Fly

Thanksgiving was everything you expect from a holiday, but in extremely condensed time frame. There was tension, laughter, tears and stuffing, which means that I did not get trapped in Atlanta and no, I did not eat my Thanksgiving dinner at a Waffle House, but do you know how many plates of leftovers I consumed? Exactly zero. Zero. Let me say it again: ZERO.

As you can imagine, this was most devastating, to the point that I’ve actually proposed to Adam that I make a full turkey dinner next Saturday for the sole purpose of having leftovers for the Thanksgiving bowl and maybe, oh maybe, the Thanksgiving casserole, which has only recently come to my attention (Mmm … butter and salt! Butter and salt, OMG!) I was serious, but alas, my proposal was summarily rejected, as my husband hates leftovers and in fact, refuses to eat them in most cases. I’ll never understand this part of him, but hey, we have to overlook tough things in the name of love sometimes.

But who can complain about the lack of leftovers when there’s plenty of this to munch on?

Newborn baby with chubby thighs for snacking! MONCH MONCH.

Our flights, by the by, were sucktacular, and I made the usual spectacle of myself coming home on Friday, wherein I let my nerves get the better of me and I insulted a fellow passenger. This time, the fellow passenger(s) happened to be a group of seven-year-old boys who were traveling alone, or rather, sort of alone, as their mother was a full ten rows behind them. They were being intensely irritating, as seven-year-olds are wont to do, but while I could handle the inexplicable shouts of “Arriba! ARRIBA CAPITAN!” I — how do I put this delicately — lost my everloving shit when they started yelling “MAYDAY. MAYDAY. FLIGHT GOING DOWN,” during takeoff, because my constitution is just that fragile, and all of my brain vibes are focused on keeping the plane ALOFT, and cries of “MAYDAY” aren’t really in line with the Zen-like concentration that’s required for such things.

And although,”Seriously, guys, ENOUGH. COOL IT NOW,” isn’t exactly overly rude given the subject matter at hand, if you’d heard how loudly I shouted it, and the hysteria, OH THE HYSTERIA, in my voice, you’d have done what Adam did, which was to bust out laughing and spend the rest of the flight lecturing me how really, I need to get it together during takeoff, please, for the love of God.

I might also add that on the second leg of our flight, there was some kind of belt loose on the emergency exit, and I kept hearing the banging, OH MY GOD THE BANGING, to the point where I asked the flight attendant what the hell was going on. Her reply? “I mean, it’s not good — not good at all — but we should be okay. It’s just a loose belt flapping against the fuselage.”

I spent the rest of the flight imagining my body being sucked out somewhere over the swamps of South Carolina, where I would no doubt be eaten by alligators, never to be heard from again. I mean, JESUS.

I hope you had a spectacular holiday, and are still enjoying the spoils of leftover feasts.

Happy Monday! I, for one, am not all that thrilled about going back to work. I want to eat more stuffing. It’s not fair.

*Pick one. Nick Drake, Veruca Salt … and oh, hundreds more! Hundreds!

15 comments November 25th, 2007