On Tuesday I traveled for 15 hours, from Maine to California. A few highlights- which I recorded in iPhone notes as the day progressed.
1:30pm Arrive at airport and head straight for the bathroom. I use the bathroom, flush whatever. I go to grab my jacket, forgetting that I still have not put my belt back on from security. Obviously it flies into the air and I go to grab it and watch as the end of my favorite Michael Kors belt dips into the toilet water. Now if you know me, you know I hate anything germy or gross. This was gross, I don’t care if the toilet had already been flushed. I had a decision to make, do I keep the belt or do I throw it away? Obviously I can’t carry bleach on me, so that was not an option. But I can’t throw this belt away. It took me a good 2 years to find and it’s my favorite. I decide to wash it. So I head to the sink and begin washing it with HOT water and soap. I got some odd looks. I then wrap it up in a paper towel and stick it in my carry on. Yes I will be sanitizing it with the hard stuff the second I have access to such products.
2:15pm Honey mustard is ruining my life. In the last 3 weeks, in 3 different states at 3 different restaurants I have ordered 3 different kinds of sandwiches. Every single one has had that effing honey mustard on it and I hate it. Each sandwich has gone into the trash and I have been hungry for the rest of the day. Thanks Honey Mustard.
4:20pm I then board, heading to the very last row. I have a window seat and the aisle seat is already occupied by a younger looking guy with longish curly hair, probably a musician ( a stereotype I know). I immediately smell the booze. And think to my self “what a wonderful world,” ok no I didn’t. I thought “well this could be interesting”. He comments on my book ( you know, that dragon one) and shows me his. Legit called “the monstrumologist”. He sounds (I actually mean the sound of his voice here) normal enough. Except all of the sudden out of nowhere, HE STARTS TALKING IN AN ENGLISH ACCENT. Like, WHAT? A few sentences later, back to the American accent we go. He’s from Portsmouth, NH going to visit his mom in Arizona for the holidays yadayadayada. At this point I watching for any sign of Brit. Did he fake it? Is he drunk?
Around the Middle of America: Then we order food, and continue discussing our respective books. He manages to use the work “cheeky” and mentions that something is not his “cup of tea”. Alright so he could actually be English? And then we get our snacks. He gets chips ahoy and tea, which I find a bit odd- but whatever. Wait, then HE STARTS DIPPING THE BITE SIZE COOKIES IN THE TEA. No. No. No.
Over Texas: He orders a drink (Jack Daniels) and strikes up conversation again. I am desperately trying to get to page 200 of the dragon book- when I am told it gets good. I have also been blasting the Glee Christmas Album to try and tune out the screaming infant twins- they have been at it for the last 5 hours. No I am not joking. Suffice to say, I welcome the interruption. Naturally, we begin discussing our dreams, and what do you know, he wants to be a rockstar. I actually wish I was joking here. It all seems a bit endearing, until he tells me he is 34 and a carpenter. He then offers me a drink, at which point I must reveal I am not yet 21. Awkward. It is when we begin discussing my upcoming travel plans that I get to the bottom of things. I describe the journey I hope to be embarking on come February. He manages to literally call me “brazen” twice. Hmmm. Then talks about how Spanish does not interest him and South/Central America is all the same shit anyways. Ok, thanks- considering that’s where I just told you I will be going. He than says: “you know, I just really like Britain. When I was younger, I would save and go again and again.” ARE YOU KIDDING? Basically what your telling me is you like Britain. And because of that you, 1- casually attempt a british accent on unsuspecting airplane row-mates 2- dip your (chips ahoy) cookies in tea and 3- use terms like cheeky, cup of tea and brazen. STOP.