If you've clicked through the pages of this blog, you'll know I have a preoccupation with how people in airports drive me nuts. After 2 (or was it 3) posts about how much airport people make me want to tear out my hair, I thought that well had run dry.
Then I went on another trip.
Why airport people make me crazy, round 3 (or 4?):
#10) How does an adult woman pack a full-sized Pantene bottle of shampoo into her carry-on and then have the temerity to go postal on the hapless TSA worker who tells her to throw the bottle away? Anyone who has breathed in the past 15 years knows : little travel size. Anything larger can be a bomb. A bomb of fabulous lather and three natural conditioners, including jojoba.
#9) Let's take a quiz. Let's say the sign says: "1 carry-on and 1 personal item" Does this mean A) 2 rolling suitcases + a purse B) 1 baby carseat + diaper bag + stroller + rolling luggage bag (per person) or C) backpack (like one you would use for camping for a week) + guitar + 3 plastic grocery store bags full of gear. (If you answered all three, you win the prize.)
#8) Item #9 -- all of it -- attempting to be crammed into the overhead slots of a regional jet. And then being ticked off when it does not work.
#7) Cell phones. Every time I talk about cell phones. For the love of puppies, overweight balding man in a wrinkled suit, you are not that important. We don't need to hear about how you're going to "give it to HR" when you get back. If anything, they are going to give it to you, and you know it. Ok, ok, let me spot you this one. Let's say you >really< needed to talk about how the 'project goals aren't being met', and you have to tell this to some poor sclump on the end of the line at FIVE FREAKIN' A.M. as we're waiting to get on the first flight out of hell. Then why don't you do the rest of the half-asleep, silent crowd a favor and step into a less-populated space to blab. Or is it that your wee-wee is so small that you have to do something -- anything -- to try and look important? Because dude, you're not impressing me. I freakin' cut babies out of humans and I don't yap loudly on the phone in public, trying to highlight how awesome I think I am. Ever. It's annoying. No one is that important. No one.
#6) Here's the picture. It's a crowded airport. Weather has set in. Flights are coming in late. People are running. It's obvious people are in a hurry because of the "excuse me"'s and "oh my God"'s that are being uttered as people...run. Let's say you're oblivious, maybe even old, but that's not a necessity. And let's say you're in the middle of the corridor of people, your head up as you take in the sights of the big ol' airport as you are chit-chatting to your equally clueless spouse/partner, and you are freakin' WEAVING as you walk. Slowly. Here's a rule: if you're a doofus, just walk on the side of the mass of humanity. That's all.
#5) TSA agents who are yapping about their weekend of boozing it up as they're motioning passengers to come on through. This? This is our protection between alive and being blown to smithereens? Two overweight dudes yukkin' it up about their latest "score"?
#4) Gate agents who will not make eye contact. And God bless them, I understand that -- except for the poor guy in lost baggage -- gate agents might have the worst job that deals with the public. I get it. But really? No eye contact at all?
#3) Screaming babies. Ok, I don't mind that you're flying with a 3 month old, per se. What I mind is the fact that that child is in no way fully vaccinated and you are putting this kid at extreme risk by exposing him to countless dangerous germs, including those being exploded out of the old lady who has been coughing nonstop. With an inspiratory whoop each time.
#2) It's 2015. You've taken off shoes, belts, clothing, earrings, jewelry, watches for, oh, I don't know, FOURTEEN years straight. Why today, does this concept seem to elude you? Why did you just try to go through the metal detector with stilettos (like that's not a weapon?) and massive quantities of bling?
#1) Ok passengers, a little etiquette here. Let's say you are going to get on a cramped plane with 50-200 other people. Would it be too terribly much to ask that you could at least give yourself a little rinse-eroo within 48 hours of the trip? The combination of that man's B.O. and the turbulence almost had me tossing my cookies.
One year ago today. Has it only been a year? Time flies.
I’m at the same physician conference as this time last year. And, as I struggle to stay awake in the classes, I’m once again pushing each evening to get edits done for another book. (Because nothing says “rampant creativity” like Six Sigma industry safety data and leadership development skills, right?)
This time last year, I was:
10) About to quit the whole writing dream. I mean, come on now, 7+ years of working on this stuff and no one wanted my books. A gal can take a hint. Check, please. Then along came Crimson and lots of support and, yes, I’m still writing away, and feel more confident with each book. Timing and the right people and a little perseverance make all the difference.
9) Dealing with fear. What the heck was I doing, writing a book, much less editing it? How ridiculous. What if people hated it? (Thank goodness, it looks like most of them thought the series was a fun read!)
8) Keeping secrets. Still doing that. Patients, colleagues and families as yet are not in the loop. Until it becomes inevitable to spill, I’ll keep this writing gig as my little secret for right now.
7) Wondering about that work-life-writing balance. Um, yes, obviously still working the kinks out of that item as well.
6) Letting my imagination run wild. You bet! It’s amazing how many continuations and spin-offs will occur if you just relax the mind. Or take a shower, which is the other place where great thinking occurs. (Also, I win ALL ARGUMENTS in the shower. No one else is present, but that’s just semantics.)
5) Trying to explain to hubby why this writing thing was a good idea. He’s still not convinced and wonders why I’m not a bestseller like Dan Brown or Raymond Khoury (his favorites).
4) Trying to explain to hubby that I do not need his help coming up with titles (“Exploding Flame” “Sexual Flame”) or character names (“Dick Bentley” “Buck Naked”). Thanks, honey.
3) Entering books in stuff. Last year was a few contests. This year, sent stuff in for RITA. Because you just never know. And I’m in love with my heroes, so maybe someone else will swoon, too.
2) Planning vacations. Of course. Doesn't even matter if I go anywhere or not. I love to plan.
1) Writing, writing, writing. No NaNo last year -- life became consumed by heavy edits/revisions of Immortal Flame, followed by intensive work on Relentless Flame, followed by the realization that I needed to take that sloppy short draft of Flame Unleashed and do something with it pretty ASAP. Today, I’m finishing up the Hell to Pay prequel and setting up the next series.
So excited to see where things stand next year at this time!
My cat sits and stares at me for hours.
No, it's not an expression of adoration. It's judgement.
But what is she really thinking...?
10) Oooh, dust motes!
9) How many nails can I pull off and deposit on the freshly-vacuumed carpet?
8) Yippee, clean clothes! Time to sit on them and shed.
7) Yippee, clean clothes! Time to ralph up a hairball on them.
6) Yippee, clean clothes! Time to chew a clean bra strap.
5) Mumsy's gotten kind of lumpy.
4) If I lick my chops, the scent of fish-n-glop will go everywhere!
3) I hope Mumsy doesn't want her pillow back anytime soon.
2) It's amazing how a kitty like me can be so pretty. (BTW, she's a hairy nightmare.)
1) Why is Mumsy always writing? She knows I can't read.
Author, daydreamer, and practitioner of trying very hard to duct tape folks together and help when I can.