A few weeks ago, my business partner and I traveled to Omaha for a presentation. More on Omaha in a minute.

We had some difficulty in arranging convenient flights out of West Palm, so we departed from Ft. Lauderdale. We arrived in plenty of time for our flight and parked in the garage with no problems.

Then it started.

While leaving the garage and walking to the terminal, I saw him. Curious George. You know the one from the book. On the back of a young child, probably about 2 or 3 years old. That's a pretty cool backpack I said (on the inside).

But, nay, nay, it was not a backpack. It was a leash ... you know, the kind parents think are so "cool" and apparently absolves them of the responsibilities of watching their child while out in public (or, if you are a Ron White fan, you know how he says it -- PUBLIKK).

Yep, Curious George's tail was a three or four foot long leash. Well, I just could not believe it. But I said nothing ... to them. The mother and grandparents, whom it appeared, were traveling together.

As we walked to the terminal the child appeared to be pretty "active" and I chalked it up to being excited about the trip they were about to take. So, I turned to my business partner and remarked, "looks like someone is going on vacation". And we walked by them while they were being led on side trip by Curious George and his young charge.

Well, don't get me started about the differences between what you can carry on the plane between Ft. Lauderdale and West Palm. Seems they are just a TAD bit more restrictive at Ft. Lauderdale. Suffice it to say, more than several dollars went into the nearest trash can.

I was not happy. With my business partner on the OTHER side of the checkpoint, laughing so hard he was crying, I passed through entirely more crabby than I when I first got there. Deep breath and off we go to the gate.

We had seat assignments, natch, but tried to get "better" seats. Like getting me out of the center seat. No luck. Then we boarded.

Here I am, crammed into the center seat. Empty row in front of us. Curious, I thought, why couldn't we get that row?

Did I just say "curious"? Funny, because just then I saw him. Curious George. Headed straight for us. I turned to my business partner who was looking at me with this incredulous look on his face and I said ... "Not possible." Wrong again. Yep, they all sat in the row right in front of us.

But as we taxied out to the runway Curious George and his young companion were quite well behaved.

The pilot (I assume) came over the intercom and pleasantly said, "Flight attendants, prepare for departure and cross-check." The engines spooled up as we gently accelerated for takeoff. The wheels left the ground and gently tucked into their wheel wells in the fuselage. And then ...

The dark cloud of resignation to our circumstances arrived and hovered over our heads.

For the next two and a half hours.

While Curious George remained remarkably silent, his pal did not. Whining and crying the whole way. Didn't want to be anywhere for more than let's say, 15 or 20 seconds at a time. No one brought him food or books or toys or anything that might distract him for at least a minute or two. What were they thinking?

About two minutes after takeoff, the guy across the aisle leans over and says, "Who pressed the play button?" At least we could laugh for a moment. Best line, ever.

So then we get to Dallas. Of course the adventure gets better. As we try and disembark from the plane, Curious George and his mates are blocking the jetway waiting on a stroller. Politely, we ask if we can get by and are met with a glare from grandma. Apparently it didn't bother them when no one could get around and make their connection.

Nevertheless, we pushed through. Half way up the jetway we hear a yelp and then a loud thunk. Looking over our shoulders we see that grandma did a face plant right there on the jetway. Karma, baby, karma.

So we get to the gate for our connecting flight to Omaha. Patience, grasshopper, I'm getting there.

Same thing with the seats. This time, success! Yup, we got our own two seat row. Yeah, it was in the back of the plane and next to the engine, but it was a bulkhead seat and we had extra legroom. Suh-weet!

We got comfortable and then I heard it. Squeaks. In rapid succession. What the heck is that, I say (again, on the inside).

I lean over and peer down the aisle. A cute little girl with her mom and siblings. Wearing sandals. That squeaked with each and every step.

My head immediately swiveled around like a fighter pilot's looking for bandits, desperately looking to ensure the seats behind us were occupied.. Oh no, right there on our six -- an empty row.

Please, no. Please, not again. Please.

No such luck. They plop down right there behind us. I break out in a cold sweat, shaking my head in utter despair. Resignation sets in ... I'm thinking it's going to be a long 90 minutes.

But much to my amazement, this little girl did not whine or cry or wail. Giggled alot, which was a refreshing change. And, man, she had a great personality.

Unfortunately, she loved running up and down the aisle. Constantly. Wearing her cute little sandals. That squeaked with each tiny step she took. Even the headphones couldn't block that sound. Mom, how about a change of shoes here? Please!

Of course we had the whole stroller issue on the jetway, but they moved to the side so everyone could get through. Nice. Up the jetway we went.

Squeaks forever right behind us. You got it, the little girl wanted to push the stroller, not ride in it. And this time she had to step just a little harder so she could push the stroller. Yep, you guessed it. The squeaks got louder as the sandals were pressure sensitive, just like a squeeze toy. And they followed us right out the door.

But thankfully we were done traveling for the day.

What's that about Omaha, you say? You know what ... believe it or not ... it definitely is worth a weekend trip.

I swear they have more restaurants, per capita, than anyplace else except NYC. What a great experience.

Old Market is incredible. If you used your imagination, you can just see cattle herds walking through the streets, just like in the late 1800's. Just a few blocks over, it looks like you are back in the 1930's and can imagine one of those famous bankrobbers skidding to a stop right there, rush into the bank and take off with the money.

There are tons of things to do in Omaha. They have one of the best zoo's in the world, yes, the world. They have a park with trains in it! Cool.

Boys Town (you know, Father Flanagan) is here. They have the Strategic Air and Space Museum. The have the world's largest INDOOR desert.

And if you like sports, I think the NCAA lives in Omaha. After all, this is where they play the College World Series.

But also had Rounds I & II of the NCAA Men's College Basketball Championship. The US Olympic Swim Trials were there. The Junior Olympic Track & Field Championships were held here.

In December, the NCAA Div I Women's Volleyball Championship will be held here. It has a PGA Tour Stop. Professional Rodeo (not really my thing, but they got it).

And that just scratches the surface. The golf wasn't too bad either. And you definitely will get a great steak there.

This city is worth a visit ... you will be surprised.

I just hope your flights will be better.

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