Humiliating Plane Flight

I once worked for a charming college prep school; the kind of place that you might think only exists in the dreams of parents and teachers. At this school parents paid top dollar for an increased chance of getting their darlings into an ivy-league school. For many it worked. As a teacher it was a source of pride to teach there - standards were high for teachers and students alike. This was the kind of job where I dressed up in a suit on conference days and was always "dressed to impress". It was an expectation that as a teacher I would always present myself in a polished, professional manner. For the most part this was easy for me to do. But we all have those moments.....

It was spring break and I'd taken my 7 month old son to visit his grandmother. It was his first flight in an airplane and he performed wonderfully on the 4 hour flight. There are a few things I hate in life... and a few things I love. I LOVE sleep.... and HATE mucus. Funny how these two things can be so closely tied together. Many children plead with God for favors - I tired to bargain to never have a cold again as long as I lived.

So here I was in the sunny south (far away from the snowy mid-west) and my pleasant week grinds to a halt as my son and I both get a cold. Did I mention that I HATE mucus? It could have something to do with the fact that some people produce more than others... and when healthy I produce enough for several people. When sick, I produce enough for a moderate sized family. In the midst of wiping an endless stream of snot from my son's nose I realize he too was blessed with over-active mucus membranes. Between the two of us sniffling, sneezing and coughing I didn't get much sleep. Lack of sleep causes a strange blend of crazy for me. It is somewhere between anger, desperation and a scatter-brained lack of attention and focus.

It was in this state of mind that I began packing for the return trip home. I'm an early riser in general and so I prefer to travel early. My flight was leaving at 9 a.m. Plenty of time to get up and to the airport if I packed the night before. So I packed and set my alarm for 6 am (security and traffic in Atlanta is time-consuming) got into bed with my sick son and prepared to be up most of the night. Around 3 am my son finally drifted in to a deep sleep and I took some NyQuil. I woke up at 6:30 and went down stairs in my sleep-deprived funk to give the baby to my mom while I showered. I asked what time it was and what time we needed to leave.

My mom turned on the TV and paled. "We should have left 20 minutes ago" she said quietly. Then she started shouting, "Go, Go!" thrusting the baby at me she dashed off to get dressed. I stared at the clock which read 6:35 am. I didn't think we had to leave until 7:15. She noticed I'd not moved and shouted "time change! Spring Forward!" It slowly dawned on me that it was 7:35 not 6:35. I raced up the stairs and threw the remaining items in my suitcase and quickly dressed myself and the baby. We dashed out the door within 5 minutes of our discovery.

I have to pause here and admit a nasty, gross consequence of this over-production of mucus. So much mucus on an empty stomach..... well, it makes you vomit. Gross, I know... I have to live with it... but those are the facts.

So in our haste to get out the door I did not eat breakfast. As my mom is flying down the highway my stomach is rolling. I tell her to pull the car over. "Are you sure?" she asks thinking about the time we will lose and that I might miss my flight. I'm sure that I don't want to vomit in her BMW so she pulls over. I jump out of the car and as I throw up on the side of the road.. something worse happens... in the violence of my abdominal compressions - I wet my pants.

Yep. Now I was day-old dirty, smelling like pee and I was pretty sure there was some vomit on my shirt. I jumped back in the car and off we went again like a bat out of hell. Amazingly my mom got me to the airport with a few minutes to spare for security and boarding. We hardly said goodbye as she opened the stroller I strapped the baby in and began running through the airport. Now we all know that when you have your hands full and you have a coat (remember the snowy mid-west), it is easier to wear it than carry it. So I'm now running through a crowded airport in a coat and I begin to sweat.

Now my aroma is a nice blend of day-old BO, vomit, pee and now sweat. I made it to the plane just in time to take my seat. As I settled into my seat I pulled my greasy hair into a messy pony-tail and began to clean up all the neglected snot from my son's face. I was accumulating a pile of tissues as the flight continued and my son began to squirm in my lap and fidget. It is times like these that you become thankful that no one knows who you are. I felt terrible, coughing, sneezing and I'm sure I smelled worse that I felt. I relaxed into my seat anticipating my nice warm bed and a hot shower. But those were miles away.

After drink cart shifted down the aisle the woman sitting across the row from me glanced over. I turned my head away; sure she was going to comment on the smell and as terrible as it sounds I was going to blame it on the baby. She tapped my shoulder, "Excuse me." I had no choice but to look at her. "I knew you looked familiar!" she pronounced with a wide grin. This woman was beautiful and stylish and her clothes and jewelery screamed money. There was no way I knew this woman but she did look a bit familiar. Before my befuddled brain could process much more she leaned back to reveal an equally beautiful girl.....

My heart sank and I know I turned three shades of red as I recognized one of my students. Her mother seemed to notice my embarrassment and softly said, "We've all been there dear." I was humiliated and I guess I've officially "been there" now. Later I couldn't decided if I was upset or horrified that this woman recognized the smelly, messy me when normally I would be dressed nicely and smelling like CREED perfume. I hope she just had a knack for faces.

Midnight Radio Phantom

My first car was an 8-year old 1989 4-door, red, Honda Accord. I LOVED this car... espeically the pop up headlights. This car was top of the line... in the 80's; which means it had a tape deck. I didn't have much money to buy CD's not to mention a CD player for my car, so I was happy as a lark blaring the radio or my dated Debbie Gibson and Paul Abdoul tapes.

In the mid ninties blaring 80's music is so uncool that my boyfriend felt he had to intervine. In the spirit of looking out for my reputation he saved up and purchased an expensive, rocking sterio system complete with new speakers, subs, and woofers (did I even spell that right?!). One day after school we went back to his house and he showed me the amazing array of boxes, wires and speakers. He announced that he was going to spend the weekend putting all of this in HIS car. I stared at him for a moment then felt like a heel. Wasn't I the princess? Didn't he save and sweat to buy the incredible sterio for me? Of course not! We were only 16 and I obviously didn't give one wit about sterios. I was a bit ashamed that my first thought had been so selfish, but I selfishly, quickly got over it and planned a weekend with my girl friends and left him to his guy toys.

Sunday afternoon rolls around and I get a phone call from him saying I need to come over and hear his new sound system. Of course, as any good girlfriend would, I gushed my excitement and headed over as soon as I could respectfully get out of the house. Before the house was even in sight I could hear the rumbling and thumping of the system. My boyfriend and his older brother where standing in the driveway with blisful expressions on their faces. I pulled up and he immediately cracked up the volume for me and I listened to the terrible rattling of car parts and even worse music. I smiled broadly and yelled "This is AWESOME!!!" he grinned back and I was certain he couldn't hear a word I said. After showing me a few more bells and whistles he lead me into the house and a pile of wires and speakers and "junk" lay in piles on the floor. "These are going in your car!" he annouced proudly. For the first time since arriving I was genuenly excited, but only because I could finally think clearly. He said he'd drive me home and get to work on it right away. I agreed and he said he'd pick me up for school in the morning.

It was a generous gift from a truely nice guy. I left for college at the end of the year with a respectable sterio that would play the new CDs I'd bought with my summer work money.

If you've read any of my other posts you know I can't function without sleep and I get a little on the crazy side when I don't get my solid eight hours. As a result this wonderful gift became an unitended drain on my mental stability and potentially on my wallet.

It started late one night as a grade-killer test loomed at 9:00 am. I woke to a furious banging on my metal dorm room door. In a barely coherant state it took the girl several minutes to tell me that the sterio in my car was blaring in the parking lot. I thanked her, assuming she was dreaming (or I was) and closed the door.

The next morning I wake up late and race out the door knowing I'm going to have to fly like a bat out of hell to make it to my exam on time. There, in the parking lot is my pretty red Honda blaring my Christian rock CD. "No doubt it'll be alright" sings loudly from my car without reassuring me that anything would be alright. I unlock the door and slide into the seat hoping no one notices that all the racket is coming from my car. As I push the key into the ignition the music stops. Baffled, but with no brain power or time to think about my sterio, I race to class and amazingly pull a B+ on my exam over woody plant identification.

That night the same events replay. A loud knocking on my door with a not so polite request to turn off my stereo. Despite my sleepy brain I begin to worry about the battery going dead from so many late-night performances. So I get out of bed and run to the parking lot in flip flops and turn off the stereo. Ah ha! I have it beat now, if the stereo isn't on when I park the car - then it can't turn itself on - right?

The next morning proved me wrong, somehow the radio had turned itself back on in the middle of the night. As I drove to campus I figured I'd better turn the volume down while I went to class. How embarrassing to have it blaring in the parking lot of the student center. So I turn the volume all the way down and then turn off the radio before I turn off the car.

Much to my surprise I could hear some terrible rap music blaring as I entered the parking lot after class. At a small Christian college you don't get much of that so I thought it was curious and wondered who on campus listened to rap. My heart began to pound all the way to my toes as I realize that it is my car! Not only did the radio turn on and turn up the volume all my it's self - it was now blaring the local rap station. I began to dash for the car and fumbling with the keys finally got in and silenced the radio.

I decided this could not go on any longer but had no money to take it to a shop and like most high school to college dating relationships, mine hadn't lasted; so there was no way I was going to call the ex-boyfriend who installed it. As I drove back to my dorm I decided I'd try taking the face off the head unit. No way it could play without that - right?

Well, it worked. I never got the radio fixed and smiled to myself when I eventually traded in the car for a little money down on my new truck. I often wonder if they tried to sell it on a used car lot... radio blaring and all.

Sleep Deprivation and Tire Slashing

This is an older but great story from my early married life living in apartments. It's long but good. :)

Imagine a late November day in Georgia. The air is crisp and cold but my lined blue-jean jacket is enough to keep out the chill. It had been one of the tiring days at work. If you've never been a receptionist for a 30+ phone line financial company I'm sure can at least imagine how excitable people can be about their money. Not only was I answering phones from disgruntled customers but I was also the secretary to the president of our branch. There must be some job requirement for presidents that they be more than just "quirky" they have to be nearly impossible to work with. I'd spent my day calming and re-directing fuming clients and attempting to take and translate the dictation of a raging boss. My mind was exhausted and thanks to an hour on the treadmill and 45 minutes of Pilate's after work my body was exhausted too.

I come home to an empty apartment (Jonathan is at Officer Training School in Alabama) and microwave something that passes for dinner. After flipping through our 10 channels of basic cable and concluding that there is nothing to watch, Harry Potter calls from his book by my bed. I turn in for the night, mentally preparing myself to do it all again tomorrow.

My blissful dreams of wizards and the carefree life of a student were shattered as I was wrenched awake by the most annoying sound known to humankind. A car alarm. Not just any car alarm, but the kind that hope five variations of screaming loudness will deter theft and are sure to arouse the attention of everyone within a two mile radius. I groaned in frustration and looked at the clock - midnight. Well, at least it is enough time to fall back asleep. Which I promptly did. Five minutes later the obnoxious racket began all over again. Still believing that people are generally good and kind, I figured the owner would come out and fix the problem. I lay in bed still sleepy and tired waiting for the noise to stop and sleep to come once again. Just as I felt the peaceful black fuzziness surround my mind promising rest and rejuvenation - IT WENT OFF AGAIN!

Now I was angry. I climbed out of bed and looked out my bedroom window into the parking lot below. There it was, an old beat up dark blue Chevy blazer from the late 80's with the emergency lights flashing to the ear-splitting pulse of the alarm. Like any good suburban bred member of society I called the apartment management office and logged a complaint. I felt a little better after spewing my frustration off on some poor clerk who would check the message in the morning. For a moment I was sure I'd trade places with them... I'd work here and live somewhere else. My musings were interrupted by the softest little "beep, beep, beep" which was a herald for the whole mind numbing concert to begin again. I sighed and picked up Harry Potter and laid back down to read even if sleep was lost for the night.

At 3:00 a.m. the source of my insomnia finally fell silent for good but all too soon I was awoken by another alarm demanding that I begin my day. Although I'd slept a good two and half hours before the drama began I still felt robbed of the best hours of sleep. The day went by in a blur but I was thankful tomorrow was Friday and I slipped off to sleep early that night still holding Harry Potter with the lights on.

Of course the story would be too boring to end there. Around midnight I was once again pulled from my sweet, blessed sleep to the torturous sound of a high-pitched cacophonous concert of one. The encore from last night was a little too much for me to take in my sleep-deprived state. No phone calls tonight; it was time for more drastic measures. I got out of bed and found the most nondescript piece of paper I could find and scratched out a note.

"Please have your alarm fixed or at the very least disable it at night. This is the second night in a row that it has kept me up. I am human so I do need my sleep please fix this as soon as possible."

I crept down the stairs from my 4th floor apartment, checking corners to be sure no one was watching. I wanted to leave the note but I didn't want a real confrontation, therefore I did not want to be recognized. I successfully slipped the note under the wiper on the passenger side of the car... sure I should probably put it under the driver side but that was farther away and now that I was all exposed out in the parking lot all I wanted to do was run back to the anonymity of my unit.

I got back into bed and read Harry Potter as the car offered up it's harsh lament to the moon over and over and over again. When it was finally time to get out of bed I was so tired and groggy that it was difficult to stay awake in the shower. Now clean, I was standing in my room getting dressed for the day when I heard a string of curses and general abuses being yelled from the parking lot below. I stuck my head out through the curtain suddenly remembering my note.

There was a large man, probably in his late twenties, standing on the side walk in front of the blue blazer. His fists were raised above his head and he was yelling obscenities again; every other one punctuated by the "F" word. To my horror I noticed he clutched a piece of paper that he seemed to be waving in impotence at the building. Surely my nice note could have no such effect! Was this person truly unstable? What had I done? I was praying that no one saw me go out there last night when I noticed my note was still untouched on the passenger side of the windshield still snugly tucked under the wiper.

A wave a relief washed through me. Someone else had written a note too and put it on the car. As the revelation came I watched the man stalk to the passenger side and rip my note out from under the wiper and throw it on the ground without so much as looking at it. I wondered on my way to work what the other note said. It was obviously not as nice as mine had been. I could only hope that it would get results as my note went unread. I did fall asleep in the break room during lunch that day. I was operating on 5 hours of sleep in a 48 hour time frame. My college room-mate can testify that I get nasty, moody and mean without sleep, but that is another story.

I skipped the gym on the way home and contemplated going to sleep at my mom's house for the night but there was hope that the nasty note left by another sleep deprived resident would have the desired effect and I'd be able to sleep all night in my own bed.

Apparently the note made no impact other than to piss-off the owner of the blazer. Once again I was ripped from my sleep at midnight to the terrible beeping and wailing of the car alarm. In sleep deprived hysteria I laughed and laughed; I couldn't stop myself. I have had a small taste of what sleep deprivation torture can do to a man and it isn't pretty but I'd imagine it is high effective. I was no longer the mild-mannered, sweet, southern Georgia girl but a stark raving mad beast bent on destruction. Before I knew what I was doing I was out of my bed searching the apartment for something, anything that would be suitable for smashing windows. I had a plan, rather ill formed but a plan. SMASH IT!!! That was the grand plan; the one clear thought in my brain that was consuming all other thoughts except the frantic search for a weapon and I lamented that neither Jonathan nor I played baseball.

Suddenly alternating blue and white lights flashed through my windows. The police! I hadn't even left my apartment yet but my muddled mind knew they'd come to arrest me for property damage. The flashing continued and my mind slowly comprehended what was going on and I felt intense relief at the prospect of being able to sleep. I dropped the metal cooking spatula I was carrying and rushed to the window. The cop was taking down information from the blue blazer, all the while the alarm screamed in protest. I watched in amazement as the cop simply took down some information, left a ticket then got into his cruiser and left! What? No dragging the offending party into the street? No handcuffs? The alarm was still blaring and my rage doubled.

The daylight brought more sense although I was tired. There was naive hope once again that the ticket left by the cop would inspire the man to quite the alarm. It was a rainy Saturday so I slept most of the afternoon. That night I woke to the quite "beep, beep, beep" that warned of what was to come. The insanity was instantly upon me. I began to pace my apartment. I called and left a very nasty, this time anonymous, message at the management office but it didn't give release to the all-consuming rage building in me. I paced, tossed and turned in bed and screamed my own protest as the night wore on and the alarm repeated its cry every five minutes.

Amid my delirium a new sound reached my ears from the parking lot below around 3:30 am - a soft and pleasing "whoosh". I stopped pacing and ran to the window. A man was walking across the parking lot to the building across from mine, away from the flashing lights of the offending car. My muddled and mad mind finally grasped what had taken place just as the mysterious man disappeared into his building. He slashed the tires! Oh what justice! What relief! I prayed blessings upon the vigilante who took matters into his own hands. Perhaps he was the one who left that nasty note too. Oh that I could be so brave and daring in the face of such torment!

Several hours later I watched with glee as the owner of the blazer discovered the rewards of his inhumane treatment of myself and others. He swore and yelled more obscenities into the morning and it felt like sweet music in my ears. My euphoria was in part due to the lack of sleep over the past three nights but what a beautiful morning it turned out be - I never heard that car alarm again.

I will admit that it has scared me for life. To this day (some six years later) when ever I hear that particular car alarm my mind has to fight off the madness that gripped me those sleepless nights and I cringe as I fight down the rage that builds up in my mind.

May you rest in peace tonight.

Batman Relocated

Around 8:00 last night Jonathan and I were playing X-Box when Daisy starting acting like my workout mat had grown wings. My workout mat stays wedged between the wall and the TV so even though we were thoroughly engrossed in the video game we couldn't help but notice. She was smelling quickly then jumping away only creep closer and hesitantly sniff again. This process repeated about two times when I sang out, "Daisy found the bat!!!"

And while the excitement was kept to a minimum our gallant Daisy found our Bat. It was snuggled neatly in the mesh pocket, which made carrying the whole ensemble outside quite easy. Once outside I ran in to get my camera while Jonathan held the dog close enough to let her get a good smell of the tiny thing. There is a picture on the left.... kind of cute and furry.... outside.

Funny how little mammals can almost always appear cute in the right circumstances. The whole ordeal has prompted me to consider getting a bat box for our back yard. After all they can eat up to 10,000 misquotes in a single night... who wouldn't want that! The bat box might also be more appealing than attempting to live in our house.

Click the word "Bat" next to Labels to read original post.

Bats and Vampires in the Night

It just so happens I was up late reading the latest teenie bopper vampire novel and eventually attempted to sleep, my head whirling with questions about the stupid heroine and vampire hero. All the while my faithful yellow lab and husband lay snoring through all the excitement in my head. Finally blessed with sleep and sweet dreams of immortality and running without growing tired (yeah... if you ever pounded away on a treadmill you understand.) The happy sound of my lab running playfully around the bedroom woke me from my dreams. My husband snored on as I strained to listen in the darkness; Daisy was chasing something......

Then I heard a faint whoosh whoosh of wings and felt something plop softly on my down comforter. Not moving I said nervously to my husband, "There is something in here." He woke up at once, listening to the dog prance happily around the room. Before my husband could reply I felt his question and responded, "It's an animal." Then I kicked the comforter right as my husband clicked on the light to reveal a large black object soring effortlessly around the room. Jonathan was standing beside the bed as I pulled the blankets up to my chin. "Its a bat!" he finally breathed as we both watched it disappear into the hallway through the open door.

Instinct took over and I went to the bedroom door and closed it. This seemed a logical way to have uninterrupted planning time for how to combat this new foe. My husband viewed it as peace and quite and climbed back into bed, turning off the light. Even my excitable Daisy laid back down and went to sleep. Deciding I did not want or know how to fight the terrible thing alone so I climbed back into bed and attempted to go back to sleep.

I think it goes without saying that I didn't sleep AT ALL. This terrible, perhaps rabies ridden rat with wings was now soaring around my house. I tried to calm myself with stupid thoughts that made the bat out to be smarter that it is... "maybe it will get back outside on its own." The night continued on and my bladder began to grow heavy with the morning ritual calling but I didn't want to leave our bat-free sanctuary until the first rays of dawn came through the window (because they are afraid of the light right?) When dawn saved me, I crept carefully into the hall and made my way to the bathroom. No sign of the bat anywhere. At first I was relieved, then I started wondering where it went. While getting ready for work Jonathan remarked, "Maybe it was a mistake to not get it outside last night. No telling where it is now." I sighed; I'll have bat and vampire nightmares now I'm sure.

It is now 10:00 am and I still have no idea where the bat is.... maybe in one of the many open holes in our house. (Our house is being remodeled and there are lots of holes in dry wall for light fixtures, vents and the like.)

I'll let you know if we ever find it.