How the Black Crowes got their groove back (Portland concert review)

The Black Crowes are back! For a reunion world tour, anyway.  Last weekend's Portland show marked my 10th time to see my favorite jam band, and my third time to catch them at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall. Since discovering their captivating, energetic live performances in college, I haven't missed a local Crowes show since 1995.


Readers: Garth's Blog has previously featured the Black Crowes, most notably in my uber popular post, Do the Black Crowes Needtobreathe?  That blog link will seemingly live on as long forever, or at least as long as people continue Googling the Crowes' influence on Christian rock band Third Day.

Taking in the Christmas sights and sounds of downtown Portland, en route to the Black Crowes concert

Fans of the Crowes' most recent Americana/ folk leaning records (like me) were surprised to find that era completely ignored in last weekend's set list. No, this was a return to classic form. The Black Crowes were here to rock 'n' roll.


As seen the video below [Yet another video upload error. Thanks, Blogspot.], singer Chris Robinson was at his hyper, playful, and passionate best.  Chris spun and danced around the stage as his brother Rich laid down rhythm (and occasional lead) guitar licks, backing vocals, and lead vocals on the Velvet Underground's "Oh Sweet Nuthin'." Original drummer Steve Gorman was flawless as always. Sven Pipien and Adam MacDougal were solid on the bass guitar and keys, respectively. And new member Jackie Green soared on the lead guitar while filling out the trademark vocal harmonies.

Every song on the set list was either an extended jam or a punched up, re-energized rendition of a fan favorite.  The band charged out of the gates with rocking versions of "Sting Me" and "Twice is Hard," songs that most bands would save for an energetic finale.  Huge hit "Remedy" was also played early on, as if to remind everyone that the Black Crowes' song catalog is far too vast for a predictable withholding of hits for an encore.  Heck, I've been to previous shows where the Crowes have swapped out some of their biggest hits in favor of jamming away on fan favorite album cuts.


That being said, the night was chocked full of crowd pleasing moments.  Some of the Crowes' best ever jammed-out renditions of "Hi Head Blues," "Ballad in Urgency," and "Wiser Time" (over 15 minutes long!) were punctuated by their more radio friendly selections.  Though the sheer quantity of Greatest Hits-type selections was uncharacteristic for a BC concert, we fans showed nothing but adoration as we danced straight into their final run-up of mega-hits "She Talks to Angels," "Thorn in My Pride," "Soul Singing," "Jealous Again," and a joyous mash-up of Otis Readings' "Hard to Handle"/ Deep Purple's "Hush."


The Crowes encored with a double header of Rolling Stones tunes:  A laid back, countrified cover of "Torn and Frayed" (Blue Mountain's version is one of my all-time favorite covers) and a fun update of "Happy," featuring Jackie Green on the vocals.  Chris Robinson never stopped dancing.  Neither did we.

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Notably missing from that evening:  The Crowe's ever-evolving "My Morning Song" jam (a concert highlight, typically clocking in at 10-20 minutes long).  Kathy also lamented that the Crowes' soulful backup singers were M.I.A. on this tour.

And it was a bummer to lose guitarist Luther Dickinson, who ended his stint with the Crowes to return to the North Mississippi Allstars (link to my review of one of the NM Allstars' previous Portland shows).  But there's always a silver lining:

Portland Waterfront Blues Festival: Lena I met Luther Dickinson and his brother Cody backstage this past summer, after the North Mississippi Allstars' electrifying set on the main stage.

Bonus Trivia, Concert Tour Edition-
Question:  Besides Luther, who is the only other musician who has toured with not one but TWO of my five all time favorite live bands?
Answer:  Led Zeppelin guitarist Jimmy Page, who shared a stage with the Black Crowes throughout a stadium tour featuring all Led Zep songs.  Double wammy!  If only Bono had made an appearance...

Coming up on Garth's Blog...

Surfing, pumpkin patching, and dairy farming!

Our home's first Thanksgiving

At last... Thanksgiving dinner at our own house!  To sweeten the deal, the Dallas Cowboys took down the Raiders for a televised win.

Opening our home for our first ever Thanksgiving dinner in Beaverton has been a long time dream of ours. Kathy put a lot of effort into the preparation, and it really paid off.


I, on the other hand, woke up in the middle of the night to work the early shift like on any other Thursday morning.

Deicing a Delta 737 at PDX airport, just before the Thanksgiving sunrise

Thanksgiving morning at PDX was busier than in past years. Delta Airlines was generous enough to hand out meal vouchers for those of us stuck working on the holiday. Our Tokyo flight was a late arrival, giving my crew just enough time to rush upstairs to the concourse for breakfast at Beaches restaurant.

Five sides of bacon.  Ron Swanson would be proud of my man Rockee.

On the way home from work that afternoon, I picked up our friend Sarah (pictured at the top of this post). She was in between living situations and had no one to spend Thanksgiving with.  Our family welcomed her in.

Lena remains the center of attention after our Thanksgiving dinner.

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Of course, the whole Vancouver family couldn't fit into our Beaverton dining room. So on Friday afternoon, the Brown, Davis, Hamilton, and Sorensen families gathered together at my parents' house in Orchards.

God has given us so much to be thankful for this year. Our cup runneth over with far too many blessings to list here. Most significantly, we have been blessed with a wonderful family, a vital student ministry, and a happy life.

And in less than four weeks, we'll be rushing Kathy to the delivery room for one more reason to give thanks!

Next up on Garth's Blog...

The Black Crowes rock downtown Portland!

Munra Point: Losing a climb, gaining a 14k frozen trail run

From last weekend:  The frozen, slippery trail that passes in front of Elowah Falls, Oregon 

Not Munra Point.  That was the name that my buddy Shaun and I gave to the 9 miles of Columbia River Gorge trail that we hurriedly covered last weekend.  In contrast to our intended climb, the newly crowned Not Munra Point trail was nothing more than a trail run.


My friends Carli and Jeremiah had both recommended a climb up to Munra Point on separate occasions.  Pity that I didn't seek out reliable directions to go along with those recommendations.  Our only source of info was from a climber who blogged about the short climb on his website.  No map, no estimated hiking times, and no reported distances between trail junctions.

The climber's blog had prepared us for an uneventful approach to our climb.  Uneventful is putting it lightly.  From the Wahclella Falls trailhead, Gorge Trail #400 runs parallel to I-84 with barely enough elevation variance to justify our hiking poles.  Admittedly, only here in the Northwest would anyone complain about an occasionally flat trail in the midst of all this accessible wilderness beauty.  We have it so good here!


The long approach to the Munra cutoff quickly became an exercise in impatience.  So tucking in our poles, we ran.

An iced-over section of Gorge Trail #400

A "Trail Not Maintained" sign along Gorge Trail #400 reportedly marked the turnoff to Munra Point.  We never came across that sign.  The next day, I would do more research and find out why: the sign is actually 30 feet uptrail, not at the junction with Trail #400.  We didn't see the sign because it's not even visible from the Not Munra Point trail!

We seriously considered scrambling directly up these rocks to reach one of the peaks.  Inconveniently, my inner tree-hugger nagged at my conscience instead.  That, and a sign below that I spotted from our newly elevated viewpoint.  The sign pinpointed our location but confirmed what we already knew-- we had overshot the Munra cutoff and were heading for the more family friendly hikes to the west.


Shaun conceded that our trip was "broken," but we both had way too much energy to just turn around.  We kept running.


Elowah Falls:

The bridge in front of Elowah Falls was completely frozen over. It was a short but treacherous skate across the slippery ice to the other side.


Next stop: Upper McCord Creek Falls.  I use the word stop loosely.

We continued up past the top of the falls and followed a deteriorating path along Upper McCord Creek.  The gnarly forest growth grew thicker, the trail petered out, and we eventually turned around to battle our way back to the main trail's end.  Rather than follow the trail back down to the previous junction with Trail #400, we made it a loop.  After all, backtracking is for chumps.


We ran (off and on) back to the Wahclella Falls trailhead, paralleling and occasionally overlapping the Not Munra Point trail.   On the drive home, we stopped at McMenamins Edgefield to thaw out, warm up, and celebrate the end of the hike.

Not that our low elevation escapades earned us the right to celebrate anything.  But we'll make up for that on our next hike, researching and double checking our sources.  No doubt we had followed that blogger's directions to get to the steep stuff last weekend, but we ended up with a trail that even Lena and Sheamus could've hiked (read: baby and dog friendly).


I guess that's what we get for trusting some random traveling/ hiking blogger.   Everybody knows one of those.

Cleaning up after Typhoon Haiyan

It's hard to imagine anyone in the connected world who wasn't aware of "Super Typhoon" Haiyan ravaging the central Philippines earlier this month.  For far too many of us, hearing once again about the massive destruction and 10,000+ people killed by the storm seems like yesterday’s news.  Yet for the displaced survivors in Tacloban and other populated areas in the storm’s path, the devastating impact of this typhoon continues to be a reality of life.

Since I first blogged about this elsewhere, conditions in the region have been improving.  Relief efforts from organizations worldwide have reported promising news about the effective distribution of aid, the prevention of anarchy, a reduction in looting, a more productive political climate, and the general assistance of injured and displaced people.

Menchit Wong, the child advocacy director for Compassion International, shared an encouraging update about answered prayers and new requests last week.  And Eddie Viray, the national leader of the Church of God in the Philippines, also recorded a YouTube video recently detailing the ongoing needs of Church of God Ministries' relief efforts in the region.

For readers, I share these reports to remind us that we can support these relief efforts through our prayers and our giving.  Sending foreign supplies often isn’t a practical solution due to the logistics of on-site delivery, so monetary giving is most helpful.

The Church of God Disaster Relief Fund and Compassion International are both wonderful organizations whom I recommend supporting in their relief efforts.  Here are their contribution links:

Church of God Ministries:  http://www.chog.org/disaster-relief

Compassion International:

  

On a personal note, I am thankful that Typhoon Haiyan never came within 200 km of my friend Robert's hometown of Muntinlupa.  He was visiting the Philippines when the storm hit, and he and his family were mercifully unaffected by this disaster.  Robert enthusiastically assured me this morning that he is grateful for the outpouring of support for his home country.

Let's keep it coming!

Coming this weekend on Garth's Blog...

Yesterday's treacherously icy trail run

And later...

Posts about surfing, pumpkin patches, traveling to Spain with Lena, and our upcoming Hamilton family Thanksgiving!

Noordwijk, Netherlands: The almost daddy-daughter day trip

Running on Noordwijk Beach in the Netherlands last weekend, with friends from around the world

How did last weekend's impossibly fun day trip to Noordwijk turn out differently than planned? There were a couple of last minute changes:

1. I swapped out a friend visit in Amsterdam for a one night stay in the coastal town of Noordwijk, the Netherlands.  Why?  Because...
2. ...This trip was intended to be a daddy-daughter weekend away.  But at the last minute, the decision was made to keep our precious two year daughter old at home.

Lena would've loved her quality bonding time with Daddy in the Netherlands, and her hard working Mommy surely deserved a relaxing bachelorette weekend at home. And on the heels of my brief friend-visiting spree in northern Italy last month (link), I was anxious to squeeze in one more overseas family outing before our baby's January due date.

Sadly, Mommy was concerned that Lena may have still been recovering from a cold. So less than three hours prior to departure, Lena was removed from my flight listing.   Kathy requested that I reshape our travel plans for the Netherlands into to a solo day trip.


Even with these two last minute changes, the trip played out like a dream.

The bus from Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport to Noordwijk took about 1 1/2 hours (2 hours for the return trip to Amsterdam the next morning) to reach the coast.

The peaceful views of the Netherlands' misty countryside made my transition from a cushy 8 1/2 hours in Delta's Business Elite cabin to a public bus that much smoother.



My early morning arrival at the Flying Pig Beach Hostel gave me a chance to rest up before heading out for the day. Bianca from northern Ireland at the reception desk generously invited me to join the community for breakfast, making up in advance for my 5:45 a.m. checkout time that would send me away hungry the next morning.

I explored the town of Noordwijk for a while before heading back to the Flying Pig to round up some people.  A brisk beach run was the cure for my airplane/bus ride blues. Ishai and I assembled a crew of the willing and able from our hostel.  Israeli mountaineer Ishai, Brit Sophia (training for a marathon!), and Americans Christine, David and I all hit Noordwijk Beach to stretch out our legs.

It wasn't all sunshine and sand, of course. A couple miles or so in, a light drizzle escalated into a hail storm. We turned around, but not in time to spare our faces from a stinging microdermabrasion of ice pellets. We splintered apart into pairs running all directions, yet somehow hilariously got back to the hostel doorstep at the same time.

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Here's a first: That night, we stayed in. When checking into any hostel, my customary shtick is to drag my fellow backpackers/accomplices out of their beds, couches, hammocks, etc. to join me for a rambunctious night out on the town.

No need. The Flying Pig is already a popular hangout for Noordwijk's locals. And our beach hostel had all the right ingredients for a memorable night: a fun party atmosphere, music for dancing, comfortable places to chill, and the perfect mix of people.

Our night at the Flying Pig beach hostel begins!

As always, it was my mates who made the night so unforgettable. The night flew by for our gang of five fearless beach runners plus Stu, Mariah, Rick, Jacques, Keelie, Kat, Michael, Bianca, Vanessa, and everyone else who drew us in for the laughs, stories, surprisingly deep discussions, and ridiculous drama.  I wouldn't have traded a minute with those friends for the extra hour or so I could've spent sleeping.

My night continued straight on until dawn. It was cringe-worthy to wake up Sophia (and Kat!) at 5:45 a.m. to get my passport back, but the rest of my return trip went off with a hitch.  Fading quickly, I was out like a light as soon as I boarded the early morning bus to Amsterdam.

It seemed as though I didn't finally wake up until my plane prepared to land at PDX 13 hours later.

Waking up to the familiar views of two of my favorite climbs, Mount St. Helens and Mount Adams

Back in Portland I helped a friend in Italy fly back to the U.S. with one of my buddy passes, hooked up with a compadre here in Beaverton, and then hurried home to Lena and Kathy, the love of my life.  I walked into the house to find my baby girl in good health.

Lena, I'm glad that you're feeling better now. I still owe you a daddy-daughter trip.

Better start packing!

Coming up on Garth's Blog...

Recent family surfing weekends at the Oregon Coast!

And then...

Lena's 1st international trip to Madrid, Spain!!

Video: Dance war!

1, 2, 3, 4... I declare a dance war!  Our Delta Airlines dance crew has a new challenger.

Poke the play button above to watch us dance in our 2012 "Delta Wanderland" Christmas music video.

Our choreographed dance routine for last year's "Delta Wanderland" Christmas video was a novel idea at the time: encourage actual Delta employees to audition, send the finalists (myself included) to L.A. to learn the dance moves, and shoot the music video all night on location at the LAX Airport. As an actor, it was a change of pace for me to rehearse dance moves rather than block action and memorize my lines from a script.

My blog offered a series of behind the scenes looks at shooting our music video last year. Three of the four most the popular posts from that series are listed below.  Here are the links:

Behind the Scenes in LA Pt. 1- Dancing Near the Stars
Choreographing our dance moves at L.A.'s International Dance Academy on Hollywood Boulevard

Behind the Scenes in LA Pt. 2- On Set: Delta Wanderland
Stories and production stills from our all night video shoot at LAX airport

And of course...
Bonus Documentary: "Delta Wanderland: Behind the Scenes!"
Sharing our official behind-the-scenes video, including a rare, brief clip of me busting some moves during our freestyle dance off!


We were proud of our production. Our Delta music video even beat out companies like HP to receive a trophy this year, winning an OMMA award for best Online Media, Marketing, and Advertising!

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But a few weeks ago, Virgin America challenged us on our own turf: the dance floor. Their creative new safety video features professional dancers (unlike us) and pizazz to spare. Clocking in at a whopping 5:00, readers may want to skim through the clip:




I'll concede, our Delta dance troupe seems to be out-sassed on this one.  But does our 2012 "Delta Wanderland" music video stand on its own merits?  And is it fair to compare our one night production using authentic, non-dancer Delta employees against a professional music video?  Personally, I think it's impressive that we pulled off "Delta Wanderland" on such a tight shooting schedule last year.  Our team did such a great job!  Readers can be the judge of that.

We may have barely lost this dance battle, but not the dance war.

Coming this weekend on Garth's Blog...

Yesterday's day trip to Noordwijk, Netherlands: An almost daddy-daughter visit!

And then....

Cold water surfing in Oregon with the fam!

Northern Italy, Pt. 2: Verona, Venice, and beyond

Readers:  This brief European visiting spree from a couple weeks ago was a mini-continuation of our family’s vacation in Spain, our trip that got cut short a few weeks earlier.  Stay tuned for our family’s Madrid travelogue from September, coming soon!

…Continued from last week’s Northern Italy: Confrontation in First Class (link), and written on the return train from Verona and also in my Venice hostel:

Planes, trains, automobiles, and boats.  Dabbling in nearly every conventional mode of motorized transportation was the only way to reach my first stop: Verona, Italy.

It felt like I had already been gone for days.  In reality, quick visits to friends in Edinburg, Leon, and Rome were sadly cut from the itinerary prior to my seatmate’s drunken scuffle with airline crews on the taxiway in New York.  It was a bummer to waste two whole travel days when Kathy and Lena were already on their way out of town… we USUALLY travel together as a family.  My goal was for us all to return home at roughly the same time, so the clock was ticking.

My Venice flight’s emergency return to the gate in JFK had delayed my arrival in Verona even longer.  Once the onboard hubbub died down, most of my comfy flight time was spent reading and studying. [11/6/13: Also see the comment section from last week’s post].  I should have been sleeping.

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After 20+ hours of driving, flying, and layovers, I hit the ground in Venice.  A ticket lady at Venice's Marco Polo airport directed me to a boat that would supposedly connect with my train to Verona.  I should’ve known there was an easier way.

The boat driver was in no hurry.  Now I’m not saying that he was slow, but at one point I seriously considered diving into the canal and swimming ahead to shave off some time.

Turns out the entire boat ride in Venice was both unnecessary and uncalled for.  The Italian woman at the ticket booth heard my request for “Verona” and must have translated it to “Murano.”   That’s right, Italian auto-correct in action.  She sold me an expensive ticket for a water taxi (no destination printed) that I caught at the docks, thinking that it would take me from the Venice airport to the train station.  Nope!

I switched boats.  A nautical hour later, our boat eventually floated into one of the narrow canals and docked next to a waterfront café.  The amazing race was on:  find the train station, and then catch a fast train to Verona.  I wouldn’t be racing untethered, though…

Euji from the boat christened me as her personal tour guide to untangle the confusing walkways of Venice.  My expertise must have been determined by me stepping onto dry land a whole five seconds before she did, right?  I didn’t have the heart to keep explaining to Euji about the American phrase, “the blind leading the blind.”

After hurriedly helping my enthusiastic Japanese friend locate a couple of tourist sites, I ran to the Venice station to hop a westbound fast train.  My friend staying near Verona was patiently waiting, although we had already scaled back our plans due to my late arrival in northern Italy.  A weekend of hiking, sightseeing, and whatnot was reduced to whatever we could squeeze into an afternoon and evening.

Carli, the WWOOF farmer, arrived about the same time as I did to meet me at the Verona Porta Nuova train station.

Sharp readers may remember Maggie's sister Carli and other friends from this trip being mentioned in previous posts.  Maggie's still awesome as always, and her and Carli are the the two sisters who signed up with Worldwide Workers on Organic Farms a couple years ago to WWOOF their way through Italy.

Maggie stayed in the U.S. this year as Carli returned to Italy in April for more exploring and farming, spending the bulk of her current stay working in and above the majestic Arpisson Valley.  Some earlier missteps this year tragically prevented me from visiting that beautiful countryside near Cogne.   But it was certainly worth the side trip to Verona yesterday to include her in my latest Italy visiting spree.  Maggie and Carli write about their adventures here, and a widget for their blog can also be found on my “Garth’s Blog” sidebar.

Being first time visitors in town, neither of us could tell apart Verona from Khumbu, Nepal.  We discovered that fans of Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet” would find much to appreciate in the historic center, as well as ancient Roman and Gothic architecture buffs.  Some of the monuments and structures that we walked past dated back to the first century A.D., like the Arena di Verona coliseum.  Checking out the walking trails at nearby Lake Garda may have been a more fitting activity than urban sightseeing, though.

The friendly locals were brimming with that famous Italian hospitality of the region.  A helpful café owner even loaned us an umbrella for a few hours to fend off the rain as we explored the town.  And we weren’t even his customers!

Refreshing afternoon gelatos, antipasto, tasty pizza, and a calzone (the only actual meal I’ve had so far) took the edge off our hunger for the walk back to the train station.  If only I had remembered to grab the leftovers!  By the time I retrieved my backpack from the luggage locker, the last slow train to Venice was only a few minutes away from nearing the station.

Back in Venice, a boat picked me up in front of the train station, cruised through the city’s canals in the dark, and dropped me off at the Generator Hostel Venice around 1:30 a.m.  I’d need to rest up for joining my friend Chris in the morning near his campsite, and also for hooking up with the gang from the Tuscany region later on.

My exhausting, mostly sleepless string of travel hours should have sent me immediately into bunk bed hibernation.  But a rambunctious party in the common lounge downstairs tempted me with a more enticing option.  Bout in Venice, first round:  Much needed sleep vs. bonus fun with fellow backpackers.  Anyone who knows me can definitely guess which choice won out!

One of these days, I’ll learn.

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It remains to be seen if this trip will live up to the “beyond” section of this post title, as planned.  It all depends on my meager budget, time, and how close my other friends in Italy are at the moment.

But one thing’s for sure:  I can’t wait to get home to Kathy and Lena soon.  Unlike our family trip to Spain last month, our time off work and out-of-town schedules didn’t line up this time.  I’ll be hurrying home shortly, anxious to whisk them away to somewhere else across the globe!

11/6/13: Rather than further delaying this two-week old post to find free time for updating, I added the intro/pics today and pretty much published it as is. And now that I’m back in the States, I’ll consider adding a fourth wrap-up post (no promises!) to Part 3 about my less than smooth exit from Italy.

11/10/13: Part 3: Reunions in Venice was posted yesterday, but it has been removed indefinitely.  I'll replace that post with another post that I wrote here in Noordwijk, Netherlands.

And to all of you amazing friends still in Italy whom I had to bail on AGAIN… Nick, Ben, Jeremiah, Houtan, Eric, Gerardo, and pretty much everyone I know down south… we’ll have our day in the Italian sun some other time!

Coming this weekend on Garth’s Blog…

Reunions in Venice!

(11/10/13 Post removed)

And then…

Cold water surfing in Oregon with the fam!

And later this month…

Madrid, Spain:  Lena goes from nationwide to worldwide!

Northern Italy: Confrontation in First Class

This is Part 1 of 3 (plus a possible 4^th post, now that I’m back in the U.S. to write one), typed from northern Italy last week while hanging with friends old and new:  Carli, Chris, Piotr, Sarah, Leslie, Chad, Jorge, Jenny… and the rest of the gang who surprised me in Venice!

Kathy and our two year old Lena drove to Salem and Bend with family for a few days last week.  Due to a work scheduling conflict on their first day, I wasn’t able to join them.   So I resumed a mini-version of our European trip, solo, that was interrupted last month when our family was in Madrid.  The blog posts about last month’s family trip to Spain are coming soon!

A few of my Delta vacation days were cancelled (and one wasted) late last week trying to fly standby from Portland to hook up with friends here in northern Italy.  But so far, this trip has been worth the wait!  Here’s a little pre-adventure story to kick things off:

Confrontation in First Class

I "live tweeted" about the following dust-up as my plane was returning to the gate in New York.  The passenger seated next to me had waaay to much to drink in the Delta Sky Club prior to boarding.  He was so loaded that his hands couldn’t even hold his pre-departure drink steady.  As our plane taxied off to the runway, he started making a fuss… and a mess.

Warning: This is gross.  My seatmate (a dead ringer for zombie-slayer Michonne, from the Walking Dead) and I gagged as this guy coughed up what looked like blood all over himself.  There were red droplets and chunks splattered everywhere:  the floor, his clothes, his seat, the TV monitor.  I asked him if he was alright, and he calmly assured me that it was merely wine and not blood.  He had regrettably “spent a little too much time drinking at the Sky Club this afternoon.”  So then what in the name of Gilbert Gottfried were those red chunks?

The pilot announced that our plane was returning to the gate.  No surprise there.  The tanked passenger started a series of arguments with the Delta flight attendants, then the captain, then the returning gate agent, and then finally launched a 2^nd and final bout with the captain.

While the utterly smashed passenger was being escorted off the plane, a collective wince fell across our Business Elite faces at his parting imagery.  He was trying in vain to prevent his sagging slacks from falling down around his ankles.  Pure horror.

Cleanup on Aisle 2: The cabin service crew earned their paychecks that night.  It took THREE of them to clean up that disgusting mess before our plane could taxi back out to the runway again!

The moral of the story is:  don’t drink and… fly, I guess?  Maybe the moral is even more obvious.  Just don’t be that guy.

Kudos to the New York-based Delta Airlines team for their professionalism in handling this heated situation.  Our plane departed the second time and made it to Venice, Italy without incident!

And a big congrats to the bewildered buddy pass rider who was suddenly upgraded from Economy Coach to the Business Elite seat of the crime.  Friend, your new seat was most likely sparkling clean by the time you sat down next to me.

But just in case, I hope you packed a change of pants.

Coming this weekend early next week

on Garth’s Blog…

...Pt. 2- Northern Italy: Verona, Venice, and Beyond!