Armrest Anyone?

I’m flying home from a business trip tonight. Of course, when I arrived at Buffalo airport my flight to Philly was delayed, which was going to make me miss my connection. I was re-routed to get to my destination via Washington DC. This whole thing was going to extend my trip about five hours. But who’s counting?

After waiting around a while at the airport, and changing gates a few times, we boarded. Now, the airline had taken it upon themselves to choose my seating. Now, I’m a little particular about my seating. So I’m sure to check-in and print my boarding pass up the night before a trip. Which is what I did for this one. I choose my seat wisely. I’ve learned to get an aisle seat at all cost so as not to be monkey in the middle or squished up against the window by Biggie Smalls next to me. Also, I don’t want a seat near the bathroom. So, it’s a whole thing.

Last night I was trying to choose a seating row which could maybe be empty today. Should I sit in row nine? The exit row? Or should I sit in row ten, where there are two empty seats next to me and hope that they don’t show last minute? I finally made a decision on my seats.

Now that I agonized over my seating last night, I would have no choice in the matter today.

So, I board the plane and walked back to my assigned seat. It was going to be a window seat.

Damn.

I get to the row and see my seat near the window – 10A. Next to my seat is a seat without a back. There’s a sign on the seat cushion, which reads, “Not for passenger use” That’s the seat I’m next to. There are two seats in the row, and one of them is unsittable. Cool! I’m in a row by myself. I can spread out!

As people passed the seat they made jokes about it. Like, “That’s the cheap seat.”

The guy behind the cheap seat was also psyched because it gave him more leg room. And we know the men need their damn leg room. He was actually nice.

So we spread out. I elbowed the nice guy behind the cheap seat a couple of times by accident. We joked some more.

When the plane landed, people said some more stuff to the nice guy and they laughed yet again.

I got up and headed toward the overhead bin to grab my turquoise carry-on. (Yeah, it’s turquoise. But that’s another story for another day.) As I did so, I hit the cheap seat’s armrest. And it fell off!

I held it up in the air and yelled, “Armrest anyone?”

The whole plane cracked up laughing!

More comments started to circulate; “Did you pay extra for that seat?”; “How’d we just get here in one piece?”; “I’m glad the inside of the plane works better than the outside.”

You get the idea.

When things like this happen, it opens up conversation between strangers. The guy behind me was traveling because he was on his way to visit his girlfriend. He had a ring in his suitcase to ask her to marry him. He was staying on the plane to his destination to do so. I had overheard him telling his neighbor this exciting news. I hated to appear that I was eavesdropping on their conversation. But on my way out of the aircraft I turned back and exclaimed, “I hope she says yes!”

The plane giggled again.

It appears I'm funny at twenty thousand feet.

Battle of the Muffin Top

I knew I was going to probably gain a couple of lbs. with this new job. I mean, it’s only natural. I would be traveling a lot and therefore, eating out often. Then, you know, whenever you have a lifestyle change, your weight can fluctuate.

I just didn’t anticipate gaining so much so soon.

My first week on the job, I wore my True Religion ‘Billy’ jeans on the plane. You know the ones, with the white stitching? They’ve always been snug. But I bought them that way. I like my jeans tight. I mean, there’s nothing worse than a baggy jean. You gotta buy them a little snug so when they stretch out, they look perfect. Well, as you may know, True Religions are $$. But I’m willing to pay it because they make my bum look terrific. They are my favorite jeans.

So, I wore them to my first business trip, along with my denim Gap vest. A really cute outfit, if I must say. That was Sunday. By Thursday, those suckers were so tight, that I couldn’t breath. And my muffin top was workin over time!

But I wasn’t worried because I figured I’d lose it back as soon as I got home. I didn’t weigh myself when I got home.

I also made sure I didn’t wear those jeans to another business trip.

But that was not my only trip. I was traveling every other week all summer long. And I kinda felt like I was on vacation. So, you know how you eat when you’re on vacation? You over indulge, right? You try new foods from different cities. I mean, why deprive yourself of the experience?

I wasn’t exercising because I was afraid I’d hurt my back while away from home. So, I was eating more and sitting a lot.

Then, my back went out. It was so bad that I couldn’t get out of bed to eat anything or buy anything to eat. So I lost back a few. However, once the back was better and I was up and running again, I made up for lost time. So whatever I lost during my incapacitation, I gained back. And then some. I thought. But I wouldn’t weigh my self, so I didn’t know for sure. My clothes still fit. So, what, they were a little snug.

I was trying on dresses for a wedding last week. Some of the dresses that had fit nicely when I got them were really unwearable. What? How could that be? I was going to just have to wear the one that I could push myself into!

Never a good sign.

And the True Religion ‘Billy’ jeans were now a disaster!

So I decided to do the unthinkable.

Get on the scale.

>>>>

>>>

>>>

Omg!

Could it be right?

Yup.

I was almost 10 pounds up.

Seriously?

I’d been there before, but never wanted to go back. And there I was.

I really actually look good. I kinda like a more voluptuous frame. But then I can’t wear my fabulous clothes! And that’s just out of the question.

So….

Back to the old drawing board. I’ve been working at it all week. Let’s see what the outcome is when I get on the scale on Saturday.

Is There Life After Shopping?

My life is empty.

Since I was forced to give up shopping.

As you well know, I live and love to shop. For clothing. Footwear, in particular. And not any old footwear, mind you. Very expensive designer footwear.

Clothing comes second.

Food shopping.... last. At the hate end of the shopping spectrum of my love for shopping.

If that is at all possible.

My fetish for fabulous and fantastically expensive footwear got me into a little credit card debt, as my pockets lack my lavish fashion sense.

As you also know, I not onlyl had to stop shopping, but I was forced to return some of my prized posessions, including my quilted turquoise metallic Chanel 2.55 Re-Issue classic flap bag. Which, I might add, I miss very much 'til this day. And continue to dream of the day in which I can buy it back. the thought of the return still haunts my dreams. But my bank account balance haunted them more. The the dreaded, emotional return.

Since then, I supposed it's less than a year now, I have more or less quit shopping. As one quits smoking or drinking or crack.

In the words of Whitney Houston, "Crack is whack."

Needless to say, it has been very difficult.

So, I'm in better financial shape right now, but I'm still an addict who missese her fix.

The new job's been a good thing because I'm traveling a lot. So much so, that I literally have no time to shop. No place to shopo. Various family birthday gifts have consisted of aipport T-shirts and refrigerator magnets that say, "Welcome to Iowa!" with like a picture of a giant corn on the cob or tornado on it.

Birthday cards have been replaced with postcards from Minneapolis or Idaho, with a huge potato on it.

I bought a really cool cuff bracelet for myself at the Indiannapolis airport in June. I mean, really, that's the extent of my shopping sprees. And I really don't count that at tall. Bergdorf Goodman it is not!

Therefore, my life is empty.

I believe I was shopping because my life was empty. I filling a void. The void of no man, no Pop, and no children. Now, to that, I add no shopping. And no quilted turquoise metallic Chanel 2.55

Re-Issue classic flap bag.

So, I have a void from filling my void!

No wonder I have chronic back pain.

However, I am well on my way to zero credit card debt, what with all the changes. And I surprisingly occasionally do not have the urge to shop.

I am able to cheat a little bit. With this new job, I had to buy office supplies to set up my home office. All of which the company reimbursed me for. So, hey, I'm not buying Christian Louboutin Prive pumps, but it IS still shopping none the less. And I've had a love of office supplies since I set up my own play office as a kid. (While other girls were setting up a play kitchen, I was setting up a play business in my basement.)

I need to buy a laptop business rolling luggage bag. I get to spend $150 on it. Haven't bought one yet. I'm holding out for the perfect blue one. Whick doesn't exist because, they are all black. My theory for this is that men invent those for businessmen, not business women. Therefore, you can't find them in cute colors. Maybe there's a market? Maybe I need to start a business, like the Spanx lady!

In the meantime, I can't bring myself to purchase an ugly black bag to travel with, even if somebody else is paying for it. Instead, I continue to use my blue and purple leopard print Betsey Johnson tote.

In a few months I will be paid more. I'm not as yet, because I needed to go through this training process for the first three months, and then pass an exam. Well, I have passed, which hopefully means I will be back in the black in the near future. Hoopefully, by Christmas, so that my fam can get better gifts than they did for their birthdays this year!

But the first thing I want to do is buy back my quilted turquoise metallic Chanel 2.55 Re-Issue classic flap bag.

I’m Late for a Very Important Date

This is the largest mall in the US. The Mall of America. I’m in Minneapolis.

I have a rented car and a 9:20 AM flight to ,,,

wait for it ,,,

Omaha, Nebraska.

What a thrill.

My mentor suggests I leave the hotel at around 7:30 AM to make it on time. I figure, she’s done this before. She knows what she’s talking about. I thought it might be cutting it a bit close, but I thought I could do it.

So, I woke up at 6:30 AM to begin the metamorphosis, which takes an hour. And I leave at 7:30. No coffee. No breakfast. I’ll pick something up at the airport.

I’m driving to the airport, reversing the written directions given to me by my mentor. The GPS Hadassah loaned me didn’t work. But that’s another story. I’m doing good. Then I start to see signs for the airport. There was an exit. I took it.

Hmmm. This doesn’t look familiar. I was lost.

I checked the directions, I checked Google Maps, but you need an address for that to work and I didn’t have a street address for the airport. I asked directions and got back on track.

I find the airport. But which terminal am I? Terminal 1 or Terminal 2? It didn’t say on the signs along the way. So, I just picked one and then tried to find the rental car return. The women then tells me I’m in the wrong terminal. So I drive to the other Terminal to return my car.

Done. It’s now 8:40 AM, which was boarding time.

I followed the directions of the woman at the rental car area to the tram which was supposed to get me to the gates. I waited for the Tram. Once on, I saw a pilot and asked him if this was the correct Tram after the doors closed. He said, “No. We just left the area you need to be at.”

“What the fu--?”

Now I’m starting to get the sweats. I’m almost crying on the damned Tram.

“What do I do?”

He’s like, “Get off at the next stop and go across the tracks and get the next Tram back.”

“Thanks.” Sniff, Sniff.

“Maybe you’ll make it.”

The next stop, I get out and wait. It’s 8:55.

I was supposed to meet my mentor at the gate. I’m not there! I reach for my cell to try and call her, but I couldn’t get a signal.

I saw some more pilots and stewardesses. I decided to follow them. Then I decided to ask the woman what to do and where to go when we get there. The stewardess was really nice and receptive.

I had a voicemail. It was my mentor leaving a message. She told me that she realized that something happened since I was not at the gate, but that I could take the next plane out if I missed it. She was pretty calm. Then she had to go since the plane was boarding.

The stewardess said, “Don’t worry. Stay with us. We’ll get you through. You’ll make it.”

The Tram came. We all got on. Me and the Delta staff.

9:05.

My heart is beating out of my chest.

The nice stewardess prepped me on our approach to the terminal. Once we got there she led me toward security and let me go first. I zipped through. All they pilots helped me quickly pass through the metal detector checks as well …

… And I was off to the gate!

9:10

I’m running now, to the gate. Did I mention what I’m wearing? I’m wearing my grey Tahari dress, Gucci pumps, Dior oversized sunglasses, carrying my silver Yves Saint Laurent handbag and my blue and purple leopard Betsey Johnson carry on luggage. Can you picture me running through the airport in that get up?

Then I started getting out of breath and my legs started to hurt, because I’m so out of shape due to my back injury. I was loosing steam and my muscles were hurting. But I had to keep going. It was 9:15. The plane was leaving at 9:20.

I see the gate. I’m getting closer! Oh, it hurts. Keep going! Don’t stop! You CANT miss this plane because you are out of shape!! You can rest later. Run, Blue Shoes, run! Go, go, go!

As I approach the Gate 14C I hear an overhead announcement that this was the last call for the flight to Omaha. I got to the gate.

Out of breath, I handed the boarding pass to the attendant.

“Go right through."

“I’m in!!!”

“I MADE IT!” I thought, as I boarded the plane. Still out of breath. I got on and found my seat waiting for me.

I was sweating and still out of breath. I settled in and prepared to take off. Then we waited.

And waited.

And …

,,, Waited.

Ironically enough, we then sat in the aircraft for two hours waiting to take off.

I just lost two years off my life.

I’m Mr. Snow Miser

It’s hot. But I’m cold! What’s up with that?

It’s the middle of July in New York City. I’ve recently travelled to California, Indiana, Minnesota, and Nebraska, where it’s an average of 400 degrees right now. So, why am I freezing?

A.C.

Air conditioning.

Does anyone else have a problem with this?

I don’t understand why I need to be freezing wherever I go; cabs, planes, buses, airports, hotels, restaurants, conference rooms.

I’m travelling to a warm weather area. Why is it that I need to pack a parka?

It doesn’t matter where you go. It’s always friggin’ freezing.

I was in the Swiss Alps and I was warmer. At least I was prepared with thermals and the right clothing. I don’t understand it. Is everyone so hot that they need it to be 40 degrees indoors? I think it is going to be warmer in Lindsay Lohan’s jail cell than that!

By the way, I’m on a plane right now. It’s 35 degrees, and I’m freezing my ass off. And God forbid someone gives you a fashtunkena blanket. No way.

When am I allowed to go to a warm-weather place, and actually be warm? Anywhere?

I can think of one now.

Europe.

Greece.

When you’re on a Greek Island, there’s no AC. You can’t find anything cold there in the summer. Not even ice.

It’s hot. And it’s heavenly.

There, the Heat Miser wins.