It Matters Not

Wednesday Jeff said:

"Michael will be with you on Friday with more tales of danger, toilets (maybe) and other stuff (you never know with Michael, he can be kinda random sometimes)."

Just when and where have I gotten this reputation, I ask in all sincerity?

Look: I shy away from using two words day in and day out and those two words are "always" and "never." But I will state this: There is always a method to my madness. And that goes double for my randomness.

Yes, I'll admit: I can be random at times. But we've all heard the term "what goes around comes around" ... right? I just resemble that remark, is all.

So if you keep that in in the forefront of your mind, we'll get along just fine.

Now, back to business ...

Clark started the week off with "It's not that we'll refuse to offer our services ... it's just that we're going to involve ourselves with actual crimes and credible threats, where innocent people might actually be at risk." And he's right. It's not that we don't care, it's simply we don't care about what restroom someone uses.

It's like the time when we first moved into the Unbelieva-Base way back when. Understand, Nevada is hot and we were helping out the moving staff. It was the first time the locals noticed I wasn't wearing pants which - as you well know - has been a non-issue for years now. Back then? Not so much. But does anyone remember the uproar I caused that day? No. You know why?

Because it just doesn't matter.

(L to R: Clark, me, Jeff)

This photo shows us at Union Square on assignment years ago,

one of the first where I convinced the guys going pantsless

would up our popularity quotient. It was a great move and it worked.

(Side Note: It was Jeff's idea for he and Clark to wear shoe lifts.

"It will bolster our sex appeal" Jeff claimed. He was right on the money.

It took hours just to finish all the autograph and photo requests.)

Remember all those goats at the beginning of last year? No. You know why?

Because it just doesn't matter.

You have to admit: They were mighty cute ...

How about all the complaints and noise and broken glass clean-up from Clark tossing Henri Petit out uncountable windows over the years not to mention all of Petit's protestations? Right, you got it. It just doesn't matter.

Hey ... this happens sometimes. (Hokay ... lots of times. Get over it.)

That parade we held a couple years ago in honor of all the Unbelieva-Babes in our employ, both past and present? Sure, it caused a scene. Traffic up the wazoo. (And, to be fair, we DID work a deal with Stiletto Flats officials about all the trash generated on the streets because we're good guys after all.) But when all was said and done, no one even recalls some of the faux pas that came to pass. All anyone talks about is the fantastic cocktail party we threw post parade back at the Unbelieva-base.

There was a lot of trash to deal with ...

Because, in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't really an issue to begin with ...

... which brings me full circle right back to this toilet use deal:

Seriously, folks: It. Just. Doesn't. Matter.

Or, as The Clarkster said when he put it to bed Monday:

"... adults with a modicum of maturity and self-confidence are remarkably good at handling those circumstances."

And that's the truth, Ruth.

Mai-Tai In The Sky: Oh ... Might I? Might I?

Time really does fly, you know.

For example, all of a sudden you look up, the New Year has unfolded before you and it just so happens The Unbelievables have committed 500 crime-fighting adventures and other acts of derring-do.

Realizing this marker of our sometimes wild history, I knew I needed to mark the occasion. I was flying from one exotic locale to another after 2016 broke and decided a little impromptu shindig was in order. Where better than way far up in the air? Who doesn't like a surprise party at 30,000 feet? And, of course, it had to be a cocktail party ...

I made some hasty but exacting arrangements with the airline and told them of my plans. "It has to be very hush-hush so as not to spoil the surprise," I told the plane's crew after getting the okay from head honchos. (I even got a replacement captain and co-pilot so the main fliers of the ship could join in on the festivities.)

The best glassware was busted out ...

... it just so happened I had nondescript handouts to pass to everyone after we took off ...

... and I set my sites on making the official announcement.

The passengers, the entire lot, were giddy with excitement. There was almost a stampede as everyone got on the plane.

A grand time was had by all. I made it known I would be documenting the event for publication on The Unbelievables' website so there was no lack of tales to tell during the couple hour flight time. Laughter was in the air, numbers were exchanged, there was dancing in the aisles and future dates set (Airline! Matchmaking!) from start to finish.

The substitute flight crew was a little suspect: 

 
We did experience a few drops and barrel rolls during our flight. But when those came around everyone had comfortably knocked back a second highball and the giddiness evident all around superseded note of anything being amiss in the cockpit. (It did benefit that one couple doing a few break dance moves on the fly. Please pardon the pun.)

On arrival, there was backslaps and ear-to-ear grins from the front of the plane to the back. Everyone personally wished me a Happy New Year, thanked me profusely for the hospitality and made sure I planned on conveying their heartfelt sincerities to my missing colleagues.

Cocktails and non-stop laughter with a couple hundred of your (new) closest friends: Not a bad way to spend a couple hours' time from destination "A" to destination "B" ... eh? (Bonus: I recruited a few possible Unbelieva-Babes while schmoozing, too. They'll be stopping by the Unbelieva-Base  in the next week or so to fill out applications.)

If there's one thing The Unbelievables can't be limited to, it's quashing the evil plans of ne'er-do-wells 24/7. There's got to be a little give and take to break up the day, if you know what I mean.

Clark? Jeff? Take it away ...