Got here (well almost – I think we’re still on the mainland, at the Hotel Moderno which, despite its name, is quite charming and …old. But is has Internet. I’ll have pictures to post once my iPhone recovers from battery depletion but I wanted to alert some of you – Walt, I mean you – to the best travel tip since wearing sandals and see-through garments: a wheelchair passenger.
Walt, you’ll love this (and Greenwich Girl, avert your eyes – it will only upset you). I figure with what Monica’s gone through this year she’ll fit the part perfectly but otherwise, man, strip down to your Depends and hop on board a wheelchair.It gets you everywhere, ahead of everyone. Line at the check-in? Not for the wheeled – right to the front, escorted there personally by cheerful airport personnel in bright yellow shirts. Same thing for customs, boarding, you name it, whisk right on by.
“But Chris,” I can hear you whining already, you cheap skate, “isn’t it expensive having all those porters working for you? Don’t they expect tips or something?” AHA! here is my next important trip. Before leaving, I had purchased a roll of shiny new states quarters – the ones with pictures of our respective fifty states – and pressed one into the grasping paws of each wheelchair pusher who, having run us around 12 miles from one end of Madrid Airport to the other, for instance. Judging from the look of surprise on their faces, I don’t believe they’d ever received on before. It’s so nice to be a gracious American spreading good will throughout the world, don’t you agree Walt? And of course, the price can’t be beat.
So chew on that, Walt, as you mull your escape. I’m off to feed those famous pigeons. I’ve listened to my Tom Lehr and brought along something special, just for them.