Flying Solo


     Any time I fly anywhere by myself, I just don’t seem to have the best of luck.  I’m always the person who gets stuck next to the passenger who’s never been introduced to deodorant or the passenger who’s been eating garlic and shit sandwiches for lunch or the passenger who wants to yap away about stupid, meaningless topics for the whole flipping duration of the flight.  So, naturally, when I flew down to see my parents this past weekend, I was once again forced to deal with rather strange characters on a rather small plane.

     When I boarded the teensy tiny “jet” (and I use that term VERY loosely) on Friday, my poor nose was immediately blasted with the putrid smell of what can only be described as cat piss in a bottle. Some dumb ass had actually taken it upon herself to bathe in this God-awful perfume before climbing on board this ridiculously cramped box with wings.  Now, maybe this clueless wonder actually enjoyed this retched scent when she purchased it from the store; however, it’s pretty presumptuous of her to assume that the rest of the free world would also like to inhale air that’s been polluted with this foul odor.  My gag reflux was only enhanced by the sudden increase in temperature on the plane.  It became so hot in there that I actually contemplated stripping down to my skivvies to avoid passing out from heat exhaustion.  Talk about miserable!  The combination of the smell with the intense heat was enough to make anyone feel like barfing.

     And as if this all wasn’t bad enough as it was, we also had the world’s bitchiest flight attendant to ever fly the friendly skies.  Clearly someone had slipped this woman a bad bag of peanuts or something because she was barking orders left and right without the slightest mention of a please or a thank you.  Rather than politely suggesting that I place my coat in the overhead compartment to free up my lap, she instead DEMANDED that I put it up there.  She also rattled off something about having to re-distribute the weight on the plane (which is oh-so-comforting, by the way) and told two people in the back to volunteer to change seats or else she’d FORCE two people to move up.  Again, no please and most certainly no thank you were ever uttered from her lips.  As you can probably imagine, I was so grateful to breathe fresh air and to escape from the Wicked Witch of the West once that plane finally touched the ground.

     However, I again had to deal with another one of nature’s weirdest freaks on the return flight home yesterday afternoon.  The flight attendant was the exact polar opposite of Suzy Sunshine from my Friday flight.  This woman went above and beyond to be nice to each and every person on that rinky-dink plane, so much so that she was almost sickening sweet.  In addition to falling all over herself with kindness, she was also THE epitome of a nasaly-sounding Chicagoan.  I seriously thought she was kidding when she picked up the microphone to start going over safety information.  She dragged out the last syllable of every word that she said and followed every single sentence with, “ummmmm-kaaaaaay?”  I looked around at the other passengers to see if they were hearing the same thing I was.  I thought for sure someone was gonna yell, “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!” at any moment.  Sadly, though, this was just the way this looney lady actually talked.  My ears were so pissed at me for putting them through that hour-long torture session by the time we arrived back in Chicago, and I’ve been apologizing to them ever since.

     So, I guess I’ve just come to the realization that any time I climb on board an aircraft, I’m more than likely gonna be rubbing elbows with the crazies.  My past experiences have certainly driven home this point to me over and over again.  You can bet your frequent flier miles, though, that I’ll be better prepared the next time I have to fly. I’ll be bringing along plugs for not only my ears but also for my nose.  Best believe that all bases will be covered for a more enjoyable flying experience.  Moral of the story = live and learn.


So Much To Do, So Little Time


     Today’s post is, unfortunately, going to have to be a short one. This is the kids’ last official day of school, although I’d hardly even call it a day when they only go for an hour and a half.  I just dropped them off, and I’m gonna have to turn right back around and get them. As emotional and mentally exhausted as I am with this being the last time I ever drop them off at kindergarten <wipe tear>, I should’ve just stayed there and waited. We are then headed down to the grandparents’ house for a week-long visit. My husband will not be going, so I have the extreme pleasure of road tripping solo with two kids, both of whom, as you might recall, tend to get car sick.  I’m praying that the gods are on my side, and we don’t have an explosion of puke or a poop in the pants to freshen the air in the car for a six hour drive.  If I haven’t lost my mind somewhere along the highway, I will try to post another entry, chalked full of the oh-so exciting details of our trip.  Stay tuned….