The Day That Tried To Eat Me.

Way back on Friday I worked half a day and went to the airport to begin Operation Surprise The Hell Outta Kizz. This seems like a relatively normal thing to do, get up, go to work, drive to the airport, park, take the giddy up to the check in and get thru security.

Once I get thru security, then I breathe easy. Up until then, I am a little jittery. Too many variables. Flat tire. Forgotten luggage. bla bla bla. But once I get in, I’m fine. And yes, I am usually early. Pretty ridiculously early but it’s my time and I am by myself so who the hell cares, right? I’ve got reading material. I am good as gold.

So I get to the airport around noon thirty. My flight leaves at 2:30. It’s not busy, so I get right thru the counter and security, making chit chat with all of them, and find a seat and begin to read. Oh first I get a Sonic tea and then sat down and began to read and text with friends.

The Redhead is flying from Miami this same afternoon. So he texts and we are both in the airport. He’s waiting for baggage, I’m waiting for time to board. During the texting, someone comes across the intercom and announces ” Waka Waka waka blarg blarggidy flagh to Atlanta has been delayed two hours.” None of us hear the beginning of the announcement, and begin to walk around like rats in a maze with our little pully bags trailing behind us. flickity flickity flickity flickity. A Delta person comes out finally and confirms that yes. We are delayed. The next flight out is at 4. We have another two hours to hang out. I’m fine. This is all fine. My connecting flight has been rescheduled, I text Chrome that it’s gonna be around 10 pm now, fine. Done. I go in search of the redhead to kill some time.

He in all of his hungover glory (was at the OU game previous night dirty dancing with our friends Gin&Tonic)is at the Northwest counter in search of his Blue 22. (that’s the technical term for his missing bag) The blue22 was in the belly of the 420 and now it’s turned up missing. (we found out today that it rode home with the OU team.) But whatever, we hang out, laugh a little and kill some time. He then stumbles his pale face out into the wild blue and I head thru security once again.

This time, Larry, Moe and Dumbshit are behind the x-ray machine. (OH for Clemo to have been at my airport) and mind you, I”ve already cleared security so I’m wondering what the holdup is on my carry on. Behind the x-ray television, I hear Moe mutter “Is that a golash?” (i have rain/snow boots in the flickity flick) I chime in, “uhh, actually it is a pair of leopard print golashes. a pair. plural. not just ah golash, I will have you know.” And we’re laughing and funny ha ha and Curly speaks up and says, “well. is that a tiara inside the golash?”
“yes. yes it is. I don’t leave home without it. You see, I look normal…”

it was here that I shut up. Possibly not funny to joke about looking normal at the security checkpoint. Just shut up and motor on. and I do.

My lips feel chapped from all the stupid smiling I’ve done thus far today so I hit the bathroom and put my backpack on the counter/vanity thingy and begin to unload the scarf and coat that I will wear soon enough in this journey in order to find some lip stuff. Well upon unloading the stuff, my pack gets wobbly and falls into the sink activating the auto water faucet and filling itself up with water. I yelp and pull the books out and yelp some more and look around for the freakin cameras. Oh well. it was kind of funny. Lips applied and I look at the time and Hey! I’ve been here long enough that it’s happy hour at Sonic! (half price fountain drinks from 2-4 for the non local readers) So flickity flickity flickity flick, I make my way down and order a Rt 44 ice tea.

we don’t have happy hour at the airport.

You’re damned right you don’t. and look where it’s gettin ya. gah. I just order a water with lemon and lime. I mean shit. I’ve already been here long enough to spend ten dollars. Good God. I could have worked a few more hours!

Ok. so whatever. Go sit and read. Well first of all. Anyone traveling needs to take this man with them. I was reading this and GUFFAWing out loud about every other paragraph. My phone was Chinese ringing from texts with Mgirl and I notice that the guy sitting across the say from me was giving me the skunk eye. I felt kind of bad until I saw that he was reading that nut job Ann Coulter’s book. Then I laughed louder and wished like hell I had worn my Obama shirt. (in actuality, I ran out of work wearing our Botox ad shirts and was wearing that instead. yeah. cuz this is the face of Botox.)

FINALLY we board!!! And it’s a little plane. We go outside on the ground and walk up the stairs. Whatever I’m just glad to be going. The flight is uneventful other than the fact that I am cackling like Macbeth’s witches at the book. GO. READ. NOW. But the girl in front of me is yaking on the phone. I swear to GOD, ya’ll, she’s is one of the real housewives of Atlanta. Bravo hasn’t seen anything like this. She’s smackin her gum and talking in her best outside Atlanta voice, “Ass. Ass he is my homey. Sho nuff. He’s my homey. He’s my homey” she said it so many times the whole fucking plane knew that ass, (yes) ass he was her homey. Thanks to FAA regulations, she had to “shut this shit down and will call you when I get to Atlanta”

God Bless the F.A.A.

Atlanta! At last! and everyone on the plane is freaking out about missing their connections and I know mine is safe and I get my gate and pick up my flickity flick and off I go.

WOAH! Things have changed. We’re at a different gate. Ok. Fine. I find it and well well well. We are boarding! Fuck around. I wanted to grab something to eat but ok whatever. Let’s get this ball into the game and giddyup. So we all get in a single file line, and gather our appropriately tagged carry on’s and off we go.

Flickity flickity flickity flickity clomp clomp clomp itsfuckingcold flickity flickity flickity clomp clomp ireallywantsomegin.

WOAH again! There’s a dude turning us all around and telling us that maintinence is on board and we have to turn around and head back. The crazy women that are in front of me start spitting nails. With NY accents! AWESOME! So we get back in, grumble into a seat and wait. We get the announcement that there is in fact maintinence being done on our plane and we’ve been delayed thirty minutes. I text Chrome and we push back the pick up yet again.

Well kids, I would love to tell you that thirty minutes was all it was…but you know better than that. Every fifteen minutes the time would be pushed back. Not enough time to go find some real food, no not at all. But every fifteen minutes. I sent a text to Gert saying, “Stupid Atlanta.Now I know why they burnt this motherfucker.”

Finally I said to this woman who I’d made friends with, I said, “I’m going next door to put my beak in some gin. If we board, you just let out a scream and I’ll be right there.”

Ahh. I had myself a drink. watched a little of the Celtics game and was still feeling ok about the delay, just getting a little tired. Worn out. And by now, the tribe is restless and about ready for blood. As I’m on the phone with Chrome, the guy comes over the intercom and says “well folks, it looks like the plane needed a new battery. Turns out they put the wrong battery in and had to take it out and put in the new battery but as I was walking in I did hear the engine start so that’s a good sign! We may begin boarding soon!”

HALAKALEEM!!! We have an engine that runs! Signs of intelligent life!

We did board and the poor flight attendent was having her ass eaten out in small bits by everyone that got on.

How long is the flight? When will we land? Bla Bla Bla Fuckity Flarn Frack. I just smiled at her and said, “honey. We’re prolly gonna need some drinks!” She laughed and agreed. it’s a full flight, another little plane though. I however am in the second row. So close to the front, and knowing I’ll be one of the first people off the plane makes me happy. The girl sitting next to me gets her seat belt on and immediately closes her eyes and begins to sleep. I’m just kind of wired. so just sitting. There are two ladies across the aisle from me who are chattin it up. We also have three babies and two children on the plane.

Gah. This could really get nasty, I’m thinking, all the kids and the babies and the noise and WHAT THE FUCK THE CHICK SITTIN NEXT TO ME HAS HER HEAD IN A LAYS POTATO CHIP BAG AND IS PUKING UP HER GUTS!!!


And kids for some reason I went into survivor mode. I was all tap tap tap I need your puke sack. hand it over. yours, and yours, and i will have yours too. Lady in uniform, I need some water, and more bags and wet naps and I need it now. I turn on the air, and put some wet cloth on her neck and wipe the bits off her face. We’re gonna just go with the fact that it’s chip residue from the bag. That’s what we’re going with. I grab my vitamin water from my back pack and shove it in her face for her to sip or gargle with I dont really care. We get new materials and trade out the soiled bags and rags. Finally FINALLY we have leveled off enough for the lady to get her some sprite and she heads to the bathroom. I’m sani-wiping myself down with such a force that I should be re-virginized I’m so clean. I walk up to Cherie. Our flight attendent and say, “honey. I’m gonna need that gin now. All of it. Don’t sell any to anyone else.”

Well bless her heart she only has two baby bottles left and I lay claim to both of them. She just leaves the can of tonic with me too! The ladies across the way are clucking and cooing about my helping Ms. Pukey Pants and one tells me “if I had some paper and scissors, I’d make you a medal!”

well. that’s nice. ok.

she then asks where I’m from and I say Oklahoma City. She then looks me dead in the eye and asks,

is that in Kansas?

yes it is.

no, actually it’s the capital of the state of Oklahoma.

Like the musical?


cept we have more meth and less singing.

are you fucking kidding me with this??? SERIOUSLY WHERE ARE THE CAMERAS?????

I drink my gin. I tip the girl. She comes back by and slips something in my hand, a folded up napkin that contained my money and a note that said

the second one is on the house.

and we landed. and Chrome met me with a peanut butter sandwich and sun chips and a pepsi. and we drove to her apartment and laughed and laughed and laughed. and knew that when I woke up I would see snow. I would see Kizz and I would be happy.

but that fuckin day…man it tried to eat me.

ass. ass it did.

7 thoughts on “The Day That Tried To Eat Me.

  1. I want your life! Funny how you foresaw us meeting in the airport. My trip ending poorly due to gin and tonic. And you getting free gin and tonic for being a good soul. There is a balance to this universe of ours. 🙂


  2. Flickety flickety is my new favorite “international sign” (i.e. international sign for Brendan Fraser). You are so SO much nicer than me when someone pukes. I might have parachuted out if someone started yakking on me. “If I had paper and scissors I’d make you a medal.” HAH! Also can’t believe you had to do the trials of Hercules to surprise me but I’m so glad you did!


  3. Kizz, the visual of you parachuting out supersedes the snort of coffee that happened with the international sign of Brenden Fraser. thanks for making me laugh twice before 10a.m.!


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