I was in the shuttle to take me back to the airport Thursday. I was sharing it with two men who made me and the driver sit outside their hotel and wait for them for ten – 15 minutes. I was ready on time, why couldn’t they be. Don’t they know I have less and less anti-anxiety meds in me and everything is massive to me? MASSIVE. As in blown-out-of-realistic proportions.
When they got in the van, the one fellow apologized saying they were eating breakfast. Hmpf. It was 10:40, maybe they shoulda gotten up a little earlier.
I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. They were Mormons at a convention that had just finished up. They were discussing “John’s” marriage. At their ripe age of, oh I’d say, 28, they had pronounced John’s marriage in a state of apathy and one of the biggest signs was the fact that John and his wife had not had sex in seven years. Ha! To be so young and to show their puffed up ignorance. They decided they didn’t think John (couldn’t figure out how old he was) was really ready to take on this huge commitment of some sort that I couldn’t figure out. These two young guys being judge and jury. I wanted to turn around and smack them both and say, Cher style, “SNAP OUT OF IT’. Dumbasses.
By now I was so worked up about being late for the airport, when the good ole’ Mayberry TSA overofficious jerk in his polyester suit (I wrote about before) got in my face, I lost it. He was a loud talker, a close talker, and using an accusatory tone (to everyone). As I started my security strip routine to put things in my bins, he started looking for things to yell at me about. He refused to believe I had no liquids or gels (I travel with just about nothing when I go back and forth to our place in Georgia as I have things there.) I burst into tears and started shaking and told him that I knew how to do the security check and that he had to get out of my face. He just stood there looking at me , shaking and crying. He couldn’t stop his overofficiousness, however, and said to me, “Good Answer”. ???? (To my not having any lotions or gels, I guess.)
Image by Salon.com
The worst/best part came when a nice old British lady came up to my heaving shoulders where I sat trying to regain my composure afterwards and said, “Honey, that security man over there has your watch.” NOOOOOOOOOO. I told her I was so upset I wasn’t going to go get it from him. He could have it. He knew exactly where I was sitting (there is only one plane at this airport at a time.) She said, “Would you like me to go and have a word with him?” A kindred soul, no?
I wanted to ask her for a hug, not my watch. I wanted to ask her to come home with me and tuck me into bed. Hell, let’s be true, I wanted to ask her if she had any Xanax on her since I was running so dangerously low I was afraid to take my last one until I really needed it.
Little Miss Sunshine