Before you start with the Michelle Obama comparisons--remember it is the OFF season down here, and I got the place for what a house on the Outer Banks would have cost--and that's a house a street back from the beach.
Our swimmin' hole |
Back Porch View |
The next moment that gets me uptight is boarding. I love Southwest, 'cause I always pay the 10 dollars to get into the "A" group. We were flying USAIR and were assigned group 3--i don't know what this means. I have no idea whether or not this is a good thing for four people flying only with carry-on bags. I only know that there's no way I'm not going to be in the front of the group 3 line. So five minutes before we are to board--the kitten needs to go to the bathroom. Naturally.
Carry on luggage is a particular point of angst for me (I can see Goldwater's Ghost at his computer now, laughing and snarfing coffee through his nose as I confirm every one of his views of me with this post). I despise the ridiculous circus that is the gaining of overhead space. If I can't be in an early boarding group with a near GUARANTEE of overhead space--I'll check my bag, no matter how small. The Kitten? She maintains that she's never in her traveling life been denied overhead space near her seat, and she's not going to vary her routine one bit in order to ensure it. One simply cannot reason with this woman.
We land in Charlotte with thirty minutes between flights. On the way to our gate, I suggest we stop and make a bathroom break (as we pass bathrooms). The Kitten (who has "practices" of her own) wants to get to our gate first, then re-deploy. At this point, I gotta pee like a racehorse, but I dutifully skulk along. We get to the gate, I claim "first" as I really got to go, and I run off to the men's room. I return expeditiously, without stopping for coffee, nourishment or magazine, so that none of my family will be inconvenienced by my absence (they are watching the bags, should some officious TSA person stroll by). I return and pass the baton--at which point the three of them make off for what can only be described as an extended shopping trip--to the point that they announce "pre-boarding" and my brood is nowhere to be found. Those of you who know me (again, GG) probably realize that by this point, I'm about to go high order....
So last night as I lounged in our plunge pool, I suggested a compromise. I suggested that we travel separately, together. That is, I have my bag, my passport, my boarding pass. I get to proceed through the airport at breakneck pace, responsible only for myself--while the Kitten(s) lolllygag behind, looking at shiny things and the latest Teen-beat magazines. I get on the plane with or without them, and if they arrive late with no overhead space, I am responsible for nothing. They must deal with the sexy Stews, whilst I sit calmly and smugly with my Kindle.
If they miss a flight, I'll meet them there. I'll have the room ready for them. I'll make them drinks and food when they arrive. 'Cause that's the kind of guy I am.
14 comments:
I'm not laughing, I empathize with you. I live 20 minutes from the airport, yet arrive 3 hours before my scheduled flight just so I won't feel hassled going through security (missing a flight will do that to you). I also feel as you do about carry-on baggage; I only carry what I can store under the seat in front of me (briefcase or backpack).
If Kitten agrees to your compromise, don't let her go - she's a keeper.
You didn't share with us how your suggested compromise went over.
Do tell.
I'm the same way, including the pit stop procedure during layovers. I can give you my secrets for bag storage w/a Group #4 card over a beverage. With my anthropomorphic measurements and broken joints, I will die without room under the seat in front of me.
How air taxi services and business jet fractional ownership hasn't taken off like a rocket in today's world of airline travel is a complete mystery to me.
"Before you start with the Michelle Obama comparisons"
Now you've never pretended to be one of the great unwashed, so you differ with Michelle Antoinette on that account. Plus, the taxpayer ain't paying when you travel.
The "naked Venezuelan beauty queens giving free massages" somehow took me to being a fly on the wall as CW attempted to take advantage of their generous offer (listening only, I would absolutely cover most of my compound eyes):
"So, before I allow you to put your extremely sensual hands on my unclad body, how in God's name did you and your idiot fellow countrymen EVER allow that piece of garbage Chavez into power? Are you out of your pretty little mind? Did you really buy that nonsense about how the government could give you everything for free? How could you have taken such leave of your senses? I'm so upset I can hardly relax on this cushiony massage table with your voluptuous, all-over tanned body hovering over me about to annoint me with aromatic oils in your masterful hands. Never mind! Where are my pants, I'm going over to Brooks Brothers and I better not see a Made in Venezuela tag or I'll throw up my cinnabon and double-shot vanilla iced latte."
I would be quite shocked to learn that CW drinks vanilla iced lattes.
That place looks great! Is that one of those "infinity" pools?
Look I'm not sure if I mentioned it but I didn't get a vacation this year. My Irish wife went home (ostensibly) to seen her terminally ill father and I had a stay-cation. Well anyway, I was wondering could I drop by for a couple of days? I promise I won't be in the way and trust me, I'll spend my days at a Cabana Bar oogling the local talent so you'll barely know I'm there. Hell I'll even take you all out for burgers one night. Whatta ya say?
I'll call my travel agent.
PK - With umbrellas and maraschino cherries (stems on) when he can get 'em.
The Kitten instantly accepted the idea, brilliant girl that she is.
The Kitten informs me that I have the entire conversation wrong. SHE suggested the compromise, not me. She's even smarter than I thought!
I think Kitten's compromise is wonderful, and I completely agree with GG's assessment that she's a keeper. However, I can't help but hear a bit "Oh good god! Your nagging is driving me crazy. Just take your neuroses to the blasted gate and leave me the hell alone" in her suggestion.
Hush, PK.
Where is that amazing house located? I find it so interesting. Is that a pool? I want to visit that place. I wish you will post more photos.
My eighty-three-year-old mother is the same way.
Post a Comment