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it's humid out there
May. 7th, 2003 09:25 amI feel hungover, almost. Too pained to sleep. Could also be the adjustment to sleeping somewhere else, and not in the very comfortable spot I found in New York.
I think I will only ever fly on Wednesdays from now on. Yesterday's flights were parades of horrors, both in terms of the insane people, the turbulence that sent people's things bouncing around, and the endless, endless waiting. But the people are the only entertaining part to discuss.
First I ran into this woman in the bathroom, pushing one of those double-wide strollers that takes up so much space one must jump up on the sink to avoid being run over. She looks a bit like Shannon Dougherty as a middle America housewife, in black pants and a sweater. She's got two monkey children, who spend their time running around the gate and being noisy in the way of children. On the plane, the younger one screams for the entire three hours it takes to get to DFW. Three hours. I'm amazed he didn't destroy his vocal cords.
One of the things causing the monkey children to run wild is the woman with the dog. She's a 50-year-old Courtney Love, with ratty bleached hair in pigtails, ugly denim jacket, bizarre out of place capri pants with beading round the bottoms, and flip flops. She is carrying a rat dog that's been bred with some small version of the wild boar, because this thing has enormous protruding tusks. It was by far the ugliest little beast I've seen in years. Thankfully she was seated well away from me, as were the screaming children.
The person seated across from me however, was a riot of bad color choices. Dyed strawberry blonde hair, gigantic round tortoise shell plastic frame glasses, a hot pink cotton knee length dress, bright red penny loafers and a red jacket with this amazingly ugly southwestern faux paisley design splashed all over. She spent the flight reading something faintly printed on dot-matrix paper and magazines about collecting those really scary old dolls with fake smiles. Think the puppet from that Twilight Zone episode.
I hate flying. I dozed fitfully, and waited to be free. It was 85 and humid as hell when I walked out of the Austin airport last night. Perhaps the weather change, the flying and eight billion other factors have given me a hangover despite the fact that I haven't had any alcohol to drink since last week. But you know, I would get on a plane again tomorrow if I could go back. It's the best city in America.
I think I will only ever fly on Wednesdays from now on. Yesterday's flights were parades of horrors, both in terms of the insane people, the turbulence that sent people's things bouncing around, and the endless, endless waiting. But the people are the only entertaining part to discuss.
First I ran into this woman in the bathroom, pushing one of those double-wide strollers that takes up so much space one must jump up on the sink to avoid being run over. She looks a bit like Shannon Dougherty as a middle America housewife, in black pants and a sweater. She's got two monkey children, who spend their time running around the gate and being noisy in the way of children. On the plane, the younger one screams for the entire three hours it takes to get to DFW. Three hours. I'm amazed he didn't destroy his vocal cords.
One of the things causing the monkey children to run wild is the woman with the dog. She's a 50-year-old Courtney Love, with ratty bleached hair in pigtails, ugly denim jacket, bizarre out of place capri pants with beading round the bottoms, and flip flops. She is carrying a rat dog that's been bred with some small version of the wild boar, because this thing has enormous protruding tusks. It was by far the ugliest little beast I've seen in years. Thankfully she was seated well away from me, as were the screaming children.
The person seated across from me however, was a riot of bad color choices. Dyed strawberry blonde hair, gigantic round tortoise shell plastic frame glasses, a hot pink cotton knee length dress, bright red penny loafers and a red jacket with this amazingly ugly southwestern faux paisley design splashed all over. She spent the flight reading something faintly printed on dot-matrix paper and magazines about collecting those really scary old dolls with fake smiles. Think the puppet from that Twilight Zone episode.
I hate flying. I dozed fitfully, and waited to be free. It was 85 and humid as hell when I walked out of the Austin airport last night. Perhaps the weather change, the flying and eight billion other factors have given me a hangover despite the fact that I haven't had any alcohol to drink since last week. But you know, I would get on a plane again tomorrow if I could go back. It's the best city in America.