Indian food can go wrong

I submit the following instructions I found for cooking “Rice & Curry.”

"Peel open the lid film till across the compartment and put the tray inside the microwave. Heat on full power for 2 minutes. Remove the tray from the microwave and peel open the lid completely. Fluff the rice and stir the curry to serve it piping hot."

Having just prepared this meal, I also submit a response for the specific diction used in the last sentence of the instructions.

“fluff the rice;”
The brick of rice provided appeared less than enthusiastic to break its bonds with neighboring rice buddies. But to my surprise, the rice required very little encouragement. Soon each Basmati (a variety of long grain rice) grain was loose and ready.

“stir the curry;”
Despite being poetic, the curry was less cooperative.

“serve it piping hot;”
Regardless of the time it takes, this last suggestion for preparation is most important. You see, when you take that first bite of smoking hot rice and curry, you need to insure your taste buds are burnt beyond taste for the next two days. This is the most important suggestion because if you don’t burn your taste buds you will not likely finish the meal.

The meal was free and I enjoyed it (mostly because it’s been too long since I’ve had Indian food).

Back in '82 we had better movies?

I have given this subject very little thought, but I’m convinced my opinion is important. I hate re-make movies.

At first I was disappointed in Hollywood. I wish I could say they keep digging deeper, but they don’t. The current re-makes are shamelessly recent. I used to feel shocked when I found out that a movie I hate were re-makes (and the original is “so much better”). Now, everyone knows about re-makes before the movie is even being made (and the original is only better because we were too young to realize how much it sucked).

Hollywood is just like the record industry; they give us what we want. I’m disappointed in the American consumer.

We used to be cool. We used to sell cool. Our music, movies, and clothes used to find their way into black markets in China (among other places), because they bought it (the products and the image).

How are we going to keep exporting our best seller (cool) if we can’t even demand it for ourselves? The American consumer is like Uncle Rico. We continually try to re-live the past. “Back in '82, I used to be able to throw a pigskin a quarter mile.” No, we couldn’t, and we certainly won’t be able to in the future. Give up the football dream and make a new movie.

I rarely get scared.

When I go to a scary movie I have a hard time forgetting that I’m sitting in a movie theater. Maybe I lack imagination.

I usually laugh at scary movies because they are ridiculous. Most horror movies rely on the shock of an image or sound to scare the audience while the director has forgotten about the plot once he has the money to make the film.

This is not a critique of the horror genre, I actually like it. I just wish more movies could scare me, I crave it.

Some time ago I had a great idea, an answer to this problem. The most scared I’ve been in my life is when I had night terrors or sick dreams. When I was sixteen I spend all day playing James Bond 007 on Nintendo 64 and when I went to bed sick I had the most horrifying dream of my life. I was running around finding guns that would disappear once someone else found me. It was so real, in my head. And the logical side of my brain was on vacation.

I thought this was the worst dream ever, but hindsight has changed my opinion. That dream truly scared me and that kind of fear has been rare in my life.

So, the last few times I’ve been sick I’ve tried to spur sick nightmares. I haven’t succeeded yet, but I’m excited to become a delusional protagonist in a Wes Craven film.

And that's how Tommy Traveler became Tommy Pissed.

I used to try and write on my blog once a month. I don’t have any “followers,” but it used to be a nice creative outlet. But recently my life has been turned upside down, inside out, battered in captain crunch, and roasted over a fire (the last two actually sound pretty tasty). Excuses aside, I have a misfortune to write about.

I just returned to Providence from Salt Lake City. The visit was nice, but the trip turned sour on its last leg, the journey home.

I woke up at 8:00 AM (Mountain Standard Time) to visit my doctor. The appointment went seamless and quick, but it was the only thing that day that did.

The ride to the airport was a mess. A gradual snowstorm caused cars to face the peculiar wrong way on the interstate -and I thought Rhode Islanders were crazy for putting “no ‘U’ turn” signs on the onramps. Regardless, I made it with time to spare. The plane left SLC and landed smoothly in Denver.

The Departure Board in Denver read that my flight had been delayed an hour. Okay, I found some food and ate blissfully, knowing that my next flight from Chicago had a three-hour layover -and the Chicago Airport does not have a delicious burrito shop like Denver’s.

In an effort to shorten this story I will cut to the chase (feel free to replace the word “chase” with “shit-tastic-episode). 4:30 PM, on the plane in Denver. 5:30 PM, off the plane in Denver due to a window defrosting problem. 5:45 PM, on the same plane in Denver. 5:30 PM, on a new plane in Denver. 7:00 PM, off the second plane in Denver due to electrical problems (by this time the pilot has apologized at least twenty times).

Feeling endangered I made a rash decision and raced to the other side of the Denver Airport to catch a plane into Boston. This plane got into Boston just before 2:AM (Eastern Standard Time) and I had no way of getting to Providence, oh well –at least I was not stuck on any number of planes with maintenance problems.

Once in Boston I had four hours to kill before the bus routes were active again. This was actually the most relaxing time during my journey. I knew where I needed to be and when. There was no pressure on me or a the ticket master -that kept saying “oops. Well that’s Okay”. I had two good books, and surprisingly no desire to sleep.

I caught the bus and then the train. I wish there had been a taxi waiting for me outside the train station, but that would not have synced well with the rest of my adventure.

p.s. I’ve made this episode sound much better than it was. During the 26 hours trip I encountered dozens of minor events that would ruin an otherwise good day. But I’ve had a couple nights to sleep on it and I’m even laughing at most of it now.

p.p.s. Where do all the good looking girls in the airport go once I get on the plane?