LAX, Take 2

So, after hanging out at "Club M", we packed up, yet again, and made our way from Simi to LAX. And by the way you goofballs, this is about my trip, not my friend's hockey playing boyfriend, even though he is very, very hot. Very hot. Where was I? Oh yeah, it's Sunday morning and for some reason, EVERYONE and their uncle has decided that today is the day to travel. The line for check-in is almost out the door. M, being the travel princess that she is, decides that she can't possibly wait like the commonfolk and walks right by the line and up to the counter. Carol and I are getting a little worried. The last thing we want to do is to have a bunch of pissed off passengers releasing their rage onto us because M doesn't know how to wait her turn. She looks over her shoulder at us and gives us the "get your asses up here" look. Oh God, it's gonna be a long trip.

The attendant checks our IDs and wraps the luggage routing tag onto our suitcases and then tells us we have to go wait in the security check line. M takes one look at that line and says.."I don't think so." So, she cuts over to the first class quick line where the uniformed Federal Transportation Bureau guys are checking first class luggage. The FTB guy says, "I'm sorry Ma'am, but you'll have to go to THAT line over there." He motioned us over to the line that is winding around the terminal and OUT the door and back IN another door. M decides that that's not going to happen and says, "I'm in first class (which she's not) and I can have a talk with the airline about you." He retorts, "I'm not an airline employee, I work for the government." She rips back, "Well then, you work for me don't you?" Meanwhile, Carol and I want to crawl into a hole and die. We just don't do things like this. I'm the meekest of the meek, unless you mess with my kids, and then I'll go postal on ya. But my philosophy in life is that you get so much farther with a kind word than with aggression. Oh, it doesn't end there kids.

We pull M away from her war of words with Government Boy and tell her to just chill. We're on vacation. Just enjoy the journey. And all of this is part of the journey. I smile. Carol smiles. M fumes. She just doesn't do lines. I make smalltalk about how I LOVE airports and I love watching people. You can tell the ones that are GOING on vacation from the ones that are at the END of theirs. Our line moves slow. Agonizingly slow. I'm cool with it. We're early and I'm finding a great deal of joy in the experience. It's just unbearable for M. She suddenly breaks away from the line and says to Carol and I, "Stay here, I'll be right back." Oh no. Please no. We watch as she moves to the front of the line. There's quite possibly 50 people in front of us. She leans over to talk to another FTB employee. He shakes his head. We can tell she is agitated. Carol makes a comment about how we need to stop her because if we don't, our luggage is gonna end up in Pakistan because she pisses someone off. She comes back and tells us her attempt to BRIBE the guy didn't work. Thank God, we think. That's all we need is to end up being carted away by Airport Security and miss another plane or worse.

I take M's luggage and tell her, "Listen, why don't you go on ahead. Go upstairs and wait for us at the bar near our gate. We'll check your luggage through and we'll meet you up there when we're done. Ok? Please?" To our great relief, she agrees. She whips her little "First Class" card out of her wallet (she has one for every airline), and goes happily on her way. I could feel my blood pressure going down. I could sense Carol calming as well. For the next 45 minutes, we watched people, shuffled along in the line, talked to newlyweds, met a young couple from "Couples Fear Factor" who had just finished filming a reunion Fear Factor episode, had a discussion about personalities and people and how the jetset life is just a tad too stressful for us, and how great it is to live in the minute. We had a great time and soon, our luggage was on it's way and we were heading through screening and waving to M who was drinking a Bloody Mary in the bar. It's 9:30 am. I ordered a JD and Coke.

By the time I got on the plane, I had had 2 JDs. I'm a fearful flyer. I have met SO many people by being a fearful flyer. It's amazing how compassionate people can be when you're on the verge of tears and you turn to the person sitting next to you and ask if you can hold their hand. I've never been turned down. I'm fine once we're up or once we've landed, but take-offs and landings send me into a frightening thought spiral. Luckily, this time, I had Carol to sit next to. We giggled as we boarded. We giggled as we found our seats. Lo and behold. They put the two giggling women in the Emergency Exit row. They put M on the other side of the plane with a lavatory between us. That was probably best. Since she travels 8 to 9 months out of the year, this isn't much fun for her. I was having too much fun for a buzzkill.

The flight attendant came and asked us if we were aware that we were in the Emergency Exit row and should the need arise, would we be able to assist with the door and helping other passengers. We smiled. Sure. No problem. I picked up the Emergency card in the seat pocket and started to read my homework. Carol giggled and dug through her carry-on bag to find something to eat. She pulled out an AquaFina bottle, uncapped it, and stuck it under my nose. "Thirsty?" My SpideySense told me it wasn't water. She said, "Now all we need is some orange juice." The businessman behind us said, "We hope you're gonna share that!" And then he thought better of it as we giggled a response and he said..."Oh great, THEY'RE in charge of our emergency exit!" He laughed and then reached over and squeezed my shoulder. "Don't worry, Honey. We're not gonna need you." Good thing. Fun flight.

We had an uneventful flight and landed safely in Atlanta. This was easy. Now it was just a matter of waiting to get on a 45 minute flight to Jacksonville, Florida where our friend Cindy was anxiously waiting for our arrival. There was a little pub right next to our gate and we decided to wait there. The girls wanted a barley soda. I ordered a JD and Coke. Our server leaned over and said in his cute little Georgian accent, "that's MY favorite drink too!" Mmmmmm, that means I'm gonna get a good one. Drink, that is. He brings the girls their beers. Nice, tall, pints. He leaves and comes back with my drink and puts in on the table in front of me. My face must have said it all because both Carol and M almost did a spit take from laughter. I looked at my drink. It was, I'm not kidding you, in a SHOT GLASS. I laughed as I turned to George, our cute little server, and said.."Darlin', WHAT is this? Don't ya'll know how to make a drink in Atlanta?" He smiled the most brilliant smile as he picked up M's credit card and accidentally dropped it. When he bent over to pick it up, I said.."Well ok, if the drink comes with a floorshow, then fine." At that, George, still smiling, "accidentally" dropped the card again, and bent over nice and slow, turning back to look at me and winked. When he came back with the bill, he said, "The JD and Coke was on me." Carol and M yelled "foul!". I left a big tip. I like Atlanta.