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Because I Feel Like Typing Words While Killing 11 Hrs At JFK



Oh hai, hockey fans and fans of other randomness (cats).  Ooo, by the way (I like that I have a tangent one sentence in) Bri and I are shopping for cat numero deux, a ragdoll.  Before you beak me, remember: it’s better than babies, for now.  Also, don’t tell my Mom, she doesn’t support it.

So sorry for the time off from Bourne’s Blog, but y’know, a dude needs a break once in awhile, and I was still writing columns.  I’ll be back pecking the keys full-time on Monday, when my brother leaves Phoenix.

For those of you who haven’t been following me on twitter, here’s my story, in short:

I was flying back to Phoenix from NY on the 26th.  My family was flying TO Phoenix from Canada on the same day.  We were going to have a lil make-up mini Christmas, as I spent my first away from them, with the Gillies family.

My brother and step-sister, who I see like, a few weeks a year, were staying for a week, my Mom and stepdad for three.

As I’m sure you heard, it snowed like an all over the Northeast on the 26th.  Our flight was at seven at night, and we knew the storm was coming, so we woke up and checked our flight.  There was not a flake of snow on the ground.  Our flight was cancelled.

The next one (and believe me, we exhausted all our options.  I’ll say it, I’m awesome at finding ways to work the airlines and their systems, but when more than FIVE THOUSAND FLIGHTS are cancelled, good luck).  I even looked into busing home after checking flights out of Philly, DC, Baltimore etc.) we could get on was Tuesday night, 48 hours later.  So we booked that, and days with my brother went *poof* into the wind.

Tuesday, we were all set to leave.  It had snowed a bunch early on, but nothing since that Sunday, and was sunny and blue.  Cancelled (equipment imbalance. Basically, the storms stopped planes from coming here, so they could fly people out no problem, they just…had no planes). 

Next available flight: Friday the 31st, getting into Phoenix at 11pm.  Jeff was to depart Sunday morning (and still is).

I’ll save you the rest, but leave it at this: After much fenagling, Bri is on a flight to Atlanta this morning, and connecting to Phoenix this afternoon.  I fly out of JFK at 7pm, so I’m here, with 11 hours to kill (seven to go).

On a brighter note….this is the Rag we’re looking at:

Bri has the good one, I'll fire it up when I get it sent to me.

 The color will spread to most of his face (he’s a blue-mitted ragdoll), and he’s adorable.  Name suggestions?


So Christmas was a whirlwind.  Visit them, drink this, drink that, visit them.  I mean, constant.  I even hung out with fellow PD writer Sean Leahy a couple times and had an absolute blast, the second in a box at the Isles game to watch the Lightning play (the Isles won in overtime on the Tavares winner, miracle of miracles).

Below is a pic of the aftermath, in which he came to the Gillies to watch 24/7, which Pam had DVR’ed for us… Spanish.  Ah well, good try.

The Gillies fully dumb, fully huge Newfoundland, Cash.

I actually toured the NHL offices (courtesy Mark Fischel, the credential guy for NHL events, and absolute gem of a human) after our engagement photos too, so that was pretty cool.  Check out the entrance to the NHL offices “show floor,” AKA the one visitors walk into.  While we were there some of the head honchos were having a meeting in a glassed-in conference room.  Very interesting stuff.

The offices are more badass than I expected, very Men In Black.

We actually met writer Brian Compton for beers later that night – he was a great guy too, we had a hell of a day.

Now, a few more pics!  I’ll be back writing soon - I’m sure Callum has another post in him before I’m back, enjoy!

This was given as a gift from Clark to my bro-in-law, a Beantown-based Bruins fan.

The 1.5 year old Cash again.

And last, a link to my twitter account so you can (a) watch the TwitVid that so succinctly summarizes Long Island (it’s a local commercial), and (b) follow me and my travel and maybe TwitPics of this dude beside me wearing a sweater-vest over a fully-buttoned plaid button-up, eating BK so aggressively he has to repeatedly stop to wipe sweat from his brow.

UPDATE: He ate my phone.


9 Responses to “Because I Feel Like Typing Words While Killing 11 Hrs At JFK”
  1. Mlembo says:

    What should Jan do with all her scrap metal?

  2. jtbourne says:

    Jan has a shit-ton of scrap metal in her defense. It’s an extremely complicated situation.

  3. minnesotagirl71 says:

    Cat name suggestion – since you’ve got Tyson named for his face tats. Maybe this one (blue mitted ragdoll) needs to be named after a hockey player or boxer who wore blue gloves.

    And GOOD LORD that is a huge dog! Is that a full grown moose in his mouth?

  4. Mlembo says:

    Blue mask?…Smitty…Smitty the Kitty

  5. SDC says:

    Since you could use a little humor, I have to admit that I thought when you said you were shopping for a ragdoll, I thought (and truly hoped) that you meant you were literally shopping for a ragdoll — like the chew-toy variety. I was perplexed at why it was taking you two to find such a basic item that surely was readily available at any pet store; I just assumed you were looking for something very specific. You know cat people, they’re weird.

    Now you’re going to have two. For crying out loud, you’re that guy with 2 cats.

    Also, at quick glance, I thought Cash had eaten someone; it looked like a human hand trying to escape from his mouth.

    Bon voyage!

  6. LaurenceB says:

    Yeah! I love ragdoll ;o)

  7. MattyJ says:

    Cat names: Homer or Probie.

  8. Cory says:

    I’m terrible with naming things… but I would call him Biz. Or maybe Pluggy.

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