dam you jaun pablo and your glorious performance in “how to be the worst bachelor in history”, it just had to be on the week i leave for DL. chris harris didn’t help either with his snake charming tag line of ” MOST DRAMATIC ROSE CEREMONY IN HISTORY” (bullshit), but it sucks me in, yet again! both of you helped me shit the bed in packing and being in bed by 11, i was not even close… 1am. exhausted.
oh god, the alarm goes off at 4am, i’m so sleepy. kids are awake and bouncing off the walls asking for the 3rd time in 30 minutes “WHEN ARE WE GOING TO BE IN DISNEYLAND”??.
I NEED A COFFEE.
but lets get serious, i hate pooing on a plane, peeing is bad enough! even though i’m a squatting over toilet “master”, been trained by a european coach (mom) since the age of 6 (minus that one time drunk in portugal last year, when I was forced to use a porta potty and it didn’t go well).
i avoid airplane washrooms at all costs, this is were i turn totally portuguese… i will hold it. not to mention…planes appear to be clean, they are creamy /tan in colour by design to hide one thing and one thing only …bodily functions that have escaped the body!
SO, NO COFFEE till portland, i don’t want to risk it!
5am, were out the door.
states side in ten minutes.
we arrive at the airport, park.
i’m not sure what happened in under a year but the bellingham airport no longer looks like their conducting flights out of a truck container! looks nice.
good lord, i smell burnt beans brewing. breathing through my mouth now. this is torture.
boarding the airplane and i’ve got coffee withdrawal.
were on the first plane and amara call’s mommy shot gun. g r e a t, i know whats instore…as i thought, she can’t stop talking and it’s LOUD talking (like hearing impaired loud, maybe i’m just that tired or maybe she takes after her uncle dave and needs to be heard ALL THE TIME). i know that people two rows up can hear her ask if we get food on this flight! AMARA, PLEASE LOWER YOUR VOICE and no darling, there’s “no real food” on this ONE hour flight.
good lord, i just need a little sleep, i start to dose off. she is not pleased. the nudging and talking begins. i feel like i’m being bullied. ”please let me sleep”, i plead. she is relentless.
finally the ladies come around asking if we would like a “tasty treat”?
this is my chance, i can bribe her with my food (cinnamon toast pieces with pretzels in a tiny bag). i toss it to her as though she is a wild beast and i’m trying to get her off my cent. she takes the bait. i sleep for 10 minutes.
arrive in portland.
i crack at the sight of starbucks. it taste so good, i’m weeping… it’s like sex in a cup.
three washroom stops later.
boarding the plane to california.
thank baby jesus, i’ve been blessed me with the odd seat on the flight. greg bragged about his “portable technology” and just like that both of the children “have to sit by dad” and he’s left to manage the offspring.
now by manage, i mean he puts on his sound proof headphones and is played that fawking jewels game on the ipad, leaving me to manage the “loud amara” from across the isle. she has found a friend (third one in under two hours), the “friend” is sitting right behind her and amara is literally screaming “WE ARE SO HIGH UP, THIS IS SO COOL…DON’T YOU JUST LOVE THIS“!
i’m punching greg, greg is like “WHAT, what do you want”?
take your head phones off, i sign to him with angry frantic jazz hand motions… pointing to amara…”umm, your daughter is yelling”??
(is anyone else’s husband this painful!)
the dude in the middle sitting beside me has way to much shit going on…business suit jacket, laptop and bag. he’s a decent size, so really he’s crammed in the middle. he has a PC (right away i’m judging). the pc is taking up the entire tray and he orders a coffee (mean fawker…yes, i want another one, loaded with heavy cream and that knotty white sugar but shitting in the plane is not an option, hell i’m not even going to pee on this “bc transit” sky bus!) but that’s not enough for this beastly man…he wants water too, where the hell is he going to put the water is a mystery,(is what i was thinking) and as “i’m thinking” his coffee has had a fight with that PC and it lost. the coffee is running down the side of the tray and all down into MY SEAT, its made its way right into the crack of my ass. yep, can anyone else see the irony here?? my ass is soaked with hot coffee, well played universe, well played.
after it’s all cleaned up, the guy actually orders another coffee. OMG, seriously dude, shall I pour this one on YOUR ass crack?? i’m a little irritated but really theres worse things in life, so i spend the rest of the flight sitting on a maxi pad sized wad of cocktail napkins to “absorb” that medium roast marinating in my thong. fawk you universe, i’m not going into that washroom, no way! your going to have to try harder then that! btw, i’m loving the black pants choice this morning, totally a ”who gives a shit what others think but we do ” life saver or else people may have suspected diarrhea!
we land in california.
toilet and coffee…in that order please.