Monday, December 22

Stuck in Chicago

some trinkets from a trip to Continental Clay?? (I can't remember the name-in Santa Monica I think)

Well I'm back in New Hampshire. We just got a load of snow dumped on us. The trip was nice, but it's also good to be home again. Long trip back though. I had to change planes in Chicago. I was supposed to have a two hour layover, but the plane was delayed from NY, and about five minutes after I arrived (looking like all that and then some in a new brown coat and suede boots-but that's another story) I found out that my flight, which was supposed to take off at about 6:50 p.m., wasn't even due to arrive there until 10:30. Since I arrived around 4:30ish, that meant I had around 6 hours to kill.

So after roaming around the small portion of the airport I was trapped in, trying to balance my guitar-a 1976 old Guild my father let me have which hadn't seen the light of day outside it's case in over a decade-on my rolling backpack, stumbling around on my new boots, I finally found a seat in a pub, ordered a glass of red wine, which I soon regretted as I became sleepy and got a headache, ordered a bowl of mediocre chili and killed like 45 minutes. Only five hours left to go and things were not looking good. I bought The Appeal, by John Grisham and did my best to get lost in it and and accept my fate. In another life, and if I were a little smarter, I might have been a lawyer.

Eventually the time went by and I got on the plane. We rapid-fire boarded and I was fortunate enough to have an old charming gentleman sit next to me who reeked of alcohol and had the gelatinous veined eyes of a career drinker. I was torn between genuinely liking this man, and being horrified by being trapped next to him for two hours. He talked to me non-stop, loud, animated, bouncy and rude. When I came back from the bathroom, he said to me: "well I can see everything must have come out all right!" He expressed himself at length about different colors of pee based on how much water you drink, told me that he could tell I was a white woman from central NH based on my political views, and commented on the nice breasts of the woman on the t.v. monitor. I felt elated when the plane finally landed.

9 comments:

www.jeffmartinceramics.blogspot.com said...

welcome back!..john grisham=killing airport time..i really love his books, i would like to be a detective potter, if i could..

tsbroome said...

Good to see you back! Oh the horror of airports. I was on a plane every Monday morning for ten years in the 80's. This brings back many memories, good and bad, of the crazy people you meet. I've been groped and passed out on by that same type of man you sat with way too many times!

cookingwithgas said...

what a tree! Glad you are home and can now enjoy some winter snow.
Happy Hoildays and may all your men be wise and not rude.

Kyle Carpenter said...

jeez...sounds kinda crappy. i'm sure it was nice to get home.

Patricia Griffin said...

Bet you really ARE smart enough to be a lawyer, but who wants that, really?... You'd have to do A LOT more yoga to balance out the stress! Happy Holidays!

Ben Stark said...

Welcome home! Sounds like an interesting trip! I have learned to hate airports as well.

Judy Shreve said...

Must feel good to be home where there are pines covered in snow instead of balmy skies & palm trees.

Hope you have a great holiday & your best pots in 2009!

barbara edwards said...

Well, you had snow for Christmas and a great guitar, too. Ah, the adventures of airplane seat partners. At least he was a cheery and talkative guy instead of morose one - my least favorite.

Deborah Woods said...

Hi everyone. thanks for your comments. Show you how much attention I've been giving to my blog or anyone elses for that matter. I just read them five days later. It is good to be home again-for sure.