Ok, so I am all kinds of excited about my trip to San Antonio, right? But this time around, I’m flying. Are you laughing yet? So, with the sense of impending doom since I have to fly American for part of this adventure (and theoretically they are about to strike or do something dramatic) I awakened at 4 a.m. and began my journey. Hoorah.
First snafu: tsa found something in some nebulous location under my suit jacket, but just above my elbow. Now seriously, what the hell is even the above-average criminal gonna hide there? Granted, it’s in close proximity to one’s weenus (no dictionary but sorely needed excuse to use word) but it’s not like you use your elbow to do much of anything, right? And this was right after going through the neat x-ray thingy where you raise your hands above your head and covertly reveal to the world that most women do, in fact,wear grannie panties and not Victoria’s secret.
Needless to say the offending object that caused the x-ray machine such issues was…my shirt button. I had rolled up my sleeves. Silly me. But it’s kind of neat how I had to stand on a special rubber mat with little foot marks on it to prepare to be frisked while my weenus was evaluated for deadly potential. I felt rather like a Bond girl only without the swimsuit and amazing body and stuff.
I made it to my flight on time and watched Mel leave the security area. I cruised on board and took my seat. Jesus, when did they come up with pleather as the material of choice? My ass caught the seat and my blouse slid up as I slid down. Nasty. Wardrobe adjustment was immediately required before my lower back adhered to the seat like in a hot car with leather seats in the summer. Believe me, it makes a most unflattering sound when you detach and stand.
Being a rather cheerful sort, I said hello to the chap who took the aisle seat next to me. Huge mistake. He had a bad case of crustyitis and clearly had not yet consumed his morning gin and tonic. I knew sleep was required when I mentioned that I did not know Jimi Hendrix had been a paratrooper during the Vietnam war and he responded, “It’s amazing what you can learn when you read.”
Look, man, I was reading Vanity Fair, a favorite magazine, and it was mentioned in an article, sigh. But that’s okay. Now I’m at the tail end of a three hour layover and wondering what the world of flight has in store for me now other than learning to blog off a NOOK.