Suzy Says

Have you been wondering where all the glama is in this neck of the woods (or palms)? I’ll tell you where it is: the delightfully named Weeki Wachee Springs, home of the legendary mermaids.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have wanted to see the mermaids.* I think when I was little, I actually believed that they were real mermaids. But then again, I’d believe almost anything. My grandfather had me convinced that he put up the moon every night, and it was on a spring, which is why you could see it on both sides of the road. I still have a surprisingly high gullibility factor for a girl of my vintage.

I never thought I would see the mermaids, because they were in distant Florida and I never thought I’d go there. Now was my chance!

It was completely fabulous.

The mermaids have been performing in their natural spring since 1947. The audience watches them through a huge glass window in the Mermaid Theater. They are gorgeous and glamorous in their glittery tails, their long hair flowing in the water. They do wonderful production numbers under water (I loved it when all of them swam together in a ring), and can even drink underwater (now, there’s a skill I could use!). The finale was a tribute to the US of A, complete with patriotic swimsuits and an underwater flag. If Kerry had had the mermaids with him on the campaign trail, he’d definitely be President right now.

I’m now accepting donations to Send a Needy Suzy to Mermaid Camp.

*I spoke to one of the mermaids, and she told me she had wanted to be a mermaid since she was four years old. So it was her dream come true, too.

Sporty Suzy lives!

The sun was sunny again in the Sunshine State, and I learned that the Toronto Blue Jays do their spring training in this very town (actually, it’s spring training central, since the Phillies and the Evil Empire also train nearby). And anyone can go and watch them practice!

So Sporty Suzy came out of retirement in her retirement community. It seemed like forever since I’d seen any baseball, and we all know about the disgrace of the NHL. No sports for Suzy since the surprising, and brief, World Series. So it was high time for Sporty Suzy to get her sporty fix.

So here they are, warming up. I was hoping Alex Rios would give me a kiss, but alas, I just got a smile. And my sporty fix.

It wasn’t my beloved Giants, but it was gooood.

Advice from the catching coach: “Balance is key. Keep your feet under you.”

The sun is not sunny in the Sunshine State. It must have gone to Hawaii or Tahiti or something on vacation. In its absence, it is:

– Still hot (it was 70&deg at 10:00 last night. That’s just wrong);

– Still muggy (lost a night’s much-needed beauty sleep due to sweating miserably under just a sheet, too hot and cranky to sleep);

– Raining so hard that I couldn’t hear myself think, assuming I was actually capable of thinking;

– On the second thunderstorm of the day.

I think I’m beginning to rot.

The truth is that I’m afraid of thunderstorms, and the thunder that accompanied these two was positively apocalyptic. I think the house shook more than any earthquake I ever experienced back in California. On the bright side, it has banished the elderly neighbors back into their dens, so I’m spared hearing them holler to each other in their backyards. I’m beginning to suspect that all the glama in Florida is on the other coast. This one – or at least, the part of it I’m staying in – seems to be almost entirely composed of the aged or aging*, which is unnerving, given my fear of death and getting old. It’s like death’s waiting room around here. If I wake up with blue poodle hair one day, I’m cutting to the head of the line.

*Other than religious fanatics, trailer trash, rednecks, and Republicans, that is. These can be combined in nearly limitless variations for added fun.

It’s the Florida State Fair!

Where you can get anything on a stick. Besides the usual meat suspects (no domestic farm animal went unrepresented here), stick delicacies included:

– Frozen bananas (plain or “p.nut”)

– Key lime pie (this is a bit of a misnomer, since there’s no crust and the frozen pie filling is coated with chocolate, like an eskimo pie)

So you knew you were somewhere tropical.

In addition to the stick foods, I discovered that you can deep fry just about anything, and candidates don’t have to start their lives as vegetables (onions, corn, ‘taters). They can, and do, deep fry:

– Oreos

– Cheesecake

– Snickers bars (battered first)

– Cake batter (they call it “funnel cake” – once it’s done frying, you can add toppings!)

I went on the Ferris Wheel and feel that EB White is full of shit. In the delightful Charlotte’s Web, Fern dreams of kissing Henry at the top of the Ferris Wheel at the Fair. Even if I had someone with me who would volunteer for the task, it’s all unnerving and wiggly up there and kissing is about the last thing on your mind. It’s not even in second place to how far down the ground is and how easy it is to fall out of those perilously rocking seats.

Back on the ground, I went to the petting zoo to play with the animals before they were put on a stick. I got to hold a baby duck and a baby chick! They were so soft you could hardly feel them. And I petted a baby goat, too. I tried and failed to milk a cow, but then, who am I kidding? Can you imagine Farmer Suzy?

News you can use:

Miss Aim&eacutee has a cool new look for her blog….

…and my nephew Ben, who is teaching English in China for the next few months, has a brand-new blog.

So go on over and say hi. Visit Florida and China without having to deal with the horrors of car or air travel!!!

It’s Calamity Suzy!!

Yesterday I:

– Fell and scraped both knees, which are now even less fit for public viewing than usual, being red and puffy. I hasten to add that this was sun-related and not alcohol related: I was blinded by the sun and tripped on a huge crack in the driveway.

I did this in front of the two cable guys, who were unlucky enough to be sent to fix the cable. They ended up being here for more than three hours and had to replace pretty much everything. They couldn’t really laugh at me, though, because they were calamity cable guys, one cutting his head on an open window and the other cutting his hand along with the new cable.

– Tore side of dress in the process of falling on the driveway, revealing pale pink satin bra to an unsuspecting public. Failed to realize this until after the cable guys had gone and I had talked to the mailman and a couple of my friend Paul’s neighbors. Belated blushes.

– Hit head getting out of car.

– Melted into tears in front of Paul. Very, very embarrassing.

– Burned my hand on the pot lid while making dinner. Note to self: don’t pick up metal handled lids from boiling pots with bare hands. Really not a good idea.

– Cut the other hand while cutting a lemon.

At this rate, I’m going to need the services of Rico from Six Feet Under while I’m still alive in order to remain at all presentable.

Florida Lessons Learned So Far:

– Not only did I finally get my sass in a glass, but I learned the Truth About Grapefruit Juice. Normally, only the unattractive grapefruit get made into juice, so the ones you buy whole and unjuiced in the store are the Miss America (or at least Miss Florida) of the grapefruit world. But all those storms last year mean that there just aren’t that many grapefruit left, so the caste system has been temporarily suspended.

– Never leave the car windows open. Rain can appear at any time, soaking everything and then running away giggling, like a naughty kid ringing a neighbor’s doorbell (not that I would ever do such a thing). I learned this the hard way, and the following day was damp and uncomfortable. I think I got butt pneumonia, and will possibly end up with the rare ass arthritis.

– Although geckos running across your living room can be a little surprising, they eat bad bugs, such as mosquitoes, and therefore are our friends. No eeks required.

– However, palmetto bugs are big, tropical cockroaches and should be treated as such. Eeks definitely required.

– Sunscreen can’t completely cancel out the sunshine of the Sunshine State. I have so far avoided my customary sunburn, but am now the rarely seen in winter Great Speckled Suzy.

On Tuesday night, I went to the Mardi Gras celebration downtown. How appropriate for Supersized Suzy* to attend the Fat Tuesday party! It was a balmy night with about a million stars, and seemingly the same number of partiers. There was a parade, and I collected my fair share of beads and refused to give any away. You know how acquisitive I can be. Not to mention how I love the sparkly!

Overheard at Mardi Gras:

“Walt gave me one of them i-PADS and I just didn’t know what to do with it.”

Teenage girl: “You are such a bitch, Crystal!”

Crystal: “You suck. Remember that.”

*A board of experts has estimated that consuming road food, known for its high grease content, three times a day, results in gaining approximately five pounds a day of ugly fat (is there any other kind?).

I don’t know why I was surprised at getting lost and/or going the wrong way en route. I mean, no matter where I am, I spend half my time looking for things (especially glasses, very challenging when you’re as blind as the proverbial bat without them), and the other half losing them. Sometimes I think my place is the apartment equivalent of the Bermuda Triangle, where things disappear, never to be seen again.

But yes, it developed into quite the little talent, joining the elite ranks of the few, the shallow, that I already had (whining/complaining; shopping; picking the best thing on the menu and the right wine to go with it). Even the brand-new road atlas couldn’t save me from unscheduled detours, including the infamous twice in one day.

Theoretically, all I had to do was stay on the same road (I-75) and I’d end up in Florida. Of course, it didn’t work that way. The road atlas had not taken into account the Suzy Factor.

First: Somewhere in Tennessee, failed to realize that I-75 going south had sneaked off to the right until I had already passed the exit. It’s quite difficult for the car and map challenged to both drive and read the signs. Eventually I realized that I had missed the exit, and got off the interstate. I ended up in the saddest town I had ever seen. It was nothing but moribund or dead businesses in decaying buildings. I couldn’t find anyone to ask for directions and began to get a panicky, Twilight Zone feeling (“little did Suzy realize that she was the only person alive for miles”). I finally came across a restaurant and got directions. I can’t describe the 55 cent hamburgers, other to say the look and smell of the tiny greasebombs was unforgettable. The waitress was very nice and called me “sweetheart”, which I love. Noticed that the clientele was very polite and all said “‘I appreciate it”, which was quite charming.

Note to self: should have called Aim for directions and then gone to her and Josh’s place to meet the adorable Elle. What was I thinking?!

Anyway, eventually got back on the highway.

Second: After dark, got lost somewhere outside Macon, Georgia. This was especially remarkable, considering that I only made three right turns and then couldn’t find my way back. I was quite dazzled by the beautiful mansions on the first street, but after two more turns, found myself in a much scarier part of town. The convenience store on the corner was the only thing open, so I bravely went in to ask directions. Everyone stared at me as I entered, and I realized that I was the only girl and the only white person there. I went and got a bottle of water and joined the line to pay for it. There were four elderly African American gentlemen ahead of me in line, and one by one, they all told me to go to the head of the line. I thanked them, and as one, they all nodded and looked at their feet.

You may be wondering why it took me so long to get to Florida. Traumatized by recent airport experiences, it seemed like a good idea at the time to drive down, since I was on the east coast anyway.

Big, as the Governator would say, mistake.

I hadn’t taken into account the incredible boredom, lack of radio stations playing anything other than country, religious programming, or talk radio; the insane traffic (special mentions: Cincinnati, the total worst, followed by Atlanta); or the mysterious fact that the weather would be sunny in the northern states and rainy in the south. I also discovered a whole new talent: getting lost, including twice in one day.

My Road Trip
By Suzy

Buffalo, NY: The little I saw of it had splendid Victorian houses, some of them bordering on mansions, in perfect condition and with beautiful paint jobs. They rivalled those in San Francisco. Have no idea why we don’t hear about the Buffalo Victorians. There are also some old fashioned slate sidewalks like those in my grandparents’ town near Rochester, New York, so I got a little dose of nostalgia, too.

Mars, Pennsylvania:: There is no life on Mars. Slept at the Motel Six and ate at Denny’s. Seriously. Beginning of the grease theme of the trip.

Ohio: The “O” is for Oh.My.God. It’s not the tiny, wedge-shaped state it appears to be. It’s the secretly huge state no-one tells you about. I spent almost a whole day driving through it. And half a lifetime in traffic on the road that bypasses Cincinnati, going 5 mph.

West Virginia:: Whipped through it in no time. Smaller than you’d think.

Nowhereville, Kentucky: Pizza Hut (first time in my life), and a Hampton Inn, which seemed much classier than the Motel 6 until I discovered that it’s owned by the Hiltons, which means that I personally have subsidized Paris Hilton’s embarrassing fashion choices. At least I haven’t subsidized her embarrassing choice in men. I picked Pizza Hut after fleeing in horror from the buffet restaurant, which was like Deliverance with children. Also, buffet. If I’m in a restaurant, I want them to bring me the food. Is that too much to ask? I didn’t entirely escape the buffet, though, because PH had a salad bar, which is a thinly disguised buffet.

However, it seemed refreshingly healthy after all the road food. I’ve driven through 5 states now, and it’s all Wendy’s, McDonald’s, and Burger King – the unholy trinity. This being the South, though, the unholiness was offset by a barn with a giant red hand-painted JESUS on it, and billboards that said:

If you died today (fun thought when you’re going 80 on the interstate), where would you spend Eternity?

Followed by:

Hell is Real.

No positive suggestions, like “Heaven is Real”, or anything like that.

On the other hand, they have a point, because driving on the interstate (or anywhere else) is Hell, and it’s all too Real.

Discovered that Richmond, KY is dry on one side, and wet on the other, meaning you can only buy booze – a total necessity at this point – on the bad side of town. Also that the stores stock an astonishing variety of chewing tobacco.

Oh, and Elvis was right about the cold Kentucky rain.

Nowhereville, Tennessee: At a gas station, I had to make the attendant tell me the price 3 times because he had so few teeth I couldn’t understand him. However, gas station had theme shot glasses, with slogans like, “Don’t Mess With Dixie” and “American By Birth, Southern By the Grace of God”, and sold 190 proof liquor to go with them.

Stopped at Subway, desperate for non-greasy food, and it took 3 people to make me a salad. The person taking the order didn’t know what I was talking about, and I pointed at the price list with the salads listed. She asked me what kind of bread. I was like, No, a salad, just put it in the bowl. She had to go get the manager. Then they had to find the bowls. Then they went & looked for the salad dressing, and found they didn’t have it. I’m not kidding.

Nowhereville, Georgia: Zipped merrily through Atlanta, but hit bad traffic outside of it, though it was still a joy compared to Cincinnati, the traffic capital of America. Super 8 motel (not noticeably twice as super as Motel 6), surprisingly decent Mexican food across from the Piggly Wiggly. Learned that the correct pronunciation of “pecan” is puh-CAHN and that grits are not gritty, but mushy. Billboards for boiled peanuts (haven’t tried them yet) and potential mothers-to-be (“Choose Life! Aren’t you glad your mother did?” and “Heartbeat at three weeks, brainwaves at six weeks”), along with the usual (“Eternity is a long time to spend in Hell” – the author doesn’t appear to realize that eternity is a long time to spend anywhere, hence calling it eternity) and the unusual (“Use Black Kow – 100% cow manure!”).

Finally Florida: It was like magic: all of a sudden, about half an hour after I crossed the Georgia/Florida border, it was 65&deg, then 70&deg, and finally, by the time I reached my destination, 74&deg. Slept about 12 hours that night and made myself a cup of French Roast in the morning – first decent coffee in 4 days. This is not a small thing for Me. The coffee on the road was as good as the dental hygiene.

Next: How to get lost twice in one day!

Warning to all residents of Florida: Tropical Storm Suzy has arrived. Appease with pink grapefruit juice and coconut shrimp and take cover….

With thanks to the wonderful & generous Cassie B for the cool script!

I really have to stop procrastinating and get packing. Really. I mean, I leave tomorrow. Getting the suitcases out would probably be a good start.

To distract me from the horror of packing (very, very close to housework – involving, as it does, putting things away), I have a horror movie on TV. It’s the very schlocky Frankenstein’s Daughter, and so far, the scariest thing in it is the allegedly “teenage” band singing “Special Date”.

Best line: “We all miss Suzy. But she’ll have some stories to tell when she gets back.”

Update:

Inspired by Pascale, I actually did clean up the closet! I didn’t find anything out of the ordinary,other than the fact that I really have a *lot* of t-shirts. Mr. Mouse didn’t show up to help or hinder. I felt incredibly virtuous when I was finished.

“Packing” so far consists of piling all the things I think I’m going to bring in a couple of boxes. I have decided to go minimal and only bring one handbag(!), though I’m not saying I won’t acquire one or two in Florida, to help along the local economy and all. I’m also just going to wear the little diamond studs I wear all the time anyway and leave it at that for accessorizing.

The order to have bills and fan mail forwarded to me at my temporary tropical paradise is in, and I have a brand-new road atlas with maps of the entire North American continent, so if I get lost, I have no-one to blame but myself (though map-reading is not one of my few talents). Self is as groomed as she gets, so I’m pretty much good to go. And it’s only Friday!

Yesterday, I went to see the doctor to stock up on non-recreational drugs, and she mentioned that it was the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. Her mother, then in her early 20’s, was one of the survivors, and had been incarcerated in the camp for more than a year, surviving by her considerable wit and intelligence.

While working in the camp’s munitions factory, she managed to make two little charms out of lead: one a four-leaf clover, and one a little book, engraved with a tulip. These are now my doctor’s most precious possessions. They survived, along with her mother and are a reminder both of that terrible time and of her mother’s strength, faith, and spirit.

Only a week before I start my quest for Sass in a Glass. Can I get all this done before time’s up?

My To-Do List
By Suzy
Making a big to-do about nothing, as usual

1. Clean up “closet” enough to find out what clothes I actually have (“closet” in this case means “back room full of miscellaneous stuff, including clothes, shoes, handbags and mysterious crap. Probably the meaning of life is in there, along with Mr. Mouse and my long-lost virginity.”)

2. Decide what to bring (definitely both pairs of sparkly sandals, but other than that, I’m not sure).

3. Accessorize and pack. Which handbags to bring? Do I have pool jewelry? Do I need it? Should I get a spray tan?

4. Get Self detailed (Dye hair. Get waxed. Do nails (is now the time to experiment with nail art? Oh, and where are my toe rings?).

5. Get mail forwarded (can’t miss all those bills!).

6. See dr. and stock up on non-recreational drugs.

7. Get maps to minimize getting lost potential.

BTW just the thought of Florida has made my cold better, though I’m still going through an inordinate number of Kleenexes. Those who call me snotty are now both literally and figuratively correct.

From my darling Kathleen:

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1) Susan (Work Suzy; faux-adult Suzy)
2) Suzy (Real Life Me; also variants used by my family such as Floozy; Flooz; Boozy; Snoozy – you get the idea)
3) Princess

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1) I never had one! How retro am I?

THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1) My friends
2) My family
3) My handbag collection

THREE THINGS YOU DON’T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1) Panic attacks
2) My real hair color
3) My real age

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1) Death
2) Boredom
3) Waking up day one to find that all my age and indiscretions have caught up with me & I look like Keith Richards

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1) Black coffee
2) Books
3) Love

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1) Diamond earrings (I sleep in them)
2) Perfume
3) Lip Venom

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS (at the moment):
1) Wilco
2) Blackalicious
3) Brian Wilson

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS (at the moment):
1) I Am Trying to Break Your Heart (Wilco)
2) Passion (Blackalicious)
3) Good Vibrations (Beach Boys)

THREE NEW THINGS YOU WANT TO TRY IN THE NEXT 12 MONTHS:
1) Living in different places
2) Actually making money from my start-up job
3) Keeping my New Year’s resolutions (or, as a guy at the gym calls it, “New Year’s Revolutions”)

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1) Love
2) Trust
3) Passion

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE:
1) The next thing I say will be true.
2) The last thing I said was false.
3) I am a very good liar.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX (or same) THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1) Expressive, intelligent eyes
2) Beautiful hands
3) Strength without being musclebound

THREE THINGS YOU JUST CAN’T DO:
1) Drink milk
2) Vote Republican
3) Read or watch science fiction or fantasy

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1) Shopping
2) Reading
3) Blogging (readin’ & writin’)

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1) Be in Paris at a sidewalk caf&eacute, sipping champagne
2) Already be in Florida, walking on the beach
3) Be hanging out with my sis & bro in the hot tub under the stars

THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1) French Polynesia (Tahiti, Bora Bora)
2) Bar Harbor, Maine
3) Italy (Venice, Siena, Florence)

THREE KIDS’ NAMES:
1) Clementine
2) Spencer
3) Wilson

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1) Be rich
2) Be happy
3) Be fearless

THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY:
1) I hate housework and avoid it at all costs
2) I love baseball and hockey
3) I think naked girls are generally better to look at than naked boys

THREE WAYS I AM STEREOTYPICALLY A CHICK:
1) I love sparkly things, especially jewelry
2) I love to shop, with special focus on handbags and shoes
3) I’m all about the pretty

THREE CELEB CRUSHES:
1) Johnny Depp
2) Jared Leto
3) Gregory Smith

THREE PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO TAKE THIS QUIZ NOW:
1) Amy
2) Cassie
3) Lisa

?

That’s it. I’m heading to Florida at the end of the month to demand an explanation for the total lack of pink grapefruit juice. The presence of actual pink grapefruits does not make up for no sass in a glass for Suzy.

I must really want that juice, hmmmm?

I coughed myself awake this morning – even less fun than being awakened by an alarm clock, though definitely better than being woken up at 3:30 am – and decided to venture out to get some of my favorite pink grapefruit juice (“It’s sass in a glass!”).

However, the store owner informed me that the hurricanes that just wouldn’t leave Florida alone a few months back meant that there was no sass in a glass for Suzy or anyone else for a while. Back ordered, he said, in the mysterious jargon of retail.

But he did have actual pink grapefruits for sale, which made no sense to Me. I mean, if there are grapefruits, shouldn’t there be grapefruit juice?

Walking home, I pondered this conundrum, and another sprang to mind: why do we say men are womanizers, but we don’t say women are manizers? And could you refer to a gay woman as a womanizer, if she was? Oh, the shallowness of Suzy’s mind, especially when deprived of sass in a glass.

I came home to find the kitchen flooded (again), I have a raging cold (again), and an inbox full of misspelled porn invitations.

Now, if you’re going to send out these sleazy missives, at least have the courtesy to learn how to spell simple, every day words like “whore” (not “whroe”) and “sluts” (not “sltus”). The linguist and spelling bee winner in me wants to reply to these messages, giving their authors the correct spelling of these and other important porn terms, but I realize that this is almost literally pearls before swine.

Also, I’m too lazy, and my day will be entirely occupied by feeling sorry for myself (I was sick a *month* ago! My immune system is even more pathetic than I am!) and ministering to my illness. Good thing I bought up all those Kleenex shares the last time I was sick. I’ll have enough money to set up a school for illiterate pornographers.

I’m almost afraid to tell you how early I had to get up to catch my flight home, which left at 6:30 am. That’s in the morning, you know. So the alarm went off at the unSuzy hour of 3:30 am. That’s hardly even morning. You should only be up at that hour if you’re still up from having fun the night before, and for no other reason. As I groped for the off switch on the hotel’s clock radio, I heard a guy on the street below bellowing, “Fuuuuuck youuuuuu!”

That pretty much summed up my feelings.

I had that feeling again when I was on the plane, sitting beside a guy who demonstrated burping skills which Ashlee Simpson would have envied. It was astounding. And gross.

He also ordered coffee black, with six sugars. Now, as you know, I have no problem with black coffee – I drink it that way myself. I don’t want anything to get between me & the caffeine. But all that sugar? I was irresistibly reminded of the scene in the late great series, My So-Called Life, where Angela’s father asks her if she wants milk in her coffee, and she says, “No, I take it black, with three or four sugars”, because that’s how her dream guy takes his coffee.

My grandmother used to give me a spoonful of sugar to cure hiccups, but I never thought it would cause very loud public burping. Of course, it might not have been the sugar. And this guy ain’t anyone’s dream guy.

I did get where I was going, but:

Flight One
Sailed through security, untouched by human hands. Plane allegedly on time. Got on plane, and it began to taxi after the usual warnings of the possibility of impending death and disaster.

Then it came to an unnerving halt, and the pilot cheerfully informed us that we were delayed for an hour due to air traffic control problems in Chicago.

Will I ever learn not to fly through (or attempt to fly through) Chicago? Especially in the winter?

Realize that delay, which ended up being more than an hour (are pilots really optimistic, or really afraid of passengers mutinying if they knew how long they were really going to be delayed?), meant that I would miss connecting flight.

But…

We got to Chicago 20 minutes before my plane was due to leave. I ran like hell from Gate B1 to Gate C10, racing through the tunnel of disco lights and scattering anyone who got in my way. Look out! It’s Sweaty Suzy in her sassyboots (when I dressed that morning, I didn’t expect to be sprinting).

I make it to…

Flight Number Two

…where I collapse, overheated and freaked, into the dreaded middle seat. On one side, there is a German guy who is already asleep and slept through the whole flight. The stewardess had to wake him up right before we landed to ask him to put his seat back up and his shoes on. He just went back to sleep. I told you, there’s one on every flight.

On the other side is an Italian guy who isn’t sleepy enough and keeps trying to buy me drinks and food (gone are the days of free booze and food in cattle class).

Seats are in the bulkhead row, though, so there’s no-one in front of me. But I have nowhere to put my carry on bags and have to persuade the stewardess to stow them in First Class. I wish she could have stowed me in First Class.

Flight left on time, more or less, but was an extra hour (almost 5 hours instead of almost 4) long due to headwinds. Felt a lot longer.

Get to repeat the process backwards tomorrow, arriving at the airport at 5 am. I hope. I think I hope.

I’m a big, fat liar, aren’t I? I didn’t expect to have computer access since I left mine at home, but I’m actually at the office, awaiting a meeting with a potential client who, yes, delayed the meeting. We were supposed to meet at 9 am, but he decided 3 pm was better. Wish I’d known before I got up at 6 to make the meeting on time. I really wish that one.