How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Daniel had the opportunity to spend the month of July attending a class at an Air Force base in Destin (stupid Air Force), so it seemed like the perfect time for a little getaway.  The plan was for Daniel to arrive, as scheduled, on a Sunday, then I was to fly in on Tuesday.  Before either of us could leave, there was much for us to do.  I packed, I planned, and I made reservations.  I lost five pounds, I found a bathing suit that didn't make me want to weep when I looked in the mirror, and I got my hair done.  I waxed, I shaved, I plucked, and I sprayed.  Daniel bought a new pair of goggles. 

The waiting area at my departure gate in Shreveport was fairly crowded, so I sat relatively close to a couple who was waiting for the same flight.  She was wearing a ring, he wasn't, and she was flipping through a bridal magazine, so I assume they are engaged. As I settled in to wait for the boarding call, I heard the woman whisper in a voice as big as her behind hair, "Honey, am I hotter'n her?"  I looked over each of my shoulders to see who she could possibly be referring to.  As luck would have it, I was seated with my back against a wall, and in case there was any doubt she was talking about me, she was now pointing at me as well.  I sat there, mouth agape, as her fiance assured her, over and again,  that she was "way hotter'n" me. I immediately took a picture of the couple and sent it to two very impartial judges: my husband, and a dear friend who, technically, has never met me in person.  Both were quick to guarantee me that these people were clearly deranged, and I departed Shreveport with my dignity relatively intact. 

Once in Florida, my holiday really began.  People often use vacation as a time to really let their hair down; they do things they would never do under normal circumstances.  Some people get drunk, some people get tattoos, I wore flip-flops.  I hate flip-flops.  I mean I really, truly, loathe them.  I hate the way they look, I hate the way they feel, I hate that stupid flippy-floppy sound they make as they slap against heels desperately in need of some pedicureal attention.  I hate that it has become acceptable to don them to any/all occasions.  I've seen them in offices and job interviews, at weddings and funerals.  Try as designers may to fancy them up with leather, satin, or sparkles, they remain, to me, no different than the disposable pair given away with every pedicure at Happy Golden Nail.  Face it, folks, the Emperor's got no shoes.  All vitriol aside, I decided to borrow a pair from my sister and see what all the fuss was about.  I still hate them, but at least now my criticisms come from personal experience.  PLUS, I can now cross one more thing off of my bucket list (not wearing flip-flops, but crazily ranting about them in a semi-public forum). 

All too soon, it was time to return home.  I must have had some truly gnarly karma coming my way, as I was seated in the Obnoxious Children section of the plane. OH, and did I mention that I was, once again, seated within judging distance of my favorite engaged couple?  Anyway, The children were all horrible- screaming, kicking, crying, yelling.  I had my fingers crossed in hopes of a sudden change in cabin pressure.  I had daydreams of wildly snatching every oxygen mask as it dropped from the overhead compartments.  Rationally, I knew that these children had paid for tickets just as I had.  I was wondering if they had as much right to behave normally, as I had to experience a quiet flight, when it hit me... No, literally, a metal Thomas the Tank Engine sailed from somewhere behind me and struck me in the side of my face.  I turned around to congratulate the little beast who winged it- he clearly has a bright future in the San Quentin softball league ahead of him.  His mother never looked at me, but simply held out her hand for the toy and muttered an apology.  I was thisclose to tackling the Air Marshall and stealing his gun.  I hear Florida doesn't look down on juvenilicide as much as it used to. 

So that's how I spent my summer vacation.  Overall, I had a good time.  And although ridiculous things seem to happen to me where ever I go, I generally tell myself, "Well, at least I'll get a blog out of this."