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
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