We had a great Father’s Day. P was especially happy because he was able to spend it catching fish, which next to manufacturing his own ammunition and talking back to the political shows on T.V. is his favorite past time.
I’d made plans several months ago to go visit some girlfriends for the next few days so I spent most of the morning cramming things in a suitcase because I am strong believer in waiting until the last minute and also because I ran out of laundry detergent and didn’t have any clean clothes until about noon.
Caroline was all broken up about me leaving town for a few days as evidenced by this conversation we had on Saturday.
“Is tomorrow the day you’re leaving, Mama?”
“Yes, baby.” (preparing myself for the tears and sorrow)
“OH YEAH! That’s when the fun begins!”
In all honesty, it doesn’t hurt my feelings because she knew she was getting to spend the night with Mimi and Bops. And they have a pool. And two new puppies. And no enforced bedtime. Who can compete with that?
When I arrived at the airport, toting my suitcase that is embarrassingly too large for a three-day trip, I checked in at the gate, dropped off my (large) suitcase, and headed to the security line. Because I am a seasoned travel professional, I had my I.D. and boarding pass at the ready.
I handed them over to the security guy, he looked at my I.D., looked at me and said, “You look a lot like Jamie Lee Curtis.”
Sir, have you seen Jamie Lee Curtis lately?
It’s not that I don’t think she’s a lovely woman. It’s just that I don’t really aspire, at thirty-seven years old, to look like a woman who has graced the cover of AARP magazine. Maybe I just look like someone who could put away a lot of Activia yogurt.
I tried to console myself with the thought that his eyesight must not be very good, but found it strangely discomforting to think that the person standing between me and some kind of terrorist incident has sub-par vision.
After getting through security, I went to the bookstore in search of some reading material for the plane. I believe there is no better opportunity than a plane ride to enjoy some cultural enrichment in literary form, but unfortunately they were sold out of “Mommywood” by Tori Spelling which was the only book I was interested in reading, so I settled for the latest issues of People and InStyle.
It turned out to be a good thing because I had no idea that Chace Crawford is going to star in the “Footloose” remake. Last I heard Zac Efron had dropped out and I was not aware that they’d found another young actor with impossibly well-coiffed hair to replace him.
Also, did you know that a hot new past time is something called “cupcaking”? I was worried it might mean something dirty because I am just that up on cultural trends, but as it turns out it actually means that people now enjoy staying home and making cupcakes.
I’d like to think I helped start that trend because I have enjoyed making cupcakes for years now. Finally, I am back on the cutting edge. Or baking edge. Or whatever.
Eventually it was time to board my flight to Tulsa. We were supposed to have a quick stop in Dallas, but it turned into a long stop. As we sat on the runway, waiting on a gate to open up according to the pilot, they decided it would be a good time to cut the air-conditioning because everyone knows that metal tubes filled with hundreds of people and no ventilation stay surprisingly cool in 100 degree heat. After thirty minutes of pure torture, we finally taxied to the gate where the pilot confessed that the real story was that a suspicious package had been found in baggage claim and they had to evacuate the airport.
Basically, airport personnel are liars who tell you that a gate isn’t available when there is a terrorist threat and that you look like Jamie Lee Curtis.
Finally the plane was ready to head out, but due to the delay I’d finished all my magazines and was left with no reading material. In desperation, I picked up the Southwest Airlines magazine because if I let myself look through the Sky Mall catalog I’d become convinced that my life is incomplete without a gadget that warms up my house shoes before I put them on. And I don’t even wear house shoes.
I thumbed through the magazine, checking out all the places where Southwest flies and discovered the games in the back. Out of sheer boredom, I began to play one of them even though I am terrible at crossword puzzles and Sudoku and basically anything except the Word Finds in Highlights Magazine. Surprisingly, I was really good at this game. Like really, really good. I filled in all the blanks and decided that all those nights of playing Pathwords must have really sharpened my mind. My game-playing prowess was balm to my ego that had been bruised by the comparison to Jamie Lee Curtis.
Then I looked at the top of the page and saw the title, “GAMES FOR KIDS”.
I have the intellectual capacity of an eight-year-old and the face of someone who’s fifty. It’s no wonder I often feel conflicted.