I straightened my hair today. I haven’t done that consistently since my past life when I was in fact a hair dresser. Those were the days. Up early so that I could pull, press and heat my curly locks into submission. No more. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my hair has a mind of its own and as such can curl up like Medusa at a moments or humidity’s notice. But I digress. I straightened my hair today because I’m traveling, and since I have a red eye/day/ridiculously long flight time and I want to land feeling and looking somewhat like a normal person and not like a mythological creature, I straightened my hair into submission. Wish me luck.
So I’m traveling. Traveling is weird, y’all. It is weird the things and the people you see. For example, I spent the first leg of this trip sitting next to a man who very much resembled Jesus in all the Sunday school pictures, and had a head full of dreadlocks. Dude had some seriously long hair. I thought of asking him for a blessing, but he was quick to don his shades (bright future and all) and take a nap. Who naps at 5 p.m. on an airplane? Jesus would have chatted with me. But alas, I was left to pull out my old an tattered copy of To Kill a Mockingbird and settle in with some Scout, Jem and glimpses of old Boo Radley. Next stop, Denver.
I’ve never been to Denver before. But I didn’t get a chance to play either. This is one of the things I detest about flying. You land in some cool places, but due to timing or airline security similar to that of Fort Nox, there is no escaping to explore. Case in point: I have ALWAYS wanted to go to Boston. Like, always. I’ve always wanted to live in Connecticut too. I’ve never been to either place, I’ve flew over them once, but I feel like I should probably live there. Don’t ask me why, because I can’t tell you. Just like I’m sure that some day when I visit Scotland, I may never come back. But I digress. Boston. Always wanted to go. Today I will. In fact, I will be in the city for six hours. Unfortunately those hours are between 2 a.m. and 6 a.m., so I will not be venturing beyond the highly guarded gates of the terminal. Dang it. Instead I will be fervently trying to take a nap. Again, wish me luck.
So here I am, on the flight to Boston, second leg of this journey that I’m so freaking excited for, and I’m sitting next to a guy who is watching a cartoon. Like underwater, floating jewels, anime(?) cartoon. I myself like cartoons. Like Disney and Pixar. He’s probably in his almost thirties. I’m thrity-four. Do grown men watch this? I did not know. Apparently they do. I don’t understand the whole anime thing, no judgement, just don’t get it, I just wasn’t really expecting him to pull out his little lap top and drum up a cartoon. But hey, to each his own and all that.
And after all, these planes are boring. I tried to keep myself entertained and bought a magazine. Glamour. It was always my go-to girl mag for trips and a little brainless fun. Did you know that army green is the new in color for this season? It’s not just for camo anymore ladies. Unless of course you live in Montana, in which chase it’s only for camo, let’s just be honest. Anywho, army green is good. Loving your body is good (it’s about time) according to Amy Schumer who apparently is a 160 lb comedian. Because we have to put her body weight in the magazine to really convince everyone that it’s okay not be a perfect size 00 and still be a woman. Ahem. Contradiction much?
Alanis Morriset also had her two cents on finding love. It’s the twentieth anniversary of Jaged Little Pill (say it aint so!) and she’s getting some press for it. I’ll be honest, JLP was one of the first CDs I ever bought, and certainly the first grunge rock one that I felt a little concerned over my mother listening too. But I loved it. Still do. It’s my go-to flash-back music and what’s not to love about those guitar strums and the raspy voice? But really, Alanis? Love advice? For promoting JLP? Hmmm I may get my love potion #9 elsewhere. Call me crazy.
Oh, and we’re going to hell in a handbasket. Just and FYI. According to the esteemed mag, there are six superpowers that every girl could use. 1) Turbo thumbs-to get your text joke out the fastest. 2) Ex-Ray vision: to avoid that former flame, of course. 3) Bad-Vibes force field: For all those annoying people who just may rain on your parade. 4) Superbass: so you can rap like the best of ‘em. 5)Gymvisability: to mask that pesky sweat when you get your work out on at the gym. And 6) Like Magnet: so you get thousands of likes with each social media post. Hello fame!
Sweet lord almighty. For real? For real. And we wonder why our next generation is so self-centered and unable to handle the hard stuff-like not winning a metal because you just weren’t as good as the other contenders. Or not getting a job because you have to actually show up and do the work. Or not passing a class because that deadline, was actually a due date, not a guideline. Seriously, can we have some super powers a sister could really use? I’ve got a couple. Here’s my list:
11) Compassion: The ability to look beyond yourself and to the needs of others, recognizing their trials and heartache and helping them through.
22) Steadfastness: When the job is hard and the kids are screaming or the paper is due, the continuous ability to push through, knowing that your best is what’s needed and you are capable of success.
33) Forgiveness: Moving beyond what someone else did and offering forgiveness. Not because we have to, but because we want to.
44) Self-confidence: Loving the fact that our body sweats because we push it hard and are able to do so.
55) Grace: Looking beyond what appears on the outside and being able to put ourselves in some one else’s shoes for a bit. Maybe Debbie-Downer is having a rough time and needs a little help, not a little righteous indignation.
66) Love magnet: Let us look on others with love-not putting ourselves first but being servant-leaders.
Call me crazy, but if we had these super powers, I think our world would be a much nicer place. Sorry Glamour, but you let me down. Okay, I should probably log off. The anime is getting interesting. I’m pretty sure I just saw a beetle with a halo.
Ciao love. See you in Boston.
Okay, the wifi didn’t work on the plane. Liars. So here I am, sitting in the Boston airport. It’s 2 a.m. I should be napping. Was planning on napping-but no. Because here in Boston the terminal gods wake up from their naps to kick you out if you have a connecting flight. Seriously. Lady was crashed out on two chairs put together (totally my plan) and booted all us connecting flights out of the terminal. We can re-enter after going through security. Again. Which opens at 3:30 a.m. There goes my nap. I’m trying not to be too snarky, but it’s late (early?) y’all and I had found a super comfy chair in an almost not blaringly lit area by my gate. Sigh.
But, in happy news, the flight here got substantially better. See the flight attendant liked me. I must have reminded him of someone he knows. I got complimentary wine and Godiva! And no, not all chocolates are created equal. This one was particularly tasty. And he told me I was very pleasant. I’m trying to keep that up, as I sit on the cold floor outside the security check point. Because they may kick you out of the terminal, but they don’t supply chairs. God forbid.
Anywho, aside from the flight attendant thinking I was the best thing since sliced bread (love you too, Adrian!), the passenger next to me was pretty cool too. We ended up talking mental health and Christianity and voodoo and all the fun stuff and I think I have new resources for hitting academia this fall! Wahoo! And maybe some great clinical ideas too! So it wasn’t so bad, in fact probably one of the more enjoyable flights I’ve ever had. And I have books to look up, thanks to my seat-mate. Good times.
Now we just wait. Until The security guards show up and I can peal myself off of this floor and go back through security (again). I’m half tempted to rent a car. How far is it from Boston to Erie?
Goodnight sweet reader. I’ll catch you on the other side of security.