Hobocamp

Sunday, November 30, 2008

So poor you go full circle and end up rich.

I have so SO much to tell you about my summer still. Of course, I can't remember any of it now except for how this one time, in Africa, I peed on my own pants. To be clear, I didn't PEE my pants. I peed ON them. I golden-showered my own clothes. Not on purpose. Um. More on this later.

Anyway, I might as well start from the beginning.

I left Bartha's Pinyard to head to Chicago for a wedding. My darling Ladybug got married and I was so honored to be there. One of the advantages for being a domestic on the RichNFamous circuit is that they take care of all of your travel business. I guess, technically, my travel business was tended to by another domestic, but that's neither here nor there. The point to remember is that I didn't have to make my own reservation.

I arrived at the airport ridiculously late because the mom was driving me herself and she forgot something at the house and then turned around and there was traffic BOTH ways and blah blah blah so essentially I arrived at 9:50 for a 10:00 AM flight. I was really trying to avoid looking upset about it, but I'm one of those silly people who arrives with plenty of time before boarding because, inevitably, I'm selected for extra security searches, or my gate gets changed and I somehow miss that bit of info, or I get locked in a bathroom stall (this has really happened but did not delay me- I crawled right out of that bitch). I know that there are people who are cool enough to be all breezy and saunter in 30 minutes before their flight and are just fine but I am too prone to blustery red-faced panicked sweatiness to pull that off.

So I had basically planned on missing my flight. All the same, I dashed out of the car when we arrived at the eensy little Bartha's Pinyard airport and hurtled myself towards the counter (because there's just the one, you see), backpack and Africa crap billowing out behind me. I threw myself on the counter and pant-screamed "HiDidIMissThe10AmFlight?"

The counter lady looked at me over her glasses and said "That flight takes off in 5 minutes."

"I know, I know. I'm really so sorry. If I can't get on, I understand, I just need to rebook myself on the next flight off-island. I don't even care where. Just...Chicago? Rhode Island? Whatever. I mean, not just ANYWHERE I guess, but yeah- mostly anyw-"

"Um, ma'am?" she said in a syrupy-sweet, theatrical tone. "I don't know if you'll make it, ho ho ho!"

I was confused, because her delivery was similar to mine when my mom asks me to reach something on a high (or high for our house) shelf and I say "Well, I don't know, little lady. Not sure I can get my arm all the way up there!" You probably do this too. It's accompanied by Big Face, with your eyebrows raised and your mouth all round. Shut up. I know you do it.

"Well. Um." I said. "Um. I...I guess...I'd really LIKE to make it...if I can?"

"Ohh, I don't know!!!" she replied, with that same, vaguely-cartoonish intonation. "I think they just might wait for you!"

You know what she sounded like? She kind of sounded like a more feminine version of Jerry Seinfeld's girlfriend's stomach's voice. Remember that episode? When they have to break up because Jerry can't stop doing the voice? Like that. Ish.

"Okay!" I said, bright and cartoonish my own self. "I hope they wait! Because otherwise I'll have to rebook! And I don't really have any money! Ho ho ho!" I was growing more manic by the minute. I was really upset that she couldn't just give me a straight answer but I didn't want to show that I was upset because then TSA people can just take you off of a flight because you're being all "threatening and weird" and then I WOULD NEVER EVER GET MY ASS OFF OF THIS GODDAMNED ISLAND so I wasn't going to risk it for something as indulgent as righteous indignation.

"Let me have your backpack. I need to weigh it." I hoisted it over on to the scale.

"Let me have your laptop bag. I need to weigh it." I handed over the bag.

"Let me have your sleeping bag. I need to weigh it." Weird, I thought, but I gave it to her. At this point she could have asked for my social security card and Visa and I would have turned them over with a smile.

"Purse?"

"SERIOUSLY?" I squeaked.

"I HAVE TO WEIGH YOUR PURSE, MA'AM."

"Okay, okay. Sorry. Here."

"Okay. Now, please step on the scale."

Now, there's nothing I like more than a good old public weigh-in, but WHAT in GODS NAME was GOING ON HERE? Was she SERIOUS?

"Ha ha!" I guessed. "Can I still make my flight?" It was now 10:02.

"If you get on the scale, you can. I have to weigh you."

"um. Okay, I guess. This is a first."

I stepped on the scale, she recorded my weight, and then I stayed up there because she never told me to get down. Finally she thrust my purse and laptop at me and said "Okay. Please wait over there for your flight."

"Where all those people are? Are they on my flight? Has it already been called??? DO YOU WANT TO SEE MY BAGGIE OF LIQUIDS??"

She sighed not-at-all patiently. "Ma'am, those people are on a different flight than you. I don't know what flight they're on. Your flight hasn't been called yet."

I still didn't understand what was going on. Where was everyone for MY flight? Should I stand kind of off to the side? How many flights were leaving if the 14 or so people who were waiting over there weren't affiliated with my flight? Are we sure my plane is still here, considering it is now 10:10 AM???

But again, my fear of the limitless power of airline employees won out over my endless questions, so I shuffled off to the side, found a drinking fountain, and decided that now would be a good time to pop a sedative which I almost spit out as the airline lady pounded my shoulder whilst I drank sub-par airport water.

"MA'AM?! Ma'am, you can go through security now."

"Everyone else can go first, I'm coming!" I glubbed, choking on my pharmie and water that was guaranteed to give me flipper babies.

"It's just you now, ma'am."

Shit. How the FUCK had everyone else gone through security so quickly when I hadn't even heard anyone call the flight? I'm an asshole. I turned around and the entire security line was empty. All five employees were staring at me.

"Sorry! Here I come!" I made it through security without any problems and was ushered to a waiting area. "Wait here for your flight, please," said an employee.

Literally two seconds later, that employee came back and said "Your flight is boarding now." I really felt as though I had stepped into bizarro world. I followed him onto the runway and walked towards a vague grouping of planes.

"Um, ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"Your plane is over here," he gestured to a tiny little obviously toy plane.

"Nuh-unh."

"Yes so hunh. What, you never had a chartered flight before?"

Ohhhhh yes, grasshopper. My employer had chartered a flight for me. How...luxurious? Um, flattering? Generous?? No, no. That's not the word I'm looking for...

Ah yes.

HOW FUCKING WEIRD IS THAT?

I mean, talk about excessive. I don't quite understand. Why would you do that? And if you were committed to spending that much money on a domestic, don't you think the domestic would appreciate it more if you gave her the cash that you spent on her private flight instead? I think she would. I really do.

But there was jack shit I could do about that now, so I started towards the plane. As I approached the dainty wee little staircase, a beautiful leggy man with pretty pretty eyes stepped out and said in a genteel drawl "Hi Meg. I'm Pilot Jay."

"Hi Pilot Jay!" I chirped because I come from a long line of Program People and that's what we do.

"Y'all ready for this flight?"

"How many other people will there be?"

"Well, now. Let me see," said Pilot Jay, standing like the world's tallest Pageant Girl Turned Airman. "There's gonna be you, that's one, and there's gonna be me. Two. I think two. Two!"

At his encouragement, I boarded the delicate little plane and took a seat in one of the four available. Pilot Jay climbed on, pulled the door shut, and turned around to me, saying "You can come sit up here, Miss Daisy."

I moved up one row.

"Keep on comin'. I don't bite."

"UP FRONT?? WITH YOU?"

"Yes ma'am!"

So I climbed up into the co-pilot's seat. Me. Meg. In the front of the plane. LOTS of controls up there. Within arms reach. Imminent disaster if I've ever seen it.

I think I've mentioned before that I'm not a particularly graceful flier. I get scared, I overdose on sedatives, I vomit- I mean, not necessarily in that order. But it all happens.

The first thing I did was reach out and grab that little airplane steering wheel joystick handle situation. I pretended to turn it and in my head I made racecar noises. Pilot Jay looked over at me as he was pressing important buttons and said "Yes, you go ahead and get that out of your system now, okay?"

Sheepishly, I folded my hands in my lap and inquired about cocktail service. Ignoring me, Pilot Jay asked "Are you ready to get this party started?"

"YES!" I screamed because I was so excited and terrified. And just like that, we were in the air.

I've since decided that riding up front is the only way I want to travel for the rest of my life, which means that I probably can't go anywhere ever. It was BEAUTIFUL. I wasn't scared or nauseous one bit, because you are far better oriented in space than you are in the back of some huge plane trying to surreptitiously read the People magazine over the shoulder of the person next to you. The sky, the ocean, the scenery- Pilot Jay changed levels a lot, moving up and down with ease when he wanted to point out a particularly pretty piece of land, or show me where a movie was filmed or something. We chatted about this and that, and before I knew it, we were landing. It was as easy as pie and not nearly as fattening.

In conclusion, should you ever need to go anywhere, please ask your employers to charter a flight to get you to your destination. It's just one of those little things that makes life that much more fun. And it almost makes getting weighed in public worth it.

I have more stories about this summer but I'll have to save them for later because I have to go to the bathroom.

Toodles!

Don't forget to enter the Name My Feature contest! I have my hot glue gun poised and ready to make you something tacky as hell.

xoxo

m

Labels: giveaway

posted by A Lover and a Fighter at 2:22 AM -

10 Comments:

At 11:12 AM, inflammatory writ said…

I am a terrible flier. In fact, the worst flying experience I ever had was when I was flying to DC to visit my husband when he was teaching a year at UVA. My flight had been canceled and I was all despondent (this was before 9/11, so one was allowed to be despondent), so they put me on another flight! JOY!

I was concerned when they weighed me. I was even more concerned to learn I'd gain 6 pounds. But nothing could match the concern of being on a tiny shuttle tram thing ON THE RUNWAY to a TINY ASS PLANE with PROPELLORS. Oh hells no. There were only 11 other people on the plane. I cried. I almost barfed. I took some Xanax but that just made me worse. Longest hour of my life. Maybe I'd have done better if I sat up front.
At 12:29 PM, TK said…

SO. JEALOUS.

Except, of course, were it me I would have been fidgeting and tried to move to tie my shoe and then accidentally elbowed the pilot in the temple, knocking him unconscious and thereby killing us both as well as the bus full of schoolchildren the plane would have crashed into.

You were probably just charmingly awkward. Damn you.
At 2:34 PM, Alaskan Dave Down Under said…

This whole episode should be made into a movie. I pay to watch it.
At 4:14 PM, E Chuod said…

This would NEVER happen to me. All of my business travel is purchased using some kind of discount that requires all airline employees to exhale deeply when they see my ticket. Once I noticed that one of my flights was not very full. I asked the lady at the counter if any free upgrades were available, she said, "Pshhhhttbththbtttt! Not with THAT ticket."

The only way I could get onto a small plane like that would be if I were holding all the livestock in the back.

Great story.
At 7:55 AM, kelsi said…

i really enjoy the kind of flying where i can pretend i'm not suspended thousands of feet in the air.
this little plane situation would have made me lose my shit. entirely. i would never have made it anywhere for the hyperventilating i would have done at the counter.
At 10:12 AM, Anonymous said…

Dave's right, but your whole blog should be a tv show. I'd pay. Who would you want to play you? Also, what did you weigh?

Word verification: resse. It's Scooby Doo's pronunciation of the classic Rick Springfield song. Which could maybe be your show's theme song? hey just thinking out lound

~ Piney, your #1 fanboy
At 12:10 PM, Jack and Jill said…

Those little planes go down a lot. No way in hell I'd fly on one of them.

Also, if it were me talking to the lady at the counter, I think I would've decked her. And then felt real real bad for doing that when she was just having a good time with me. Woops.
At 9:28 PM, peterdewolf said…

I'm not gonna lie, I am picturing the shelves in your house being, like, smurf-height.

(Nice Seinfeld reference!)
At 6:50 PM, Anonymous said…

Greetings from Nova Scotia Canada!Okay, the comments are almost as funny as the blog! I really enjoy your writing, thanks for entertaining me!

Take care eh!
At 6:45 AM, A Lover and a Fighter said…

IW- I really think sitting up front makes a giant difference. It was so nice, and interesting, and smooth. Let's charter a flight and I will show you.

TK- Pilot Jay was pretty charming. We charmed each other, I think, because we exchanged email addresses at the end of the day. As he said "It will never hurt you to have a pilot as a friend, and I, personally, can always use a good hag." Awww. Romantic.

ADDU- How much? Zillions and zillions???

E- I really didn't ever see it happening in my future either. but it did, and it was super fun. Like I said, I might have appreciated her buying me a regular ticket and then I could pocket the extra cash, but at least this was an interesting experience.

Kelsi- This is why we should go on a trip together. Because you are the Yin to my Flying Yang.

Piney- I rove that rong.

Jill- You forget that this was my ONLY TICKET OFF THE ISLAND. Your priorities change. Remder how crazy it was there? Remder??

PDW- Really, the few (legitimately) high up shelves we have aren't used for much more than storage. It's pretty much a house for elves.

Anon- How cute are you! Thanks for your comment.