There was a little girl who had a little curl
right in the middle of her forehead
And when she was good, she was very very good
and when she was bad, she was horrid
Maybe it's a southern thing but it will forever remain ingrained as a framed picture in my father's bathroom with a little girls red curl in the center.
Today I did have a curl, right in the middle of my forehead.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Please Place Your Seat in the Upright Position
I’ve been flying solo since I was about 10 years old. From one plane to another almost every other weekend for years.
It’s mostly due to the fact that I come from a broken home. I say “broken home” because it has a lot more dramatic flair than the reality. My parents, like much of America, have been divorced since I was two. They, unlike a lot of divorcees, decided to stay cordial for my sake and both married other wonderful more fitting people respectively.
When I was 10 my dad, my stepmother and my two half sisters packed it up and moved to Indiana. Some call it the arm- pit of the Midwest. However, for me, the move signaled the beginning of a new love, traveling. I was lucky. My dad made sure I could still see him every other weekend if I wanted too and up until I was about 17 I did. I was the most traveled unaccompanied minor any flight attendant had ever seen. Sometimes I still think I could do their job better than they did.
From ValuJet, Air Tran, Delta, Northwest, American, Continental, to United, I flew them all. My mom and I even had a routine, from a parking place close to the ticket counter, a dinner spot before take off and our hugs and kisses each time I hopped on the plane. I knew how to get extra snacks, how to handle layovers, cancellations and how to get myself next to a window every single time. To this day I’ve never met an airport that fazed me.
As I got older I began to do different things while on the move. I no longer had to wear a sticker that told everyone I was a minor traveling alone (which seems like a dangerous idea in the first place now that I think about it) . My parents didn’t have to sign for my arrival and pick up and there were no more begrudging flight attendants who had to insure my safety by making me wait until last or hold their hands as I walked off the plane. Also due to the 9/11 tragedies and “code orange” my mom was no longer allowed to take me to the gate and give me my usual hug goodbye. Instead, we parted at security where I had to get half naked before hopping on the Atlanta airport tram and getting to my departure gate. This left me ample time to explore since post 9/11 we were required to get to the airport 8 hours before the plane even boarded.
In a big airport like Atlanta, time is pretty easy to fill. Sometimes, I would walk to my gate instead of riding the tram. If I chose to do this I would listen to a song on my disc man and do a dance along moving sidewalk. Or, if I was feeling full of energy I would pretend that I was in a movie and someone was following me. I’d start by walking cautiously and notice the footsteps behind me. Then I’d pick up my pace and speed walk while continuously looking over my shoulder, finally panicking and breaking into a full out run. I didn’t think screaming as I ran would be appropriate but I did get attention from the confused people along the moving sidewalk. The dancing and singing usually harbored some attention as well.
Another one of my favorite airport games was and still is, people watching. My mom taught me this one and over the years I sincerely feel I have become an expert people watcher. I have also found that the airport, especially a busy one, is one of the best places to practice this activity. I saw my first nun and my first transvestite in the Atlanta airport, both on the same day. I also once met a man whose real first name was Cosmo who was not a people watcher, but an eavesdropper who found only the best conversations to listen too. The airport is also where I learned to look down at a mans left hand to decide if he’s worth flirting with or not.
However, when on my own, to further enhance my watching abilities since I finally had the freedom and time to waste I decided to play another game in conjunction with this one. It was called, “hop on board another flight”. In this game I would choose a destination based on the departures board and a new identity for myself. I would then assume this identity and go sit at the “new” departure gate and spy on its passengers. Once, I was a movie star and wore my sunglasses until I boarded my correct flight and the man sitting next to me asked if I had gotten my eyes dilated earlier in the day. I responded by applying some lipstick and opening up the school play I was learning lines for . Among my favorite departure gates were, New York (because I wanted to move there), Los Angeles (because I was always hoping to see Jonathan Taylor Thomas), and Paris (because I desperately wanted to fall in love and be whisked away). Sooner or later though I’d return to my gate and get on board to fly direct to Indianapolis.
Once in my seat I begin my usual routine of stuffing all my carry-ons in front of and behind me. I decided long ago to make the most use of my floor space because things often move in overhead compartments and I have had someone drop a bag on my head. It was not a pleasant experience so I stay as far away from them now as possible. I also tried to spread out as much as I could to discourage anyone from actually having to sit next to me because like any teenager or person really, I enjoy and appreciate my personal space. I would then put on my seat belt to check if I had indeed gained too much weight. There was a time where I couldn’t pull the little black strap to tighten the belt and the real fear of asking for a seat belt extension presented itself, one of my worst fears, along with being to large to ride a roller coaster. It was after that, that I decided losing 60 pounds would insure I would never again have to worry about asking. Now I always check to see that I have plenty of belt to tighten.
I had and still have the flight announcements memorized for every airline so I would simultaneously repeat it to myself and turn on my music. I used to see if I could get away with listening to it through take off just to prove to myself that it didn’t really effect the planes take off, I still don’t think it really does but I turn it off now anyway just so my Amy Whinehouse CD won’t be responsible if something goes wrong in mission control. If I’m especially bored I’ll say hello to my neighbor and maybe strike up a conversation about their travels and life in general. I’ll never forget the drunk salesman who gave me liquor, a 5 dollar bill, and a speech about getting by acting like you don’t have a care in the world. Or, the pseudo reality star who tried to get frisky with me on my way to Detroit for a connection. Or even better, the woman I’d like to apologize too because I drunkenly fell asleep on her shoulder on my way to Orlando Florida.
After the casual hello and nice to meet you I generally like to settle in my seat and fall asleep for most of the flight. Occasionally, like today I bring some work and make use of my table tray in front of me. Unless of course the person in front of me decides to put their seat back and ruin my day.
After 1300 words I have finally gotten to my longest and biggest pet peeve since I started flying solo at age 10. After all the airport games, and all the travel experience I have learned many things. I can always find the cheapest airfares and best travel deals thanks to my college roommate Anna Barton. I know that flying west to east is best done on red eyes so you don’t’ waste an entire day traveling. If your flight is delayed immediately ask to be re-booked to make your connection and get yourself a better seat. Aisle for me is always better than window unless I plan to sleep and want control of keeping the shade down. Due to working with people much wealthier than I am I know that direct is best, and when you can afford to fly first class, especially when its international it’s the ONLY way to go..well if you have the bank account for it. I even got my boyfriend and I bumped from our recent flight home, booked on a fight early the next morning, a free stay in a nice hotel and 2 round trip tickets for each of us to use in the upcoming year.
But in all this traveling with all these games to keep me occupied and all the people I have encountered over the years I have never been able to come up with a way to get the person in front of me to keep their seat upright. It’s impossible. I used to think it was so rude and invasive that I would kick and push the seat if it was what I deemed, “too far back”. I don’t recommend this method because in reality it makes you the rude, unruly, child and if you’re unaccompanied they will tell your flight attendant friend, who will then tell your parents when they sign for you at the end of the trip. I also tried talking loudly about how it bothered me and provided me with little to no space to eat my peanuts and drink my diet coke. This particular method is also, unadvised and VERY passive aggressive. Finally, I decided to go on silent protest. I vowed never to put my seat back so that others would follow my lead and good karma would come my way.
It never worked but I stayed strong in my refusal to put my seat back except when I flew on red eyes because I rationalized that they were flights meant for sleeping and tray tables were unnecessary. However, after I graduated college and moved to California the long flights became more frequent and just like chocolate, I found myself enjoying the indulgence of putting my seat back. Sometimes I would even find myself doing it before I was supposed to just to see if a flight attendant noticed or I would make sure to put the seat back as far as it could go if there was an annoying child flying behind me. I had become every adult I ever loathed while flying as a kid.
Now, I was the one keeping the unaccompanied minors from their Mad Libs and kicking space.
I reminisce on this now, as I sit on a cramped 5 hour flight home. My seat is indeed back and the woman beside me has placed her scarf over her face indicating she does not have any inclination to have a conversation. . I’m considering writing some thank you cards since I still have a few hours of flight time and have a small inclination to make another check mark on my to-do list. My boyfriend is softly snoring in my ear making sleep difficult.. and the woman in front of me. Well, the woman in front of me is about to break her seat and my computer because she keeps pushing to see if her seat will go back any further than it already is. It reminds me that I should think about putting mine up as a courtesy to the person behind me so I can feel right about the fact that I’m ready to start kicking and pushing on hers so maybe she’ll get the picture. I hear there is more leg room in business class….
It’s mostly due to the fact that I come from a broken home. I say “broken home” because it has a lot more dramatic flair than the reality. My parents, like much of America, have been divorced since I was two. They, unlike a lot of divorcees, decided to stay cordial for my sake and both married other wonderful more fitting people respectively.
When I was 10 my dad, my stepmother and my two half sisters packed it up and moved to Indiana. Some call it the arm- pit of the Midwest. However, for me, the move signaled the beginning of a new love, traveling. I was lucky. My dad made sure I could still see him every other weekend if I wanted too and up until I was about 17 I did. I was the most traveled unaccompanied minor any flight attendant had ever seen. Sometimes I still think I could do their job better than they did.
From ValuJet, Air Tran, Delta, Northwest, American, Continental, to United, I flew them all. My mom and I even had a routine, from a parking place close to the ticket counter, a dinner spot before take off and our hugs and kisses each time I hopped on the plane. I knew how to get extra snacks, how to handle layovers, cancellations and how to get myself next to a window every single time. To this day I’ve never met an airport that fazed me.
As I got older I began to do different things while on the move. I no longer had to wear a sticker that told everyone I was a minor traveling alone (which seems like a dangerous idea in the first place now that I think about it) . My parents didn’t have to sign for my arrival and pick up and there were no more begrudging flight attendants who had to insure my safety by making me wait until last or hold their hands as I walked off the plane. Also due to the 9/11 tragedies and “code orange” my mom was no longer allowed to take me to the gate and give me my usual hug goodbye. Instead, we parted at security where I had to get half naked before hopping on the Atlanta airport tram and getting to my departure gate. This left me ample time to explore since post 9/11 we were required to get to the airport 8 hours before the plane even boarded.
In a big airport like Atlanta, time is pretty easy to fill. Sometimes, I would walk to my gate instead of riding the tram. If I chose to do this I would listen to a song on my disc man and do a dance along moving sidewalk. Or, if I was feeling full of energy I would pretend that I was in a movie and someone was following me. I’d start by walking cautiously and notice the footsteps behind me. Then I’d pick up my pace and speed walk while continuously looking over my shoulder, finally panicking and breaking into a full out run. I didn’t think screaming as I ran would be appropriate but I did get attention from the confused people along the moving sidewalk. The dancing and singing usually harbored some attention as well.
Another one of my favorite airport games was and still is, people watching. My mom taught me this one and over the years I sincerely feel I have become an expert people watcher. I have also found that the airport, especially a busy one, is one of the best places to practice this activity. I saw my first nun and my first transvestite in the Atlanta airport, both on the same day. I also once met a man whose real first name was Cosmo who was not a people watcher, but an eavesdropper who found only the best conversations to listen too. The airport is also where I learned to look down at a mans left hand to decide if he’s worth flirting with or not.
However, when on my own, to further enhance my watching abilities since I finally had the freedom and time to waste I decided to play another game in conjunction with this one. It was called, “hop on board another flight”. In this game I would choose a destination based on the departures board and a new identity for myself. I would then assume this identity and go sit at the “new” departure gate and spy on its passengers. Once, I was a movie star and wore my sunglasses until I boarded my correct flight and the man sitting next to me asked if I had gotten my eyes dilated earlier in the day. I responded by applying some lipstick and opening up the school play I was learning lines for . Among my favorite departure gates were, New York (because I wanted to move there), Los Angeles (because I was always hoping to see Jonathan Taylor Thomas), and Paris (because I desperately wanted to fall in love and be whisked away). Sooner or later though I’d return to my gate and get on board to fly direct to Indianapolis.
Once in my seat I begin my usual routine of stuffing all my carry-ons in front of and behind me. I decided long ago to make the most use of my floor space because things often move in overhead compartments and I have had someone drop a bag on my head. It was not a pleasant experience so I stay as far away from them now as possible. I also tried to spread out as much as I could to discourage anyone from actually having to sit next to me because like any teenager or person really, I enjoy and appreciate my personal space. I would then put on my seat belt to check if I had indeed gained too much weight. There was a time where I couldn’t pull the little black strap to tighten the belt and the real fear of asking for a seat belt extension presented itself, one of my worst fears, along with being to large to ride a roller coaster. It was after that, that I decided losing 60 pounds would insure I would never again have to worry about asking. Now I always check to see that I have plenty of belt to tighten.
I had and still have the flight announcements memorized for every airline so I would simultaneously repeat it to myself and turn on my music. I used to see if I could get away with listening to it through take off just to prove to myself that it didn’t really effect the planes take off, I still don’t think it really does but I turn it off now anyway just so my Amy Whinehouse CD won’t be responsible if something goes wrong in mission control. If I’m especially bored I’ll say hello to my neighbor and maybe strike up a conversation about their travels and life in general. I’ll never forget the drunk salesman who gave me liquor, a 5 dollar bill, and a speech about getting by acting like you don’t have a care in the world. Or, the pseudo reality star who tried to get frisky with me on my way to Detroit for a connection. Or even better, the woman I’d like to apologize too because I drunkenly fell asleep on her shoulder on my way to Orlando Florida.
After the casual hello and nice to meet you I generally like to settle in my seat and fall asleep for most of the flight. Occasionally, like today I bring some work and make use of my table tray in front of me. Unless of course the person in front of me decides to put their seat back and ruin my day.
After 1300 words I have finally gotten to my longest and biggest pet peeve since I started flying solo at age 10. After all the airport games, and all the travel experience I have learned many things. I can always find the cheapest airfares and best travel deals thanks to my college roommate Anna Barton. I know that flying west to east is best done on red eyes so you don’t’ waste an entire day traveling. If your flight is delayed immediately ask to be re-booked to make your connection and get yourself a better seat. Aisle for me is always better than window unless I plan to sleep and want control of keeping the shade down. Due to working with people much wealthier than I am I know that direct is best, and when you can afford to fly first class, especially when its international it’s the ONLY way to go..well if you have the bank account for it. I even got my boyfriend and I bumped from our recent flight home, booked on a fight early the next morning, a free stay in a nice hotel and 2 round trip tickets for each of us to use in the upcoming year.
But in all this traveling with all these games to keep me occupied and all the people I have encountered over the years I have never been able to come up with a way to get the person in front of me to keep their seat upright. It’s impossible. I used to think it was so rude and invasive that I would kick and push the seat if it was what I deemed, “too far back”. I don’t recommend this method because in reality it makes you the rude, unruly, child and if you’re unaccompanied they will tell your flight attendant friend, who will then tell your parents when they sign for you at the end of the trip. I also tried talking loudly about how it bothered me and provided me with little to no space to eat my peanuts and drink my diet coke. This particular method is also, unadvised and VERY passive aggressive. Finally, I decided to go on silent protest. I vowed never to put my seat back so that others would follow my lead and good karma would come my way.
It never worked but I stayed strong in my refusal to put my seat back except when I flew on red eyes because I rationalized that they were flights meant for sleeping and tray tables were unnecessary. However, after I graduated college and moved to California the long flights became more frequent and just like chocolate, I found myself enjoying the indulgence of putting my seat back. Sometimes I would even find myself doing it before I was supposed to just to see if a flight attendant noticed or I would make sure to put the seat back as far as it could go if there was an annoying child flying behind me. I had become every adult I ever loathed while flying as a kid.
Now, I was the one keeping the unaccompanied minors from their Mad Libs and kicking space.
I reminisce on this now, as I sit on a cramped 5 hour flight home. My seat is indeed back and the woman beside me has placed her scarf over her face indicating she does not have any inclination to have a conversation. . I’m considering writing some thank you cards since I still have a few hours of flight time and have a small inclination to make another check mark on my to-do list. My boyfriend is softly snoring in my ear making sleep difficult.. and the woman in front of me. Well, the woman in front of me is about to break her seat and my computer because she keeps pushing to see if her seat will go back any further than it already is. It reminds me that I should think about putting mine up as a courtesy to the person behind me so I can feel right about the fact that I’m ready to start kicking and pushing on hers so maybe she’ll get the picture. I hear there is more leg room in business class….
Sunday, December 28, 2008
I Used to Write Emails...
When I graduated college almost 3 years ago, I was determined to stay connected. I'm not quite sure what I was so intent to stay connected too, but something. I guess no one ever really wants to feel alone especially when you move 3000 miles away from home. I'd had a whirlwind four years of mostly bliss and was out to discover the world of adulthood I only thought I had an understanding of.
I packed up my bags and imported all 400 email addresses into my gmail account. I became determined to stay connected even if it was just unread inside an inbox somewhere. Maybe, I just wanted an excuse to write.
Upon arriving to sunny California I spent each month recounting my adventures via email. I would spend hours composing very long and very detailed accounts of my daily activities. Just enough to make my life sound mildly interesting and exciting even when it proved to be difficult. When I think back on it now it seems self indulgent. Who was I even talking too? An even better question would be, "Who was even listening?"
Which brings me to now. To the new year. Another one.
However, it's in this new year where I can't find it in me to talk specifically about my life. To be honest its not the people in my life but its because I'm not happy with me. Mostly with what I'm doing.
There's a mile long list of things I'd like to do, plan to do and hope to do in the new year.
This blog was on my list.
It's not an email.
No one has to listen unless they'd like too.
Here's to 2009 (and to one check mark already on my list :)
I packed up my bags and imported all 400 email addresses into my gmail account. I became determined to stay connected even if it was just unread inside an inbox somewhere. Maybe, I just wanted an excuse to write.
Upon arriving to sunny California I spent each month recounting my adventures via email. I would spend hours composing very long and very detailed accounts of my daily activities. Just enough to make my life sound mildly interesting and exciting even when it proved to be difficult. When I think back on it now it seems self indulgent. Who was I even talking too? An even better question would be, "Who was even listening?"
Which brings me to now. To the new year. Another one.
However, it's in this new year where I can't find it in me to talk specifically about my life. To be honest its not the people in my life but its because I'm not happy with me. Mostly with what I'm doing.
There's a mile long list of things I'd like to do, plan to do and hope to do in the new year.
This blog was on my list.
It's not an email.
No one has to listen unless they'd like too.
Here's to 2009 (and to one check mark already on my list :)
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