The Rest of the Story (AKA, But Wait! There's More!)

Oh, so you want to know about the rest of my trip, do you?

I was pleasantly surprised at the ease with which I breezed through airport security, and uneventfully made it to Chicago last Thursday.

I should have known that this would all balance itself out later on.

I arrived very early at O’Hare airport for my return flight. So early, in fact, that I was literally the first person at the gate. I had the whole place to myself. Were I so inclined, I could’ve performed a little of this:

Yeah, that’s right. Just take those old records off the shelf, baby.

(P.S. -- I think we could make a drinking game out of how many times I superimpose myself on iconic scenes from 80s movies.)

Tempting though it was (especially considering that I have “Old Time Rock and Roll” on my iPod for some reason), alas, I'd forgotten my tube socks, and so I sat down and read this book instead.

A few minutes later, a shifty-looking man came and sat down by the gate, as well. I glanced up at him, and went back to my book. Within a half hour, more people began trickling in, among them another guy who was also acting suspiciously. He took a seat at the opposite end of the gate, far away from the first guy, and sat there staring at everyone. Suspiciously. I began to get a bit nervous, but inasmuch as I am the world’s most edgy air traveler in even the best of circumstances, I tried to ignore it. I got up for a walk, and by the time I returned, the two sketchy dudes, who up until now had seemed unacquainted, were now seated next to each other in the far corner of the gate.

Taking notes.

And conferring over a laptop.

While the first guy mumbled into a cell phone with his hand over his mouth.

At this point, I decided that something had to be done. And so, I thought to myself, “What would Jack Bauer do?” I subsequently realized that Jack Bauer would call Chloe in order to hack into the man's laptop, but I DO NOT HAVE A CHLOE. He would also end up crawling through a vent at some point, but as I had worn a skirt, I was thus ill-prepared for such an endeavor. Finally, Jack Bauer would have also whisper-barked vague threats of corporeal harm at the men, and as those of you who have met me now know, I am really not that menacing. They probably would have wet themselves laughing if I’d pulled something like that.

Clearly, I was in over my head.

I “calmly” walked off in search of a bulky person in a Kevlar vest, preferably carrying a large gun. Which I immediately found. I told the agent what I’d seen, and apologized profusely for seeming paranoid. He, however, missed that last part because by that point, he was sprinting down the hall, speaking urgently into his walkie talkie. He returned with a plainclothes agent, who asked me for a description of the men, and went to go investigate.

The plainclothes agent came back not two minutes later, and asked me to follow him into a small office with my bags.

~BOW CHICKA BOW WOW~

Whoa! That’s not how this story goes!

No, he had asked to speak with me privately because, as he said, he didn’t want to embarrass me in front of the other officer.

The two suspicious gentlemen that I’d seen were air marshals, who are apparently supposed to arrive early for the flight, scope out the passengers, and then confer while reviewing the passenger manifest. Which, y'know, pretty much explains everything I’d seen.

AIR MARSHALS.

I TOLD ON MOTHERHUMPING* AIR MARSHALS.

Seriously.

I spent the remainder of time until boarding hiding in the bathroom.

But wait! There’s more!

The flight itself was without incident until we neared New York. Inclement weather prevented us from landing, and thus forced us into a holding pattern for about an hour. The pilot then got on the loudspeaker to inform us that “fuel issues” were going to require us to make a landing in Random Tiny Airport in Godonlyknowswhere, NY. It was a corn field, for crissakes, and I suspect that I saw a cow humping the plane.

After landing, we were informed that we’d refuel, and get right back on our way.

Which would have been fine, only by “right back on our way,” they apparently meant, “haha, suckas! We’re going to sit here for THREE HOURS, and by the way, the plumbing on this old ass plane leaves much to be desired, and is going to malfunction in five…four…three…two…showtime!”

Would you like to see my “Oh, my hell! The toilets are overflowing! WHERE AM I?!” face? I took and sent this picture to J as I sat on the runway in what was, for all intents and purposes, Hell. It’s pretty much the worst picture of me ever taken, but my journalistic integrity compels me to post it.

Shield your eyes!

The stench, which quickly permeated the cabin, reminded me of EVERY BAD THING I HAVE EVER SMELLED IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.

It was ungodly.

But wait! There’s more!

Finally, after the aforementioned THREE HOURS on the runway, we were cleared for takeoff. To celebrate, and eradicate the stench of Eau de Malfunctioning Plane Lavatory, I decided to apply some of my favorite lotion (I've mentioned it before), which I’d transferred to a tiny, TSA-friendly plastic bottle before my trip. As the plane shook wildly in the air, I noticed, for the first time, THE WORST LOGO EVER.

Not enough? Let's go in for a close-up:

Why?! Why the crashing plane?!

Fortunately, perhaps miraculously, we had a smooth landing in NY, and I was thrilled beyond belief to hug these guys again.

Why, yes, I do feed my son frozen fruit pops on a plastic garbage bag. Because I am classy.

So, who wants to go on a trip with me??

_______________________

*Inasmuch as Toopweets is repeating EVERYTHING we say lately, I’m going to try to get in the habit of not cursing. Let’s see how long this shit lasts.

Oops.

Not going to be easy.

PS: Today marks my one-year blogiversary!