I Have a Prostate Problem

So here's how today went. Up, early, shower, iron shirt, cufflinks on, out the door, ready to roll for this meeting. Hoof it over to Penn Station, meet colleague. Blah blah blah, work sucks talk, and then, whoops! missed our intended train to take us to Pennsylvania for a client meeting. So colleague and I run around midtown Manhattan trying to find a car rental location that doesn't materialize. Back to train station. Buy tickets to Philly, board train, arrive without incident. Wait half an hour, get another train to Exton, PA, where client is located. I assume colleague has arranged the details of this trip. She is a good person, but she has not. Exton train station is essentially in the middle of a field, no cabs to be had as colleague expected. Call a car service, go to client, blah blah blah, nice chat, blah blah, thank you, come again. It's now 1230 EST, time to kill until 2:07pm train back to NYC. Wander around a Babies'backwardsR'Us because there's nothing else to do. Cab to train station. 2:07pm comes and goes. Guy in the Eagles jacket announces he works for Amtrak, calls buddy, buddy tells him train is running an hour late. Stand around like a dingus on train platform in fuckville Pennsylvania for an hour. Train arrives (from Ohio, but it may as well have been fucking Calcutta, the way folks are sprawled all over the seats on board), get on, train makes up for lost time, arrives Penn Station in NYC 5 minutes after originally scheduled arrival, approx. 5:10pm. My chartered car was schedule for 5:15pm, so I exit Penn Station, walk 10 feet, spot my car, off we go to LGA. Bonus at LGA - plane check in ON TIME at ticket kiosk for 7pm departure. Not so when I get to the gate. Now an 8:48 "wheels up" time is promised. With some luck they move that forward a bit, we board plane at 730pm EST. Then they leave us on the tarmac for an hour. Finally, plane takes off. Worst. Air. Turbelence. Ever. The entire 2 hours. The girl ahead of me throws up. The lady behind me does. I'm stuck in the middle seat between some gal I don't even know what and a dude reeking of booze, who removes his shoes and rubs his feet on my legs accidentally more than I'd care to have happen from a guy what looks like a wooley mammoth. Flight continues, I get ready to vomit. No vomit. No vomit. Okay, no vomit. Then the in flight "movie" is an E Network True Hollywood Story about Dolly Parton, which turns out to be more captivating than you'd expect. Which they cut off in the middle of it, as plane is "landing." Or more like going though a final half hour of really amazingly awful turbulence. Finally, the fucking thing lands, and I'm all "Thank you Jesus, Allah, Jewish guy, Tom Cruise, whoever." And then they roll us right on up and out past all the gates. Turns out they're full. So we sit in the plane parking lot for another half an hour. At which point, the Whiskey Mammoth with the stocking feet turns to me and says "They better let us get up and move around soon...I have a prostate problem." At which point the seatbelt light "bings!" off, and he gets up and beelines it for the can.

And that was my day. Enjoy the menu for sturdier stomachs:
Avocado Cocktail Salad
Duck with Sauerkraut
Carrot and Celery Soufflé
Hot Mince Pie with Rum Sauce
Coffee