blonde poker forum

Funny place London. I love it. I particularly love it first thing in the morning going to work on the tube. Now I thought I would hate the daily grind of getting on a cramped tube train. Horrible smelly sweaty blokes crushing up against you as you hang on for dear life and try and read the paper.

Of course I would be the horrible sweaty smelly bloke and the pretty leggy blonde would be hanging on for dear life. Well she would in my dreams.

But no! My journey into work involves strolling the mile to the station. I get on the train and always get a seat. I have the phone off and I read for forty minutes. Forty minutes of totally unadulterated self indulgence. I have been reading all sorts of books. I finally got to read Sea Biscuit, and a book on presentation called Impact but my favourite so far has been Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers. Magnificent. Just a marvellous look at random events that then get pulled together at the end.

So my first tale from the tube is this. The reason that most people are quiet on the tube is that it is probably the only moment of peace they get. Alternatively it could be that they are just rude and ignorant. Funny place London............more tales from the Tube next week.

Hello Snatty,

hope you are well sir.

Geo

Outliers is very insightful imo. Worth reading all his books if you get a chance Snat

I used to read loads when I did the twice-daily hour on the tube.  Kind of sad now that I have much more time on my hands I read a lot less - another thing to add to the list of stuff I need to work to rectify.  Tubes are also a good place for taking naps.  In 17 years of commuting I only once or twice failed to wake up bang as I reached my stop.

40 minutes, always a seat and a book would be heaven. I do St Pancras<>Piccadilly Circus and always choose the 35 minute walk over 20 minutes with my nose in someone's armpit.

me too. Slept both ways, woke up a minute before my stop at either end

This week has been a fascinating one on the jolly old Tube. Monday had chino day. I have no idea why everybody should suddenly get on my carriage wearing chinos. It did get me wondering as to whether or not there was some sort of secret Facebook page that people logged on to that gave them their clothes choices for the following day. How could I not know about this? I was wearing grey strides and haven’t felt that left out since I thought mince pies were full of minced beef at Michael May’s seventh birthday party.

Now this would have been all well and good but on Tuesday it was protuberance day. Yes it was Monty Python’s big nose day. Now there are normally a few red sea pedestrians, myself included, on the train due to its journey through the ghettos of Edgware, Golders Green and Hendon but this was well different. Eastern Europeans, Middle Easterners, WASP’s, Jews the lot and all with bloody huge noses. Mine felt positively button like in comparison and not a pair of Chinos in site.  All very strange.

The day that really crucified me though was Wednesday. Get on the tube with a dog day. Now those of you who know me, know that for some reason animals just do not like me. Quite how I managed to kill twenty one fish in just one day I still have no idea. Their mass suicide to this day plays on my conscience. Anyway, in one journey to work I see eight dog owners and their animals. Now at the risk of upsetting dog lovers everywhere I do of course have a question. when these dogs go for a wee on the underground who the bloody hell clears up the mess?

Next week.....how to get a seat on the tube when it is crowded.
Oh and this weeks book is "How to have kick-ass ideas"

Wb Snatty, missed your tales mate :)

i like this thread

I remember my initial fascination with London. I loved it for 2 years. Then I moved to the Suburbs to "enjoy london" but not be in london - then i left after 6 years in total, when i realised that although its a great place, there is definately more to life!

Please keep enjoying it snatty, please keep finding humour in the situations, and dont let the fekkers pull you down!

Keep up the good work

Not so wrong - they used to be. I used to work with a historical cooking geek (bit of a weirdo frankly, but he brought in food, so can't complain). He made traditional mince pies once, mincemeat actually had steak in it. Lovely.

/Geek :)

First line of para 3 is pure gold given the content of para 2.

Must be your table chat!

IIRC they were always a mixture of sweet and savoury but gradually they kept on getting made with more and more fruit and less and less meat until you end up with what we have now

I found an old recipe for mince pies before, but I've never got round to making it.

So how do you get a seat on the tube when it is crowded? Oh let me count the ways. Of course there is the obvious walk down the aisle and let the most enormous fart go. I promise somebody will get off at the next stop even if it is Mornington Crescent. Mornington Crescent for those who don’t know used to be a point of congregation for punks in the 70’s and was quite violent back then.

Let’s be honest though that is a little anti social. My new favourite is to get on smiling and saying good morning to everyone. You know, take an interest in all your fellow passengers and watch them all desert your carriage at the earliest opportunity for fear of having to communicate. It is a bit like the old Jasper Carrot sketch about the nutter on the bus.

Please feel free to add your own ideas and I will try them and report back the results. For now I would like to move on to a much more serious matter. This week it has come to my attention that there is a dangerous group of tube people that need “outing”. Let me introduce you to the Reakers. The Reakers read while they walk from one platform to the next and are particularly dangerous.

Why are they doing this? I wondered whether it was some sort of silent “Hey look at me do two things at once” but have decided that these people need taking on in no uncertain manner. I now play Reaker chicken and urge you to join me. If you see somebody walking and reading simultaneously I want you to walk straight at them. If they dodge you, then you get two points for proving that they were not really reading. If you hit them then you lose a point and they really are stupid. My apologies to the beautiful blond woman who was reading Stig Larsson’s book but I am sure the bruises will heal soon.
My score for this week is plus seven.

Yesterday I found a mode of transport that knocks the tube into a cocked hat but that will have to wait until next week.
Mind the gap!

Superb!! Love the tales from the tube!!

Just caught up with the last couple of entries, compulsive reading as per usual.

So glad you're back to writing the odd tale for us.  Always an entertaining read.  xx

Ahhh you guys are all so lovely.

I just enjoy writing my drivel

I love to read whilst walking...obviously you can still see people with your peripheral vision and I wouldn't read a book as you actually need to focus when readin a good book but the Metro is perfectly readable whilst walking

I contest that the Metro is readable in any way. It is without doubt the "Janet and John" of newspapers but hey ho it is a different world.

I did think that I could start shouting at them "OI YOU REAKER!" but apparently that has been done already

lol..Fair point. I'm actually quite happy I just drive to work now and can just buy the times, like normal people :)

Today’s piece was going to be all about planes. I had it all mapped out in my head and then something happened and I felt compelled to change topic and share it with you. You see I have just found out that I am not a ghost.

Now this has come as quite a shock to me. You see all week people have tried to walk straight bloody through me. Now let’s be honest I am not a small unit. I mean if you were going to walk straight through somebody one might believe you would start on somebody who isn’t going to send you three feet backwards as you bounce off their stomach. But I am afraid not. Yet again this week a new game was invented.

To play this game what you have to do is the following. Walk slowly. Make believe that each step is excruciatingly painful due to some muscular failing in your right leg, though I suspect your left leg would work equally as well. Then walk oh so slowly as you change from the Northern line to the Hammersmith and City. It never fails. People instantly try to walk straight through you to get to their desperately important destination which I am led to believe is the Starbucks coffee chain to get a caffeine hit before going to their place of work.

For three days I have been struggling in this manner. Normal people tutting me as I just try to get to and from work. In fact at one point I felt like such an anti hero that I stopped next to some tourists who were blocking the entrance to my platform checking the station board. I did this just to annoy normal commuter man.

And how did I find out I was not a ghost. Well this afternoon somebody who actually bumped into me said sorry. Funny how it is the small things that make a difference.

Until next week, please stand behind the yellow line

Loving your work Phil.

To all those that read this stuff and have told me they like it.....I thank you

The aeroplane story goes as follows. No I just can’t do it. Not this week anyway. I will get to it at some point but right now I have to talk about escalators. I am compelled to share this very important and little known fact. When transferring from the Northern line to the Hammersmith and City at Kings Cross one of the escalators moves faster than the other.
Now bear with me here. I am not talking about the poxy little first escalator you get on; oh no I am talking about the monstrously large second escalator. There are two escalators that go up at this point I call them Victoria and Albert as they are quite old. Victoria is the one on the left and Albert is the one on the right and Albert covers the journey faster than Victoria.

On my first day I had the misfortune to mount Victoria only to find Albert’s passengers slowly going past me. It was at this point I decided to measure just how much faster Albert is. Well today I finished my incredibly scientific research and the answer is ten steps. The problem I have is that now I know this I find myself faced with the true British dilemma. Do I go on something that you know will get there faster or do I rebel and go on the slowly meandering Victoria with her quaint charms of the advertising boards.

Furthermore, as you probably know, you are meant to stand on the right of the escalator so that the left is kept clear for people who want to walk up in a hurry because they are late for their Costa coffee. Well what do I tell the people walking up Victoria? “Oi you!! You are on the slow one so you can’t be in that much of a rush”. I don’t think so. No I think what I shall do is what I always do. I shall quietly smile to myself and remember that a little research can save a whole load of effort, get you where you want to be faster and in a more relaxed and better frame of mind.

Until next week please allow the passengers off the train first please!

Victoria sounds a nice escalator.  As escalators go. 

i love tales from the tube!!

You just blew all of your action on a decent prop. bet, but I will cut you in for a %age should it mature.

This is without doubt my favorite thread, i miss the tube especially the northern line, i used to travel from the bottom of Islington up to Totteridge & Whetstone nearly every day in the summer hols to go and play golf. i had various routes depending on what bus turned up first it was either south to old st or north to archway but if the 271 bus was being awkward which it often was I could find myself walking to the angel. I will never forget the day i was stopped by the transport police as a train pulled in to Archway he asked to look in my plastic bag because someone fitting my description (yeah right) had been spotted spraying graffiti, the look on his face when he saw my golf shoes was priceless lol.

Best escalator is Angel - standing at the bottom is like looking up at infinity.

Snatty

i would encourage you to use the stairs at covent garden - just once!

Loving this thread btw - BoB plz

I hadthe misfortune to do it just the once when I was a lot younger. Makes Positano feel like a cake walk!!!

Hmm never been......a gap in my education

I have a good bus tube story that happened this week.......one for a later date

i was never a big tube fan when I lived in london. Despite being young and dynamic :) i liked the bus. I lived and worked in north finchley, with occasional forays into our office on marlybone road, just along from baker st. The no 13 or 82 bus would take you almost right to the front door. sitting upstairs, smoking, you got a real eagle-eyes view of the wholte journey. I remember it well, down thru ballards lane in  finchley central, down regents park road, across the north circular into golders green. down finchley road , thru swiss cottage and st johns wood, and past regents park onto baker street.

I knew pubs at virtually every point on this route, as sometimes I would get bored and get off, a journey home from work could take upwards of 4-5 hours  ;boltpp;

YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFqQOlYE4EE

I promised to never go on ski's again after totally wiping out a group of small children....I shall leave it to your imagination

 rotflmfao rotflmfao

So where to begin for this week’s tale from the tube. Where indeed. Every journey to this point had been pretty much a pleasure. No real delays or problems. Then without warning on the way home a few days ago it happened.

“Fire at Hendon no trains beyond Hampstead”

Sat on a train that had just left Euston. Sat patiently. Calmly. Sent myself into a deep relaxation and just let the rest of the world get upset. Upset they got. The hotter it got the more upset they got. I have often wondered why we all get angrier when it is hot but I am not curious enough to go and look on Wikipedia.

Eventually the train pulls away but now instead of going to Edgware it is going to High Barnet. So we pull into Camden Town. Now for those of you who don’t know, this is where the line splits. One branch to High Barnet and the other to Edgware. I know all the people for Edgware are going to get off at Camden and decide this course of action would be poor judgement. When everybody is selling you should always buy, apparently.

Sure enough half the train alights onto an already crowded platform. I find a seat and try and work out the best place to get off, to have the shortest cab journey home. Oh yes not for me standing by a bus stop, waiting for an overcrowded bus particularly as I still have some poker winnings in my wallet. I decide Finchley Central is my best bet. I can then get a cab that can cut through to Holders Hill Circus to Mill Hill and then on to Edgware.

The problem with my new plan is there are absolutely no sodding taxis at Finchley Central. No I think they must have gone towards Camden and Golders Green to get fares as soon as they heard about the problem on the Northern line. Well that’s what I like to think. More likely they were in the bookies betting on the evening racing.

So I decide to walk. Now my feet have been killing me and the thought of the walk is not a pleasant one. I cross over Ballards Lane and into Nether Street and find a bus stop that shows there is a bus that goes to Holders Hill Circus and it is due in five minutes. Heart says “walk”. Feet say “bugger off!” I wait for the bus. As I am waiting the most wonderfully attractive woman joins me. She is in a similar predicament. So we laugh and chat the way people do when faced with adversity, and we decide at Holders Hill Circus we will wait for a bus and if one is not due for a while we will share a taxi.

I always find that there is something wonderful about new company. I am just interested in the stories people have to tell, and for some reason people like to tell them to me. Well I don’t have permission to divulge what we chatted about, but the time and the journey went quickly, and from what could have been a real inconvenience the situation turned out to be a lovely experience.

The 240 from Golders Green to Edgware duly arrived, whisking us both back to normality and routine but just for half an hour, two strangers having a similar traumatic experience rose above it and made the most of an opportunity.
Although we can’t always control our lives we can decide how we are going to deal with the cards we get dealt.

Until next week. Please be aware that that there is no service between Paddington and Hammersmith.

I am saddened to have to report that I seem to have had a reaction to a tube illness. It would appear to be quite a bad illness and I don’t think there is a cure for it. I have detected that the majority of tube station escalators are suffering from Creeping Handrail. Indeed both Albert and Victoria have contracted this malady.

 The symptoms of the illness are as follows. Well initial outward signs are undetectable. One just gets on the escalator and rests one hand gently on the handrail. Holding neither too firmly or lightly. Just gripping exactly as it would say in the user guide, if there were one. Ever so slowly I notice that my hand is starting to creep away from the rest of my body. My reaction to this illness is of course stubbornness. It takes such a short period of time, but soon enough, I am stretched out so far that I look like something from a Norman Wisdom movie.

Now the logical thing to do would be to just let go, but it is not that easy. You see let’s assume that germs can survive on an escalator handrail for as long as they can on a door handle, as portrayed in the government awareness campaign. Every time I put my hand on the handrail I run the risk of picking up something unpleasant. If I let go and then grip again, I am doubling the risk of picking up an illness. Worse still if I just hold lightly and let the handrail slip through my hand, it turns me into a germ collecting dam.

So there is nothing for it but to hold on and not let go, though I have to admit that I do get some strange looks and comments. My favourite to date is “How can you be drunk at 8 o’clock in the morning”.

Now where is my book on Howard Hughes?

This special bonus post was brought to you courtesy of Edgware Road station.

 rotflmfao ;tightend; ;applause;  My first giggle of the morning!  x

lol I noticed that the handrail moved many years ago in my youth and I did exactly that as you did, I was young at the time in my early twenties. all dolled up in my high heels too, I got some strange looks!

In my youth I lived at Tufnell Park and many a time I got on the train on Northern Line and fell asleep, ending up at Finchley or Barnet.

Great thread, look forward to next episode.

Isn't it great how this totally innocuous subject touches so many people with such memories.....I love it.

Since my reacquaintance with the tube one thing, more than any other, has troubled me. I was always brought up to give up my seat to somebody older or a woman. Now apparently this is, in our new super evolved everything is equal society, not the done thing. Oh no, not only now does the poor bloke who offers his seat feel embarrassed, but the poor lady who is the recipient of this gallantry, can feel the daggers of every feminist and down trodden man willing her to say “No it is okay thank you”. Of course the look on her face is one that says “Of course I want to sit down. I am woman. I am programmed to only buy shoes that kill my feet!”

So to today and the mother of all dilemmas. The train reaches Hampstead and the most drop dead gorgeous thirty something gets onto the train. I mean immaculate. I do so love business women. The smart suit, the faint aroma of very expensive perfume. Now I should give up my seat. In my world it is the right thing to do. Of course if I do then the whole train are going to be judgemental in the extreme. Torn. Totally unsure what to do next. The funny thing is I know that I am not the only one having these thoughts.

I have a bloke standing right in front of me and he will sit in the seat if I just stand up. I know he will do this as I saw him push in front of Lady Lovely as they got on. So the question is what should I do? So I smile at Lady Lovely and tell her I am getting off at the next stop whilst in one fluid movement standing on Peter Pushy’s foot so that she could sit down. The train pulls in at Belsize Park and I get off. And get straight back on one car down.

This is I know quite ludicrous behaviour. Or is it? You see I honestly believe that nothing in life is equal. I am a six foot tall, fat, bald, glass wearing man. I am different to every other man and for that matter every other woman. If I want to give up my seat why should I feel so guilty or even give a toss about the rest of the train. The truth is I don’t. I do, however, care that my actions might cause somebody else embarrassment.......

Until next week. The next Eastbound train will arrive in four minutes.

LOLZ, you really do that Snat? WP, even though not a preggers female or Tikay-aged dude.
Just caught up with this thread...
If you want the ultimate hand-rail-ahead-of-foot-movement escalator, get yo ass down to the Beau Rivage. You'll end up 12ft tall and it only goes up one level.
They've been showing a WPT event from 'The Beau' on Sky Sports the last couple of nights. Absolute quality. Some old guy called Hilbert, who used to knock around with Doyle and Dewey, made the final four. So southern it's beyond belief. Can't wait to get back there next January. Table for four at the barbequuuuuuuue joint please, me, Dooey, Doyley and Hilbert.

I wish I did it more, but some mornings I am asleep and some I am surrounded by city types so I don't bother. Sometimes I am so early there is nobody standing....
 I might get a game in Miami when I go over there with work. I promise to write it up if I do. Biloxi sounds nuts. Maybe you should wear a t-shirt with country music sucks, or Gay power to see if you can tilt half the table before you start. Of course you may not get away alive but it would be exciting!

Haha great story,crazy but funny the perfect mix.

Have you ever had to walk up the stairs at Hampstead? I believe it is the deepest underground station. I went to school at Hampstead and when the lifts were out of order it was such a long trek up the stairs.

My dear TJ I have tried not walk up the stairs at our house.

Taken from Wiki

It has the deepest lift shaft on the Underground at 181 feet. There is also a spiral emergency staircase, made up of over 320 steps.

So it is highly unlikely that I will be going to check that the number 320 is correct. Mind you thinking of the Topography of Hampstead it is not a surprise........

I am from the north... say i wanted to go to Canada Square, London, and planned on getting a train from southampton how would i get from Waterloo to India Quay (i think this is the nearest tube station!),

Should I try and get there some other way.

Any help much appreciated, I've been on the tube twice.  It was very exciting, with people moving around really quickly, the first time i was 12 and didnt really mind where i went the second time i was a little worse for where as i was attending leeds vs doncaster at wembley.

If you're from the north then getting a train from Southampton is way out of your way...

Once you get to Waterloo, get the Jubilee line to Canary Wharf - you can probs walk from there rather than faffing about going one stop on the DLR (whose stations are really close together).

canary wharf is surely the closest station anyway. canary wharf tower is no. 1 canada sq

haha, good point.  visiting the missus' parents who live in southampton!

- thanks for your help !

Canary Wharf is great fun over lunchtime on any weekday. I love its bustle and life. you definitely want to take the advice and use it for Canada Square.

And so to this weeks post.

In life there are always skills that you just wish you had. I could never bounce a football on my foot. I tried for what seemed like forever and managed to get to a record of five. Pathetic. I always wanted to be a rally driver but I just do not have that ability. Indeed the closest I came to rally driving was managing to bury the hire car axle deep in sand on a beach in Spain.

Now it may appear that there is no particular skill or ability necessary to sit on a tube train but dear reader you are wrong. You see I just can’t fall asleep on a tube train. I do not have the inner security that allows me to be relaxed in a train full of people. Now I have tried. I got on the train absolutely shattered, settled down and closed my eyes. No good. I can feel people moving. What if one of them grabs my case and runs off? What if somebody falls and bumps into me? No for me the tube is an eyes open, watch everything experience.

Now there are some masters of the.... sleep on the tube game. Introducing the slumper. Gets on with his Tesco carrier bag that had his lunch in it. Settles down in his seat and within fifteen seconds is slumped over the poor unfortunate person sitting next to him. Please note slumpers are always men.

Then there is the dribbler. Sorry but you can use your own imagination on that one. My absolute favourite however is the random snorter. Nods off and just before getting into a deep sleep snorts himself awake and, startled, looks around the carriage to see if anybody noticed. Well mate I noticed, and I am now going to shoot you one of my, yes you did just snort like a Rhino,looks.

Even as I write this I realise why I do not have this ability of sleeping on the tube. I fear I might just be a slumping, dribbling, snorter and the shame would be just too much.

Until next week. There are minor delays on the Metropolitan line.

I never sleep on the tube but on the train down to London from Nottingham i often fall asleep. I'm a snorter. FML.

he he great read, always amazes me how 99% of people who do fall asleep never miss their stop !  It's like waking up just before the alarm clock goes of in the morning...what clever human beings we are !

that always amazed me

12 years of commuting, would sleep start to finish of the journey at either end of the day and never miss my stop at either end

I've always envied people who can fall asleep on trains.

I remember when I went to blonde bash 2 (Glasgow) - instead of booking a hotel I decided to just stay up all night then get the first train back the next day, thinking I'd get some kip on the 6 hour journey back to London.

No such luck - instead I sat there in this zombie-like state. Not asleep but not really properly awake either.

Lucky I don't get up until 6

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-10964766

Had to take the car.

Fellow Tubesters apologies for the break in posts. As I write this I am sitting in the lounge at Miami International airport. Tired. Hungover. Ready to come home. My word though, we had some excitement on the way out. Everything was going pretty smoothly. I am travelling with my brilliant and charismatic colleague Jamie Brown (I think my original entry may have been doctored) and we had settled in our seats in the back row of the plane. Now dear reader let me tell you this, on an American Airlines flight an exaggerated English accent is a must have accessory. It just works and even at this early part of our trip Jamie and I are practicing accents that are cross between Roger Moore and Hugh Grant. Actually mine is becoming more and more like Russell Grant.

Well we are getting on famously with the lovely stewardesses. We are in cattle class and it is a little cramped as the flight is full. No problem you just have to get on with it. Any way the drinks get served and we hit our first lot of turbulence. Coffee on the nice white shirt. Marvellous. Then we get our ravioli lunch. Well the shirt really didn’t stand a chance. Then as I am drinking my after lunch coffee yet again we the dreaded air pocket and my shirt gets its third stain. I am now looking like an advert for Persil.

Well the flight progresses and we are chatting to the stewardesses and one of them is telling me about how I should get my thyroid checked as it might be the cause of my weight issues.....we are not going back to weight loss stories I promise. The flight is nine and a half hours and I am going through the movies one at a time. I have just finished my third movie when the lead stewardess comes up to Jamie and myself and says “we have a problem and wonder if you guys would help”.
“Of course!” say our British heroes coming to the aid of our American damsel in distress.

Well it boils down to there being a very drunk Brit on board (no surprise there) who the last time he came up to the galley had become abusive when refused a drink. If we see the gentleman in his thirties wearing a pink shirt, shorts and flip flops heading towards the galley could we go and join the party just in case. For some reason there is no Air Marshall on this flight.

Well about two hours out from Miami sure enough Mr. Pink Shirt totters up the aisle towards us. Jamie (six foot one, handsome, looks a bit like Nicholas Cage.......oh come on!!!! Please see attached photo of Jamie in Hooters) and yours truly get up and basically block the entrance to the galley whilst holding the most superbly inane conversation about the merits of standing up during the journey. Well pink shirt is shooting dagger like looks at us both and eventually asks to pass us to go and ask for a drink. I step into the galley and pink shirt asks for a drink and gets politely declined. He is about to make something of it when he looks round and sees Jamie and I smiling at him. He turns on his heel and just for a second I think he is going to kick off but he sits back down. Good boy.

Well he doesn’t move again but when he arrives at Miami he gets escorted by six of Miami Dade’s finest law enforcement officers. Our reward for our help, nothing but smiles and the good feeling of giving somebody a positive impression of our nation’s people.
Until my next post.... When the seatbelt lights are lit please do not get up from your seat .

Hmmmm Nicholas cage?

Jamie Brown

Wow! which one is which?  ::)

Great pennage Mr S.

Anyway, how have you been my old saus... er, kosher meat product?

There are of course kosher sausages, then there are spicy Vienna sausages.....all beef based.

i am very well sir....I have pmed you.

Now Jamie and I were in Miami on business and I never write about business other than I would like to say a big thank you to all at Systemax for such a great trip. Respect!

Outside of work there was much to observe on our trip. As this is Tales from the Tube I think we should make a comparison with Miami’s transport system. It is called the taxi. Bright yellow taxis that never seemed to be wherever we happened to end up. It was very frustrating, especially as the rest of our trip was such tremendous fun!

By day three it was sending me crazy!  Boiling heat, steam off the pavement and no air conditioned taxi on hand. The thing is when they turned up the taxi drivers were great. In fact all the people we met were just so hospitable and naturally friendly They were both interested in where we were from and interesting in their own right. From Sergio who gave us the run down on the Dolphins, the Marlins, the Heat, in fact the whole sporting spectrum, through to Pablo who took us to the nightclub on Friday night they knew their city, the people, and the problems.

We were in Miami for three nights and having got my dutiful father shopping out of the way at A&F on the Wednesday night, Thursday saw Jamie and I heading to the Hard Rock Casino in Hollywood to the north of Miami. The casino is on a Seminole Indian reservation and resembles any large casino complex. As the taxi is pulling in we notice Hooters. Now this is Jamie’s first visit to the U.S. and I have never been to  Hooters so where to eat was an easy decision. It was great. The food was good. The view was excellent. One can’t help but wonder what would happen if the concept was brought into the U.K. You know take the whole concept out of the U.S. and bang it into Luton. The poor girls would not survive five minutes. I fear that some ideas do not travel.

After eating I confess I found the poker room. Jamie went to drink Saki and I settled in for exactly one hour at a $1 $2 no limit hold em table. Hand two, I pick up a pair of Kings which on a King high flop got the obligatory one non believer to my stinky little, I can steal this pot, bet. The poker in itself was unremarkable but my fellow players were truly remarkable.

I am in seat two and either side of me I have a grizzled old man who spoke in a dialect that could only have been translated by the assistant coach in the film the Waterboy. The guy on my right kept talking to me but it was like British Gas talking to Tightend. I was getting one word in five and tried to work out what the rest of the sentence might have been. Judging by the reaction to my responses I was probably getting a mark of four out of ten for my effort.

Hour up. I get up from the table with polite smiles, tip the dealer and go to find Jamie who is trying out his best Hugh Grant on some young ladies from one of the cruise ships. Well I soon put a stop to that....or maybe it was because their taxi turned up. Either way the result was the same the girls left and Jamie and I headed for the hotel. Knowing that tomorrow is Friday night and the chains will be off has led to a sensible Thursday night. Ah Friday night, my head thumps just thinking about it.
Until next time please remember smoking in the toilets is against the law.

There's a hooters in Nottingham...

Wow indeed there is.....I need somebody who has been to one in the US to go and do a visit report I am fascinated as to whether it translates to the East Midlands

Sounds like a job for... you! :P

I would be surprised if the Chezger lads hadn't sampled Hooters on both sides of the pond....

It translates

A couple of the DTD valets work a second job there!

Now to put our last night in Miami into context I really have to give you some background. In my youth I could drink. Really copious amounts, before, after and on one memorable occasion during a game of rugby. Through my twenties alcohol was a part of life. This all culminated with a job at Guinness where I used to take customers to Dublin for the rugby internationals. Not much sobriety there.

So what changed this life pattern? Well it happened one memorable Christmas. Adam was a baby, bloody hell they grow up fast, and I had gone out with the crew from Packard Bell. I had been drinking a mixture of alcoholic poisons, topped off with a heavy meal and a couple of cigars. Well on the way home in the taxi I started to feel unwell. I was travelling from Bray back to Bricket Wood and we got to the interchange from the M4 to the M25 when I had to get the cab to pull over to the hard shoulder. The next bit I will leave to your imaginations. Isn’t an imagination a curse?

Well after an interlude the taxi and I continue on our way. I get home only just in time and take up residence in a small room and start to try and work out how many words can be made from the brand name Armitage Shanks. So slumped over the toilet feeling sorry for myself, in walks Mrs. Snat. Thank the lord some sympathy at last! Talk about misreading the situation. Well Mrs. C verbally laid into me in no uncertain way. “How can you behave like this? Do you realise you are a Father? Is this the sort of role model I want for my son?
At this point I have a sudden epiphany. The letters in Armitage can be used for the word Ragtime. Brilliant!! Unfortunately I said this enlightenment rather than thought it. Big mistake. It took a couple of weeks before the good lady had calmed down enough for normal conversation. Since that time I have not danced the wrong side of the alcohol line.
That was until the Friday night in Miami!!
Warning this is a super long post so I will break it up.

Excellent post Phil, the flowing style is back and running.

It really is a compelling read, looking forward to the continuation.

Oh man.  After such a long break?!  This is never gonna end well.   rotflmfao

Work was all over and it was time to party. Now the only way to start partying is to go and have a damn good meal. Prime 112 has the most amazing steaks and it is quite difficult to get a table. Not for us though because as the old saying goes, “what is in a name”. Now my key contact at Systemax and all round good bloke is fortunate to have the name Alex Rodriguez. He is of course not the third baseman for the New York Yankees but the restaurant can't be sure that it isn't A-Rod himself. Now Jamie's surname is Brown.

So there I am in a swanky restaurant on Miami Beach with a top baseball player and the godfather of soul. Classic. Ah food in America....... you just have to love the complete and total lack of portion control. The beer was good (Stella) as was the wine. Food done and I am already prancing readily towards the alcohol line. I am tottering down Ocean Drive and we stop at a fine bar called Wet Willies. Loads of iced drums of various concoctions. My drink was blue, looked like a slush puppy, tasted of pure alcohol and has me grinning like an idiot as I slowly imbibe.

We sat out in the warm humid evening on a balcony overlooking Ocean Drive and letting the sights wonder by. Oh my, I do so love sightseeing and there were plenty of sights to behold. Old not dead don't you know! As Mrs. Snat says I can look at the menu wherever I like as long as I only eat at home. So I look! As we sit there I confess to my partners in crime that I have never drunk Tequila.

And off we go to a bar that I forget the name of and I try Tequila and then I try some more lager. Alex heads for home and Jamie and I decide to find a nightclub. We walk up and down a street that has various clubs on it but, not liking the look of any of them , decide not to go in. Jamie is looking at nightclub entries on his phone. The club that looked the best was the best Gay club in town....apparently.

Anyway I am drunk and fed up of walking so I suggest we get in a cab and get the cabbie to find us a top quality night club. So we pull a taxi over and say. Take us to one of the best discos in Miami. He looks at us as if we are mad and we set off......... until next time please remember if you are travelling with children to put your oxygen mask on first before assisting them.

I`ve got a new fave tube announcement. your old stomping ground of stratford have just opened a new westbound central line platform as part of the olympic development so you can now get on/off either side of the carriage. as you pull into the station they make an announcement to let people know that the doors on both sides of the train will open which is fine.

bit of a nss moment though as the train is about to leave and they also feel the need to announce that the doors will close on both sides

How did Stratford get the Olympics? Unbelievable . The customers used to nick the pictures in the changing rooms!!!!!!

Now during our taxi journey our driver, whose name escapes me completely on account of being tremendously drunk, asks what sort of club we are looking for? He gets the answer a really buzzing club with lots of women. So he drops us at Mia. He is right it is buzzing. Two Lambo’s pull up as we are paying for the taxi and the queues are long to get in.

Queue!!! I am drunk and in no mood to queue and so with my friendly Shrek face to the fore I walk up alcoholically bold as brass and say in my finest Roger Moore accent... Excuse me my good man but how does one get into this fine establishment? Well to my amazement the man in the suit controlling the door moves the rope and says “right this way gentlemen”. Things are already looking up.

So here I am in downtown Miami feeling like I am twenty five and looking like I am fifty two. Well fed. Well drunk, and drinking more. The alcoholic line of sense fading fast behind me. The young ladies look lovely and I am at my smiling affable best, which of course means grinning like a drunken idiot but the alcohol means I truly do not care. Judging by the look on Jamie’s face, his world is somewhere similar to mine. Now there is a lovely outside lounge and we hang there for a bit and then decide to go and invade the dance floor. Well we walk through the club and find some stairs with a bouncer guarding them.

Jamie to bouncer in best English accent, “excuse me what is up there?”
“VIP area “ says the muscles on the stairs.
“Can we go up then?”
“Of course, sir”

So up to the VIP area we go. Great view of the night club, the sights, the fights (three that I saw, with by the far the nastiest being between two women) and drinking beer and shorts. Well I don’t know what came over me but I end up dancing like a Dad. I have been so blessed to have been able to dance like a Dad since the age of seven. The great news is that Jamie also comes from the school of Dad but for the lords sakes please don’t tell him.

Well the evening winds on. I chat to an Armenian hairdresser and discuss which of the four blokes that have hit on her is the most likely to see her again. I do my usual trick of making a beautiful woman laugh out loud just to make the young men wonder how the fuck the old dude does it!!

And then quick as a flash it is quarter past five in the morning and they are kicking us out. Actually they are asking very politely if we will leave. As we are the last people to leave it does not seem an unreasonable request.

I honestly do not remember the taxi journey back to the hotel but that is probably old age as much as it is alcohol. What I do remember are the following two points. Firstly when you arrive back at the hotel at 5.30 am those people who are waiting for the airport shuttle bus look at you as if you are from another planet.

Secondly I remember just as I closed my eyes and the room continued to spin Anne Marie’s voice echoing in my head.....”How can you behave like this???”

How indeed!!
Well until next time.......the emergency exits are here, here  and here!!

OH................MY............GOD!!!

Somebody is smashing my head with a sledgehammer. No I tell a lie, it is a group of people with sledgehammers. I think I must have passed out before the room span uncontrollably to sickness and right now I am trying to understand why this is fun exactly.

Nope I just can’t come up with a single reason!

I don’t want to open my eyes I just want to go back to sleep. I prise my eyelids apart and look at my watch it says twenty five to one. We were supposed to get up at midday. I stagger from the bed with my favourite David Bowie line going through my head. It is the one that goes “there’s a taste in my mouth but it’s no taste at all”. I find the handily placed bottle of water, most of which I drank last night before falling asleep, and finish it off.

I start to pack and put my huge suitcase, already full of A&F clothes for the kids, on the bed and then think I had better text Jamie and make sure he is awake. I look at my phone. Ten past seven. What an idiot. I am now fully awake, raging headache and sleep deprivation and I collapse on the bed and fall asleep curled around the suitcase which I just can’t be arsed to move.

I kind of snooze on and off and eventually give up trying to get back to sleep. Pack my case and hook up with Jamie. I can see that the world is a decidedly dodgy place for both of us right now but please be assured that as these wounds are self inflicted I have absolutely no self pity whatsoever. Self loathing yes, self pity no.

We get into a cab and head to the Dolphin Mall. Lots of factory outlets etc and Jamie and I still have to find suitable presents for our respective partners. We are chatting to our cabbie when all of a sudden the traffic comes to a grinding halt. This is a problem as my stomach makes a valiant effort at trying to continue in a forwards motion. Let’s be honest there is plenty of stomach there, so it takes some controlling and control it I do, but just for a second I thought I was going to be sick all over the cabbie. We then lurch through the traffic jam for forty minutes. Each lurch slowly turns me a slightly darker shade of green. Just as I think my stomach is going to win we pull up outside the Mall. Thank GOD!

I need food to calm my stomach and we settle on a nice little Italian restaurant . We start chatting to the waiter and explain why we won’t be taking any alcohol with our meal. Now before I tell you the next bit it is vital that you realise that Miami is the seventh largest city in the US and most of the people live between the Mia nightclub and where we are right now.
The waiter’s brother- in- law owns the building that Mia is situated in and the waiter lives above the nightclub. Come on everybody this is weirder than fiction!!! The food was good and I feel considerably more stable though still shattered when we leave to explore our third and final Mall.
Next week will cover the mad Israeli....no not Avi, and the not so peaceful journey home.
Until then please make sure you keep all your hand luggage with you at all times!

Do you get on the plane or in it?

Now I am no wordsmith but I tend to get on a plane and get in a car......no idea why!!!!!!
It might be because I catch a plane. One definitely catches on, and not in, or maybe not

Post grammatically improved after the event. Original post done from an ipad in a PC World. Not great for typing

Enjoying this thread a lot Mr Ramas, thanks for writing!

this is an amazing read and some great stories along the way - much comedy as part of it too !!

hope to see that lady u met in Mia nightclub soon!

on a plane obv. I thought that on is for things you go onboard so planes, buses, boats, trains but then realised that bikes/motorbikes ruin that theory as you get on them too

I'd much prefer to go in the plane.  Can't imagine you'd stay put for long if you were on it. 

Ah but is it because there is nothing to get in.....

On a Plane, clearly

yeah, I'll go with that as my onboard thing works for everything that has something to get into. and you do get in a sidecar.

now just need to figure out what makes the use of onboard correct

So we had a great lunch....well breakfast really, and the father of soul and I head into yet another American Mall. They are no different to the ones here of course, except everything costs less. Jamie has noticed that everybody has been staring at us since the start of the trip. It really has been most disconcerting, causing me to check my flies far more than normal just in case. I think it can only be the fact that we look like tourists......

Well we are now an hour and a half in, and have been singularly unsuccessful in finding a suitable present for our respective partners. We are not panicking but at the same time we know that some token gesture is necessary.

At this point, as we meander from shop to shop feeling tremendously uninspired, Jamie gets grabbed by a five foot five good looking bundle of energy whose name is Eli Cohen. Now how have you read the first name? Elly or Ee-lie. Isn’t it funny, how we assume in a book, that the name we give the person is correct? I remember being mortified on watching the first Harry Potter film that the poor girls name was pronounced Her-my- oh – knee and not Her- my- own. Ruined the whole experience!

Anyway this poor girls name is Elly and she is about to do a pitch on Dead Sea salt products to two very sceptical, knackered, severely hung-over Brits. She was brilliant it was without doubt the most amazing pitch. Her vibrantly blue eyes, undoubtedly enhanced with contact lenses, danced as she spoke. We both tried the hand scrub and from that moment we were just sold on the whole idea. Actually the stuff is good and Mrs. Snat uses it unlike the massage packs that you pop in the microwave that I bought her in Vegas!
So now we have it all! Presents for the kids, presents for partners, huge hangovers, and all that remains is a journey to the airport and a nine hour flight home. Marvellous! Well this part of the journey is remarkably uneventful other than we couldn’t find the lounge! By the way, shopping in a lot of US airports is not a patch on Theifrow.  Well after much walking and a certain amount of swearing by yours truly, due to our inability to find it, we settle in the lounge for a while.

Then onto the plane. Oooh Business Class. I like it. I start messing about with Jamie’s seat and then I stop when I realise it is easier for him to rearrange my seat. Of course he gives me a practical demonstration first. So we patiently sit. The cattle class passengers stroll past us. It is amazing how cattle class punters try and make you feel guilty for sitting in Business Class. Well I don’t! I love it. We are sitting and sitting and eventually the Captain says “Everybody off we have a problem with the hydraulics!”

I just want to go home, sitting in my Business Class seat, or rather semi –lying, asleep. Off we all get. Forty five minutes later we all get back on! Supper was lovely. They will wake me for breakfast and I fall asleep. Only to be awoken by an elderly lady who has some kind of fit. Noooooooooooo!!! Oh yes. I have been asleep two hours. There are five hours to go. The cabin is in darkness and I am wide awake. Bugger. In fact half the cabin is wide awake. Not Jamie. I almost wake him out of spite but decide not to.

Instead I play my favourite game of how I would spend a £12 million lottery win. You know who would get what, which new car, where would I live. All that stuff. Somehow I fall back to sleep whilst imagining whether it would be an XJ or Aston. Then just like that we are home. I love travelling but it is always sweet to get back to this much maligned country......
Until next week..............You can blow on the whistle to get attention!

This morning I hate the tube

;gobsmacked;

I sit in front of my laptop tonight somewhat troubled by thinking of a suitable topic about which to espouse.

 I thought I could write about the valiant struggle of the working classes against the unbearable oppression of management. Then I thought I could write about the forward thinking management team, who just want to bring in some flexible working practices and get rid of a few of the workforce along the way.

 Let’s be honest this would open up a whole can of worms so I am going to avoid it. Instead I am going to tell you a story of all that is wrong with the tube.  Last Friday there was no strike on the tube. I went online first thing and it stated a good service on the Northern line. Arrive at Edgware station and there are no trains at the platform. Now this is unusual as normally there are two there at any given moment of time during the rush hour.

I ask the young man who is on the walkie talkie communicating to what is known as control, what the problem is? Now I have no idea of his name but this guy is mustard. Always positive. Always polite. He tells me there is no problem. He says “you can see there is a problem, I can see there is a problem, but control say there is no problem!” So a good person who is doing his job without much support.

He puts me on the first train twenty minutes later and says that it should be Morden via Bank, but right now he can’t be certain. Well the train starts and sure enough it starts off as Morden via Bank and at Hendon the poor thing has a complete identity crisis and becomes Kennington via Charing Cross. So I get off at Camden Town and change line. I get to work five minutes late.

How in this modern technological age can control not have any idea that there is a problem? Worse still if they did know there was a problem, why didn’t they let the poor chap who had to face an irate public have some information!!

The strike that followed on the Monday is just an extension of what happened on the Friday. A lack of co-operation, a lack of information, only an interest to negotiate through the media. There lay the real problem. The power of the press and the belief that everybody needs to get their side of a conflict over to us the poor ignorant public.

Personally I would like a strike against all media day. Nobody listen s to the radio, nobody watches TV, nobody buys a newspaper, nobody catches up with the latest events on their computer. People just spend twenty four hours just talking to each other!!

Until next week if you are in the end carriage the last set of doors will not open.

The next station is Manflu......

This is an all stations to feeling utterly wretched.
I will post something on the return journey

Just like that it was gone. The manflu that is. Isn’t it funny that you don’t realise how well you feel until all of a sudden you don’t feel 100%? I always remember the old Tunes cough sweet advert, where the commuter goes up to the ticket window at a station (soon to be replaced by a machine with multiple options) and full of cold asks for a “decond class return do Dottingham”. It was a truly awful advert but it reminded me of an observation that I have been meaning to share with you for some time. Now as regular stalkers of this thread know, most days I catch the Northern Line.

The great thing about the Northern Line is the wealth of information that you get about the next station. There is an electronic messenger board and in addition a very pleasant voice tells you which station the train is approaching.  Lots of other lines have no warning at all as to the next station. You have to read the map. Bloody liberty. Elsie, for that is her name, reels the station names off one at a time, perfect electronic diction right up until we get to Hampstead.

For some reason Hampstead does not compute and it comes out as STANSTEAD. The first time I heard it, I obviously thought in my semi soporific early morning state I had misheard Elsie. Now six months later, I am absolutely certain that she does say Stanstead.

Now you can spot a Hampstead commuter. They are a different quality. They can’t understand why there isn’t an empty carriage just for them. I imagine that they are some of the most troublesome complainers who get on the tube. Why haven’t they complained? Where is the action group headed by Fortescue Smythe raising questions in the House?
I want to start a group but it really isn’t my fight. I have however started a new game which involves asking other peoples opinion as to what Elsie is saying. Eighteen to two so far agree that it is Stanstead. When you go on the Northern line I urge you to listen out for it.

To Victoria the escalator, who was down with escalator flu on Friday, get well soon

I keep forgetting about this thread which actually turns it into a little treasure trove when I do actually rediscover it again and get two or three helpings of superb pennage to feast upon.

Who says that you can't eat value?

Had to use the tube at the weekend and i remembered why I left working in London....half the drivers were on strike because of the firemans strike - as they travelled underground they were worried about the safety of the passengers if a fire started because of the reduced number of fire crew so service was very interrupted. The the trains were coming through with the wrong signage on so i was getting on a train, then they would announce for all to get off, and then we all had to get on again - in the meantime I lost my coveted seat to a 5 year old active, bouncing around child.

Now I know I'm not a grannie yet but when I was a child we got up for adults and stood because we were kids with loads of energy or sat on my mums lap. Is it me?

nope it's not you - hannah's nearly 8 and if the tube gets busy she still has to sit on my lap (whether she's embarrassed or not) or stand up.  seats for parents of children who are too small to properly support themselves standing up but too big to be comfortably carried for any length of time are always appreciated though :)

Apologies that it has been a while since I have written anything. Just busy with life and planning this my latest foray to America. Travelling on my own which can be lonely or as usually happens can be a world of opportunity to experience new pleasures.

Flew over with Virgin and found myself seated next to a lovely lady who was in the process of moving from New York to London. She works in the insurance industry and I made her laugh when I suggested it could be worse she could be a banker. It made her laugh because that is her husbands job. Well we chatted whilst the plane loaded and I found out that she had passed her citizens exam! Citizens exam when did that happen? So all sorts of questions had to be asked.

Did she have to give fifteen different words for rain?
Did she have to describe the difference between the googly and the chinaman?
Most importantly had she managed to perfect an expression of looking miserable when totally happy?

Unfortunately all of these came with a no. What a waste of a test IMHO. Anyway the doors shut and there is acres of space so I move so that she has more room, cos as we all know nobody wants to be next to the big bloke.

I look round my fellow passengers and there is one bloke who is so in love with himself it is making me and the bloke sitting to my left positively cry with laughter. I know just the thing to get him going. I start to flirt with the air hostess just because this bloke is such an alpha male I know he will not be able to resist trying to outdo me.

So when she comes along with the hot towels, I ask if she would just laugh out loud as I am studying human reaction to situations where beautiful women laugh out loud whilst in the company of fat bald blokes who wear glasses.  So she does, as does the bloke to my left because he heard what I was saying. Alpha male seated to my front and right cranes his head to try and find out what is going on. From that moment on he tries desperately to pull the stewardess. I am crying with laughter. My work here is done.

 So I settle down and start watching movies, Invictus, nice enough but the rugby scenes are truly crap, Karate Kid, I preferred the original overall but this one for the fight scenes, and started to watch Hot Tub, Time Machine, which was supposed to be comedy but was just awful. If you paid money to go and see this film, and didn’t walk out, might I suggest you get the Road to Wellville on DVD as you will obviously sit through anything!

So we land at 7pm local time and I book into my hotel. It is okay. Cleanish and cheap. Only here for one night and what a bad night it was. There is just something about not having my own pillow that nearly always makes me restless. Maybe I should vacuum pack it next time and bring it with me.
Today has dawned and I am getting ready to fly to Columbus, a city I have never been to before. It promises to be a quick visit but hopefully something of note will happen during the day!

Give a wave to me Mom as yer flying past.  Safe travels.  xx

One of the best threads on blonde, thanks Snatty.

Boldie you are so biased. Bless you.

I was awake frighteningly early. So frighteningly early that I decided not to take a cab from the hotel to La Guardia but took the no money transfer back to Newark and then took a bus transfer from Newark to La Guardia. Aside from saving me $60 it meant driving into New York and changing buses in Times Square.

This was so the right call. It was a grey morning as we left Newark and through the New Jersey docks the outline of Manhattan could be seen in the distance like a modern day Stonehenge. A place of worship for all things capitalist. New York with money is the greatest. Your heart rate just increases as you approach the city. The route the bus takes is a great one, coming onto the Island via the Lincoln tunnel which is very quick if you are on a bus but a nightmare if you are in a car. We get to Times Square and I just can’t help smiling like a kid in the sweetshop.  I catch the connecting bus to LaGuardia and head to the US Airways desk.  Now if you ask any American they would rather fly anything but US Scareways. They obviously haven’t flown Ryanair.

The lady on check in was just so bloody friendly. She goes to London regularly to visit her son so I recommended a trip to the Burberry factory shop and she gave me a tip for buying in A&F.......no I am not going to share it with you. She changes my seat for one with better legroom.

The flight was cheap and cheerful except for the miserable New York lady sitting next to me. I tried to strike up conversation twice and then gave it up as a bad job. She was a native New Yorker and was going to Columbus for a business meeting. I lose myself in a book but notice that she is  reading her presentation. It is all about conflict resolution. Fuck me the poor lady can’t even hold a conversation.

The rest of the flight is uneventful except for me waving like a lunatic at random points just in case I am passing Laxie’s Mum and we come into land in Columbus. What struck me straight away is that it is flat. Not totally flat but you can see a long way in all directions. Also the feeling of space and cleanliness. The initial feeling was positive, I felt like I had arrived at a place that was happy with what it is and didn’t have to try too hard.

I got in a taxi and did a grand tour of a couple of places I wanted to research before my meetings on Thursday and Friday. The quality of what I saw and the people I met was high even in the dry cleaners who are sorting my suit out!!!!

I wish I was here for longer but I am not.......maybe I will return for a longer stint next visit. Anyway time to do some work before heading out for some dinner.

If you're in Columbus, Ohio - you're in my home state.  I grew up in northern Ohio nearer to Cleveland, but there isn't much difference anywhere in Ohio.  First time I've ever heard it called 'flat'.  Had a good giggle at that description.  Mainly because it IS flat.  Only I never noticed or thought of it that way until now.  Thanks for waving to me Mom.  She was sat out the back with her new wee dog waving back to you.

Thursday dawned grey and a little cold in comparison to the previous day. Started to get ready for my meeting. It was at this point I realised that I didn’t have any cufflinks for my shirt. You know the internet is just soooo useful. I find out that there is a Men’s Warehouse on the way to my meeting.

What can I tell you about Men’s Warehouse. If you lifted the men’s department out of Grace Brothers and plonked it in America with American staff you would have Men’s Warehouse. I switch into immediate Stephen Fry camp English mode to have maximum fun and wish I had longer to banter with the staff.

Two minute stop and $30 later one new pair of cufflinks on freshly pressed shirt. Looking and feeling the business. After my meeting I head to another airport for another US airways flight, or rather two flights. One from Columbus to Wahington and then Washington to Boston. The downside of taking incredibly cheap flights in the states is having to take some pretty tortuous routes.

I am quite the curiosity to anybody sitting next to me on a flight and everybody I meet wants to talk about England. This friendliness is not, as I once believed, false. It is a genuine love of people. All around me on the flight people are just striking up conversations looking for common ground. So much more than Brits do. Being a fairly gregarious chap I do love this aspect of America, particularly as I am travelling alone which can be a bit of a chore.

Flying into Washington the view of the White House in the distance is quite spectacular. A quick change of plane and I am heading to Boston. Now everybody has told me how beautiful Boston is, but unfortunately I am heading straight to a suburb of Boston called Framingham. Because it is 30 miles away and I am here for two nights I have booked a hire car. My first ever driving in America. One of the US’s top 20 cities and I am arriving after 10pm. I know with absolutely certainty this part of the trip fills me with trepidation.

Funny how I have become more cautious with age!!

If you got from A to B without hassle doing the driving, then fair play to ya.  I can get through all parts of NYC without missing a beat, but will NEVER again drive in Boston!

I am sitting in yet another hotel room as I write this up. It is November the 9th and it is Rachel’s birthday. It is the first time I have missed one of the kids birthdays and to say I am feeling guilty would be one of the world’s greatest understatements. However I promised myself, when I took my current job on, I would give it the full lash and when an opportunity arose to be at a manager’s conference then I had to say yes.

Rachel I love you, happy birthday from me and the readers of this thread. XXX

Okay when I left you last I had landed in Boston. I went out to where the buses take you to the hire car offices. And wait. And wait. Now it is with some annoyance that I am watching bus after bus for other hire car companies slow, look at me, I shake my head and they pull away. Eventually the Alamo bus arrived. The reason it annoyed me so much is that they were all empty. Surely one or two buses could have serviced all of the hire car companies.

Hire cars in the U.S. are a necessity. Cabs are expensive and this is a country with space so rather than going up, buildings go sideways major centres excluded. Dummy back in mouth I approach the counter and surprise, surprise everything goes smoothly. It was great. Now I want to be able to tell you that I didn’t approach the wrong side of the vehicle..... But I can’t. Thank the lord I woke up just before getting inside and wondering where the hell the steering wheel had gone. I have of course done that, only the one time, and it was a very long time ago.

I take my time and familiarise myself with the controls, set up the SatNav, and oh so slowly pull out of the parking space and out onto the service road. Nobody about and the Sat Nav can’t locate the service road and is repeatedly telling me to go to indicated route. Well lady let me tell you, if I could find the indicated route I would go there. 3mph and totally lost 200 yards from the hire company. I now have a monster truck right up my rear bumper and he very kindly starts blowing his horn. It is 11 at night, I am lost, I am tired, I am just a bit nervous and some good ole boy is just giving me a friendly welcome.

He passes and I follow him. It doesn’t really matter where, as I know the satellite will kick in once we get to a major thoroughfare. So I follow him into the staff car park. Brilliant. Genius manoeuvre.  Well I manage to extricate myself from the staff car park with directions to get onto the main drag and start pootling down the freeway. This is more like it. At one point I even unclench my right hand from the steering wheel and turn the radio on. The thin layer of sweat on my top lip starts to cool as the moment of stress evaporates.

Then we reach the first toll booth. Bugger. I forgot to take my wallet out of my coat which is in the boot. So I get out and people start hooting. Great. Pay the toll. Thin layer of sweat returns. Knuckles white, whole body stiff as a board. By the third toll I have mastered the whole thing and by the time I pull into my motel in Framingham I am calm.

The motel is a Red Roof establishment and it is a throwback to the Starsky and Hutch era of motels. I am too tired to care as I dump my bags down and go to sleep. Tomorrow I will start caring again but then tomorrow I will probably stick to the indicated route.

I've been to Framingham so there - careful doing the leaf peeping and all that

Love the idea you followed the guy into the staff park :-)

I am due to be in Framingham for a couple of days and in the middle a hugely important meeting. The weather is grey but warm and the countryside is honestly staggeringly beautiful. The fall in Massachusetts is a just a riot of colour, a myriad of reds and browns.

Framingham feels like a middle class town that is fully engaged in following the American Dream and doing okay whilst doing it. Lots of nice eateries, smart shops, lovely looking properties, relatively new cars. A bit too sanitized for my taste. Well everything is sanitized apart from The Red Roof motel. To be honest it is a bit dirty. The curtains don’t keep the light out and I am pretty sure that some of the people staying here are long term unemployed or homeless.

I decide to make the most of my time and spend as much time as possible researching electronic and IT retailers. I go to Staples, Best Buy, Office Depot but eventually end up at my favourite no money fun a book store. It is such a pity that this is a dying breed of retail outlet. I can spend hours in a bookstore but limit myself to a quick twenty minutes. I fear that the next generation will not have the feeling of opening a book on the first page. Somehow reading a book starting on the first screen just does not feel as good. The trees are probably happier mind.

Quick as a flash I am loading myself back into my entry level Daewoo, oh sorry Chevrolet, to head back to Logan International. This car is nothing but awful. Small, slow, automatic and when they said entry level they weren’t kidding. Manual winders, key door locks with no central locking. It is as though I have been transported back to a time when the biggest argument was about who is going to get out of their chair to change the channel on the TV.

It is Saturday morning and I am about to spend the whole of the day flying across the USA from Boston to San Francisco using one of life’s more tortuous routes. The key to US Scareways cheap pricing is that every flight seems to have to go through their hub in Charlotte. For this journey it is a bit like driving from London to Leeds via Ipswich. But the pricing was so cheap and I had little else to do so it made perfect sense. Well as luck would have it I start speaking to a local couple from Charlotte who are absolutely lovely and we talk London, England, America, books, flying, politics.  The trips to the US are really teaching me about how being open to a situation and opportunity to meet new people, always leads to a more fascinating time than just sitting and reading a book.

So when you are out and about and have the opportunity to smile at somebody and say hello might I recommend you give it a try.

great stuff Snat, as always.

visiting New England in the autumn has been on my list for many years, but still remains unticked. 

Agree great read

I am still not sure what vast looks or feels like. The word itself almost defies a logical explanation and often is best explained as an emotion. In terms of America I got a real feeling of vast as we flew into Charlotte. Out of nowhere in the middle of a landlocked mass appears what looks like a number of Lego like skyscrapers. To put it into perspective, get a large lump of Blu Tack, stick half a dozen pencils in it and place it in the middle of your lounge. Just look how out of place and incongruous it looks.

That was the feeling as I came into Charlotte. I would have loved to have a walk round but my next flight took off in thirty five minutes so i went towards my next gate. There were quite a number of American Football fans going to all points, and strangely they were all mingling without the need to kick the living shit out of each of other. How strange.

I chat to an American soldier about life the universe and everything. He is a class act and it made me realise yet again how quickly I categorise whole nations without a moment’s thought and always to the lowest common denominator. We land in San Francisco and this time I follow the signs to hire cars and have to get on a monorail to a four storey car park that has all the hire car companies in one building. Boston look and learn.

At this point I make the one wrong, truly wrong, call of the trip. I am offered at a tremendous discount the opportunity to drive a Mustang as my hire car. My heart says YES YES YES in a sort of Harry met Sally orgasmic way, my head says no, you are almost certain to prang it. But think about it for just a few seconds. Cruising down the West Coast highway with the roof down in a Ford Mustang, why on earth did I say no?

Still they did give me a free upgrade. Yes I am driving from San Francisco to San Jose in a brilliant white Ford.......Focus. Not quite the same huh. Get to the hotel. Check in. Shower change and head off to the Garden City Casino. I need to find something to do on Sunday and I know I could go travelling around experiencing the sights and sounds but I need to stop moving for a bit. As I sit here now I think I should have gone exploring but you can only make decisions at the time.

Now I don’t know if you have seen the film 21, and if you haven’t then might I recommend it, or better still the book “bringing down the house “ by Ben Mazrich. Well in the film, our hero as a test of his card counting prowess, has to go into a Chinese Casino. No Caucasians. I walk into the Garden City Casino and I am knocked out of my stride. This is a big version of that casino. There are about 40 poker tables. There are other table games but no roulette. I watch some of the cash action and know instantly that I am not going into that particular bear pit. Knackered and ready for bed I head back to my hotel!

have a good trip mate

So it’s Sunday morning. Bright and sunny and I am here in wonderful West Coast America. The urge to take the car and explore is strong but I have a plan, and the plan was to play some poker at the Garden City Casino. As you know last night I arrived and had a look round and I had some reservations but today at 11am it is a different place entirely.

For a start Sunday morning poker is about as weird a feeling as you can get. I was brought up on tournaments only taking place in the evening and the centre of the poker cosmos was based in Luton. My early days playing the game were a heady mix of, getting it a little bit wrong, all the way through to, misreading my hand and proudly declaring I have a flush only to realise it was king high. As I had turned over my cards they were live and the king high won!!! Even better was that it was against a player I didn’t like very much. Sometime later I didn’t like this player at all, but that is a whole different story.

Now I have only one rule when playing in America. Walk to the table and tell everybody how excited you are to be finally playing live, the great game that you have seen so often on TV. Bless them, but the Yanks do so love to believe my novice Brit nonsense. Anyway I am having a damn good time. Catching cards like Sicilian on any given evening at the G (Stop bleating Phil) and tilting the table nicely with a range of moves.

Of course as you all know I do like a bit of chat at the table. I think poker without chat is best done online, and the beauty of live poker is that the person next to you can’t go anywhere. So I am swapping stories about sport and baseball (please do not confuse the two). The Giants are about to win the World Series, named of course because nobody in the world except Americans gives a toss about rounders, and the fact that that the San Francisco 49’ers are in London. I sit in my seat thinking isn’t it weird that they have sent us their American football team and in a pseudo reciprocal arrangement we have sent them.........me.

It is a fast paced tournament and after a few hours play and a nice cash I find myself outside in bright sunshine. I go retail visiting, as it is a passion as well as a job, to try and understand what works in retail. I go to Staples and Fry’s and Micro Center and get some good ideas and then at 7pm return for tourney two, return of the Snatty.

The evening crew are a wild bunch and the casino is hopping. There must have been more than a dozen cash games going on but I feel right at home now. Same routine walking to the table. Same result. Lots of humour, a little effort, money at the end of it. Now i could have gone touring but I didn’t. Some will say that was a waste and maybe they are right but as the old saying goes “you pays your money and takes your choice”, and my choice was to play poker and if the quote I need to justify my actions dates back to 1846 so be it.

My trip was almost over but little was I to realise that the scariest moment was heading towards me at a rate of knots.

Please make sure that you carry a bottle of water on the tube in the hot weather.

scariest moment was heading towards me at a rate of knots.

 ;popcorn; ;popcorn; ;popcorn;

Just caught up the last few posts Phil, just a great read as per usual.

My one complaint is that you didn't manage a slight detour to a retail convention in LV in mid-November.

Don't tell me you got mugged in the car-park  ;popcorn;

I came so close to detouring to Vegas on the Saturday I felt quite like Gollum and the ring.....as regards scary you will never guess it!!!!

                                      Scary Quiz what happened to Snatty

 1. Did your car breakdown in the middle of nowhere and you had to spend the night in your car

 2. Did you get pulled by the police and get a gun pushed in your ear

 3. Did you run out of Guiness

 4. Did you get mugged

 5. Did you check into a roadside motel , only to discover it was the local Chicken Ranch

I had spent a couple of days in San Jose and I liked it. Liked it a lot. Good weather, good food and as always I met nice people all of whom have a story to tell if only one can find time to listen. It is funny how listening has gone out of fashion. In the business world I can think of hundreds of courses on how to get your message across and yet so little time is spent on how to actively listen.

And before you think, oh great Snatty has got his holier than thou head on today, I confess right here and right now that I am the world’s worst for drifting off in a sort of Peep Show type way. Now some would blame their star sign, or their psyche, but in honesty I have a boredom threshold of a second. What is worse is that somehow my brain continues to work in the background and I can replay the last sentence without really taking in what is being said. I wish I could slow my mind down just a little and interact fully with the person in front of me.

So meetings all concluded the little white Ford and I are heading towards San Francisco in the warm afternoon sunshine ready for our trek towards home. It is a long flight and I already know it is full. I check in with the nice people at Virgin who don’t give me a free upgrade which means I need to work on my negotiation techniques. I have some supper and just people watch before heading down to the gate. At this point I get a phone call from one of my customers saying that they would like me to present at the managers conference in Miami.

I phone the guvnor who says come back first and then fly back to Miami five days later. Whilst making all of these phone calls I was sitting at the gate staring into what I thought was the middle distance. Well it turned out that it wasn’t. No I was staring at two lesbians one of whom now took total exception. In fact as I looked round I realised that there were a number of single gender happy couples. Now I have no issues with homosexuality, coming from the religion of “whatever floats your boat”, unfortunately the alpha male of this couple started to shout at me!! Not talk calmly, not ask me what I am looking at? No she lays into me about being a homophobe. Of course I stand my ground and come up with some delightfully witty answer like “you have got to be joking!”

Well things went slightly downhill from there to the extent that within a few moments there seems to be a flash mob of hundreds, well at least five or six, asking me why I am being so anti social. Hang on a second all I did was make a couple of phone calls. Only one way to stop this..........

“Listen bitch I am gay now FUCK OFF!”

The crowd disperses quicker than Gillian McKeith can faint. Great as long as I am gay it seems it is okay to stare at whomever I like. This is a strange world we have created. I mean maybe I should have stood up and shouted “Is it because I is Black?” Well of course that would not work, but apparently I am a believable gay. Good to know!
The flight passes without any further incident and I return to a cold and raining Heathrow. It’s good to be home if only for three days. Miami awaits!

For those of you who want a circle line train please go to Edgware road and change trains.

does your wife know?

Face it Snatty, you are pretty camp.

lol great stuff

I reckon most Americans probably think most Brits are gay anway. It's the accent for starters

So a few days later I find myself back at Heathrow catching a flight to Miami for a quick in and out visit. I will be training a room of over 100 people which way back in my youth would have worried me silly, but as a famous poker player once said “once you can bluff Sicilian everything else pales by comparison”.

I land after a tremendously cramped flight and check into the hotel. I eat well and have an early night. My presentation is in the snooze slot, that first point after lunch. Luckily they are having Chinese for lunch which means they are all pumped up on MSG. I have to tell you, because no-one else will listen, I gave the best training session I have ever given. Truly, no word of a lie. People came up to me and shook me by the hand once I had finished. I spent the rest of the afternoon answering questions and talking to sales people. It was good.

I got back to the hotel at 6p.m. and feel like partying. Now I noticed online that fairly near to the hotel there is a dog track and at the dog track there is a casino and you guessed it folks, at the casino there happens to be a poker room. It doesn’t look too far on the old Google map so I decide to walk in the early evening heat. The weather is lovely but as I am walking I notice that I am starting to walk through an area that is somewhere that Dog the Bounty Hunter might call work.

 Quite a number of the properties are boarded and all of them have railings over the windows. I get to a major road junction and a car with darkened windows slows down next to me. The window slowly winds down (strange how we still use wind when there is no winding on electric windows) and I start soiling my rather pleasant beige Chino’s. I stand transfixed waiting for the out stretched arm with a gun attached, when this woman asks me if I am interested in a little fun. Great in my last two visits to America I have been mistaken for a gay and a male prostitute. I can only presume the poor lady is blind and in charge of a motor car. I politely decline and at that moment spot the Magic City Casino.

This is one rough looking place but in honesty is probably about the same as driving up to the old Grosvenor Luton. As all regular followers of this thread will know Spanish is the order of the day including the police officers who are on duty in the cardroom.  Unfortunately there are no tournaments only cash tables. I hate cash poker. It leaves me cold and I only ever play at Luton very occasionally. So I play the smallest table stakes and over about two hours manage to turn my $100 to nothing. Marvellous. The people aren’t as friendly either. I get the distinct impression that for a number of them if they do not win they will not be eating. Their priorities might be slightly wrong! I take my leave and wait the standard twenty minutes for a taxi in Miami.

On my way back I get the Taxi driver to give me a little tour of the area. Well I have never seen so many police cars patrolling an area; the taxi driver says the airport area is really rough. Great move Snatty. Note to self, go to America for a month and walk through various cities without doing any research and see if I come out alive. If I do, write about it, if I don’t, I won’t need to worry.

The following day I fly home with a sense of anti climax for some reason. I can’t totally put my finger on it other than I know that this dream I had about how this job would go is not the reality I am facing. It happens, and after a few weeks the company and I decide to move in different directions. I wish them all the best. In the eight months I was there I learned a tremendous amount and after a lifetime of working for large multi nationals it gave me an opportunity of seeing things from a totally different perspective. So to pastures new which I am unsure of right now though I do as always have a few ideas.

Ladies and Gentlemen this is Edgware station. This train terminates here. All change please.

really enjoy this thread!

Ideas for a new job for Snatty

Please become a trainer to make poker presenters more interesting.

Stop them talking about percentages and fold equity.

 Get them to all talk about trains and holidays

I can hardly keep up Phil, first you've "come out" and then you're appearing live in Miami Vice.

Top writing as is your wont.

Here's wishing you all the best in the future.