be expected. What the hell are we smuggling into the DR anyway? Clean underwear? Toiletries? We also had to pay a fee to enter (this was never explained), but I handed over the cash. Everyone knew English. It was "WelcometotheDomicanRepublicenjoyyourstay" (Stamp passport). Unsaid:nowgetthefuggoutsoIcangohome. I'm sure we were the last flight to arrive. Everyone looked tired of pretending they weren't tired.
The trip to the hotel was quick. Some of the other wedding guests were there too. I peered out of the window, but it was dark, so I didn't get to see everything. I just wanted to get checked in so I could go to sleep.
4. The Moon Palace
This place was unbelievable. The scale of the doorways and the height of the ceilings just made you feel insignificant. The hotel rooms had two person jacuzzis in the floors. The bathroom was massive, with a walk in Roman style shower. There was sparkling wine waiting in a container of water which would have been ice had we checked in at our expected arrival time. Everything was grand.
5. The one in which I become G the Mosquito Slayer
The only thing that sucked (you'll get the pun in a second) was when I discovered the swarm of mosquitoes in the bathroom. There were a bunch of them, and they weren't shy. Unfortunately, mosquitoes love me because of my sweet, sweet blood type. Instead of going through the usual pre-bedtime routine, I decided to knock out some of the population before they attacked me for a fresh nightcap. I clapped, chased and stalked mosquitoes. I found a bunch under the sink and when I got tired of hunting them, I went to bed. I had a few more days to lower their numbers. Besides, it seemed for every one I killed, five more would emerge to take over.
By the second day, my husband introduced the towel snap technique. Yes, the locker room trick, which ended up being very effective. I even designated one of the towels just for the purpose of killing mosquitoes. By the time we left, their spot under the sink was a ghost town.
5. Ghost Palace
Speaking of ghost towns, the resort was nearly empty...and I loved it! 1700 rooms and maybe 300 people? You could have an entire pool to yourself. You could hit the beach and see nothing but empty loungers. It makes me a little sad because I know if we go back, it won't be the same. There is something to be said about getting away from it all--especially when "all" includes other people.
6. Flight of balloon boy
We spent one afternoon watching the balloon boy saga. It seems like big things happen when we take trips. When we were in the Bahamas, the U.S. Navy ship was bombed in Yemen. Okay, never mind, that's a truly lame comparison. The balloon boy event was not a "big thing" at all, it's just that the hotel TV was receiving a local news channel from Denver, so we got to see live footage of a mushroom-saucer mylar balloon that allegedly had the boy in it for at least an hour. We watched it till the end when it landed and--surprise!--no one was inside. Hoax, I thought. As more came out about the parents, something seemed amiss. When the boy emerged from the attic claiming that he had hidden and taken a nap, I thought "bullshit." When the police officer decided to press charges on these idiots for wasting resources, I felt a little bit of glee. Okay, no, I felt a lot of glee. I am tired of people mugging for fame and shamelessly dragging their kids along for the ride. It's bad when your 6 year old is the one who tells the truth.
We arrived in the Dominican Republic at around 10 p.m. Part of the excitement of visiting the Caribbean is flying over the island and watching that midnight blue water go to turquoise. American Airlines, thanks to your incontinent plane, we got none of that! You stole my joy!
We were ushered out of the plane, across the tarmac and to the airport gate. People lined up and there was an assembly line where you took a picture with two women in traditional dress, and then went on your way to customs. I have to say whoever thought up that one was a true business person. I am sure I looked like hell after spending an entire day in airports and on planes, but bless them for trying.
Customs was quick, which is to be expected. What the hell are we smuggling into the DR anyway? Clean underwear? Toiletries? We also had to pay a fee to enter (this was never explained), but I handed over the cash. Everyone knew English. It was "WelcometotheDomicanRepublicenjoyyourstay" (Stamp passport). Unsaid:nowgetthefuggoutsoIcangohome. I'm sure we were the last flight to arrive. Everyone looked tired of pretending they weren't tired.
The trip to the hotel was quick. Some of the other wedding guests were there too. I peered out of the window, but it was dark, so I didn't get to see everything. I just wanted to get checked in so I could go to sleep.
4. The Moon Palace
This place was unbelievable. The scale of the doorways and the height of the ceilings just made you feel insignificant. The hotel rooms had two person jacuzzis in the floors. The bathroom was massive, with a walk in Roman style shower. There was sparkling wine waiting in a container of water which would have been ice had we checked in at our expected arrival time. Everything was grand.
5. The one in which I become G the Mosquito Slayer
The only thing that sucked (you'll get the pun in a second) was when I discovered the swarm of mosquitoes in the bathroom. There were a bunch of them, and they weren't shy. Unfortunately, mosquitoes love me because of my sweet, sweet blood type. Instead of going through the usual pre-bedtime routine, I decided to knock out some of the population before they attacked me for a fresh nightcap. I clapped, chased and stalked mosquitoes. I found a bunch under the sink and when I got tired of hunting them, I went to bed. I had a few more days to lower their numbers. Besides, it seemed for every one I killed, five more would emerge to take over.
By the second day, my husband introduced the towel snap technique. Yes, the locker room trick, which ended up being very effective. I even designated one of the towels just for the purpose of killing mosquitoes. By the time we left, their spot under the sink was a ghost town.
5. Ghost Palace
Speaking of ghost towns, the resort was nearly empty...and I loved it! 1700 rooms and maybe 300 people? You could have an entire pool to yourself. You could hit the beach and see nothing but empty loungers. It makes me a little sad because I know if we go back, it won't be the same. There is something to be said about getting away from it all--especially when "all" includes other people.
6. Flight of balloon boy
We spent one afternoon watching the balloon boy saga. It seems like big things happen when we take trips. When we were in the Bahamas, the U.S. Navy ship was bombed in Yemen. Okay, never mind, that's a truly lame comparison. The balloon boy event was not a "big thing" at all, it's just that the hotel TV was receiving a local news channel from Denver, so we got to see live footage of a mushroom-saucer mylar balloon that allegedly had the boy in it for at least an hour. We watched it till the end when it landed and--surprise!--no one was inside. Hoax, I thought. As more came out about the parents, something seemed amiss. When the boy emerged from the attic claiming that he had hidden and taken a nap, I thought "bullshit." When the police officer decided to press charges on these idiots for wasting resources, I felt a little bit of glee. Okay, no, I felt a lot of glee. I am tired of people mugging for fame and shamelessly dragging their kids along for the ride. It's bad when your 6 year old is the one who tells the truth.
Vacation, pt. I
In between jobs, I took some time off. The time just happened to coincide with a vacation my husband and I were taking. It was something we had recently reserved once we were no longer a one income household (curse you, recession!). Well, little did we know a month later I would be taking the hit (curse you again, recession!)...but anyway, we planned a vacation.
I won't say we haven't done anything in the past few years. He and our daugter went to England to visit family earlier this year. I've vsited my best friend a few times. We went to California last year for a wedding, and we also did our trek to Vegas. It hasn't been all work and drudgery, but we haven't been to a beachy place with drinks that require mini umbrellas in a long time (okay, four years). Luckily we both love the beach. I know some people don't (yes, it's true), but we do.
Our destination was Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic. Neither of us have been there but a friend was getting married and it was close to our ten year anniversary (which is actually today, no applause, thank you) so we decided to celebrate with them.
1. Getting there is half the fun
Who came up with thise phrase? I would like to personally beat that person about the head. I can't see how it's even a tenth of the fun unless we're picturing the Hot Chocolate number from the Polar Express, and even that can grate if you're not in the mood for a spontaneous song and dance routine. And don't even talk to me about a cruise. Trapped on a boat on the open seas with a million strangers with only a few hours to hop a through bunch of ports? It sounds like a nightmare. I like to go someplace and stay.
Our flight connected in Miami. My limited experience with this airport was when we flew to the Bahamas for our honeymoon. I remembered that the layout made no sense. We landed and saw that our connecting flight was delayed by 40 minutes. No big deal, I thought, I will grab something to eat and wait it out. Eleven dollars spent, a greasy ham and cheese sandwich and subpar flavored hot water (because I can not bring myself to call it "coffee") consumed, we sat at the gate and waited. The plane was there, they just needed some extra time to clean the bathrooms. Woowee, take your time, I thought, knowing that our seats would be near the back.
When they started offloading bags, I realized this was not something a plunger and Formula 409 could fix. The explanation expanded to include "leaking" and "new plane" and "4 o'clock departure." Then it included "No other flights" and "Ten dollar vouchers." Just looking out of the window revealed a giant puddle beneath the plane's midsection, and the dripping from the belly wasn't exactly a comforting sight. We were off to a great start.
We were relocated to another gate at the far end of the E terminal. This involved getting onto the tram and trucking it the rest of the way. People were sprawled over the seats, napping. There was a little jewelry counter. There was a huge window to look out at all of the planes that would be arriving AND leaving before ours. One of the people at the gates announced that there would be a water salute for a firefighter that died. Have you ever seen one of these? I never have, so I figured, why not?
A bunch of other people watched too. I staked out a space where I could see (this is critical when you're barely 5'3") Not long afterwards, a giant of a man stepped right in front of me.
"Excuse me." I said.
He swerved so he was squarely in front of me.
"Excuse me, I'm standing here." I said.
He glanced down with a look on his face that could best be described as "bemused."
I wanted to punch him, but that's not really appropriate when watching a ceremony that honors someone's life, is it? A few other people ushered me in front of them to shut me up and give me a better view. I am guessing the dude didn't speak English, but rudeness is a universally human thing, isn't it? Most of the time you don't really need to speak the same language to realize when you've done something rude to another person. How can someone stand directly in front of another person and not be sorry? I don't get it. I'll have to add that to the ever growing list of mysteries of the human race. A lot of good my degree in individual psychology did me.
2. Dead Headphone society
I am usually good about packing spare headphones, but this time I only had one set. As luck would have it, this set had lost a speaker. It was the first time this pair had failed me, and I used them daily for my workouts. I twisted it around in the jack and chalked it up to a faulty armrest. Remember when the headphones were specific to the plane? The sound was pushed through a two pronged airhose, and you had to pay for these technological wonders that ONLY worked on planes? What a racket! The first time I watched "Splash," I watched it with my sister on a flight to Italy. We (our dad) did not buy the headphones. Instead, we raised the armrest, turned the volume WAY up, and tilted our heads so we could watch the screen and hear the words. Just paying the two bucks for the headsets would have saved hundreds in chiropractor bills. Just jokes, folks. My back is fine, but my neck...
Anyway, my husband forgot his headphones. During our extended layover at Miami, he bought a pair for the high, high price of $19.99. Yes, they sucked. Yes, we got free ones in the plane. I figured my one sided speaker dilemma (it wasn't a faulty armrest, I tried them in my iPod and they still didn't work) was solved, but as soon as I stuck those freebies in, the plastic casing fell apart and the wee little speaker popped out. Oh well.
I won't say we haven't done anything in the past few years. He and our daugter went to England to visit family earlier this year. I've vsited my best friend a few times. We went to California last year for a wedding, and we also did our trek to Vegas. It hasn't been all work and drudgery, but we haven't been to a beachy place with drinks that require mini umbrellas in a long time (okay, four years). Luckily we both love the beach. I know some people don't (yes, it's true), but we do.
Our destination was Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic. Neither of us have been there but a friend was getting married and it was close to our ten year anniversary (which is actually today, no applause, thank you) so we decided to celebrate with them.
1. Getting there is half the fun
Who came up with thise phrase? I would like to personally beat that person about the head. I can't see how it's even a tenth of the fun unless we're picturing the Hot Chocolate number from the Polar Express, and even that can grate if you're not in the mood for a spontaneous song and dance routine. And don't even talk to me about a cruise. Trapped on a boat on the open seas with a million strangers with only a few hours to hop a through bunch of ports? It sounds like a nightmare. I like to go someplace and stay.
Our flight connected in Miami. My limited experience with this airport was when we flew to the Bahamas for our honeymoon. I remembered that the layout made no sense. We landed and saw that our connecting flight was delayed by 40 minutes. No big deal, I thought, I will grab something to eat and wait it out. Eleven dollars spent, a greasy ham and cheese sandwich and subpar flavored hot water (because I can not bring myself to call it "coffee") consumed, we sat at the gate and waited. The plane was there, they just needed some extra time to clean the bathrooms. Woowee, take your time, I thought, knowing that our seats would be near the back.
When they started offloading bags, I realized this was not something a plunger and Formula 409 could fix. The explanation expanded to include "leaking" and "new plane" and "4 o'clock departure." Then it included "No other flights" and "Ten dollar vouchers." Just looking out of the window revealed a giant puddle beneath the plane's midsection, and the dripping from the belly wasn't exactly a comforting sight. We were off to a great start.
We were relocated to another gate at the far end of the E terminal. This involved getting onto the tram and trucking it the rest of the way. People were sprawled over the seats, napping. There was a little jewelry counter. There was a huge window to look out at all of the planes that would be arriving AND leaving before ours. One of the people at the gates announced that there would be a water salute for a firefighter that died. Have you ever seen one of these? I never have, so I figured, why not?
A bunch of other people watched too. I staked out a space where I could see (this is critical when you're barely 5'3") Not long afterwards, a giant of a man stepped right in front of me.
"Excuse me." I said.
He swerved so he was squarely in front of me.
"Excuse me, I'm standing here." I said.
He glanced down with a look on his face that could best be described as "bemused."
I wanted to punch him, but that's not really appropriate when watching a ceremony that honors someone's life, is it? A few other people ushered me in front of them to shut me up and give me a better view. I am guessing the dude didn't speak English, but rudeness is a universally human thing, isn't it? Most of the time you don't really need to speak the same language to realize when you've done something rude to another person. How can someone stand directly in front of another person and not be sorry? I don't get it. I'll have to add that to the ever growing list of mysteries of the human race. A lot of good my degree in individual psychology did me.
2. Dead Headphone society
I am usually good about packing spare headphones, but this time I only had one set. As luck would have it, this set had lost a speaker. It was the first time this pair had failed me, and I used them daily for my workouts. I twisted it around in the jack and chalked it up to a faulty armrest. Remember when the headphones were specific to the plane? The sound was pushed through a two pronged airhose, and you had to pay for these technological wonders that ONLY worked on planes? What a racket! The first time I watched "Splash," I watched it with my sister on a flight to Italy. We (our dad) did not buy the headphones. Instead, we raised the armrest, turned the volume WAY up, and tilted our heads so we could watch the screen and hear the words. Just paying the two bucks for the headsets would have saved hundreds in chiropractor bills. Just jokes, folks. My back is fine, but my neck...
Anyway, my husband forgot his headphones. During our extended layover at Miami, he bought a pair for the high, high price of $19.99. Yes, they sucked. Yes, we got free ones in the plane. I figured my one sided speaker dilemma (it wasn't a faulty armrest, I tried them in my iPod and they still didn't work) was solved, but as soon as I stuck those freebies in, the plastic casing fell apart and the wee little speaker popped out. Oh well.
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