I'm sitting in the terminal on the way to my step dads funeral in a wing of the airport that I didn't know existed and I'm pretty sure they just announced early boarding for families traveling with fat children. I know that I live in the land of the rich skinny, the movie stars, and the want to bees but I'm not sure that we should consider that a handicap. She couldn't have possibly announced fat right? Well they do board the first class in advance. And they sit in the front. Perhaps we have just reached that level of separation. Will the overweight be put on their own flight and have their own schools and restaurants. Oh god what am I thinking? They do have their own restaurants, anything with a drive up window so that they don't have to be seen or over exert themselves, oh but I'm just being cruel now... get out of the car already this is only adding to the problem.
After going through an unmarked terminal, we exit the airport. It’s always an alarming feeling when you’re traveling to such a small town that you leave reality to begin the trip. I smack my head on the plains door frame on my way in, I thought that I had stopped the awkward not knowing my own height thing when I left my teenage years. As I walk past the other seats remembering the size of the plain I'm suddenly aware that I will be discovered with these peoples body parts strewn over me. I feel a little more alarmed. It’s a plain with two seats on each side of the aisle. I know I'm going to die now. Not to mention the fear of going back to a town where I was raised in the closet for 24 years. Because if I came out then who knows what would have happened to me. I mean people actually mountain biked around there. Plenty of mountains to it on. Bring on the country folk, I'm bringing eye liner and a blow dryer. I haven't been home in five years and am thinking that this is really shaping up to look a lot like a gay Lifetime movie. And after I check my horoscope I'm informed that I will have to socialize tomorrow with people that I may not want to whose expectations I may have a hard time living up to. Interestingly enough, I am returning to my child hood anti-gay church and there will be a reception afterward. And people doubt horoscopes for some reason. Eerily accurate I'm thinking. Also I should find love by Friday!!! Funny since I couldn't do that in 24 YEARS THE LAST TIME I WAS THERE! But I'm up for a challenge.
I find myself seated next to the picture of a small town stereotype, Wrangler jeans light blue over pressed broad cloth button down shirt, with the cowboy hat in the over head compartment. Somehow I am adjacent to a girl that had just "graduated 6Th grade" and is looking forward to getting home and knitting. Not joking, she also prefers her neighbors about ten miles away. And I’m just guessing starring at people in public since she doesn't see many people that don't hang on her every annoying word. And beyond that ten mile radius. Forget the fact that I just told you what she was saying, I wasn't listening at all. Freckled weirdo. I take it back, we're not going to die. She is, virgin sacrifices for all the Gods. I'm sure she has a few friends with good eye sight that we can throw in with her.
I keep looking over at my cowboy friend, might I say that he is in his late 50s and doing the crossword from the in flight magazine so he isn't looking to rediscover his sexuality and I wouldn't want to help if he did. He's randomly righting in the ripped out pages of a full sized day planner, notes of some sort that he periodically drops to the ground and has to do the odd bend over and pick up between the seats. When I finally get a good look at the righting I swear its San script or a foreign language. The only thing that comes out of his mouth for the 3 hour trip is excuse me I need to put this above and I'll take a 7up. Not that I wanted a great debate but he was very cowboy quiet. No talking, exactly how I like to fly.
Latter on I hear one of the flight attendant apologize for not having coffee because LA didn't give it to them. Now I must say that's just bad planning on all parties accounts. And that’s a little accusatory for my taste blaming a city for not having coffee when I know that LA loves its java. Skip forward to the next morning when I'm being forced to make a fresh pot of coffee because a whole pot was not made in the first place. Bad planning again. Which becomes the apparent status quo of the whole trip.
Soon to come:
SORRY, NOT GAY ENOUGH TO KNOW WOMEN'S SIZES
Saturday, July 31, 2010
I’VE BUSTED MY PANTS
It has happened too many of us I’ve been told. Has this happened to you? You’re down on your luck and can't afford a new pair of pants. Not to fear you went to a fashion school and as luck would have it you’re a big mo and think you can sew your own pants. Well let me tell you, you are wrong! Here’s how I know. I recently found myself in this situation and I did really think that there would be no problem in reaching my end goal of having clothes for work. I’m sitting around on my day off and feeling sorry for myself and angry that my style is suffering because my bank account was as well. Problem solver that I am saw nothing to worry about. My roommate was an accomplished seamstress and it seemed like a simple matter of stitching two pieces of fabric together in a very short line just enough to make the waist a little smaller and look more professional for the work place. Being broke does have some advantages after all; and if it’s a dieting plan that it has to offer I’ll take it.
All seems to be adding up nicely, right? Yet another limitation to my gay powers overcome as it may seem. Or in this case not seam. I was feeling quite proud of myself. The pants were a slimmer and looked pretty good. Yeah, the pockets were a little close together. But if someone was looking that close at my pockets they really weren’t looking at the pockets in the first place. I went through a few weeks of wearing them on and off and all was great; I even went back to not wearing underwear beneath the pants. it just gets to hot,. I'm telling you! Trust me you should try the eau natural in your pant life style. The first time I did this agai with this pair was the day of a department wide meeting for which I got up earlier than usual and in a rush. Thinking all was well and nothing to be worried about I prepared in a rush and selected clothes that I thought were acceptable for the occasion. This is a moment I will remember specifically as proof that I am not psychic. At the end of my day an hour and a half to go I’m working on a display to feature product that wasn’t selling very well, when I drop the sign on the floor. Not realizing that there is something to be concerned with I absent mindedly bend over to pick it up and hear the unmistakable popping sound of a seam splitting.
At this point I have a heart attack! I can’t go and buy something to wear. I’m battling with creditors and my bank seems too feel that my account is over drawn. So the idea of new clothing is right out. Even a pair of underwear where I work would set me back $30. And that is unreasonable, and obviously money that I will need to buy liquor to get over this em-bare-ass-ment of the day. My hands instantly go to my ass. Maybe it’s not as bad as I think it is?!? I feel cheek. Oh my god I’m a manager here and I’m exposing myself. Could this be considered sexual harassment? Being a problems solver I feel where my jacket hits on my backside and think, as long as I don’t bend over or move too much there might be nothing wrong. It was a particularly drafty day that day and I realize that this will not be an option. I un-tuck my shirt ant relate to the person that I am having a small problem. Once they have stopped laughing at me I’m told I should go home. Not being one to give up I think “I can just walk around like I have a stick up my ass” I did it for 24, what’s another hour. I tell the group that I’m working with that I have something to do then will leave for the day. As I walk away I hear giggling and an “Oh honey” to which I smile and wave as if there is nothing wrong. Word to the wise, you never know when the chips will come down in life or your in your pants, don’t be caught unprepared.
All seems to be adding up nicely, right? Yet another limitation to my gay powers overcome as it may seem. Or in this case not seam. I was feeling quite proud of myself. The pants were a slimmer and looked pretty good. Yeah, the pockets were a little close together. But if someone was looking that close at my pockets they really weren’t looking at the pockets in the first place. I went through a few weeks of wearing them on and off and all was great; I even went back to not wearing underwear beneath the pants. it just gets to hot,. I'm telling you! Trust me you should try the eau natural in your pant life style. The first time I did this agai with this pair was the day of a department wide meeting for which I got up earlier than usual and in a rush. Thinking all was well and nothing to be worried about I prepared in a rush and selected clothes that I thought were acceptable for the occasion. This is a moment I will remember specifically as proof that I am not psychic. At the end of my day an hour and a half to go I’m working on a display to feature product that wasn’t selling very well, when I drop the sign on the floor. Not realizing that there is something to be concerned with I absent mindedly bend over to pick it up and hear the unmistakable popping sound of a seam splitting.
At this point I have a heart attack! I can’t go and buy something to wear. I’m battling with creditors and my bank seems too feel that my account is over drawn. So the idea of new clothing is right out. Even a pair of underwear where I work would set me back $30. And that is unreasonable, and obviously money that I will need to buy liquor to get over this em-bare-ass-ment of the day. My hands instantly go to my ass. Maybe it’s not as bad as I think it is?!? I feel cheek. Oh my god I’m a manager here and I’m exposing myself. Could this be considered sexual harassment? Being a problems solver I feel where my jacket hits on my backside and think, as long as I don’t bend over or move too much there might be nothing wrong. It was a particularly drafty day that day and I realize that this will not be an option. I un-tuck my shirt ant relate to the person that I am having a small problem. Once they have stopped laughing at me I’m told I should go home. Not being one to give up I think “I can just walk around like I have a stick up my ass” I did it for 24, what’s another hour. I tell the group that I’m working with that I have something to do then will leave for the day. As I walk away I hear giggling and an “Oh honey” to which I smile and wave as if there is nothing wrong. Word to the wise, you never know when the chips will come down in life or your in your pants, don’t be caught unprepared.
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