Catching Up

It has been far, far too long. But I've been storing up the stories. Here are my latest crazies from flying.

I flew to Michigan at the end of October for a week of work/personal alumnae stuff/Rachel's birthday. Yeah, Rachel lives in Columbus, but it just happened to work out that we were both in A2 that weekend. So anyway, I'm getting on my flight on the way out of San Diego, connecting in Minneapolis. This seemingly sweet, 40s something blond woman sat next to me with her husband directly in front. I always board a plane prepared. Magazines, book, mp3 player and serious headphones, neck pillow for the early morning or late night flights. So I start with my new Self magazine. And she comments, oh, that's a good one. I nod, smile politely, mostly ignore her. Her random comments go on for a while. I hear about her many kids, the one in wherever for college and how expensive it is to mail winter clothes to him, yada yada. I don't respond much, ask questions or share comments hoping she'll get the hint. I've moved onto my book. Finally I pull out the headphones. And that doesn't stop her! But here's where it gets weird. She asks me if I take any supplements. I say no, not intending to get into a convo about my daily multi-vitamin. And she launches into a sales pitch for some crazy guarana energy drink. She pulls out a brochure, tells me all about how it makes her feel amazing. She hands me her card and tells me to get in touch when I get back to San Diego. My eyes are wide, I'm nodding lots, thinking, how the hell do I make this stop?? I still have my headphones on . . . And THEN - she asks me for my card so that she can follow up with me! Thank the Lord they were buried in my laptop case in the overhead compartment. And thank the Lord we were late landing and I had to run off the plane! Weird . . . Vitamin Water is as far as I'll go.

I had a direct flight to Michigan over Thanksgiving. Direct flights are mixed bags. It's long. Damn long. I don't mind the extra time traveling for a break from the plane and a bit of cardio while I'm sprinting through the airport. But this time I had the bird. And it's tough on her to be in her travel cage, so I didn't want to prolong it. Elite status got me an aisle bulkhead seat, so lots of room. And I lucked out in having the only open seat on the plane be next to me. But right behind me was a mom traveling with her two little boys (7 and 9 maybe?) and toddler. Mom and toddler sat in the window. I knew it would be bad when the flight attendant told mom that the baby had to actually sit on her lap. The boys weren't noisy. But they were small enough to sit laying down (almost) in the seat with their knees beat up against the backs of the chairs in front of them. And they played video games against each other all night. Which meant that every time Mario twitched, they twitched and I got a knee in my back. After an hour of sitting with the pissed off bird on my lap, trying to keep her warm and calm, and being bounced around every 10 seconds, I got up, turned around and asked if they could try to not kick my seat. Then I looked at mom pointedly and sat back down. It didn't help. Around hour 3, toddler started screaming, running back and forth between the seats in their row and punching her fists into the seats. OMG. And 3 and a half, one of the boys stood up to turn on his light and hit me in the head with his PSP. That was when I lost it. My nerves were frayed. And an hour to go! OMG, I wanted to scream! I dug out a twenty, ran up to the front and begged the flight attendance for a beer. At least it dulled the pain for the last hour. But then mom started listing every family member they had. "We're going to see Alma, and Alfredo, and . . . " And around the time the beer started to hit my veins, I got bold enough to grab the kid's foot every time he kicked my chair. Didn't stop it, but I think it scared him a little. I'm cool with scaring kids sometimes. There are only two other times I can think of when I was so excited to be getting off a plane.

So today I parked at my usual long term lot and the shuttle pulled up while I was unloading my bags from the trunk. I knew right away when I didn't see the driver come grab my bag who it would be. Irma, my least favorite driver. Her height is almost the same as her circumference. And she's lazy as hell. Every other driver gets off, grabs your bags and throws them on. Irma stands at the top of the stairs of the bus and stares at you. If she bothers to stand up from her seat. I tip the drivers well. But I don't tip Irma. I have my big suitcase packed with sweaters (Chicago), my laptop case stuffed with paperwork, my winter coat and my work tote. I obviously can't manage to get it all up on the bus alone in one trip. And she stands so that she takes up the whole stairway. You have to shove around her to get on. She holds out the card with my space number jotted down - from 3 stairs up. And when I grab only my laptop case, tote and coat, she reluctantly rolls down the stairs to get my suitcase. It's heavy, I know. I packed it. But I also carried it down a flight of stairs and threw it up in my Jeep. And I'm not that big. She grabs the top handle, the stairs handle and manages somehow to drag herself and the suitcase up the steps. And she says, this weigh 50 pounds? I just looked at her and said, no. She said, well it's 49 and a half then. And folds herself into her seat and waits for the next woman to carry all 8 of her own things up the steps and onto the shuttle. She yells at me, what airline? Literally, yells. Sadly, I've already answered this question. I think she's pissed. The first woman to get off has only a small purse and a small roller bag. She grabs her purse, walks off, then turns around and says to Irma, it's the blue one, and waits while she rolls out of her chair and practically pushes the suitcase down the stairs at the woman. Go woman! We finally get to my terminal and she makes no move. I think, shit. I'm going to have to leave my laptop on its own in the driving lane and come back up for my suitcase. But she grabs it, turns around and walks down the steps backward and bumps my suitcase down the steps. Seriously? It only weight 44 and a half pounds, Irma.

I had an amazing seat on my long leg of the trip today. You know the planes that have the door in the middle, with first class to the left and the rest of the plane to the right? I was on the aisle in that seat when you first walk in. I had about 10 feet of legroom. And no one was in the middle seat. But the flight attendants were retarded and meddling, checking every other bag before people had gotten on the plane, telling parents they couldn't sit together, yada yada. We were about set to go when they tap this curmudgeonly old man and tell him he can take the middle seat next to me. Come on! He had a perfectly good aisle bulkhead. I was in the process of digging something out of my bag when they told him to move and had set my stuff on the middle seat. I said, I'm sorry, it'll be just a minute. And he picks up my stuff, throws it on my seat, and sits down. He smells. Stale and cigarettey. Like my step-grandfather. And the man had elbows like needles. He insisted on sitting with his hands crossed on his lap, elbows out. And he didn't care if we were touching. In fact, I think he preferred it. I had planned to sleep for most of the flight and was out cold with my fabulous neck pillow and my coat acting as a blanket when his elbow poked me so hard in the arm it hurt! I actually whimpered and he removed his elbow for all of 10 seconds. I was so pissed. I wanted to kick the flight attendants. Our seats were across from one of the jump seats for the flight attendants and she sat quietly while we were landing, not talking to us like some of them do. I was busy reading. And old guy was busy commenting, loud and repeatedly, that we were circling the airport, not landing, getting later, the other flights better be delayed . . . We finally land, yeah, a few minutes late, and he jumps up. My bag is in an overhead compartment a little farther up. He saw me digging around in my bag a few times, so he (kindly?) grabs my bag and sets it down on the floor about 2 rows forward from where I was. And then continued to shove his way forward into first class. I got my stuff, got off the plane and started heading for my next gate when a stupid cart when whizzing by me and old guy was sitting alone getting a ride to his next stop. Geez. Just poking me every chance he got.