As you may know, my Wednesday posts are reserved for Cheapo Wino reviews. However, my mother in law and I enjoyed a Malbec wine last night, only to discover that it was the “Reserva” (aka- expensive shit). Sooo- there goes that.
But don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you without a post, especially because I have 2 hours on a plane with nothing to do, but write.
“A plane?” you ask. Yes! Brian and I are headed to Florida for a few days- him for business, me for pleasure. He has a conference in Tampa so I decided to tag along and visit with my family until Friday, then we’re heading over to Epcot to drink & eat around the world. It’s what we do best.
Oh, and if you’re planning to burglarize our home, let me just assure you that the in-laws are there…along with Mr. Bojangles.
So here’s how out trip has gone so far:
(please ignore the sloppy writing- I’m typing this on a plane, on my iPhone, with 1 finger, 1. Damn. Finger. People!)
We checked in at the self-service kiosk and our seats are, unfortunately, in the very last row. But we were offered an upgrade to First Class…for $100 each.
Brian: Do you want it? I’ll get it for you.
Me: No thanks. It seems like a waste of money for a 2 hour flight.
Brian: Then I’ll take it.
Me: No way! You’re not sitting up there if I’m not. I only passed on it to save “us” money.
Brian: But we’re near the shitter!
Me: Fine, take it then.
Brian: No, I don’t want to piss you off.
Me: Well, if you think it’s a great deal then let’s both upgrade.
Brian: I’m not spending $200.
I suspect he didn’t want to spend $200 and still be sitting next to me.
Once we went through security at Terminal B, I decided to get my nails done (who doesn’t do that?). I checked the map and found a Spa Express in Terminal C so I headed over there. But when I arrived, the lady informed me that their nail tech was at their other Spa Express location in Terminal D. Eh, what’s another mile?
My nail technician took forever! She kept talking about her sister who’s opening a new nail salon in the city. They’re trying to come up with a name and she wants my opinion.
Nail chick: “My sister likes Cu…Cutical..Cutickle…Cuticle Cubac…Cuticle Cubicle. What do you think?”
I told her it was a terrible idea because,
1. it took her 4 tries to even say “Cuticle Cubicle”
So I suggest “One Classy Motha! Nail Spa” She said she’d mention it to her sister.
By now I’m running late but my nails look good.
And even though I’m late, I stop and order a breakfast sandwich on my way to the gate (where Brian is waiting). Big mistake…they were so slow!
I make it just as they’re calling last boarding. Brian’s standing in the middle of the terminal, calling me for the fourth time (or so my phone shows, I swear I never heard the ring). He’s all stressed out. Calm down dude. He accuses me of dilly dallying (though it came out sounding like ‘eff-ing around’) and how I’m completely unaware of my surroundings. And I’m thinking to myself, ‘why didn’t I get the 3 egg omelette instead?’
Finally on the plane, we make our way to our shitter seats (that don’t recline). There’s a lady already seated in our row as I’m settling in..
Her: Mmm, you smell good.
Me: I have a breakfast sandwich?
Her: oh, it’s your food! I thought it was just you.
Me: ? (bacon, egg, & cheese perfume?)
Brian: You brought food on the plane? You can’t do that!
Her: Yes she can!
Brian: That doesn’t seem right. Now everyone’s going to be pissed because they don’t have any food.
What’s happening here?
And our runway convo:
Brian: Did you know that security has changed? Today’s the first day you’re allowed to bring a pocket knife on the plane. You know (leaning in to whisper)…people are going to be looking to make a statement.
Me: Seriously? You’re worried you’re going to be stabbed with a pocket knife on this flight?
Brian: I’m just saying, be alert.
Stewardess giving the flight instructions:
Brian’s take on it…
*oxygen mask- “oh we’re going to need an oxygen mask when it starts smelling back here. Can we get the mask dropped now?”
*flotation device- “yeah, we’re going to see some floatation devices, alright…little brown ones.”
Brian: Who takes a dump on a 2 hour flight anyway? They’ve got bathrooms before you get on the plane and bathrooms when you land.
Me: Sometimes, when the moment strikes, you just have to go.
Brian: No, that’s when you hold it. I mean really, who’s comfortable enough to shit on a plane?
Me: I have.
Brian: I can’t talk to you right now.
(a few seconds later). Want to join the Mile High Club? It’s just a step away to paradise.
At this point, I’m feeling really bad for the lady next to me, who I guarantee can hear all of our conversations. But then she does this…
She’s all in my space with her legs and nasty feet. That’s total Shitter Row behavior, right there.
PS- We got all of our luggage. My bag didn’t have a name tag on it but I knew it was mine the moment the tampons fell out.