Saturday, May 16, 2015

Cry Baby

Of course, receiving a seat assignment late in the reservation process assured that I would get a middle seat for the longest link of the three flights, and this one was between 2 men, each of whom quickly tugged down the arm-rest to make it more challenging for me to get into my seat. There was never even a smidgen of a chance that either of them would take their elbows out of my space, so I hugged myself tightly and settled in for the flight.

In addition to the lack of armrest comfort, the men both did the "man-spred" with their legs, which forced me to lock my knees together to keep from touching their encroaching knees and lower legs. I felt like I wrapped myself up like a taco shell and then had to hold that pose for a very long 5-hour flight segment. And that would have been okay but for the one male passenger seated next to me who was pissed because ...

1) No one told him that this was a no wi-fi flight. He's a busy man and uses his flight time to work, which meant without the wi-fi, he "lost" 5 hours of productive time and, as he said repeatedly to anyone who would listen, "time is money in my world."

2) We left the airport late, which was going to throw his entire work schedule out of sync. What was the excuse for not leaving on time? Well, believe it or not, the flight attendant really did not know why they left late, but she was sure the flight captain could make up some of the time and we'd arrive close to the original flight time.

3) Yeah, not so much as we ran into a storm and the captain was directed to fly around it, so we were late getting into the arrival gate, which inconvenienced many of the passengers, including me. I adjusted to the close call for my next flight by striding forcefully on the moving walkways and knocking out slow-pokes like they were bowling balls in an alley. I'm sure he was still back on the plane wa-wah-wahing to anyone who'd listen to his temper tantrum.

4) His final complaint was that the flight attendant did not announce gate arrivals and departures prior to landing. I'm sure the flight crew was busy with other duties, but this guy wanted -- and got -- a personally delivered gate arrival and information about his next flight departure. Guess it pays to be a pain in the ass, huh?

Proud of his bullying and whining, the guy made it loudly clear to anyone within 15 feet of him that he'd already composed the letter of complaint to the airlines so they will know how incompetent this particular flight crew was in meeting his personal needs. He turned toward me, pehaps to see if I was in agreement with him, and I just gave him the stare, and we all know the stare I shared.

Monday, May 11, 2015

Flight Line

Anyone who knows me also knows that I have bad luck when it comes to booking a flight and then having it happen the way the itinerary says it should go. This trip, the snafu's began at the PS airport before my 6 am scheduled departure. The flight was seriously over-booked and I didn't have a confirmed seat, along with another half-dozen frustrated flyers who were giving the airport employee a loud ration of serious shit. I waited my turn at the end of the line and finally made it to the front of the queue.

I politely asked the employee if I would have a seat on the flight and he stopped for a minute, then leaned toward me and said, "How would you like to leave an hour later, fly through Phoenix, and arrive a hour earlier than your original flight?"

"Sure," I responded, thinking what a deal.

Then he said, "And I'll throw in a $500 free travel voucher."

He had me at the rescheduling of the first itinerary, so I was now elated. The only question I had was would my luggage make it to H'burg, but he assured me that it would.

Flights went off without a hitch, and I was at the luggage pick-up, waiting for the original flight to land and cough up my purple suitcase. Quick trip back to LanCo and all was well in my world.

Until 2 days later, when I received an email telling me that my entire itinerary, all 6 flights, had been cancelled. No way, I thought, as 3 of those flights were the return trip. If those flights were not available, there was going to be a problem, so I called the US Airways help-line and introduced myself to the CSR who answered the phone. She was a bit perplexed, but called a supervisor, and my flights were restored -- with seat assignments -- and I am good to return home if nothing changes in the meanwhile.

Flying is always an adventure for me, and there's always a story to tell. I pity the poor people who sail through their itineraries without a hitch as they don't know how exciting it can be to have to go with the flow and make changes on a moment's notice.

Full Circle

I was good and firmly snagged when I pulled off my pinny and it caught on my earring and pulled the hoop loose. As I reached up to catch it, I realized that my 24k gold butterfly earring was also missing from my ear. I immediately began searching for it as it is precious to me because the earrings were a gift from Y. Of course, a frantic search was begun in the powdery black sand and gravel floor by helpful bystanders, but to no avail. As I left the show venue, I said, "If it is to be, it will come back to me," but I knew that it was lost forever.

Yesterday, however, when I was walking on the main floor of the house, a bright glimmer caught my eye: it was the earring back on the floor, partway under the small hallway table. Elated, I began searching high and low for the earring, but, again, it was nowhere to be found. Now having two locales to search, I figured it was a total lost cause.

This morning, I picked up the pile of dirty show venue clothes to give them a good wash and my toe flicked against something. Thinking it was a small rock from my shoe tread, I bent down to pick it up and was elated that it was my earring, which must have found its way inside my clothing at the venue and then onto the bedroom floor, which was why we couldn't see it there in the black gravel floor covering and I couldn't find it on my main floor of the house.

St. Anthony is the patron of lost causes, so I'm sending him my thanks this morning for returning my beautiful gold earring to me.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Be Careful What I Wish For

I didn't like the "bob" haircut, so I looked around for another stylist to reshape the first cut into the picture I found that showed exactly what I wanted. I should have checked this stylist's credentials or figured out from the appearance of his shop that he probably wasn't what I wanted. Too late after he'd butchered my hair, all the while talking about how he was exactly duplicating the picture.

My hair went from Bob to boy-cut, about 2" long all over my head. Nothing I can do about it after the fact, but my gut told me not to have this stylist cut my hair, and then I laughed that feeling off and sat in his chair. To add to the total effect, my hair is naturally curly as I've aged, so the short cut is curly, with wisps sticking out here and there. Y likes it, but I don't share his enthusiasm and hate the thought of appearing in public with this ridiculously short, curly mop of hair on my head.

The only blessing in all of this is that my hair grows fast, so I should look a bit better in say 3 months or so.

Saturday, April 18, 2015


Going to the beauty salon is, for me, a trial. I know how I want my hair to be when I walk out the door at the end of the session, but I obviously don’t know how to communicate that to the stylist. Yesterday, for example, I downloaded a picture of Lisa Renna from the internet because one of the styles she once wore was exactly the way I wanted my very long hair to be cut. I talked to the stylist and explained clearly that I did NOT want a “bob,” but I wanted a shaggy short cut – just like the picture. Because her English was limited, she called over another one of the stylists to translate for me into Spanish – just so we were clear on my expectations.

I have a shaggy bob. It’s not shaped into a short, hug the back of the neck haircut like the picture I brought in. The top, rather than being a big longer, is shorter; the middle part of the cut is pretty good; the bottom of the cut is too long to be anything other than a bob. As I kept referring to the picture for what I wanted, I felt confident I was communicating clearly because, after all, a picture is worth a thousand words, but the picture was in English and she spoke Spanish, so I got her interpretation of the haircut, rather than the haircut.

During the process, I tried to provide guidance. When the back was still really long, I picked up the picture and showed her how it came to the bottom of the ear, not the top of my shoulders. She did cut it shorter, but it’s much longer than both the picture and my expectation. The front has that funny too long look that most of the bobs I see have, what looks to me like the cut is unfinished, and the pieces of hair stick out. I tried to blend them behind my ear, but that’s not the way the hair is cut, so that’s not the way it’s going to be.

The good news is that I’m going to dotter’s house and she has a really good hair-dresser who may be able to fix the cut. It’s not that it looks bad, and Y says he really likes it, but it’s a bob—and I didn’t want a bob. Funny that the only word out of the conversation that my stylist seemed to translate was bob.