Here we are on our way home, when, yes, Sharon IS searched.  But not
strip searched.  Drat!  Will anything go right?  Sigh.  But alas yes it
does occasionally ... muahahaha.  The east coast had some horrendous
weather.  By the time we flew into Charlotte many flights were canceled.
The rest, delayed for hours.  We were at the end of the concourse where
they had like six or more gates all at the tippy end.  The problem?
When you have that many gates side by side, and that many people from
flights from hours ago sleeping on the floor, etc waiting to get on their
flights, there are bound to be mistakes.  The airport attendants were
downright nasty by then and took it out on a poor young confused girl
right in front of me as I left the gate.  If it weren't for our good
Sharon, I'd still be there arrested for bitch slapping that mean lady.
Nonoit'sabadwolfyno.  Back to the story.  This was where all of those
puddle jumpers gathered outside.  So you walked outside onto the tarmac
and hoped to board the right little plane.  And many people ... didn't.
It only caused more delays and more tempers to flare.  Sharon and I were
seated in the first seats on a tiny jet.  The flight attendant picked up
the mic and said, "I'm sorry for the delay but I must ask yet one more
time ... make sure this is your flight.  Is everyone on here destined for
Chattanooga Tn?"

Here it comes ..... wait for it ....... wait ......

"Oh SH*T!!!" And buddy I yelled it.  The pilot and attendant jumped and
their eyes bulged.  I saw a trace of irritation creep up after the
initial shock (because this was truly happening all night).  Then I had
a flash of fear.  911.  You can't yell "sh*t" on a flight like that (no
literally).  I very quickly and nervously laughed and told them "No, no,
just kidding".  They were so shook up, my FML friends, that they just
stared blankly at me.  It still hadn't quite registered if I was serious
or not.  Sharon broke the ice with nervous laughter and said, "This is
what I have to go through every day".  The crowd thankfully broke up
laughing on the plane, and quite hard.  Luckily this flight attendant had
a big sense of humor.  So did the pilot.

We got settled.  And the stewardess did her shpeal on the mic in front
of us.  A big man sat across the isle from us.  The pilot still in the
front of the door to pull up the entry stairs.  Before all of this, we
had a hell of a time putting that old big black bag up in the overhead
compartment.  And the lady informed us that we had to have our purses up
there as well, not below or in our laps (very odd).  Alas, the large man,
had a "man purse" in his hand.  He called it a "wallet".  It was a man
purse.  The attendant told him, once again, that it had to go up above
him.  He just stared at her.  Everyone was leaning over into the isle to
see what the hold up was.  The man said no and he had a death grip on
that "wallet".  The flight attendant told him it was only fair because
she made Sharon and I put our purses up above after all.  He still sat
there looking at her.

Enter ................. Da Wolfy.  At this point, I leaned over towards
him across the isle (this is the part where Sharon is grinning ear to
ear hopelessly trying to appear polite enough for the both of us ... as
usual).  I said, "it's true, she did make us put our purses up there ...
and unfortunately for you, my friend ... my psych meds as well." Sharon
is red and she didn't know whether to cheer or die.  This man was not
amused.  He shot me a strange annoyed look, when I added.  "No really!
::pointing to Sharon:: She even had to put her husband up there." I
turned to her and angrily said, "By the way, that was a bitch getting him
up there.  Damn it, I told you to cut him in smaller pieces for Christ
sakes." I look back at the man now who is very concerned and I finish
with, "But, no, she doesn't listen".  The stewardess was trying her best
to keep a serious face, and bent over to take the wallet and successfully
took it away from him.  He looked like he was going to have a panic
attack, so she assured him that she'd give it right back once we were
up in the air.  Am I done?  This is me, okay?  No, I'm not done.  "My
strange friend understands how you feel.  The separation anxiety with
her husband up there is almost unbearable for her."  Then I whisper ... "
But I'll convince her to keep him up there for you."

Some people ... just ask to be targets, I tell you.  And this man, I'm
sorry, was practically on his knees begging me to take his brain out,
play with it like silly putty for a while, and then stick it back in
when I was bored.  I was bored.  So he was left alone for the rest of
the flight ... with his man purse.

yesyesit'sagoodWolfy
[Posted in FML issue 5288]