So the trip to Maine wasn’t all bad; one of my strengths is that I find humor where others wouldn’t. For instance, I found it humorous that my sister and I were going on the same trip, yet packed so differently.
And as she slung that bag on the scale, I saw the weight and was instantly glad I didn’t sneeze on it before she closed it (because it would have weighed more and also because she’d have shot me).
My sister and I both have horrible self-esteem, which usually surprises people because she’s beautiful and I apparently exude some sort of false confidence that is SO inaccurate. Because of this, we can’t take a picture together to save our life. After several attempts at documenting just a single picture, we gave up and did this instead:
I took a less than flattering shot of our first flight attendant, who’d positioned herself in the jumpseat against the cockpit door (if you’ve never been in a small plane, thats where their seats are!) and spent a good 20 minutes gnawing her fingernails. She may have been hungry, it was a 6AM flight. About 20 minutes before we landed, she came on the speaker and asked us to look around us for a cell phone. Then, just in case maybe it carried more weight, she let us know it was the pilot’s cell phone.
I’m sorry, what? It’s the first flight of the day…why was he in rows 9-11 before the flight (where we were asked to check specifically. By the way, in a small plane, those are the last 3 rows.)? And why is he noticing now? Did he go to play Words with Friends and realize he was sans phone? The flight attendant actually said “No worries, maybe it’s in the hotel.” What? I need a pilot that’s more organized than that. And then we landed safely, which was nice and shocking.
Regardless, we got to Dulles and had an uneventful flight to Boston.
Our last flight was so cold I could have made a margarita slushie, had I had a margarita and a strong enough arm, and a penchant for tequila, none of which I do. I could tell the flight attendant was one that could take a joke, so I asked her if the plane came with heat. She retorted that she couldn’t get the heat on until the plane was shut, and I asked if she could blow on me in the meantime. I think everyone in the plane laughed, and I was able to relax until we touched down in Presque Isle. For the record, she didn’t. So much for flying the friendly skies. When we landed, I noticed a huge crack in my suitcase, and I launched into what probably would have been a 10 minute rant about TSA and how they treat stuff like crap, had I not remembered 30 seconds in that I carried my luggage on. Oops.
I’m not sure if you have ever flown into that airport, likely not, but I’ve been inside public bathrooms that are larger. In fact, they have a library. Don’t confuse this with a bookstore, or even Hudson News. I mean a library. You can just take a book, and bring it back next time youre there.
No, for reals.
I saw my daddy first and I think I’ve never been happier to see him, actually.
And my mother, too, of course, who is just indescribable because she’s like the mom you wish you had, but I actually got her, so the joke is on you. Her role on the trip was supporting actress, and she did it flawlessly even though it had to have been bewildering at times to find a place in their big family, while juggling her own emotions about losing both her own parents (The Little One is named after each of them), and not having had a funeral for either of them, as my Grampy died in Mexico and Grammy down here, which wasn’t their home. And that’s really her; supportive and giving room to grieve, but at the exact place at the exact moment you need her. I love my mother.
Anyway, so that made me tear up and this is supposed to be the funny post, so I’ll leave you with the fact that my sister brought 20 pairs of underwear, nine different types of perfume, and this is her travel makeup. And by makeup, I mean THIS IS JUST THE LIPGLOSS PART:
Love y’all. Thanks for the support the last few days.