Tag Archives: travel

I Woke Up With A Penis In My Face 

Being Awkward/Dumb Stuff I Do, Random Thoughts/Happenings, , ,

Let me explain. 

I sleep very deeply on flights. Knowing this about myself, I usually request a window seat so that I can snooze/drool/snore against the wall of the plane and not be in anyone’s way. But for this particular flight to LA, I ended up in the aisle seat. 

In the middle and window seat were a younger boy and girl, around college age. When they sat down during boarding, they immediately began to canoodle– at which point, as a means of survival, I forced myself into a deep sleep. Don’t get me wrong, I’m perfectly fine with couples who are in love and happy, I just don’t need that happiness spilling over the armrest and into my bag of Doritos. 

I conked out immediately, before the plane even took off. I guess at some point, the limber young man in the window seat had to pee and didn’t want to wake me, so he climbed over me like a ninja. Which worked well on his way to the bathroom. I slept right through it. Unfortunately, on the way back, his catlike skills were no match for my contorted napping pose and my tendency to sleep-spasm. I shifted right as he was crawling over me, causing him to slip on the armrest and fall penis-first into my face. 

His girlfriend laughed hysterically. I laughed too, because there was nothing else to do. The guy was apologetic and mortified. But the good news is that we all got to spend the next three hours sitting next to each other in a confined, intimate space. Our continental breakfast, served moments later, was a fairly awkward meal. 

Was I annoyed? Eh, yes and no. To be honest, waking up with a penis in my face is totally fine with me. But as a grown, educated, independent woman, I think I have earned the right to choose said penis. 

Complaints That Are Unjustified

Kids/Teaching, Random Thoughts/Happenings, , , ,

Look, I’m all about complaining, especially when it comes to travel. I’ve had my fair share of annoying experiences, ranging from pilots having caffeine withdrawal to kids constantly asking if they can have one of whatever candy I’m eating (the answer, for the record, is always no, unless you’ll be satisfied with the yellow flavor, which you NEVER. ARE.)

But I’m sitting here on this flight, taking off on time, plenty of overhead space and legroom. Despite the fact that I am heading back to the frozen tundra death trap of despair and crushed dreams, things are good. There are plenty of kids on the flight, but so far everyone is lovey and well-behaved.

Enter dramatic, exasperated, head-to-toe-in-Vinyard-Vines passenger. This guy is actually wearing full blown foundation and what I’m fairly certain is mascara. He sits down in the row across from me, takes one look at the row behind him, and, in the rudest, most unnecessarily put-upon fashion, sighs and exclaims, “EVERY time I fly, there are children on the plane. EVERY TIME! Just my luck!”

Ok, man. Relax. You’re not allowed to be annoyed by the sheer fact that children exist on this plane. Children make up a fairly large part of the population, and if you think you’re going to get on a 200-person plane and not encounter any, you’re about as delusional as I was this morning when I considered faking Ebola symptoms in order to not have to fly back to NY. This is a plane, not a cocktail bar on a Saturday night. Children (even babies!) are allowed to be here. Furthermore, you’re on a 12:05pm Delta flight from West Palm Beach during a school vacation, not a chopper stealthily escaping war-torn Afghanistan in the middle of the night. That is pretty much the only flight situation I can think of that might have a chance of not involving children.

So relax, man. These kids are being lovely.

In the meantime, keep eating your heavily spiced Mexican food in this cramped, confined spice before they’ve turned on the AC. Because that’s FAR less offensive and avoidable than the existence of kids.

P.S. When these kids start pissing me off, I’m totally on your side.

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Lies I Tell So People Will Hate Me Less

Being Awkward/Dumb Stuff I Do, Mental Health, , , , , , , , ,

That moment on a plane when you’re so embarrassed by your overactive bladder that you apologetically explain to the annoyed woman in the aisle seat, who is getting up for you for the 3rd time, that you’re pregnant.

You’re not pregnant. You just know that’ll make her sympathetic and less annoyed. And you’re right. It does.

What you don’t know is that this will incite an entire conversation about said make-believe fetus.

How far along am I? About 3 months. I know. It’s crazy, I’m barely showing. I’m sure that won’t last, especially with the aid of these nacho cheesier Doritos! (Woman cackles with laughter, seems less disgusted with my snack choice than she was previously).

The father? He’s amazing. Been married 3 years. He’s in Florida for business right now, so I’m meeting him at The Breakers. Yeah, I know. Ritzy. But the thing is, he, and therefore we, are richer than God. Sometimes we take baths in our dollars and I wear a bra made of diamonds. Don’t be fooled by the hole in this Old Navy hoodie I’m wearing. In public, I prefer to blend.

First child? No. We have toddler triplets. One boy and two conjoined girls. Yeah, that delivery was rough! (finish bag of Doritos, lick fingers, bust open the Toblerone).

Names? Haven’t decided yet. I like Coconut. Maybe Sunshine. Or Palm Tree. No, I’m not just naming things I’m excited to see in Florida.

Am I sure it’s ok to fly? I don’t know. Why? Is that a thing? Maybe that’s why my girls are conjoined…

Oh ok, cool. Now we’re done here.

(Note: nothing past the 4th paragraph actually happened. Except in my head. This is how I pass time on flights. It’s also the effects of Xanax).

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Things You Don’t Want To Hear Your Pilot Say

Mental Health, Random Thoughts/Happenings, , , , ,

I’m here at Dulles airport, in DC (well, technically VA. I think. I’ll be honest I have no idea where I am.) I’ve already had quite the chain of travel snafus trying to get to Florida, starting with my cancelled flight out of NYC and followed by the world’s worst traveling cabaret ride.

Finally, things were starting to look up. My awesome parents picked me up from the bus yesterday, took me to a lovey dinner, gave me wine, and watched SNL40 with me. As always, I was the first one asleep.

Then this morning, Dad drove me to the airport. Flight is on time. Everything is coming up roses.

Then I decided to grab a quick coffee from the only coffee option here in Terminal Z (yes. Terminal Z. What the fuck else would you expect)– Dunkin Donuts. Coincidentally, I’m standing right behind the pilot of my fight. She’s about to get to the front when the cashier announces– “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry, but we are all out of regular coffee for the next 30 minutes. Only decaf.” My pilot takes one look at her copilot and says, with a grave, dire expression, “You don’t understand how much I need this coffee.”

So like– HOW MUCH are we talking? Like I can’t fly this plane at ALL without the coffee and we need to cancel? I might fall asleep mid flight and need the copilot to take over? I might get the caffeine-withdrawal shakes and accidentally clip a mountain top? I might be so out of it that I accidentally fly us somewhere even colder than this goddamn tundra? I’m just trying to figure out how many of these Xanax to take. On top of the three I immediately popped when I first got behind you, heard you say you were flying my plane, and then watched you yawn 5 times in a row.

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I Will NOT Be Your Guest, Kid

Kids/Teaching, Random Thoughts/Happenings, ,

I made the mistake of letting the chatty lady next to me on this 5-hour bus ride, sitting with her son (who was sleeping at the time), know that I’m a teacher. Since then, her son has woken up and proved himself to be the WORST. He seems to have mistaken this charter bus for a Broadway stage, and himself for Nathan Lane in The Birdcage. But louder and more dramatic.

The mom, inexplicably, is amused by this, despite the fact that everyone else on the bus is undoubtedly plotting the child’s murder. Or her murder. Or mass murder. The guy across from me has turned up the volume on his iPod full blast. The woman next to him appears to be praying to Allah. The man in front of me seems to have just given up on enjoying this ride, and possibly on life entirely.

The mom smiles at me. “You’re a teacher. You must love kids.”
Me: “Sure do.”

From 8-3pm. On a work day. When they are under MY control.

Your song-screaming child, in this moment, is, make no mistake, my worst nightmare. Never again will I be able to enjoy Beauty and the Beast. Or music in general. All sounds, really.

So, no, kid. I will NOT be your guest. Do you hear me? Neither will that guy, or that lady, or that old man. NO ONE HERE WANTS TO BE YOUR GUEST.

You may also NOT have one of my skittles. So don’t ask again.

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I’m Old

Random Thoughts/Happenings,

You know you’re old when you get off the plane in Mexico, encounter this welcome tiki bar, and all you can think is “I wish to god this was a Starbucks.” (Coincidentally, this is also how you know you’re American and the worst.)

You also know you’re old when the cab driver asks, “Have you been to Cancun before?” and your initial response is “Yes, not too long ago…” then you pause “Well…wait…let me see…” more pausing as you calculate “Umm…oh. Wow. It was 15 years ago.”

And then you cry into your Pepto-Bismol-stuffed carry-on.

tiki

Not a Thing

Friends, Random Thoughts/Happenings, ,

Dear Lady,

I was willing to overlook it yesterday when we were on the beach, because hey, you’re clearly European, and maybe you mistakenly thought this WAS a topless beach, because topless beaches are totally a thing (again– not HERE. I want to be very clear that this is not in fact a topless beach).

But today we’re at the pool, and you’re still topless. Topless pools are not a thing. Nowhere are topless pools a thing. I can’t, like, legitimately verify this, but I’ve never been anywhere where topless pools are a thing.

As a preventative measure, I feel it is important to inform you now that topless restaurants are also most definitely NOT a thing. If you’re sitting at the table next to mine tonight and I see that you have ignored this fact, I will have no choice but to snap a photo and let the online community answer the “Do you think they’re real?” question that my friend Gina* has been obsessing over since the moment we first spotted you.

For the record, they totally are. And they are NOT spectacular.
*Gina’s name has been changed to protect Gabi.

I Always Make Friends on Airplanes

Being Awkward/Dumb Stuff I Do, ,

On the flight down to Mexico yesterday, after taking an extended drool nap that impressed even the flight attendant, who made it a point to greet me when I awoke with a hearty “You’re a very good sleeper for such a small lady!” (I’ve heard this before, and it’s always code for “You snore like a giant diabetic fat man off his meds!”), I took out my laptop to do some writing.

I began writing the story about how, when I was a kid, my mother kicked me out of the car and made me walk home because I was being a jerk in the backseat (more on that in a future post. Sorry, Mom). In my peripheral vision, I could see the guy sitting next to me repeatedly looking up from his kindle and staring at my computer. Pretty much any time I started typing a new thought, he glanced. Quite frankly, it was annoying, but I decided, in the Christmas spirit, to take it as a sign of flattery that he was clearly enjoying my writing, and not let it bother me. I turned to him and smiled.

Me: “Funny story, huh?”
Man: “Excuse me?”
Me: “The one I’m writing. It happened a long time ago, so I’m a little hazy on the details, but I’m trying to get down everything I remember.”
Man: “Ok, well, every time you start writing, you elbow me.
Me: “Oh.”
Man: “That’s why I’ve been looking over at you.”
Me: “Got it.”
Man: “So please stop.”
Me: “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was doing it.”
Man: “It’s probably because you type with two fingers.”

So the takeaway here is that he loved my writing, but was embarassed that I caught him spying, so he couched his enthusiasm in a bunch of insults.

Also I should learn to type.

And never talk to people.