I’m home, my trip, as far as planes, trains and automobiles was completely and utterly uneventful. The rest of the trip…well…you’ll see. First I have to acknowledge those who made a stab at the trip that was today.
Biddy came close to describing our drive, but she said it would be at 10 mph. Silly Texans, we drive at least 30 as long as there is under a foot of snow.
Emily came really close with her “no one will make eye contact with you in hopes you’ll evaporate” comment. Nope, no one did make eye contact with me, and they leaned away from me and my moosh cooties for they entire flight. And she was spot on with the two meltdowns.
Lou didn’t really come close but deserves mention because what she described was what I was expecting. (Delays, whinyness topped of with a barf kicker.)
Reese simply said that “At least you’ll have something to blog about…”
See, no one mentioned in their comment that I would start my period as soon as the captain turned on the “fasten seat belt” sign on the first leg of our journey.
Of all bad times to start your period. This has got to be one of them.
No one mentioned the raunch pot in the food court that would push me and loudly proclaim “UM, YOU’RE BACKBACK? IS LIKE, IN MY FACE.” and that I would reply:
“This backpack? I’m sorry, you mean the one full of toys to keep my toddler entertained on the plane so PEOPLE LIKE YOU WHO HAVE NO SOUL AND TRAVEL ALL BY YOUR MOTHERTHUMPING SELF DON’T HAVE TO GIVE ME DIRTY LOOKS IN FLIGHT?”
Well, that’s what I wanted to say…alas I did not, instead I apologized and tried not to cry into my quarter pounder. (All the while thinking “YOU ARE SO GETTING BLOGGED LADY.” Blog vindication saves yet another day.)
I made a post lunch potty stop to attend to the disaster that decided to make itself known five minutes after takeoff and was “changing the guards” Now ladies, think about the changing of your “guard”, you look down there right? You pay attention? Well, I was looking, paying attention, making sure I was doing a thorough job and there would be no disaster to blog about on my next (much longer) flight.
And then I looked up.
the moosh had opened the stall door,
to a waiting line of women,
all watching me change a tampon,
With food court wench at the helm.
I don’t even know what to say. How to finish this story.
I’ll make you a blog header or I’ll send you chocolate chip cookies.
I’m going to go hide my head in a hole for a few
million dozen days.
What up 317? I’ll bet you’re so proud to have me back.