BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

My recent trip to Massachusetts to speak and sign at the SEMA PPD (Southeastern Mass Pagan Pride Day) falls into my favorite category. That being, it was a great event. There were plenty of wonderful folks, good conversations, hanging out, and excellent food as well. And, I even signed a gazillion books – gotta love that.

Of course, whenever I go on the road, even if the event is great and… well… UN-eventful… there’s always something to keep me entertained along the way – usually to and from.

So, for those who follow me on Facebook and Twitter, this is going to be redundant.  However, since there are many of my blog readers who don’t do the Twitter and Facebook thing, here, in a nutshell, is the round trip as told to my Twitter account via my cell phone. I’ll warn you up front. It’s not all that exciting…

SATURDAY

Travel Day One – Getting There From Here

Saturday 9/11 10:08AM – At Lambert STL. Busier than a whore house on dollar day. TSA Agents FASCINATED with my I <heart> EK t-shirt. O_o

Saturday 9/11 10:25AM – Almost missing those lost LBs. Took off belt for security and britches were around my knees by the time I was thru the metal detector O_O

Saturday 9/11 11:24AM – On airplane. Wheeeee!

Saturday 9/11 1:22PM – Layover BWI. Maybe I’ll see Duff and the gang…

Saturday 9/11 2:30PM – On board another air fly thingy. I’m like, YO! WEEEEEE!

Saturday 9/11 4:01PM – As a rule women make way better pilots than men. True story

Saturday 9/11 4:23PM – On ground Providence, RI. Yo! Weeeee!

Saturday 9/11 5:59PM – At the hotel. Nice room. Gang coming to pick me up for dinner at around 7:30…

Saturday 9/11 8:33PM – Dinner roundup: FRESH fish and scallops… Mmmmmmmmmm… :-P~~~~~

Saturday 9/11 8:48PM – Lost an hour today (slow damn airplane)… Gotta turn into M. R. Sellars tomorrow morning around 9… Thinking it just might be “Jammie Time”

Saturday 9/11 9:05PM – Okay… Grabbing a book and jumping into the sack. I’ll check in tomorrow morning over coffee… The maker is right here on the desk (WooHoo!)

SUNDAY

Event Day

Sunday 9/12 4:59AM – Okay, you silly whackos… I’m up. Hotel coffee cooked. It’s not DDC, but it’s definitely drinkable…

Sunday 9/12 5:26AM – Waking up just isn’t as much fun without Kat Sellars here…

Sunday 9/12 6:28AM – Clean and shiny… Even squirted on some smelly good so I won’t schteenk too badly… Now having some more coffee and diddling about on Facebook while considering heading downstairs for some breakfast…

Sunday 9/12 6:35AM – Hmmmm… Not used to that much fried food all in one place at the same time… Last night’s dinner has me feeling slightly bloaty this morning… Still better go see what’s for breakfast. Long time till lunch… O_o

Sunday 9/12 7:03AM – Hard boiled egg, a self-nukeified miniature ham & cheese quiche (never did find the ham in it), a fruit cup, and some OJ… That “oughta” hold me for a bit.

Sunday 9/12 7:07AM – Why do all of the “expert” commentators on FOX look like they’ve had botched facelifts and then lost a fight with Merle Norman?

Sunday 9/12 7:59AM – I’m not waitin’ on a lay-dayy, I’m just waitin’ on my ride… I’m just waitin’ on my ride. Do do do doo dop dee do. Do do…

Sunday 9/12 8:57AM – The Weather Channel LIED!

Sunday 9/12 10:47AM – First workshop done. Plenty of hopeful writers in attendance. Great questions

Sunday 9/12 11:10AM – Minor crisis averted – Yes, folks, I found the little authors room, weee! (Literally)

Sunday 9/12 11:38AM – Lunch: AMAZING Morrocan stew, and the cook gave me her secret recipe

Sunday 9/12 1:52pM – Booksigning rule #1 – Slow at your table? Put food in your mouth and that’ll change

Sunday 9/12 3:55pM – SIGN… SIGN… SIGN… Writer’s cramp!

Sunday 9/12 4:06pM – WHAT? WHAT? SPEAK UP! (Metal band closing out the festival – but I have coffee and cheesecake, so it’s all good.) 😀

Sunday 9/12 8:01pM – Back to the hotel. Great dinner of fish & chips at a local diner ala Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. Fieri would’ve said, “Now that’s money right there.” Now working on packing. They’ll be here to shuttle me back to the air-fly-thingy place bright & early.

Sunday 9/12 8:15pM – So… How’d y’all like the periodic SMS updates? Should I keep that as part of my regimen, or no?

Sunday 9/12 8:55pM – Okay, that’s all the schnitzengruebers I can take… I’ll be up early enough to annoy everyone before they come take me to the airport. G’night all…

Monday

Travel Day Two – Homeward Bound

Monday 9/13 5:22AM – Almost finished with the packing. Swilling some hotel coffee and thinking about spending some time in that little room with the water that sprays out of the nozzle on the wall. What a concept… Sure beats a garden hose. I gotta see if I can have me one of these deals installed at the house.

Monday 9/13 6:34AM – Just called the Evil Redhead to make sure she was up and moving. I got the distinct impression she likes her daily “wake up back massage” a WHOLE LOT MORE than the aforementioned “wake up phone call”…

Monday 9/13 9:32AM – At Providence air fly place wearing EK recycles tee. TSA afraid of Evil Kat. They promise to recycle so that she won’t hurt them.

Monday 9/13 12:56PM – On ground Orlando, FL. Might have to resuscitate woman in seat behind me. She talked non-stop for 3 hours without taking a breath.

Monday 9/13 1:00PM – Just showed hi-pressure salesman my appendectomy scar & told him EK did it to me with a hi-heel the last time I spent money w/o permission

Monday 9/13 1:15PM – Orlando air fly place dining: Chef salad, heavy on the salad, LIGHT on the “chef”. Got my roughage for the day

Monday 9/13 2:00PM – On board air fly machine. M R go home…

Monday 9/13 5:30PM – I’M HOME! I’M HOME! Well… STL anyway. Redhead might leave me standing here at the East terminal. She’s mean like that.

*     *     *     *     *

And, there you have it… Murv on tour. Next stop, Ohio…

You never know… He might even come to your town.

More to come…

Murv

I actually enjoy flying.

Well, allow me to qualify that – I used to enjoy flying.  Unfortunately, not so much anymore.  I’ve talked about this in the past, and the reason I gave for air travel falling from favor was more centered upon the BS one must deal with on the ground – such as the “hurry up and wait” factor as well as the TSA just to name two. Don’t get me wrong here… I’ve met many wonderful TSA folk. People who are doing a job and try to make it run smooth and easy because they understand how trying the whole process can be. But, there are also those – and it seems, unfortunately, that they make up the majority – who are on a power trip and take great delight in being assholes.

Well, I’m not here to talk to you about the TSA today. I’m actually here to talk to you about Airborne Waitresses. I’m sure that euphemism will get me in trouble, but what the hell. Apparently I am born to be in trouble.

My story begins on Friday last. I was bound for Texas to present at the Ostara Festival and sign books at Sisters of the Earth and Sea. Like the rest of us, bookstores have been hit by the downturn in the economy, therefore they do what they can to cut costs. In this instance, they booked me on the redeye. No biggie. I can sleep when I’m dead.

So, anyway, I was up at 3AM and then E K & the O-spring dropped me off at the airport around 4:20. After standing in line, checking my bag, standing in line again, farting about with TSA, having my CPAP inspected, swabbed, detected, tested, and otherwise scrutinized, I was on my way to my gate. Eventually, after I spent time sitting around with other half-snoozing folks the airline announced that the flight was oversold and that they needed to bump at least three people. Normally I jump on this since they get you there anyway AND give you a voucher. This time, however, I sat still. But, as the minutes ticked by they became more and more adamant that they had to bump some people. And so, finally, I gave in and tested the waters. Once I was certain they could get me to my destination at a reasonable hour – especially since I had a connection to make – I told them I would fall on my sword for them.

So, I stood off to the side and set the wheels into motion that would notify those who needed to know that I would in fact be arriving later than scheduled. Then, a completely different ball started rolling, and as it continued downhill it picked up both speed and a healthy dose of ka-ka. Why? Because it needed to fling poo on me when it reached the bottom.

The American Airlines gate agent called my name and told me that they didn’t need to bump me after all. I had stood there watching them put standby passengers on the plane (or so it appeared) – something I thought odd to begin with, given that they had bumped three confirmed passengers, but whatever. Who was I to complain? I was going to be receiving a $300 voucher. Or, so I thought. Now, instead of the voucher I was being put back on the flight.

Having watched the prior mess, when the agent handed me my original boarding pass I asked, “Am I still sitting in the same seat?”

“You should be,” he told me.

The phrase “should be” obviously should have told me something. But, in my defense, it was early and I took his words at face value.

I boarded the plane and made my way back down the length of the MD-80 to my assigned seat – 31D. Of course, it was occupied. I spoke to the lady, then asked the Flight Attendant standing there where she would prefer that I sit since the seating had been messed up due to the shifting of passengers.

This particular Airborne Waitress was something on the order of 137 years old, and had a permanent scowl stapled to her face. Seriously. She already had 10 years in on the job when the Flight Attendant in the picture on the right was hired.

At any rate, she immediately yelled, “What?”

Yes, you read that correctly. Yelled. Not said, asked, uttered, muttered, or otherwise spoke. She yelled.

I answered, “31D.”

“What’s your seat number?” she yelled again.

“31D,” I said, again, slightly louder.

“31E?” she bellowed.

“No ma’am, 31D.”

“D? D as in dog? 31D?” she yelled.

“Yes ma’am,” I replied, notching my volume up a bit more, although nowhere near yelling as she was. “That’s what I said. 31D.”

Instantly she pulled off her face, and let me tell you the flaming death’s head was no prettier than the scowling prune. Suddenly she yelled even louder, “Don’t you take that attitude with me!”

I was taken aback. I’ve logged so many miles in the air that my flying odometer has rolled over more times than I can count, and never have I dealt with such a thing. I’ve had flight attendants flirt with me – one of whom was even dead set on having my company for the evening when we landed (she didn’t get her wish, much to her disappointment. Good thing too, as E K would have killed her, then tortured me for several weeks until I expired.) I’ve had them ask me to help during a period of heavy turbulence when passengers in my row were wigging out. I’ve even sat and traded recipes with them.

But, never had I been attacked by one.

Until now.

I looked at her and said, “Ma’am, I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to give you any attitude. I just want to know where you want me to sit.”

She glared at me, then rolled her eyes and muttered something unintelligible, then proceeded to yank some poor woman’s ticket out of her hand.  A moment later she started screaming at her instead of me. The next thing I knew she was demanding that the woman move across the aisle and let me sit where she was sitting. I looked at the woman and said, why don’t you just stay where you are and I’ll sit over here. I immediately plopped into the seat and buckled up. Psycho Stewardess glared at me, but left it at that.

For the moment.

By “for the moment”, I mean a few minutes later she repeated the incident in extreme detail for some other passengers who were put back on after having been bumped. Up to and including a stern lecture about how all because of them the flight was going to arrive at DFW later than scheduled.

When she went forward, we all looked at one another, and chatted quietly, using various four letter words to describe the insane wingnut in a uniform. The general consensus was that she needed a Valium, or  more preferably cyanide. My point being, this wasn’t just me – all of us in the back of the airplane thought the woman had lost her mind and was undoubtedly the rudest flight attendant on record.

And, just to prove us correct she had to get in one last psycho moment, by screaming at a teenager to lift his tray table when we were on approach to DFW. Unfortunately, she picked the wrong kid to jump on. Seems he was a special needs individual and couldn’t really comprehend what it was that she was yelling at him about… And he was sitting in the window seat. Momma was in the aisle seat between them and she instantly intervened.

Of course, the flying bitch still had to have the last word. She yelled at the momma that she, “should have told her at the outset that he was special needs.”

For the record, instead of being late we landed 30 minutes early and had to wait on the tarmac for 15 minutes for a gate to be free.

I actually have a theory about that. I suspect the Captain pushed that airplane as hard as it would go because the rest of the crew probably called him up and said that if we didn’t get there soon they were going to chuck the Misanthropic Airborne Waitress out the hatch at 34 thousand feet.

You know what? They would have had plenty of help.

More to come…

Murv