Wow. Am I glad I'm not flying in American or Delta today. From his Twitter updates, I gather that Otis was not so fortunate.
I'm off to Monte Carlo this afternoon to cover the EPT Grand Final for PokerNews. 13 hours in the air will get me to Nice, France, interrupted by a three-hour layover in Frankfurt. My father is so thrilled that I'll finally get a German stamp on my increasingly decorated passport. Grandma was from Munich before immigrating to the U.S. in her early twenties, and neither Mandy nor I have yet to set foot in the Motherland.
Pauly won't be covering this one with us, since he's all semi-retired now and instead will be working on his magnum opus in the solitude of my empty apartment while I'm away. He's totally freaked out about driving in L.A. traffic (I almost always drive when he's here) so I gave him some quick pointers about what to to in the event of an accident and assured him that that's what car insurance is for. I also earned $100 at breakfast when I bet Pauly on the release date of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. He said 1968, I knew 1967 was a total lock. I couldn't even believe he took the action. Taking a prop like that with me is like thinking your top pair is good against the old lady in the 1 seat who just shoved all in.
I've been to the South of France before, but never to Monaco. I took a trip to Nice with Charlie, his wife, and a group of other friends 6 years ago and loved it, especially since Mrs. Charlie was fluent in French and could translate for all us mono-lingual dumbasses. I suppose I'll have to have Benjo help me order my $60 cheeseburgers this time. I'm psyched to see him and the rest of my European media pals.
It only took me 15 minutes to pack this morning. I'm getting good at this.
Catch you all from the Cote.