TCB

If I had the know-how to add a lightning bolt next to that TCB, I would, but I don't. That means Takin' Care of Business in a Flash, to those of you who aren't familiar with "The King." We stopped at several service stations on the way back from Chicago looking for TCB lightning bolt key-chains for our new shipping and receiving company, but we were unable to find anything remotely Elvis-oriented other than those cheesy sunglasses. In an extended moment of temporary insanity due to the stress induced by the tense situation at customs, we were seriously considering starting a new side business. It felt good to be truck-driving, moving guys with precious cargo. Especially on the legal side of the law, with nothing to hide. The waitress at "The Sugar Bowl" joked with us like any good Midwestern working guys, and the guy at the airport tried to show off his forklift handling skills by loading the film into the back of the van all at once. But we were like, "safety first," and put it in by hand. Countless metal boxes, a thousand pounds of film. We opened them up, and checked off the check list, and then into traffic, to the secret editing location. I tried to get my coworkers to let me off for some X-mas shopping on Michigan Avenue, but fortunately they would have none of that. I probably wouldn't have been able to find the key-chains at Neiman Marcus or Saks Fifth Ave anyway.