Regrettably, my blog has taken a backseat over the last month due to some more pressing issues regarding my personal life. I simultaneously was moving out of my apartment and moving in with my girlfriend while trying to stay abreast to the stream of poker information and coming out to Vegas for the WSOP, all the while putting together some CR videos. Some things had to be pushed to the back burner, and unfortunately this blog fell into that group. Thankfully, I have had an opportunity to finally take a breathe so I'll be blogging much more often.

Moving is always tough, and I might go into the whole ordeal in a future blog. I would like to take a minute to plug Erin's, my girlfriend, blog:

http://www.thepocketqueen.wordpress.com/

It takes the effects of Black Friday and personalizes it from a perspective of someone in a relationship with someone affected. She's a great writer and very excited about it, so let her know what you think!

My favorite part of any trip is the plane taking off. It's not so much that I am marveled by the fact that I am sitting in a metal cylinder in a chair that places me among the myths of Mt. Olympus (though that fact does still drop my jaw from time to time), but rather that all the stressors of the airport are behind me.

To be fair, a lot of the stress I encounter is completely self-created. I have a term for this: Up against it. After so many years of having a free-form schedule, my mind has made it so that whenever there is a deadline, I have to make it a close-call. Even if I am sitting around doing nothing, I will subconsciously find time-fillers until I have passed over the threshold where a reasonable person would start the process of meeting said deadline. Ironically, this process of meticulous procrastination has taken years off the back end of my girlfriend's life. She is a planner. She now plans me to arrive 15 minutes late. She's a good planner.

There is nowhere I am more "up against it" than my battles with the TSA. I have such a disdain for the TSA (the organization that handles airport security in the US) that I like to keep score. I like to get to the airport as late as possible for my flight, bull my way through security by whatever means necessary, and promptly give the TSA the finger from the window of my plane as I find the last seat unoccupied. Currently, I am undefeated with an asterisk (Technically I missed one flight, but it was due to swapping the departure and landing time while changing time zones so I showed up three hours passed my flight's time. If you are familiar with the NHL - GO PENS - it's officially recorded in my book as a loss in overtime.)

My overall gripe with the TSA is how the paying customers are treated like such shit. Anytime there is a question, they look at you like you are a retarded version of the Riddler and dismiss you with a bark. I have only ever encountered one person out of probably a thousand who ever went out of her way to help me with a problem. That was in McCarran and I wish I remembered her name to give her the credit she is due.

This last flight out to Vegas yielded what some might call an MVP-in-the-finals performance. My flight was to leave at 5:55pm out of Midway. I live about a 30 minute drive away from Midway, though at that time it can take easily an hour. Erin kindly offered to take me and we planned to leave promptly at 4:00pm.

4:18 and we are out the door.

Traffic was miserable. Every lane leading to Michigan from Lake Shore was under construction. It took us an hour and ten minutes to traverse the 12 miles to Midway.

5:28pm She drops me off.

For anyone who is a seasoned veteran of the airport run around, you already know that curbside check-in ends 45 minutes prior to take off. Oh yeah, did I mentioned I had two huge bags to check and had to print a boarding pass? In this WWF showdown, the TSA's manager, Fathertime, hits me with a chair to the face behind the ref's back. I'm not phased. The crowd is chanting. I grab the ropes and stumble to my feet.

5:29pm I kindly ask for advice from the woman at the Southwest line. A blank stare and then she tells me to read the signs. Illiteracy is no laughing matter, but it's always funny when someone implies you are.

5:30pm I print my boarding pass. There's no line. I clothesline the TSA and go for the cover. Fathertime breaks the cover at the last second. The crowd boos.

I turn around. I have two options and both suck. On one side is the line for just checking bags. It looks to be about 50 people long. Even if each person takes 30 seconds (very optimistic) I'll be watching my plane take off from the security line. My second option is somehow worse. It's a shorter line, maybe 25 people, but it's full service and a lot of families. Families take forever. It looks like the TSA will finally get the belt.

5:32pm A light-bulb appears over my head that the Grinch would envy. I have three bags: An overstuffed garment bag, a huge suitcase, and a laptop bag. I carefully ponder...what if there was no Christmas? No presents? No stockings on the mantle? Then Christmas wouldn't come at all! I hurriedly open up my garment bag. There is absolutely no room. I try to unzip the middle portion and stuff in my hard laptop case. It looks like I'm smuggling a panda. That won't do.

5:35pm I've lost. The crowd is trying its hardest, but the TSA has a good grip and all is lost. "1...2.." I kick out. The crowd erupts. Fathertime goes pale. I open up the top compartment of the garment bag which is also black. I attach my laptop case to pseudo-blend-in. I undo the hooks on the tri-fold garment. Then I unzip the bottom zipper and let the flap hang as if it's connected to the upper portion. It's not, but no one knows that with how I'm carrying it.

5:39pm I go for my finishing move, the Rock-Bottom. The TSA lies motionless. I confidently stroll down the ramp to security. My suitcase, which is double the size of the overhead bin, obstructed behind me. My garment bag "attached" to my laptop case over my shoulder like a cape. I have my boarding pass and ID ready while I make idle conversation with the guard. I'm still an underdog to make it passed security with possession that wouldn't fit in a Conestoga wagon. He waves me by. I strut around the ring confidently as the crowd urges me to go for the cover.

5:41pm I carefully pick my security line. I look for people slumping in their chairs disinterested. I look for the unfocused. I find him. He is overweight, about 45, and if I slapped him in the face he wouldn't notice. I act quickly. I remove any items from my suitcases that are over 4oz to avoid unwanted attention. I take my laptop case and push it in a bucket very close to the girl in front of me. She is traveling with just a backpack and one might have thought this was her laptop. Then I buckle up the garment to look as small as possible and have it slightly cover the big suitcase. I push it through and hold my breathe.

5:43pm "1..." The crowd is on the edge of their seats. "..2..." No one is sitting anymore. "...3!" Its all over! The mascot for the TSA waves me through. All my bags are cleared. Now just the formality of pretending to be befuddled at the end of the jet-way, gate checking my bags, grabbing the last seat and its done. I even have time to grab a sandwich for the flight.

But wait, how good do I run? The last seat on the plane is in the middle of a couple from the west coast who were separated in the row of three to try to not have anyone sit with them. The man in the aisle moves to the center, and I enjoy my aisle seat and my Turkey and Swiss in the 4th row of the plane. The TSA and Fathertime slink off towards the dressing room. The belt stays with its true champion.