Ad Hudler - Ad Libbing

Dear Taylor: Be on the lookout for Billy
Friday, September 3, 2010

I recently had some work done on a bathroom drain in the Nashville condo. Billy, the plumber, was punctual and fixed everything as I asked. Then the weirdness set in when it was time to leave.

"You know, Taylor Swift lives in this building," he said.

"No," I said. "She lives in that one. Over there." And I pointed to the highrise where Miss Swift has the penthouse in Nashville's West End, which I can see from our window.

"Are you sure? I thought she was in here."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"Penthouse?"

"Yep."

"Now, where exactly is that building? Looks like it's by the stadium."

"I'm not sure."

"Do you know what street it's on?"

"Sorry. No."

"Do you think they have security like they do in this building?"

"Oh, I'm sure they do," I said.

"Do you think someone could get into the lobby?"

"I'm guessing so. Yeah."

"But probably not up to the Penthouse, right? I mean it would be hard to get up there without that little key fob thing that you use in the elevator, right?"

"Impossible," I said, feeling protective and fatherly to the young singer who is almost my daughter's age.

A bad night of sleep...
Thursday, September 2, 2010

... and here's why. Yep, the boys of Coconut Drive, their womenfolk gone for the night, took their annual pilgrimage to Hooters for hot wings. We didn't finish these, but I sure got sick trying. Pass the Pepto Bismol please.

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Help is needed on Coconut Drive
Monday, August 30, 2010

Problem: I am watching old episodes of The Love Boat on hulu.com and cannot stop. Intervention needed.

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How do I love thee, airtran? Let me count the ways.
Sunday, August 29, 2010

Reason No. 1: They offer free coffee at some gates in ATL, though it is usually empty ... but the sentiment is good, right?

Reason No 2: They're not Delta, which has gone to hell in a handbasket ... although Delta still under-prices Airtran at times.

Reason No. 3: For a few bucks more you can get a better seat (more legroom or an aisle)....and you can do this at the kiosk.

Reason No. 4: They're not Delta.

Reason No. 5: For $49-$129, depending on the route, you can upgrade to business class.

Reason No. 6: They were the first to offer wi-fi on every flight.

Reason No. 7: They have the best inflight magazine published today. Very clever, lots of great info.

Reason No. 8: They let you fly stand-by without paying a fee.

Reason No. 9: They're generally nicer and happier than Delta folk.

Reason No. 10: They're not Delta.

And who can't like that small-A on the tail of the planes? I mean, it's cute and friendly and humble. I kinda wish they'd paint a face on it, though.

A quirky trait of Nashvillains
Wednesday, August 25, 2010

First of all, don't you like what they call themselves? NashVILLAINS? Kinda fun, don't you think?

After spending a great amount of time in this wonderful city, I think I finally understand the "villain" part: Honestly, most drivers in Music City are very courteous, but they do something that drives me crazy. You know how you're never supposed to block an intersection? Even if the light is green, you're supposed to stay back unless you know you can clear that intersection. Right?

Well, Nashvillains don't do that. They fill that intersection all the way with cars, blocking the cross traffic that has the green light and right of way....and you must sit there through two lights because they've done this.

Really, it's not the exception here; it's the rule. I've never seen anything like it.

Incidentally, have you noticed how many of my blogs are about peoples' driving habits? Isn't there some Obama money out there for a Driving Czar? Would someone please nominate me?

Lies, all lies, at 35,000 feet
Sunday, August 22, 2010

I've always been skeptical about airlines' claim that ANY electronic device is dangerous in flight because it can mess with the plane's navigation system. Do you know how I know this? Because my wife and I rarely turn off our cell phones. Shhhh, don't tell on us. We just don't bother. Or we forget. And the road warriors riding up front in the big seats? Ha! You know their phones are on as well.

Now, I don't know about you, but I can't recall an epidemic of planes dropping from the skies due to cell phones not being turned off. Hmmm. Maybe it happened when I was on vacation in Italy? Anyone? Did I miss this?

Now they're making us turn off our kindles (and other e-readers) until we reach 10,000 feet. So you know what I do? I take that nice copy of the free inflight magazine, open it, set my kindle right in the middle and pretend that I'm reading the magazine ... the same way I hid comic books in my textbooks in grammar school.

NOTE TO AIRLINE EXECUTIVES: Methinks you are lying. Remember when you said our phones had to be off AT ALL TIMES while we were on board? And then renegade Jetblue started flying and told passengers they were free to use their phones the second the plane's wheels hit the tarmac? And then you all had to follow suit, right?

Oh ... and now that you have wi-fi on board that you will charge us for ... suddenly, it's okay to have those browsers up and running while the plane is flying?

Off soapbox.

A note to all you bald guys (and the ladies who love them) ...
Thursday, August 19, 2010

I work out at a wellness center run by a hospital, which means I am surrounded by old people with strained hearts, bad backs, artificial hips, diabetes, you name it. My friends ask me why I don't go to a serious weight-lifters gym with younger people, but I don't want to change. First, the free-weight section is all mine. Other than those little 5-pound dumbbells, the rest of the stuff gathers dust unless I use it myself; there's never a wait for the bench press. The other reason I like my gym is because I meet the most interesting people, some of them precariously balancing on that fence that separates reality from illusion. Here's yesterday's sample:

I was outside, talking with a friend who is bald, like me. An older, stooped gentleman with yellowish skin and an oxygen tube in his nose approached us.

"You need to wear a hat," he said in some eastern-European accent. "The radiation is going to kill your brain."

"Uhhh, well, okay, thanks very much," I said. "Wish I had your head of nice white hair and I wouldn't have to worry about that."

"I am quite serious about this. It can happen in just a few minutes. Your brain will be gone, and you won't even know it."

"Oh, okay," I said, looking at my friend with a is-this-one-of-your-friends? looks.

"Yes," the old man said. "I know about this because I used to be an American guerrilla."

"American guerrilla?" my friend asked.

"Yes, like in the Middle East only for America. I used to be all over the world. Once I was infiltrating Nazi officers, and I didn't have a gun with me, and you know what I did?"

He reached down into the V of his opened shirt. I thought for a minute that he was readjusting his oxygen tube when he pulled out a pen.

"See this?" he said, holding up the pen. "This is a weapon. I killed somebody that day with it. You know how you kill someone with this?"

I took a guess: "Poke it through their eye?"

"Yes! Right into the brain. The eye is a window into the brain. So I pretended I was having chest pains, like this," he said, patting his heart, "and instead I pulled out a pen ..." He nearly lost his balance as he simulated the unsheathing of his weapon from between his breastbones. "And I ..."

"You speared him in the eye?!"I said. "Are you serious?"

"Just like that!" he said, snapping his fingers.

"Did you kill him?" I asked.

"Instantly."

I would have probed further, but his rent-a-nurse had gotten out of the car and walked over to us and said, "Mr. Blah-Blah, there you are. I've been looking for you."

As she lead him away he turned one more time toward us and said, anemically snapping his fingers, "Just like THAT! ... Be careful of your brains!"

Indeed, I thought. I certainly will.