Come on blogger.com!

Just got done typing a post about my recent trip up to Waylan, MI to speak at another Summit event and stay with good friends Andy and Erin Rozendaal, and the blog site temporarily crashed on me.

This is the second or third time this has happened, and I have NO desire to retype all that is lost. Bah. What a lumpy day.

So, in short, I went somewhere this weekend and things happened and I came home. Bah. Today, I hate blogspot. Instead I shall post a poem to fill space:

The Des Moines “International” Airport

You may want to call the police,
Or maybe the CIA,
Or whatever watchdog group may be,
Protecting the US of A.

There’s chance I might be a terrorist,
A chance I might be insane,
At least that’s what I found out last month,
While trying to get on a plane.

When I went through security,
A guard swabbed my laptop case,
Then put the swab into a machine,
A grimace affixed on her face.

I nervously tried to chit-chat,
“How long does it take this thing?”
She said, “Just a few moments and then,
It’ll make a noise that goes ding.”

I made a little joke or two,
She seemed immune to my charm,
Then the machine began to light up,
And out came a piercing alarm.

“That sure doesn’t sound like a ‘ding’”,
“No, it sure doesn’t,” she said,
Then she picked up her walkie-talkie,
And whispered, “I’ve got a code red.”

It’s strange that when this all happened,
I knew that I should stay calm,
But I’ll admit the thought crossed my mind,
“Well, maybe I do have a bomb. . .”

Just maybe Al Qaida changed plans,
To bring about our demise,
And instead of Arab extremists,
They’re targeting white, Irish guys.

Or maybe they got to my wife,
It wouldn’t be hard I guess,
Just catch her on one of my bad days,
When I’d left the bathroom a mess.

This uniformed man stormed over,
Like he was in a bad mood,
“Do you work with explosives?” he asked,
“Just when I eat Mexican food.”

Well, after a thorough pat down,
From a large black guard named Steve,
They told me it’d just been a mistake,
And said I was free to leave.

Yet, as I headed toward my gate,
After gathering my stuff,
That guilty part of me still wondered,
If they didn’t look hard enough.

Yes, that actually happened. It just didn't rhyme at the time like it does now.

Till next time,
Jason