Monday, June 6, 2011

Four Hours, 12 Ounces, and Three Years.

The airport was full for a Thursday morning. I mean who travels this early on a Thursday? Glad I got there when I did, the American Airlines terminal was packed will all types of travelers. Waiting at the gate, laptop in hand looking what the weather is in New York, I’m not even going to New York. Holy crap its early - who invented this time anyway? Then it hit me, a child’s toy smacked me in the head, there was a moment of silence which was broken by the hysterical laughter of a toddler. That kind of laugh that only a child has, a mix of hysteria and evil. You can’t be mad because laughing is one of the few contagious things that you don’t mind being around. I turned to my left and there she was, maybe three or four. The child had crazy hair like a static bomb exploded in a blond factory. She smiled and gave me that eye; I knew she was planning something.

We boarded the plane; someone was sitting in my seat. The guy requested that we switch seats so he could sit next to his son. So I took his seat on the other side, which of course was right behind the little girl who hit me in the head with her inflatable bat. It seems her plan is coming to fruition. When I set down I looked up and saw her little fingers wrap over the top of the seat, her head slowly creeped up and as soon as we made eye contact she started that evil chuckle. Great, the three year old toddler with crazy hair knows I’m here – within striking distance.

All was quiet in 35a until about halfway into the four hour flight. Catastrophe stuck. I had a glass full of Ginger Ale sitting on the place mat in front of me. Then without warming the icy cold beverage from Canada decided to commit suicide just as I was pulling out a magazine. For my convenience the ginger ale chose my lap as a good place to end its life. Now here is where things start to get interesting. I am wearing tan pants, not jeans but cotton pants that are tan. Hey look my lap now look likes the bladder has gone full release. Great, now what - the girl next to me had that look of awkward disgust. The first words out my mouth was “Did you see that? A typhoon just flew in my pants!” Almost on cue, the toddler sitting in front of me poked her head over the seat and started laughing in the the language of Hysterics.

Two hours to go, sitting in a wet seat with wet pants. I then realized that in this situation with no change of clothes nearby there really isn’t anything I can do. Using the air nozzle to dry my pants was a valiant but feeble effort. All I could do is wait and think about dry things.
Until Next Time

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