Wednesday, May 23, 2012

I: The Voyage.

Koley and Ken met me at the airport with a "Welcome Home Mommy" sign that Kole had colored/scribbled on and decorated with his favorite medium.  Stickers.  It made me all misty-eyed.  Ken made me a Welcome Home Cake.  (Angel food cake with whipped cream and heath icing.)  I think I need to leave town more often.  *wink*
All my fears and anxieties about leaving were melted away by my third lay over.  Most likely because they were replaced by nausea.  Take off and landing were... rough.  I scared the Asian girls that were sitting next to me on my first flight.  They screamed like I was pulling a gun on them.  All I needed was a vomit bag.  All the grappling in her seat pocket must have scared her.  My sickness finally repelled the overly-inappropriate flirt-er who sat next to me flying to Omaha.  I really honestly do NOT care that you run 7 miles a day, have a neon Nike flashing GPS pedometer calorie counting wristband, work as a engineer for "the worlds biggest engineering company,"  talk to your mom once a week, are switching from vegetarian to Raw, or just live in Omaha temporarily.  I wasn't saying I needed your vomit bag as a chance to lean over you either.  I hope I splashed some on you.  Perv.  I'm married... and pregnant.  I mean... that's just gross.  My next flight I took a Dramamine from a stranger.  I didn't even think things like: "Don't take drugs from strangers."  or "Is this safe to take during pregnancy?"  I just took it and kept my eyes shut and felt better by the time I touched down in Milwaukee.  I normally like to read on planes (and always) but didn't even crack my book open. 
I noticed just about everybody reads on planes.  I got to thinking that if some people never got on planes they would also never read a book.  I completely judge people by the books they are reading too.  If they are reading Hunger Games or 50 Shades of Grey I figure they are the ones who read a book when they fly.  Which they most likely purchased at the airport.  Lame.  Nicholas Sparks and Sue Crafton count as people who might read 3 books a year... and not very good ones.  A girl sitting across the terminal aisle from me was reading a David Sedaris book and I hoped in my heart that we'd be sitting next to each other.  No luck.  I didn't even give people the opportunity to judge me based on my literary selection... I provided memories of Vomit Girl.  The plane knew (even up in first class) that I was sick.

I got to Pittsburgh at 9:30. 
I felt renewed.  Excited.  At Home.  Like "me."

I felt alive.

Part of it was the smell.  Cigarettes.  I love the smell of cigarettes.  And the other part was the Pittsburgh accent.  I never had a very strong one and what I did have is totally gone.  Sad.  But it was music to my plugged up ringing ears.

And I just found out I can hear a little of it anytime I want via YouTube.


Tomorrow:  II:  Reunions.

3 comments:

Kar said...

It was fun to listen to how he talks. You're right - you don't have anything resembling that accent. :) I'm so sorry you were so sick flying. Who knew?? That sucks. And it's hilarious this fitness dude was hitting on you. Some guys have a thing for preggo girls, for reals.

Juli said...

We are flying this weekend... and I have bought books for the boys, off their summer reading list so we can preempt the summer reading drama.

And I once vomited on the plane... from California to Florida... first thing. What they really should have on planes after the barf bags.... toothbrushes.

Joshua said...

I used to smoke cloves for the taste on my lips and the smell. Oh how I miss it.