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Texas, Yee Haw

December 6, 2011

I would never, ever, call myself a ‘lucky’ traveller. My friend Chris, he’s a lucky traveller. On his last trip to Africa he had two middle age airline employees try to bump him to first class (alas, it was full), a younger customer service lass reduce his overweight bag fee from $160 to $50, received a free Corona at 10am and then 3 minutes before he was set to take off, text me a picture of his legs… Somehow he ended up in the ‘lucky’ seat where there is no seat in front of you, therefore allowing you to stretch your legs out as much as you want.

I on the other hand, find myself on the opposite end of the spectrum. Always. That 10 block walk I mentioned earlier, it was only supposed to be 4, maybe 5 at the most, but lucky for me everyone and their mother parked their cars where I needed to be, forcing me to drive around the streets of Boulder like a maniac and run/walk in the snow with a large bag so I didn’t miss my bus.

So after hearing this, who would you think I ended up sitting next to in my lucky seat of 29F (window)? If you guessed that I was wedged in next to an obese woman who could barely squeeze out of her seat to let me in, and a woman with a small child who was already crying you are correct! Somebody has a reeeaallly interesting sense of humor. Of course I need to make light of the situation, because heck, I’m going to Costa Rica, deal with it! So I text my sister to tell her what is happening. Her response was;

“Throw the baby out the window and tell the woman if the plane crashes you’ll eat her dirt (this is supposed to say first, must love auto correct) because she has a lot to spare. That’ll scare the shit out of her”

She follows up with;

“Eat her first, not dirt. Obviously”

This sends me into such a fit of audible laughter  it causes tears to stream down my face and people are looking at me a little funny. I proceed to laugh so hard that I drop my phone in between the seat and the wall and need to turn around and ask the woman behind me, through fits of laughter, if she could please pick it up. I love my sister.

Leaving Denver was so beautiful it’s hard to describe. The whole front range has been dusted in snow, and everything is brilliant white. The rivers wind paths through the ground like veins, and they are the only reminder that there is something under all the white.

The rivers soon give way to what can only be described as the patchwork of America’s farmland. From here you can see that each farmer’s field is not actually square like you imagine, but round, because of the large mechanical arms they use to water them. I know I’ve seen this before, but perhaps I am looking at things a little differently than I used to, and I’m amazed.

The rest of the flight is uneventful and when we land I make a bee-line for the bathroom to wash my arm pits. This is not something new for me, but people always look at me like I’m from another planet when I do it. I want to say “What don’t you wash your pits?” “I just have to wash mine more than you. I’m smelly, what do you want?” I take off my over-shirt hoping this will help the problem a little, and slather myself in vanilla musk. I hope I’m not sitting next to anyone on the next flight, I’m beginning to feel bad.

For as brilliant and white as Colorado is right now, Houston is equally as gray. A blanket of clouds cover the whole concrete city. The family next to me in the waiting area is watching/listening to Kenny Chesney’s “She Thinks My Tractor’s Sexy” as loud as possible on their computer… I try not to stare in in complete un-amusement, I can’t wait to arrive in Costa Rica.

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One Comment
  1. mom permalink

    Beautiful writing, darling! Here’s to a beautiful adventure!

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