It figures that as soon as my semester is over and all that stress ends so suddenly, I get hit with a head cold. Maybe that's a gift from the semester that I repeated cursed for the last three months, I don't know. It certainly made traveling back to Albuquerque a fascinating endeavor, me sitting in my seat clutching my little pocket pack of Kleenex and sniffling constantly. But more on that in a minute. First, having been inspired by J-Money's notes from her recent trip, I decided to have a go at my own. (You may want to skip this part and just go read hers, as mine is considerably less funny/interesting). Consider yourself warned, especially since I wrote this in my little journal while I was waiting for my amazingly delicious deep-dish cheese and tomato pizza.
1.) Wow. Just stepped off a CRJ 200, a notoriously small plane that seats only 50 people. Thanks to Priceline.com, I had no assigned seat until I arrived at the gate. (Note: I was not at my most attractive upon said arrival, panting and sweating and cursing the long line through security.) And what fresh hell am I met with? They gave me a seat in the very first row. Which I'll consider first class, thank you very much. Considering the seats are designed for people whose waist size is only slightly larger than the average Pomeranian, I relished the extra six inches of leg room. I was proud, though, of my uncanny (and unparalleled) ability to fold myself into my seat, not unlike an Oscar Meyer wiener squeezing itself into a bun intended for miniature sausages.1
2.) The man across the aisle from me on the way to Salt Lake City2 was pretty much annoyance personified. he was one of those guys who's deluded himself into believing he's funny. To our stewardess, he quipped, "So, when does the movie start?" She ignored him, much to my delight, and I loved her instantly. And then, wait for it, he REPEATED HIMSELF not two minutes later. And she ROLLED HER EYES. It was all I could do to suppress the urge to leap up and hug the woman. Said funny man later complained that his Minute Maid Fruit Punch was "just too sweet"--hi, it's fruit punch--and asked that it be diluted. I can think of something else that needs diluting.
That's all I could muster in my ailing health. Which leads me to this next topic.3 All I wanted for dinner was some chicken soup, and Robert, sensibly, suggested we go somewhere that served green chile chicken soup. I heartily agreed, and made the unilateral decision that because the chicken was cooked with green chile, it MUST be kosher. I got soup, protein, and vitamin C all in one fell swoop, and whoah, the green chile chicken soup was amazing. I want seconds.
1 You know what? That could be the gayest comparison EVER. I should get some sort of award for it. 2 I tried to look around the airport in SLC and pick out all the Mormons, but it turns out the only success I had was picking out obviously closeted gay men. 3 Do you like my lousy segue there? So do I.