my short week in the South
Well, well… I have successfully navigated through the latest terror-related airport adjustments. I can’t say I did it with mirth and grace at all times, but I made it. It doesn’t help that on my way to the south (JFK to ATL) Wednesday morning, even before the terror color wheel started spinning, the baggage handlers set me off by demolishing the wedding present I had purchased prior to the trip. Yeah, maybe a crystal bowl wasn’t the best way to go, but they put a sticker on it that said “Fragile.” A sticker! Why, that’s practically an impenetrable force field. On my way off the plane I saw my package flop onto the conveyer belt and land with an awkward thud. “You bastards…” I muttered under my breath. Sure enough: confetti. I spoke with a few Delta employees-strangely robotic employees-and was given a magical slip of paper that wasn’t cash or check. Oh what fun, I get to go shopping again.
Emilie and I drove from Atlanta to Birmingham with little to no drama, chatting away about anything and everything. My god, I miss her matter-of-fact, no BS ways. I’m also lucky to have such a true-blue friend. What’s it been now, seven years? Oh how they fly… Our home base for the week was a room at the Comfort Inn, mostly paid for by the bride-to-be. It was a nice enough room and the hotel had a pool, but no bar??? That was rough.
Over the course of my short week I had dinner with both of my parents, delighting them separately with my mohawk. Well, Dad wasn’t really amused, but he couldn’t deny that I still had more hair than him. I also managed to meet up with my old friend and fellow slam-expatriate Marty, which was good fortune because he’s usually in SW Georgia. Damon saved my ass by driving me to the eye doctor, where I received an emergency pair of contacts. [Just in case anyone was wondering, contacts plus hotel Styrofoam cups makes a peculiar, filmy glob of orange.] David tried to drive me to Wal-Mart for a new case the night before, but I had to be all MacGyver and make due. I also got to see Charles, Zach, Paige and family, and Grant. Celeste, if I could put you in my checked baggage I would.
The wedding was a wedding, as far as weddings go. I was looking pretty fly yet normal (no ‘hawk) in my new dress and shoes-I even wore a string of pearls, if one can imagine that. The guests were mainly family members, thus pretty short of folks near my age, so I entertained myself with the two-ounce pours of champagne distributed between the two dining areas. Emilie also had great fun calling me “honey” and gently scolding me like we were an old married couple. This, after she warned me about looking too “butch” and spoiling her chances of hooking up (because as we know, weddings are like Spanish fly for those in the wedding party). There was really no one there of interest who wasn’t married, so I guess Em decided to have her fun by alleging lesbianism. Since there was no band, I can safely say it was a prime source of entertainment for more than just each other. All I wanted was a little “Shout,” maybe an electric slide…
After seeing Connie off in a really killer vintage Roles Royce, Em and I purchased some beer and headed back to the room. We tried to get some of her friends to join us, but it was Thursday night and no one was really interested in getting shitty before the weekend. Jobs. Weird.
Friday night was really super special and heart warming for me. I was truly surprised to see how many folks showed up to raise a glass just because I was in town. It was also cool to see how some of my friends would mix with others. It went swimmingly. (And really, if anyone’s not going to get along, it’s usually me.) Thanks again, Trey, Monty, Mike, Paige, Stef, Cel, Em, Damon, David, John, Zach… Sorry about the timing, Slammers, I know Nationals was this week. For those of you who missed me, there will always be a next time, I’m pretty sure of it, just don’t let too many of those “next times” get away, ok? Thank you SO much to those who did make an effort to see me, I know it wasn’t conducive to schedules and I’m just moved to know that time and distance haven’t done anything to diminish our friendship. For this reason and so many more, Birmingham will always be home for me. Thank you all. I miss you already. I’ll never stop missing you, actually.
Em and I drove back to Atlanta Saturday morning and did as much damage as we could before the sun went down. In preparation for my flight home I had to remove any liquids from my carry-on bag. Eye drops? Danger! Chapstick? Better not, just in case… What’s the terror color-code for stupid? At the check-in counter I got the wise idea to ask what their new policy was on urine (as in a full bladder). “Pardon me?” said the humorless Delta-bot. “Nothing,” I muttered. I wish I could say whether or not there was beverage service, but I was asleep before the plane left the ground. I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that my checked bag was opened and inspected. Why? Must have been that troublesome bottle of curious face wash. The idiots didn’t screw the lid back on tightly enough, so I had a royal mess in my toiletry bag. Thanks guys, I really needed to go buy a new bottle of that right now, I really did…
I’m seriously thinking of driving next time-that is if I can rent a hybrid car. I resent paying for this level of humiliation and disrespect. They broke my property, they ruined my property, and they spilled my property on my other property. Do I feel safe? No, I feel pissy. Will security ever find one “liquid bomb” in someone’s bag? Doubtful. It’s just another case of giving over more comfort and convenience in the name of our alleged safety. Let’s NOT forget: the whole reason we have to take our shoes off for the x-ray machines is because some asshole hid a bomb in his shoe. Did security find that? No, it was the passengers on the plane who put a lid on that guy. It’s no surprise that people sharing an airplane are far better regulators and exactors of security-we have a vested interest in getting to our destination in one piece. And I just love how the news perpetuates this shepherding of our rights. That someone can blow up a mall is NOT news. Make no mistake: fear is the new nationalism. Be a good American now and be afraid. Oh I am, but it’s not because of the supposed terrorists…
Emilie and I drove from Atlanta to Birmingham with little to no drama, chatting away about anything and everything. My god, I miss her matter-of-fact, no BS ways. I’m also lucky to have such a true-blue friend. What’s it been now, seven years? Oh how they fly… Our home base for the week was a room at the Comfort Inn, mostly paid for by the bride-to-be. It was a nice enough room and the hotel had a pool, but no bar??? That was rough.
Over the course of my short week I had dinner with both of my parents, delighting them separately with my mohawk. Well, Dad wasn’t really amused, but he couldn’t deny that I still had more hair than him. I also managed to meet up with my old friend and fellow slam-expatriate Marty, which was good fortune because he’s usually in SW Georgia. Damon saved my ass by driving me to the eye doctor, where I received an emergency pair of contacts. [Just in case anyone was wondering, contacts plus hotel Styrofoam cups makes a peculiar, filmy glob of orange.] David tried to drive me to Wal-Mart for a new case the night before, but I had to be all MacGyver and make due. I also got to see Charles, Zach, Paige and family, and Grant. Celeste, if I could put you in my checked baggage I would.
The wedding was a wedding, as far as weddings go. I was looking pretty fly yet normal (no ‘hawk) in my new dress and shoes-I even wore a string of pearls, if one can imagine that. The guests were mainly family members, thus pretty short of folks near my age, so I entertained myself with the two-ounce pours of champagne distributed between the two dining areas. Emilie also had great fun calling me “honey” and gently scolding me like we were an old married couple. This, after she warned me about looking too “butch” and spoiling her chances of hooking up (because as we know, weddings are like Spanish fly for those in the wedding party). There was really no one there of interest who wasn’t married, so I guess Em decided to have her fun by alleging lesbianism. Since there was no band, I can safely say it was a prime source of entertainment for more than just each other. All I wanted was a little “Shout,” maybe an electric slide…
After seeing Connie off in a really killer vintage Roles Royce, Em and I purchased some beer and headed back to the room. We tried to get some of her friends to join us, but it was Thursday night and no one was really interested in getting shitty before the weekend. Jobs. Weird.
Friday night was really super special and heart warming for me. I was truly surprised to see how many folks showed up to raise a glass just because I was in town. It was also cool to see how some of my friends would mix with others. It went swimmingly. (And really, if anyone’s not going to get along, it’s usually me.) Thanks again, Trey, Monty, Mike, Paige, Stef, Cel, Em, Damon, David, John, Zach… Sorry about the timing, Slammers, I know Nationals was this week. For those of you who missed me, there will always be a next time, I’m pretty sure of it, just don’t let too many of those “next times” get away, ok? Thank you SO much to those who did make an effort to see me, I know it wasn’t conducive to schedules and I’m just moved to know that time and distance haven’t done anything to diminish our friendship. For this reason and so many more, Birmingham will always be home for me. Thank you all. I miss you already. I’ll never stop missing you, actually.
Em and I drove back to Atlanta Saturday morning and did as much damage as we could before the sun went down. In preparation for my flight home I had to remove any liquids from my carry-on bag. Eye drops? Danger! Chapstick? Better not, just in case… What’s the terror color-code for stupid? At the check-in counter I got the wise idea to ask what their new policy was on urine (as in a full bladder). “Pardon me?” said the humorless Delta-bot. “Nothing,” I muttered. I wish I could say whether or not there was beverage service, but I was asleep before the plane left the ground. I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that my checked bag was opened and inspected. Why? Must have been that troublesome bottle of curious face wash. The idiots didn’t screw the lid back on tightly enough, so I had a royal mess in my toiletry bag. Thanks guys, I really needed to go buy a new bottle of that right now, I really did…
I’m seriously thinking of driving next time-that is if I can rent a hybrid car. I resent paying for this level of humiliation and disrespect. They broke my property, they ruined my property, and they spilled my property on my other property. Do I feel safe? No, I feel pissy. Will security ever find one “liquid bomb” in someone’s bag? Doubtful. It’s just another case of giving over more comfort and convenience in the name of our alleged safety. Let’s NOT forget: the whole reason we have to take our shoes off for the x-ray machines is because some asshole hid a bomb in his shoe. Did security find that? No, it was the passengers on the plane who put a lid on that guy. It’s no surprise that people sharing an airplane are far better regulators and exactors of security-we have a vested interest in getting to our destination in one piece. And I just love how the news perpetuates this shepherding of our rights. That someone can blow up a mall is NOT news. Make no mistake: fear is the new nationalism. Be a good American now and be afraid. Oh I am, but it’s not because of the supposed terrorists…