Little Peter Needs to Fly

I bought Peter's plane ticket today. Pete's freecard is maxed out but we needed him in Minneapolis to be the first assistant grip. You always feel rotten buying plane tickets. Thousands of dollars to languish in a cramped child-king's throne made of cheap Styrofoam and cheesecloth, sucking down filth and disease from tainted blower units that should've been replaced back before things got bad. Buying other people's plane tickets is even worse. Never mind that noise though; Stephenson paid for most of my ticket to Bangkok, and Morgan's ticket too. And Stephenson hasn't even met Morgan. Not yet anyways. Imagine buying a plane ticket to Bangkok for a guy you never met. Nightmare.

Also, Peter's old man has a spare Saturn out in the barn that sweet Pete can drive us around in for the week. Save us the hassle of getting a rental car. And with any luck, kind Mrs. Mills will fix us up a hot plate of that Beef Stroganoff I've heard so much about.

I wrote a letter to the upstanding Senator from Virgina, Jim Webb. Hell of a guy. A writer before anything. After you're done here how bout you do yourself a favor and click your way on over to amazon and drop a couple Webb books in your shopping cart. Anyways, I'd like to sit down with him and Reed for 20 minutes. There's a lot of common ground there. So I mailed Senator Webb the letter and a copy of the DVD. My buddy in corporate law down in DC said don't even bother, it takes six months for Senators to get mail on account of the Anthrax screening and by that point we'll all be dead anyways. $2.09 in postage doesn't seem an obscene price for this quixotic request and besides I saved the receipt. Morgan expense me buddy.