Kronikle V.5, I1--Travel Day
Travel Day
I am BACK!!!!!! It is like when Jordan quit thinking he was a baseball player. I am back where I belong.
Behind a traffic jam-creating twinset of van holding, as far as I am able to discern, at least 104 church ladies (like old school church ladies with ample chests, shapeless floral dresses, and…uh, elaborate…hats).
What? How…?
Well, you asked.
After two years in the no-summer money earnin’ Oklahoma desert, I finally hit the “Submit” button with the correct information at the correct time and got myself invited back to Kentucky. (Oh yeah, so this year FOR SOME REASON, there was some boilerplate agreement I signed that said I would not write about my experiences at, well, this place I am at. So any references to any job-like activities are the simple hallucinations of this red stripe and possess no connection with the real world.)
Fate did not trip me up, either. Pretty sure I am meant to be here. Called the doctor and got me my prescription. They gave me twice as much as the last time I flew. Let’s just say, I could fly a whole bunch more times without running out of my “medicine”. End of Year checkout was smooth like butta. I had all my stuff organized and ready to go BEFORE we celebrated the oldest stripe, jr.’s birthday so instead of playing the old standby “All the change in my pocket if you can find my soccer ball” game, we watched a movie instead (kids don’t actually like that game since I am pretty much a straight debit card girl but I think it is hilarious).
St. Jeanne picked me up at an ungodly hour and brought a suitcase (I was going to have to try to get my laundry basket checked if it hadn’t been for her). Plus, when we got to the airport, she gave me a whole bunch of change. I mumbled something about how she is the best taxi service ever and stumbled to the Delta counter. They dealt with my minimal needs efficiently. Moved through security and the only comment I received was a compliment regarding my Outkast shirt.
I consider purchasing a travel pillow but decide not to since it costs $15 non-reimbursable dollars (that is 8 Red Stripes) and I am kind of the Michael Phelps of nappers. I can write with confidence that I, too, would win eight goal medals in the sleeping Olympics. I am just that good.
I pause and get my bearings. I have it in my head that I need to be friendlier this year. I have been practicing around the city as I run errands and it has been going swimmingly (see Phelps reference). “Do you want me to take your cart?” was a very positive experience. I also won with, “Hey, are you in line?” The problem, as I saw it, is that most of my conversations are fenced in by some status-connected constraints, be it teacher/ student, customer/customer service rep, police/someone about to get a ticket (or three). I like being swaddled by the blanket of social position propriety because when I go free-range, conversationally speaking, I find myself spending a lot of time listening to the other person say the same thing over and over again, like I didn’t hear them, instead of what actually happened which is I just don’t have anything to say.
I have an example from the real world that might demonstrate what I am describing.
Recently, I was in my classroom, enthusiastically listening to the Beastie Boys and enthusiastically shutting it down. It was a Sunday. No one, I thought, was there. A fellow employee enters the classroom with his two small, matching, groomed dogs.
Me: Hey! How’s it going? Just shutting down my room, so…
Him: These are my dogs. They heard your music…(a lot more about these dogs)…You can pick them up.
Me: Ok
(I like dogs. However, I don’t fawn over dogs. Dogs like that about me.)
Him: No, really. You can pick them up if you want. You know, just reach down and scoop them up!
Me: Ok
Him: They like to be held like babies.
(Pregnant pause)
Him: Yeah, reach down and scoop ‘em up and hold ‘em like a little baby.
Me: Ok
Him: Here (Scoops up dog; holds like baby to demonstrate. Dog is really still but I remain unconvinced they liked everything that follows. Hands me infantile dog.)
Me: Uh, Ok. (Holds infantile dog; confused look on face)
Him: They liked to be spanked on their bottoms.
Me: Oh.
Him: They go to sleep when you spank them. See…like this. (Proceeds to vigorously spank his infantile dog while I hold the other one, like a baby.)
So I stand there for too, too long while this guy spanks his dog while I try desperately not to make eye contact with any other pair of eyes in the room.
I don’t recall how that ended. Who knows? He probably roofied us. I do know I brought my sister with me the next day.
I consider the source of my dread—the airplane—and think about how smart I am to have scheduled an early flight because that means the machine is fresh (you laugh but I have had plenty of cars that quit because they were just too tired) and the day crew are obviously the starters for the organization, the ones who have earned their way to nights and weekends off. Then I remember it is Saturday so this is the weekend crew. Then I take my medicine.
I pretty much slobbered through both flights, stopping briefly in St. Paul to be frustrated in my totally reimbursable craving for chocolate milk. I arrive in Louisville, fresh from my four-hour nap, wipe the slobber and head out into an airport that doesn’t intimidate whatsoever because I am not flying anywhere from it.
I get on the bus to downtown and we are off soon enough. We pass some outstanding graffiti…ahem...street art that I want to take a picture of but then I notice it is about ten miles from where I will be so I give up on the notion (but it still stings a little bit while I write this).
We get downtown and I start getting antsy. We drop off people at the not-my-hotel first. As we approach, it seems busy which I chalk up to it being Saturday. Then, I observe the whack-a-church-lady traffic jam transpiring ahead of me.
I decide to take the opportunity and make friends.
”Wow. One goes in and two pop out.”
Guess my fellow not-so-free riders didn’t hear me.
Ultimately, I decide on travel day that I am already darn friendly.
Until next time, I remain
Carrie the Red (stripe)
Figure 1-Church Lady Traffic Jam
Pink directional arrows indicate direction of movement.
I am BACK!!!!!! It is like when Jordan quit thinking he was a baseball player. I am back where I belong.
Behind a traffic jam-creating twinset of van holding, as far as I am able to discern, at least 104 church ladies (like old school church ladies with ample chests, shapeless floral dresses, and…uh, elaborate…hats).
What? How…?
Well, you asked.
After two years in the no-summer money earnin’ Oklahoma desert, I finally hit the “Submit” button with the correct information at the correct time and got myself invited back to Kentucky. (Oh yeah, so this year FOR SOME REASON, there was some boilerplate agreement I signed that said I would not write about my experiences at, well, this place I am at. So any references to any job-like activities are the simple hallucinations of this red stripe and possess no connection with the real world.)
Fate did not trip me up, either. Pretty sure I am meant to be here. Called the doctor and got me my prescription. They gave me twice as much as the last time I flew. Let’s just say, I could fly a whole bunch more times without running out of my “medicine”. End of Year checkout was smooth like butta. I had all my stuff organized and ready to go BEFORE we celebrated the oldest stripe, jr.’s birthday so instead of playing the old standby “All the change in my pocket if you can find my soccer ball” game, we watched a movie instead (kids don’t actually like that game since I am pretty much a straight debit card girl but I think it is hilarious).
St. Jeanne picked me up at an ungodly hour and brought a suitcase (I was going to have to try to get my laundry basket checked if it hadn’t been for her). Plus, when we got to the airport, she gave me a whole bunch of change. I mumbled something about how she is the best taxi service ever and stumbled to the Delta counter. They dealt with my minimal needs efficiently. Moved through security and the only comment I received was a compliment regarding my Outkast shirt.
I consider purchasing a travel pillow but decide not to since it costs $15 non-reimbursable dollars (that is 8 Red Stripes) and I am kind of the Michael Phelps of nappers. I can write with confidence that I, too, would win eight goal medals in the sleeping Olympics. I am just that good.
I pause and get my bearings. I have it in my head that I need to be friendlier this year. I have been practicing around the city as I run errands and it has been going swimmingly (see Phelps reference). “Do you want me to take your cart?” was a very positive experience. I also won with, “Hey, are you in line?” The problem, as I saw it, is that most of my conversations are fenced in by some status-connected constraints, be it teacher/ student, customer/customer service rep, police/someone about to get a ticket (or three). I like being swaddled by the blanket of social position propriety because when I go free-range, conversationally speaking, I find myself spending a lot of time listening to the other person say the same thing over and over again, like I didn’t hear them, instead of what actually happened which is I just don’t have anything to say.
I have an example from the real world that might demonstrate what I am describing.
Recently, I was in my classroom, enthusiastically listening to the Beastie Boys and enthusiastically shutting it down. It was a Sunday. No one, I thought, was there. A fellow employee enters the classroom with his two small, matching, groomed dogs.
Me: Hey! How’s it going? Just shutting down my room, so…
Him: These are my dogs. They heard your music…(a lot more about these dogs)…You can pick them up.
Me: Ok
(I like dogs. However, I don’t fawn over dogs. Dogs like that about me.)
Him: No, really. You can pick them up if you want. You know, just reach down and scoop them up!
Me: Ok
Him: They like to be held like babies.
(Pregnant pause)
Him: Yeah, reach down and scoop ‘em up and hold ‘em like a little baby.
Me: Ok
Him: Here (Scoops up dog; holds like baby to demonstrate. Dog is really still but I remain unconvinced they liked everything that follows. Hands me infantile dog.)
Me: Uh, Ok. (Holds infantile dog; confused look on face)
Him: They liked to be spanked on their bottoms.
Me: Oh.
Him: They go to sleep when you spank them. See…like this. (Proceeds to vigorously spank his infantile dog while I hold the other one, like a baby.)
So I stand there for too, too long while this guy spanks his dog while I try desperately not to make eye contact with any other pair of eyes in the room.
I don’t recall how that ended. Who knows? He probably roofied us. I do know I brought my sister with me the next day.
I consider the source of my dread—the airplane—and think about how smart I am to have scheduled an early flight because that means the machine is fresh (you laugh but I have had plenty of cars that quit because they were just too tired) and the day crew are obviously the starters for the organization, the ones who have earned their way to nights and weekends off. Then I remember it is Saturday so this is the weekend crew. Then I take my medicine.
I pretty much slobbered through both flights, stopping briefly in St. Paul to be frustrated in my totally reimbursable craving for chocolate milk. I arrive in Louisville, fresh from my four-hour nap, wipe the slobber and head out into an airport that doesn’t intimidate whatsoever because I am not flying anywhere from it.
I get on the bus to downtown and we are off soon enough. We pass some outstanding graffiti…ahem...street art that I want to take a picture of but then I notice it is about ten miles from where I will be so I give up on the notion (but it still stings a little bit while I write this).
We get downtown and I start getting antsy. We drop off people at the not-my-hotel first. As we approach, it seems busy which I chalk up to it being Saturday. Then, I observe the whack-a-church-lady traffic jam transpiring ahead of me.
I decide to take the opportunity and make friends.
”Wow. One goes in and two pop out.”
Guess my fellow not-so-free riders didn’t hear me.
Ultimately, I decide on travel day that I am already darn friendly.
Until next time, I remain
Carrie the Red (stripe)
Figure 1-Church Lady Traffic Jam
Pink directional arrows indicate direction of movement.