I read a story in the newspaper recently how researchers at Yale University have developed a car that will actually warn the driver of conditions that might result in an accident.  For instance, if another car moves up into the blind spot on your left, where you can’t see it in the mirrors, a probe comes out from the driver’s side door and gives you a sharp poke in the ribs as a warning.  If a car comes up and starts tailgating you, you get jabbed in the lower part of you back by another probe in the seat back.

This may be a good thing to give warning to a driver of impending accident-causing situations of which he may be otherwise unawares, due to the fact that he is busy chuckling over the latest dirty jokes that were sent to him by text message from his co-workers down at the loading dock.  However, if you routinely drive in rush hour traffic or, say, any school zone, you are bound to emerge from your car following each trip with more bruises than a New Orleans Saints lineman on Monday morning.

Me, I’d prefer to have a car that automatically sensed when some sunnavabitch cuts you off on the expressway. It would then automatically shoot a mechanical arm out the window to give him the finger and while at the same time firing off some choice words over a loudspeaker at a volume high enough that it could be heard at the other end of the state.  I’d prefer that option well over a satellite radio.

Just when we were beginning to hope that our nation’s skies might get a little friendlier, I read of this shocking incident where, once again, some passengers are locked overnight on a cramped airplane . This time, it happened in Rochester, Minnesota, and Continental Airlines was the culprit. Or maybe not.

Continental, as you may know, is one of the airlines that decided to implement a surcharge of $15 a bag to lose you luggage.

The flight from Houston was originally destined for Minneapolis. The troubles began when severe weather forced the plane to be diverted to Rochester, 85 miles away. It landed there just after midnight last Saturday.

The story is best told through the announcements of the airline attendant as the ordeal wore on:

12:15 AM: “We are very sorry, but we cannot allow anyone to get off the plane right now. The good news is that you can be assured Continental Airlines is not at fault for any of this. We will remain here on the ground in Rochester until we can determine with certainty who exactly is to blame.”

So, the passengers sat on the tarmac, a mere 50 yards from the relative comfort of the airport terminal.

1:30 AM: “Ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to report that we are making progress in our investigation as to who is to blame for this unfortunate incident. At this point, we have also ruled out our regional carrier, ExpressJet Airlines. We are currently working on the theory that airport officials here in Rochester are the ones responsible. It is also my duty to report that we have run out of mini-pretzels. The good news, however, is that pretzels will only make you thirsty, and we are discontinuing beverage service because all of the toilets are completely full.”

3:00 AM: “You will be happy to know that we have made further progress in our investigation. We have now cleared the airport officials of any blame. Our investigators are now working on the theory that it is the Department of Homeland Security who is actually at fault, as all of the security screeners have gone home for the evening. This seems to be why no one is being allowed inside the terminal.”

“I also wish to apologize for not having enough pillows and blankets to go around for you all, but the good news is that you really won’t be able to sleep anyway with all of the babies crying all night.”

5:00 AM: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are getting much closer to determining who is at fault in this matter. Our team of three investigators have now definitely ruled out the Department of Homeland Security, as they were acting under strict federal rules. Our team is pursuing several other possible scapegoats at this time. One investigator thinks it’s George Bush’s fault, another thinks it’s Barack Obama’s, and the third is blaming his ex-wife.”

“Also, as it is now 5AM, I am happy to report that I have now worked the maximum number of hours allowed under federal law, and so I am going home now to have a martini and take a nice, long, hot bubble bath. My replacement will keep you informed as to further progress.”

Some relief finally arrived an hour later, when security screeners showed up for work, passengers were allowed in the terminal, and were served a complimentary beverage in a four-ounce cup with three ounces of ice.

As of today, Continental’s investigation into who was to blame had not yielded any firm conclusion aside from the fact that it was definitely not the airline. Nonetheless, they did offer the inconvenienced passengers free vouchers for a future Continental incarceration.

Losing the luggage will still cost extra.

I came across this story earlier in the week about a Texas man who was arrested in Mansfield on drug charges when some construction workers called police after noticing him crawling “on his hands and knees, eating mud, and growling like a dog”. I don’t know what kind of drugs this guy was on, but it makes me recall a song that was out back in the sixties about that sort of thing. It went something like this:

One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small
And the one you ate last Thursday made you want to lick your balls
Go ask Alan when he starts to crawl

The construction workers should feel fortunate that the guy didn’t feel inclined to hump one of their legs.

The thing that really got me about this story was the mud eating part. As far as I know, dogs, or any animal for that matter, are not known to eat mud. Now, hypothetically speaking, if I were a dog, I think I would go find the best restaurant in town, hang outside the kitchen door, and beg for scraps. You can do much, much better than mud, with the possible exception of a few all-you–can–eat buffets that I have come across.

Better yet, if I were a dog, I’d go and hang out someplace like the Schooner Wharf Bar in Key West, Florida. It’s one of my favorite bars in Key West, and in this establishment dogs are not only welcome, they’re treated like royalty. But I can’t explain this scene as well as singer/songwriter Michael McCloud. If you’re ever in Key West, you can see him play there most afternoons. So, let’s hear him describe it to you: