This weekend marks the start of “official” wedding festivities, in the form of an Engagement Party, thrown by the mother of the bride-to-be. The two families will be getting together along with friends and relatives. Meghan and I will be taking my family around to see the reception hall live and in person, as well as scout around for potential rehersal dinner sites.

The location of the party holds a special place in my heart, as it is the eatery where I took Meghan’s parents to ask if I could marry their daughter. I have a feeling this weekend’s event will be far less nerve racking than my last dinner there!

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After a 4am wake up call to catch my first flight of the day, I’m sitting in Cincinnati waiting for my connection back to JFK, along with several thousand of my closest friends. It’s somewhat amusing watching thos who rarely travel negotiate airport queues with nervous looks and mouths agape. One of the more amusing aspects of these ?infrequent flyers? is that they actually take the ?arrive many hours before your flight? advice to heart. This morning I saw a lonely and sleepyly looking family station at their gate for a 9:30 departure. It was 5:37.

The other thing I find amusing is that these folks stock up on food, magazines, etc as if they were going to Siberia via dogsled. There were hundreds of folks waiting at McDonalds, both at 5am in Chicago and now in Cincinnati. The last thing I want to see after 5 hours of sleep is some Greaseball McFatty from the golden arches!

I have one more flight, a 40 mile drive back two Stamford, and then a couple more hours rest before Meghan gets back from work. THEN it’s a 300 mile drive up to NH. I hope my Dad has the bourbon waiting… I’m going to need it!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!

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It?s off to the Gray Residence in New Hampshire on Wednesday for Turkey Time. Meghan and I will be joining the Pat?s (my parents Pat and Pat), Tanis and her new fiancee Roger. I?m flying home Wednesday afternoon from Chicago, picking up Meghan in Stamford, and then we?re tearing up I-91 in the TL. I?m hoping that the rest of the Northeast is leaving bright and early, so we can let the TL stretch her legs and get us up north quickly.

Meghan and I hope all of you have a great Thanksgiving holiday, or a great weekend in general for those of you outside the US!

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A shepherd was tending his flock in a remote pasture when suddenly a dust cloud approached at high speed, out of which emerged a shiny silver BMW. The driver, a young man in an Armani suit, Ferragamo shoes, the latest Polarized sunglasses and a tightly knotted power tie, poked his head out the window and asked the shepherd, “Hey! If I can tell you how many sheep you have in your flock, will you give me one?”

The shepherd looked at the man, then glanced at his peacefully grazing flock and answered, “Sure.”

The driver parked his car, plugged his microscopic cell phone into a laptop and briskly surfed to a GPS satellite navigation system on the Internet and initiated a remote body-heat scan of the area. While the computer was occupied, he sent some e-mail via his Blackberry and, after a few minutes, nodded solemnly at the responses. Finally, he printed a 150 page report on the little laser printer in his glove compartment, turned to the shepherd, waving the sheaves of paper, and pronounced ?You have exactly 1,586 sheep.”

“Impressive. One of my sheep is yours.” said the shepherd.

He watched the young man select an animal and bundle it into his car. Then the shepherd said: “If I can tell you exactly what your business is, will you give me back my sheep?”

Pleased to meet a fellow sportsman, the young man replied ?You?re on.?

“You are a consultant.” said the shepherd without hesitation.

“That’s correct,” said the young man, impressed. “How ever did you guess?”

“It wasn?t a guess,” replied the shepherd. “You drive into my field uninvited. You ask me to pay you for information I already know, answer questions I haven?t asked, and you know nothing about my business. Now give me my back my dog.”

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After striking out with three of Jesus? franchises, we finally have found the proverbial ?holy grail? and are on the calendar at St. Patrick?s Church in Newark, NJ! Thanks to Meghan?s grandmother, one big item can now be checked off our wedding to-do list.

We also had a ?test run? of our eventual wedding invitation writing as we cranked out a batch of invitations for another Gray/Estrada family get together in the form of an Engagement party in Newark. DJ Grand Marquis is supposedly sending us a sample mix CD, so that may knock out another big piece of the wedding puzzle.

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Last week, I hit an all time low. Wednesday night, I bolted awake at two in the morning, soaking with cold sweat, with the feeling of spiders crawling all over my skin. I looked around in sheer panic, not recognizing the four walls that seemed to be rapidly closing in on me. After several years of company-paid travel, room service-delivered scotch and flying first class, I found I had hit rock bottom: the Holiday Inn.

My name is Pat, and I am a travel snob.

Years of company-paid travel changes a man. Like most Americans, my first brush with travel was during the family summer vacation. We would spend our nights at various motor lodges, or our home away from home: the Red Roof Inn. Our family of four would occupy a single room, Mom and sis in one bed, Dad and I in the other as we rested up before finishing the long drive over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house.

By virtue of a reasonable education and good timing, I ended up starting my career at the tail end of the economic boom of the late 1990’s. Dot-coms were still investors’ darlings, and companies had more money than they could spend. In their exuberance, they were even willing to finance the worldwide travels of a punk 22-year old. I graduated college having never left North America, and suddenly the world was opened to me. In the course of about two months, I managed to visit Amsterdam, Paris and Las Vegas (four times) on the company dime. During the work week I would stay at high end hotels, and not an eye would be batted if three people went out for a three hundred dollar dinner and “ran it through” as they say.

I had room service available 24/7, Platinum status on airlines and hotels, and a guaranteed room within 24 hours notice the world over. Limos and rental cars on call, and I had sampled the best in fine food and liquor the world over; I had it all.

Of course, that’s all over now. I’m your average schnook. I called room service the other day and asked for a filet and bourbon, and ended up with a cheeseburger and Budweiser.

With the “irrational exuberance” of the late 1990’s over, I’ve been reduced to the Holiday Inn. I’m not on Holiday, and if I were, you can bet your gold medallion that I would not be staying at an “inn” of any sort. I can say this particular Holiday Inn did include one feature I have never seen in a hotel before. At random intervals throughout the evening, my room phone would ring, with no one at the other end of the line. This feature was particularly appreciated at 2 and 4am! The preemptive wake up call, so to speak.

After my tense evenings of “rehab” at the Holiday Inn, I’ve slipped into remission and hit the speed dial for my “dealer:” the Starwood Hotels Platinum hotline. With some creative use of corporate promotional codes, this week I am in the comparative luxury of the Sheraton in the suburbs of northern Chicago. My dealer has been missing me, since he upgraded me to a suite while still remaining within the meager budget my client has allocated towards my weekly lodging “fix.” This is how it starts: an upgrade here, free points there, and then they take it all away. All the same, while it lasts I’ll keep my nose turned up at the Inns of the world. The kids can eat free and I’ll eat my overpriced room service in the comfort of my suite!

Categories: Travel, Work
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A consultant died and, as luck would have it, went to heaven. There were millions of people ahead of him in line to see St. Peter. To the consultant’s surprise, St. Peter rose from the heaps of files and papers at his desk by the Gates, strolled briskly down the long line to where the consultant stood, and greeted him warmly. He walked the consultant to the front of the line and ushered him into a comfortable chair by his desk. St. Peter sat on the other side and stared at the consultant wonderingly.

After a moment, the consultant said, “I have to say I appreciate all this attention, but what makes me so special?”

St. Peter replied, “I’m simply amazed by your apparent good health. I’ve added up all the hours for which you billed your clients, and by my calculations you’re 214 years old!”

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After several weeks of roadblocks, we are finally moving forward with our wedding plans. I’ve been in contact with the world famous DJ Grand Marquis (how can you argue with a DJ named after a family sedan!) and we’re looking forward to seeing him in action before signing him on to spin the wheels of steel at our wedding. We’ve also enlisted the help of Meghan’s grandmother. She apparently has a better relationship with Jesus than I do, as she has assured us St. Patrick’s Church would be happy to host our ceremony. It will be great to have the watchful eye of God supervising our union, and I have a special place in my heart for St. Patrick for obvious reasons.

Meghan has also been sighted going through catalogs of wedding dresses, although much to my chagrin I’m not allowed to see the result of her search until the moment she walks down the aisle. Next up we have photo and video, invitations and other more minor details. It looks like we may be able to pull this thing off after all!

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The big news of the week is that my sister’s boyfriend, Roger as been promoted to the position of fiancee! The news came last Friday, and Meghan and I are both excited for them. Best of luck to Tanis and Roger!

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If you’re Pat and Pat (yes, my parents really are both Pats) your only son was off to LaGuardia at 4am, and is currently enjoying the company of other working slobs in the Delta Crown room. I visited the restroom, and it looks like I smoked something funky, since my eyes are beet red. Ah the joys of travel!

Hopefully my body remembers its “fall asleep within 4 minutes of sitting down on the airplane” trick, so I’m not a complete babbling idiot when I arrive at my new client!

Categories: Travel, Work
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