A Pox On Me
I cannot believe that I let so much time go by since my last blog entry. I think that my pregnancy must be sapping away my brain cells. I can see no other explanation.
Last Sunday I flew to Jackson, Mississippi to give a talk for work. And yes, it was an exiting a trip as it sounds. I flew Delta, an airline I loathe. Why? The biggest reason is that I cannot get my 22" rollerboard into their overhead compartment. It pisses me off. So I end up having to check it. And what is the point of having carry on luggage if you have to check it? It fits on US Airways. It fits on United. It fits on freaking Continental! But Delta, no way!
I tried to buy a 20" rollerboard from The Luggage Shop two weeks before the trip, in order to work around the Delta issue, but after a week of waiting, I discovered that The Luggage Shop seems to have gone out of business, though their order taking was still functional on their web site. So no smaller bag. And this necessitated something that I knew my husband wouldn't approve of in my pregnant state: my using The Bag That Will Not Stay On Your Shoulder. TBTWNSOYS is a stupid, non-rolling carry on piece I bought when my only trips were staying over at Mason's skanky Center City apartment. Unfortunately despite a very large padded TravelPro shoulder strap, this bag will not stay on your shoulder for love or money. And it is big enough to knock people in the head as you carry it onto the plane. In a word, it's shite. But it was either lug this bag or check the 22" rollerboard.
So there I was traveling with TBTWNSOYS, my computer bag/briefcase, and my purse. None of the three felt like staying on my shoulder. And I think I concussed a few people lugging TBTWNSOYS onto the planes. And just about everyone traveling to Jackson smelled like ashtrays. For a non-smoking flight, I sure feel as though I took in a good bit of second hand smoke. Jackson itself made no major impression on me. The talk went well. I didn't use the word "cha cha" to mean vagina, like I normally do (as a concession to an uncomfortable coworker). All was fine. Yet I was glad to get back on the plane to head back home after my talk.
I sat next to a fellow companywoman on the flight from Jackson to Atlanta, but the Atlanta to Philly flight stuck me next to some old, ugly sweater wearing brother sitting next to his white wife. I had the aisle seat. But you know how it is with that new pseudointimacy that comes from having to touch arms with the person in the middle seat? I had to be in nearly constant contact with old, ugly sweater wearer. My right arm and his left arm. It drove me crazy. I don't know him. I don't want his old, ugly sweater cooties on me!
Of course the minute I drifted off, they started poking me because wifey had to go to the bathroom. Why is it always the one seated by the window who has to go to the bathroom? The flight was only an hour and 35 minutes! Couldn't she hold it? Does she have a bladder the size of a pea? I, of course, rolled my eyes and made it appear that her pee-need was the ultimate in botheration. Of course the dilly babe decided to spill her glass of water onto her husband's seat and she exited the row. I gave her a look that clearly said, "he didn't marry you for your brains, that much is clear."
And old, ugly sweater is like, "You spilled your water on my seat!"
And she's like, "no I didn't," looking down at her now empty water glass.
I don't give a fuck about these two. I just want to sit the hell down. She heads to the front of the plane, I sit down and old, ugly sweater heads to the flight attendant in the back. Flight attendant beats old, ugly sweater back to the row. She tells me to stand, then swaps out his seat cushion with one from a seat in front of us. Then she looks at me and says, "Now let's not spill anything else!"
And I'm like, "WTF, I didn't spill anything in the first place! I don't know these people. I'm just trying to be left alone and get back to Philly."
And she's like, "Well he said his wife spilled something..."
"I am NOT his wife," I retorted hotly.
Realizing the racial assumption she had made, she tried to make amends by saying, "you look way to young to be his wife!" I just glared.
Then actual wife comes back along with old, ugly sweater. I exhale in frustration as I must get up yet again due to their extreme botheration. She says sorry for the bother, and I turn my face into a "Lord, why must you test me with idiots?" exhortation.
When I finally get to sit down, it is at an awkward angle which results in my inner tie of my wrap jumper breaking...again (I had just gotten it repaired). So now it was curses for the bathroom-going, seat wetting couple. I cursed them in every way my imagination could devise. I cursed old, ugly sweater's arm still rubbing up against mine. I wished his arm would shrivel up with a pox, like fast leprosy or something, and drop off. Oh did I curse them. When we finally landed, I almost, almost, dropped The Concussor (aka TBTWNSOYS) onto old, ugly sweater's beady head.
Such anger! From whence does it come? I haven't the foggiest. I can tell you that these days, you don't want to see me angry. It appears almost unbidden from some hidden, internal repository of fury. Woe to those who insist on irking me. They will be treated very badly and be at risk for pox-laden curses. Beware the rage of cranky pregnant lady.
Of course God/Goddess/Fate found some humor in my curses and proceeded to bounce my words off the hidious ugliness of the man's sweater, and back to me. And this resulted a few days later in my sickness. I developed the flu. Still not having learned my lesson, I proceeded to back-curse (curse in retrospect) every coughing, hacking, sniffling, fomite-laden person I spent close airplane time with during the past week. More poxes were lobbed along with pleas for snotty coryza, lung rot, and coughing so hard pants get peed (the latter was happening to me in my sickbed. Not fun.)
By Friday I started to feel human again. At least there was no fever. And so happy was I when the UPS man delivered my new 20" Pathfinder LT rollerboard that I had ordered the week before from Bag Expo. I'm still sleeping like it could be a spectator sport but I feel well overall today. Especially now that I am 12 weeks today (that is if the baby isn't dead...yes, still having DBTs), and I get no more shots in the ass! I now get to be a normal, insane, moody, multipolar basket case of a pregnant woman.
Hooray!
Last Sunday I flew to Jackson, Mississippi to give a talk for work. And yes, it was an exiting a trip as it sounds. I flew Delta, an airline I loathe. Why? The biggest reason is that I cannot get my 22" rollerboard into their overhead compartment. It pisses me off. So I end up having to check it. And what is the point of having carry on luggage if you have to check it? It fits on US Airways. It fits on United. It fits on freaking Continental! But Delta, no way!
I tried to buy a 20" rollerboard from The Luggage Shop two weeks before the trip, in order to work around the Delta issue, but after a week of waiting, I discovered that The Luggage Shop seems to have gone out of business, though their order taking was still functional on their web site. So no smaller bag. And this necessitated something that I knew my husband wouldn't approve of in my pregnant state: my using The Bag That Will Not Stay On Your Shoulder. TBTWNSOYS is a stupid, non-rolling carry on piece I bought when my only trips were staying over at Mason's skanky Center City apartment. Unfortunately despite a very large padded TravelPro shoulder strap, this bag will not stay on your shoulder for love or money. And it is big enough to knock people in the head as you carry it onto the plane. In a word, it's shite. But it was either lug this bag or check the 22" rollerboard.
So there I was traveling with TBTWNSOYS, my computer bag/briefcase, and my purse. None of the three felt like staying on my shoulder. And I think I concussed a few people lugging TBTWNSOYS onto the planes. And just about everyone traveling to Jackson smelled like ashtrays. For a non-smoking flight, I sure feel as though I took in a good bit of second hand smoke. Jackson itself made no major impression on me. The talk went well. I didn't use the word "cha cha" to mean vagina, like I normally do (as a concession to an uncomfortable coworker). All was fine. Yet I was glad to get back on the plane to head back home after my talk.
I sat next to a fellow companywoman on the flight from Jackson to Atlanta, but the Atlanta to Philly flight stuck me next to some old, ugly sweater wearing brother sitting next to his white wife. I had the aisle seat. But you know how it is with that new pseudointimacy that comes from having to touch arms with the person in the middle seat? I had to be in nearly constant contact with old, ugly sweater wearer. My right arm and his left arm. It drove me crazy. I don't know him. I don't want his old, ugly sweater cooties on me!
Of course the minute I drifted off, they started poking me because wifey had to go to the bathroom. Why is it always the one seated by the window who has to go to the bathroom? The flight was only an hour and 35 minutes! Couldn't she hold it? Does she have a bladder the size of a pea? I, of course, rolled my eyes and made it appear that her pee-need was the ultimate in botheration. Of course the dilly babe decided to spill her glass of water onto her husband's seat and she exited the row. I gave her a look that clearly said, "he didn't marry you for your brains, that much is clear."
And old, ugly sweater is like, "You spilled your water on my seat!"
And she's like, "no I didn't," looking down at her now empty water glass.
I don't give a fuck about these two. I just want to sit the hell down. She heads to the front of the plane, I sit down and old, ugly sweater heads to the flight attendant in the back. Flight attendant beats old, ugly sweater back to the row. She tells me to stand, then swaps out his seat cushion with one from a seat in front of us. Then she looks at me and says, "Now let's not spill anything else!"
And I'm like, "WTF, I didn't spill anything in the first place! I don't know these people. I'm just trying to be left alone and get back to Philly."
And she's like, "Well he said his wife spilled something..."
"I am NOT his wife," I retorted hotly.
Realizing the racial assumption she had made, she tried to make amends by saying, "you look way to young to be his wife!" I just glared.
Then actual wife comes back along with old, ugly sweater. I exhale in frustration as I must get up yet again due to their extreme botheration. She says sorry for the bother, and I turn my face into a "Lord, why must you test me with idiots?" exhortation.
When I finally get to sit down, it is at an awkward angle which results in my inner tie of my wrap jumper breaking...again (I had just gotten it repaired). So now it was curses for the bathroom-going, seat wetting couple. I cursed them in every way my imagination could devise. I cursed old, ugly sweater's arm still rubbing up against mine. I wished his arm would shrivel up with a pox, like fast leprosy or something, and drop off. Oh did I curse them. When we finally landed, I almost, almost, dropped The Concussor (aka TBTWNSOYS) onto old, ugly sweater's beady head.
Such anger! From whence does it come? I haven't the foggiest. I can tell you that these days, you don't want to see me angry. It appears almost unbidden from some hidden, internal repository of fury. Woe to those who insist on irking me. They will be treated very badly and be at risk for pox-laden curses. Beware the rage of cranky pregnant lady.
Of course God/Goddess/Fate found some humor in my curses and proceeded to bounce my words off the hidious ugliness of the man's sweater, and back to me. And this resulted a few days later in my sickness. I developed the flu. Still not having learned my lesson, I proceeded to back-curse (curse in retrospect) every coughing, hacking, sniffling, fomite-laden person I spent close airplane time with during the past week. More poxes were lobbed along with pleas for snotty coryza, lung rot, and coughing so hard pants get peed (the latter was happening to me in my sickbed. Not fun.)
By Friday I started to feel human again. At least there was no fever. And so happy was I when the UPS man delivered my new 20" Pathfinder LT rollerboard that I had ordered the week before from Bag Expo. I'm still sleeping like it could be a spectator sport but I feel well overall today. Especially now that I am 12 weeks today (that is if the baby isn't dead...yes, still having DBTs), and I get no more shots in the ass! I now get to be a normal, insane, moody, multipolar basket case of a pregnant woman.
Hooray!