Maybe I’m just too immature to fly.  The ticket agent in Austin telling me my flight was three hours late and I’d need some serious re-routing…she seemed to be of that opinion.  She kept saying, “Would you stop saying I’m ruining your day….I am not personally doing anything to you…Also, would you mind picking your forehead up off the counter, ma’am?”  What did she want from me?  I’d already stopped crying.

Dateline: American Flight 2486  Austin to Chicago.  Right now I am high above the clouds after an on-time departure at 1:15.  Sounds simple enough, right?  Well, not really.  Since I wasn’t planning on going to Chicago…Or, for that matter any further north than Dallas.   But I am not captain of my fate.

Instead of the trip I booked—Austin (Leave at 10:43a.m.) –Dallas (an hour later)-Columbia, South Carolina-Arrive Columbia at 2:00. 

My current routing is —Austin-Chicago (Yes, I actually lose ground)-Wait 4 hours, then Arrive Columbia at 10:00 tonight.  

Now I’m squeezed into a middle seat in the back by the toilet on American Flight 2486 to Chicago (instead of the exit leg-room seat I’d so carefully reserved in that little ole thirty minute leap to DFW) I am surrounded by a family of five adults and one child from one of those less hygienically obsessed nations.  Boarding of the plane was held up when this family attempted to board with ten freight-sized luggage carriers way beyond the size of carry-on.  In all, the six were coming aboard with thirteen bags thinking they’d discovered a loophole in Americans policy of charging for extra checked bags. Apparently, my seatmates were moving to Chicago and hoping to save on the moving van. …I don’t want to be rude…you of all people know how desperately I wish I wasn’t noticing any of this stuff.  But I want you to know what I’m working with here.  This is more than my usual what-no-almonds-only-peanuts flying trauma.

Knowing that these six people dressed in a manner uncommon among U.S. citizens…actually drug all these bags through security without a flicker…well, it’s scary, that’s all I’m saying.   Usually, security spots overage issues.  Once preparing to board flight from Kansas City to Tulsa to attend a wedding…I attempted to board with a computer, a book bag, and the dress for the wedding in a plastic laundry bag.  I was stopped and told—“Two carry-ons, one which must fit under your seat, ma’am,”…forcing me to….while in line… remove the dress from its hanger slide it up over my jeans…wiggle out of my jeans…then holding the dress up as best I could over my top half, pull my T-shirt over my head, catching the sleeves up and re-covering myself…all of this while walking and not holding up the line… as I stuffed my jeans and shirt into the book bag.

Oh well.  Refreshments….Sometimes the flight attendants start the beverage cart at the back, sometimes the front, even the middle once in a while for variety. Wanna take your best shot at where they’re starting beverage service on this flight?

Okay.  Instead of focusing on the unpleasantries of my situation, that is, instead of listening to my Emotional Guidance System… which is screaming: “This is ridiculous!  Overwhelming! This should not be happening!” …I am going to attempt a leap…a little hop…in functioning.  I am going to play around with a few sentences I have heard represent the internal dialogue of more mature persons.

Therefore I shall use this screen to practice saying to myself:

Okay, I can’t just leap into this.

I need to make a couple of things clear at this point.  The changes in my plans include: triple time in the air, nine and a half hour later arrival, almost six hours on layover, another night of vending machine food instead of a nice bounty from Hilton room service, crap television watching prison reality shows heavily dosed with infomercials instead of watching the University of Texas basketball game at 8 o’clock and AROUND WHICH I CAREFULLY SCHEDULED THIS WHOLE TRIP, stand-by seat assignments over preferred seating, who knows what kind of hotel room, since the only rooms left will, for sure, be dingy closets next to the clanking ice machine [Okay, I’m not totally sure this will happen. It’s possible I’m judging the future on my own history of switching rooms.]…And, since I will have passed up my usual go-to-sleep window by the time I’m settled in my shabby hole-in-the-wall with my stale peanuts and staring at violent prisoners throwing body fluids on staff…I will end up taking some Benadryl to drop off…which means waking up tomorrow with dry mouth and slight memory loss.

I just arrived in Chicago.  I asked the agent where I could find the gate for the next flight since it was another airline.  The flight attendant looked at me and asked, “Are you going to WALK the whole way?” 

“I guess,” I said.  “Is there a bus or train?” I asked.  The attendant said, “No.”        

To be continued when I can stop the shaking.  All did not go well.

The Fashion Statement Diet

Lose Weight WITHOUT Changing What You Eat!

Emerging research suggests that the High Fashion Diet could be effective for weight loss (combined with a low calorie menu and exercise). Yes, you can lose weight simply by dressing with the appropriate amazing gadgets.  Or, How to Dress Like a Walking Emotional Guidance System… that is…as if you’ve said….I just give up…I’m never even going to try to think….ever.

Diet Plan:  There are a few purchases required here, but they’re each $19.99!… plus shipping and handling.  Oh, and lots of batteries.   Lots.

First, step into a pair of those Skechers Shape-up roller shoes (See previous Skechers post.).  These babies will take care of whipping your lower half into shape.

Second, strap one of those zapper belts that sends jolts into your abs so to make sure your amazing thigh and butt toning doesn’t get ahead of your tummy.

Certainly, you’ve bought two of those shaker tubes you hold in your hands…the ones that jiggle like crazy up and down and all you have to do is hang on baby… (I know, looks prit-tee pornographic to me….) Okay…put those down for now, you still need your hands.

Now, place the chin squasher torture instrument you bought off television that one time at three in the morning. You know, the one with a coil from a mattress that you place under your jaw.  Then you mash the spring down against your upper chest.  Ten minutes pushing that puppy down and you have a long slender neck and a few hard to explain bruises. 

Now, pick up those shaker tubes again.  You’re set…looking gadget fabulous. Roller shoes, zapper belt, chin squasher, and a tube wiggler in each hand.  Drive to Walmart, step out of your car, hit the on buttons on all your new-found miracle gadgets,  and walk around the perimeter in your new outfit.  This is the perfect weight loss program…unless you get arrested or run into someone from the office.

But Wait!  Just pay separate shipping and handling and you’ll receive the perfect accessory….one of those ball caps with a beer can and a flexible straw on either side.

Yes. It’s official. We’ve gone around some kind of bend as the American television-watching public. I just saw a very thin woman explain how she lost weight by getting her treats at the Taco Bell drive through. I really did. I verify this statement because I’m aware there’s a television public that never goes near the sorts shows I have running…I respect you, but, I gotta let you know what kind of trash is out there….
Taco Bell…hmmm…This is the same company that had a campaign last year which said, “Late night snack? Don’t think of it as a snack, think of it as a fourth meal!”….Now that’s what America needs….a fourth meal.

Big plans for 2010, and you guys are invited on the journey toward actual personal change. I’m thinking a two-pronged effort toward reducing my Emotional Guidance System’s judging of other people and my Emotional Guidance System’s way of always jumping to the worst conclusions when plans go awry.

I know. Huge. But…before I let go of the judgmental habit…You shall hear of the Rude Woman in Seat 20B on the flight from DFW to Cabo San Lucas…I promise you, you aren’t going to believe her.
….

T-Shirt caption: If you can’t be happy in life, can you at least work on making it less miserable for the rest of us?

So, I’m in Dubuque, Iowa (Full post on what incredible places and people are in Dubuque, Iowa and Galena, Illinois…thanks for coming out.)
….But, anyway. My plan was to satisfy the fears of my Emotional Guidance System (”Oh, God, what if they can see right through you and know that you don’t know everything?”) by being very cool. Suave, even.

This morning, I’m packing my boxes of books and my computer on one of those valet carts for the haul down to the car. #@%# box of books falls off starting a cascade topped off by my computer and about a hundred postcards. I’m “expressing myself” as a spiffed up couple in tennis togs makes their way around me and my mess. The wife looks deftly down her nose and says, “I wouldn’t complain, lady. You’re just lucky you have a job!”

A man of great wisdom, respected all over his land as a seer and a visionary, was on his death bed.  Thousands of students and followers lined up, single file, from his bedside out the door, down the sidewalk, out into the streets, down by the riverside, and winding for miles up into the hills.  His most loyal and favorite follower had the honor of standing next to the prophet.  Feeling his was surely drawing his last breath, the oracle motioned for his favored student to lean in to hear his last words.

He said weakly: “Life . . . is like a river.”

The student nodded, absorbing this great revelation.  He turned to the man behind him, motioned him in close and whispered, ”Life is like a river.”  He turned and passed along this secret of life to the man behind him . . . “Life is like a river” . . . and so the revelation was passed from one man to the next and on and on down by the riverside and up into the hills.  At long last the great man’s proclamation reached the last soul, “Life is like a river,” the next to the last man told him.  This last follower tipped his head to the side, and asked, “Hey, what does he mean, ‘Life is like a river’?” 

“Hmm…mm…the next to last man said, and tapped the student just in front of him on the shoulder, and asked him, “What does he mean ‘Life is like a river’?”  The listener nodded and asked the person in front of him, “What does he mean, ‘Life is like a river’?”  . . . and thus, the question passed down from the hills and along the riverside, along the streets, down the sidewalk, into the house, into the bedroom, and finally reaching the ear of the favorite student.  He leaned into the great man and asked, “What did you mean, ‘Life is like a river’?”

The sage blinked, looked up at the student and said, “Okay, then.  So life . . . isn’t like a river.” 

. . . Editorial in next post.