Monday, June 27, 2005

laptops are a back-breaker

My flight was delayed for about an hour last night in LAX. That was after the United Airlines clerk screamed at all of us in the self check-in line for being morons. Soothed by the greasy goodness of McDonald's french fries straight from the bag, I sat down on the filthy terminal carpet and pulled out the laptop I took with me so I don't lose my job this week. Holy Jesus, is that a pain in the neck. After mere minutes, my neck was stiff, my shoulders were in spasms, my hunt-and-peck middle fingers were locked up all splayed. Thank God the battery ran down after only 30 minutes.

Just trying to board the plane, an elderly Japanese lady tried to run a couple of people down with her cane. She ended up being seated in my row, and I really tried to give her my aisle seat, but she didn't understand a word I said. I swear it took her 20 minutes to shuffle down to her window seat. Moments later, a young kid took his spot between us and proceeded to fart throughout the entire 4 hour flight.

It's hard to sleep in that kind of environment, so when the flight touched down in Orlando at 7am, my only thoughts were of crawling into the guest bed in my parent's house. When my bags came out first - literally the first one out! - and the shuttle that takes me to the retirement village where my folks live was right outside waiting for me, I thought maybe my day was looking up. That was until I noticed the semen that was hanging from the handle of my suitcase. The suitcase I just carried from baggage claim. Okay, chances are it was somebody's lotion or conditioner that exploded all over during the flight. But I had to resist the urge to put my fingers in my mouth. Or touch my face. Or smell my fingers.

It's raining here. And it just got dark. Papa Bear told all kinds of stories from his army days as we ate homemade pork cutlets. Bless her heart, my mother cooked a full meal for me and my dad even though she's only allowed to have clear broth the entire day. We have to check into the hospital at 7 tomorrow morning. Mama Bear is anxious. The phone's been ringing off the hook with well-wishers. You know the "our neighbors from Jersey, who lived in the red house on Willow Way, had two sons - Johnny and Eddie - who you used to play tug-of-war with at the lake" kind of well-wishers. I have no recollection of Johnny nor Eddie, but I'm glad their folks called to wish my mom well.



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