This Sunday was Caroline’s christening. Being of different religions, Kath and I discussed way at the beginning of our relationship what would happen if we had a child. I’ve already had the pleasure of raising three children in my faith; it didn’t seem fair to deprive Kath of the opportunity to do the same for hers. So with the arrival of Caroline, a christening was required. Her parents and sister came up from Atlanta, my folks came up from Pennsylvania, and we went for the ceremony to the nearby church where Kath attends mass every Sunday.

I admit I was very concerned about the procedure at first. It seemed as if it would be painful, even dangerous for the baby. A huge potential for head trauma. But then I was informed that christening an infant is a completely different procedure from christening an ocean liner. I was much relieved.

PAD

If you have to change airplanes when returning to the United States from a foreign country, go through *any* airport but George Bush Airport. Because the intelligence level of the personnel is of such quality that making jokes in relation to the Airport name is criminally easy.

Shana and Gwen returned from their trip to Cancun and had to make their connection at GBA. They had an hour to make the connecting flight, but since Texas was their port of entry into the US, they had to clear customs.

So they went to the first customs guy. He asked them, among other things, if they had liquor with them. Shana, having no desire to lie, said, “Yes, two bottles.” Which she did. Nothing illegal about it.

But this apparently bewildered the customs guy, so he sent her to a second customs guy, who asked her the exact same questions. With time ticking away, she gave the same answers. He stared at her and said, “You have to be 21 to bring liquor into the US.”

“I am 21,” she said.

“I need to see your ID.”

She gave him her passport.

He stared at it. Stared some more. Stared some more. Looked up at her. Looked back down. Stared some more. More time ticked away. Finally:

“Who’s ‘David?'” he said suspiciously.

“That’s me! That’s my last name!” she said to someone who worked in international arrivals in an airport but was incapable of deciphering a United States passport.

More suspicious looks. “I need to see your Texas state ID,” he told her.

“I don’t have one.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because I don’t live in Texas,” Shana said, watching her connection slip away and trying to keep her cool. “I live in Boston.”

He paused, considering that. Then he shook his head. “I need to see your Texas state ID.”

Shana snapped. “I DON’T LIVE IN TEXAS! I LIVE IN BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS! I CAN SHOW YOU A BOSTON STUDENT ID, OKAY?!”

She yanked out her Boston student ID, presenting it to an official for whom a US government passport wasn’t sufficient. He stared at it, gave it back, waved her and Gwen through…without ever having looked in the bag to see the alcohol.

Shana and Gwen then sprinted to the desk where they now had to recheck their luggage for the connection. They got to the desk. The woman behind the counter said, “Where are you going?”

“Boston,” they gasped, having dashed across the airport, having lost nearly half an hour to customs.

“Have you rechecked your bags?” asked the woman.

They stared at her. “No. That’s why we’re HERE.”

“Well, you’re never going to make your flight if you’re standing here,” said the woman.

At which point Shana nearly reached over the counter and beat the woman senseless, except she realized that apparently no one she’d encountered at George Bush airport had a lick of sense anyway. The woman then took the bag and threw it onto the carousel as if she were tremendously put upon and being made to do something far beneath her, rather than her job.

Despite the best efforts of George Bush Airport personnel, they made their flight with all of ten minutes to spare.

Oh…and Comedy Central never did film any kind of promo thing with them. What a waste of an opportunity. Heck, filming them trying to get back into the US alone would have been worth a half hour of laughs.

PAD

Both “Angel” and “Buffy” are looking mightily apocalyptic this season. And considering the average apocalypse historically takes an episode, two at most to handle (and indeed became so SOP that it was reduced to a mere “B” plot in the hilarious BTVS episode “The Zeppo”), we’re obviously talking some major league world destruction.

The two series are going about it from very different approaches, however. Buffy has essentially become Slayerfest 2003, “Private Benjamin” meets “The Untouchables” with stakes as Buffy channels Sean Connery to whip her troops into shape (“I don’t know but it’s been said, Rupert Giles might be dead! Sound off, one two!”). Meanwhile Angel, who these days is just as likely to hang up on the helpless as help them (when was the last time they actually *did* that, and no, helping Conner doesn’t count) has become darker, more foreboding and, frankly, more compelling.

The recent episode was no exception. The only problem I had with it is that it came across like house cleaning. Let’s face it: Wolfram and Hart never went anywhere. They had senior partners, the exact nature of which we never really knew. They had a doomsday plan, the specifics of which we never learned. They had some connection to Pylea (or however you spell that dimension), the details of which were never pursued. And now, this week, they’re all dead. It came across (to me at least) like the producers saying, “You know what? Screw it. They’ve been around for three seasons, we don’t know what to do with them anymore, they’re more annoying than menacing, and they’ve said repeatedly they can’t kill Angel because he’s ‘important,’ so there’s only so much menace they can provide. Let’s just annihilate them and move on.” Which, barring a surprising plot development, is what they did.

As for Cordelia bøffìņg Conner…I dunno. I could see out-of-character behavior for someone who’s never endured end-of-the-world scenarios before. But Cordelia’s an old hand at this. It was–how shall we put it–questionable. Except I hear scuttlebutt that Charisma Carpenter’s pregnant. If that’s true, this might be how they cover it. She was sent back by the Powers That Be to have it off with Conner and produce yet another baby to be yanked off to another dimension. Either that or send her out on missions carrying a laundry basket in front of her.

PAD

In answer to repeated questions:

Yes. It’s true. I’ve been approached by Dreamwave about doing a new “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” series tying in with the new animated TV show. And I said I would do it because, frankly, my kids wouldn’t have it any other way. My three elder daughters are huge TMNT fans (Caroline hasn’t weighed in with an opinion) and made it clear there would be dire–DIRE–consequences if I passed up the opportunity.

Further details will be forthcoming as soon as Dreamwave irons out the final kinks with the Turtles folks.

PAD

Pretty amazing. Todd McFarlane who, according to recent court decisions does not own the copyright to Miracleman, is taking the fingers-in-ears, la la la I’m not listening approach. He’s soliciting a Miracleman statue and is ostensibly casting about for writers for a new series on a property that either he doesn’t own outright or, at the very least, shares copyright on.

Because, y’know, judges just *love* it when people act like legal decisions haven’t been made. That’ll help tons on the appeals as he does everything he can not to treat Neil Gaiman with respect.

PAD

UPDATED COMMENT–I just saw a picture of the statue. It looks like Miracleman is staring at his right hand in horror after a door slammed on his fingers and broke them.

At this very moment, Shana and Gwen are at the Club Med resort in Cancun, Mexico. Why? Because they won a free trip from Comedy Central’s “Win Ben Stein’s Vacation” sweepstakes. Actually, Gwen filled out the entry form, but since she was under 21 she put in Shana’s name. And she asked me the trivia questions, which I answered correctly. So Shana, who didn’t do anything and didn’t even know she was being entered, won.

My Daughters Won a Free Trip to Cancun and All I Got Was This Lousy Blog Entry.

PAD

Just saw “Catch Me If You Can.” Nicely done. It was as if Spielberg chose to get out of the way of the story, and it was a good decision. Impressive to see Tom Hanks in a supporting role.

One comics-related observation: Interesting that Hank’s G-man Carl Hanratty was able to determine that his quarry, Frank Abagnale (Leonardo DiCaprio) was not an adult because Abagnale used the name “Barry Allen” as an alias. As soon as Hanratty learned that Barry Allen was the Flash, he said, “He reads comic books! We’re looking for a kid!”

Back in the early 1960s, apparently it was just that simple.

PAD