Grouchy

For 25(ish) minutes yesterday I was in a big metal thing sitting on concrete watching a lightning storm pass me by.

Storms delayed my flight from Atlanta to Kansas. That the flight was late wasn't the thing that concerned me the most.

I had no connecting flight in Wichita, and I really didn't care if anyone else was late.

What worried me is the metal part. If I remember third grade science right, metal and lightning don't mix well. Throw in a massive amount of anxiety and a dose of Dramamine (at least my stomach was okay through this) and I didn't have a great trip home.

This whole flying thing is weird. Remember, this is the first time I've flown by myself and only the second time I've ever flown.

You have to get into a big metal thing and trust a total stranger not to kill you. And then you have to trust 200 other strangers not to kill you, too.

And some of those strangers are really annoying.

Before our weather delay, the guy in front of me was talking on the phone. The plane isn't full, he said, and you still have time to get here.

Please note that I'm tired, grouchy, kind of anxious and kind of irritated that I have to listen to another human being's voice at this point.

The guy then gave at least a 10-minute explanation of how to get to gate A32.*

You turn here, go down there, and walk about 10 minutes, he told his friend on the phone.

He went on and on and on and I was pretty sure he'd never stop talking.

In the meantime, I'm thinking just tell your stupid friend that gate A32 is between gates A31 and A33. And then shut up and get off the phone.

If we crashed the plane on an island, I'd probably punch him in the face. (Lost reference for those of you who don't know).

I should also mention that I haven't slept well this week and I just finished reading Tina Fey's "Bossypants."

I'm tired, grouchy, and kind of in a "Don't even bother messing with me' kind of a mood.

Ha, ha.

*I just made that gate number up, but you get the point.

Also, no one got on the plane after dude's phone conversation ended. Maybe his friend really couldn't find gate A32.

I also thought I lost my phone in the Atlanta airport. I backtracked and still couldn't find it. After a few minutes and an almost-heart attack later, I found it.

It was in my purse.

A happy note: I bought a copy of The New York Times and the Atlanta newspaper. The Sunday Times is thicker then my head, and you better believe I was nose-deep in that thing for the afternoon.

There's so much newspaper there I'm probably going to be reading it for the rest of my week.

Other notes

I have a few random notes that I can't make into full blog posts, so I'm going to write some tidbits.

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Today a woman from Virginia told me I have an accent. To which I said, oh puh-please.

Ha, ha.

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Accents are funny. I don't travel much, and I definitely don't travel to the South much.

The word 'your' is pronounced 'yo.'

Example: "Eat yo biscuit."

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People here call their parents momma and daddy. Even if you're 80, you have a momma and daddy, not parents, mom and dad or mother or father.

I like that.

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"I lied, but I was really confident about it."

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"A few simple but carefully crafted words go a long way."

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"Eat yo biscuit."

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"If it's what you want to do, what you want to do from the bottom of your heart, then do it. It's worth it."

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"Do you want to be associated with stupidness?"

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"You don't have to use a lot of words to tell your story. Just use the right words."

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"Do what you're passionate about. Life's too short to be unhappy."

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Seriously. 

"Eat yo biscuit."

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I'm at the National Federation of Press Women conference in Greenville, S.C.

More info: nfpw.org

Pigs.

When I return home from my road trips, I always make it a point to tell my dog that I didn't see a single pig while I was away.

Penny, my Pug, has a nickname that I hated at first. Her nickname is Pig.

At first my immediate family called her that. Then my friends started calling her that, and now she answers to Pig.

I mean, it fits. She snorts like a pig and she has a curly tail.

Being 29 and having a dog named Pig isn't really how I expected my life to go, but hey, sometimes life happens.

No matter where I go, whether it be Kansas City, Nebraska, Texas, or somewhere else, I always return home and tell my dog I didn't see any other pigs while I was away.

I can't tell her that this time. 

South Carolina loves pulled pork (as do I) and I've had quite a few conversations about pigs.

These are pigs in a museum.

I still maintain that Kansas has the best pig, though. 

Dat face!

Kansas girl tries southern food, hilarity ensues.

I want to apologize in advance for the ignorance of this post.

Last night we went to a fancy pants reception at a museum. 

It was beautiful, wonderful, and I had a great time.

The food was also beautiful, the kind of food you eat with a tiny fancy fork wearing fancy pants clothes.

Please note that I do not fit into the crowd of people who do this.

But it was fun!

The food, though, was not something I'm used to. There was shrimp, stuff in a shell, some type of fish on a waffle. It was all southern food.

I'm from Kansas. I eat things with four legs, not things that swim.

I did try one of everything. At least the one shrimp I ate didn't have eyes and wasn't looking at me. That's a plus.

Somebody asked me if I was eating an oyster. I looked at her, thought about it for a second, then said: "I'm from Kansas. I don't know what I'm eating."

Everyone laughed. Honesty is usually the best policy.

The real meal afterwards was this.

That's a big bowl of watermelon sorbet with sprinkles and chocolate candy.

I have no regrets.

Eating on the road is tough. I'm lactose intolerant, allergic to cinnamon and have a whole slew of other issues when it comes to eating food.

My main requirement for food is that it walks, not swims. 

You can take the girl out of Kansas, but you can't take Kansas out of the girl.

First leg

I had this crazy stupid idea that I would travel across the country and not take my laptop.

It turns out I should have taken it so I could write.

Oh well, you're going to get a phone update instead.

Today was the first time I flew by myself, and only the second time I've ever flown.

To say I was scared shitless was an understatement.

On the 2.5 hour drive to the airport, my stomach was in knots. I felt terrible (at 5 a.m.).

I stopped at a store to get some last-minute stuff, then I headed to the airport.

In the airport, the weird stomach feeling continued. I was sweating. I felt terrible.

I should probably warn you now that I likely have a little anxiety problem. 

Anyway, I followed the person in front of me, which turned out to be a pretty good idea.

I made it through with no trouble. Please note that I have no idea what I'm doing. Literally, not a clue.

Then the flight took off. I was in an isle seat, and I kind of thought my stomach was going to drop out of my butt.

It was not good.

We hit a few bumps, and I started screaming obscenities in my head. A guy three rows up started pointing out the window.

I cursed in my head.

Why are you pointing? Stop it!

Meanwhile, the cowboy next to me was sleeping through all of this. He was also snoring.

Near the end of our flight, the pilot told us there were some storms in Atlanta and that we were going to cruise around at 6,000 feet for a few minutes until the storms cleared.

A person with an anxiety problem is flying in storms.

WHY?

I had a 39-minute layover in Atlanta. You guys, I was cutting it close.

Once we landed, it seemed like we were on the runway forever. Sigh.

When we got off the plane in Atlanta, I stopped to take it all in.

It was huge! There were people everywhere!

The gates had numbers AND letters. It's kind of how I feel about math - I liked it better when it was all just numbers.

Once you throw the alphabet into the mix shit just starts getting weird.

Anyway, I found my gate and my way to the gate. It involved a subway ride and lightly jogging past 52 gates.

FIFTY TWO GATES.

I hauled ass, didn't stop to eat for lunch, and got into my next plane with less than 10 minutes to spare.

It was nine minutes and 32 seconds, to be exact.

By the skin of my teeth!

That flight didn't mess around. We left on time.

This time, I had a window seat. My nerves had settled a bit, and I'm really glad I changed my seat yesterday.

Plus I kind of felt like a badass for navigating the Atlanta airport.

I wish I could describe how beautiful the clouds were we flew into and over on the second flight.

There were a few rainbows. There was lush green scenery below, long windy and twisty roads, and whispy clouds floating around us that looked like huge cotton balls exploded.

It was beautiful, and it was just what I needed to calm my nerves down.

For now on, I think I'm a window seat person.

That flight lasted 22 minutes. It was by far the best 22 minutes of my week.

Taking time off.

Good evening!

I just wanted to say that I'm going to be taking a few days off from blogging. I'm going to a conference in South Carolina through Sunday.

This is a big deal to me, because I'm flying by myself for the first time tomorrow.

Somewhat miraculously, I packed all of the stuff I need into one single suitcase and a carry-on bag.

The thing I'm most excited about is the copy of Tina Fey's "Bossypants" that's waiting for me.

This is going to be a good trip. Some time away from my hometown is almost always a good thing.

So, until later!

"Sometimes you have to break the rules and have fun."

At lunch today my mom was feeding one of my nieces. We sit them on the table in little chairs and feed them fruit and some kind of meat and noodle mixture for lunch.

Today, one twin was acting especially ornery. She would take a bite of food, think about it, and in the cutest way imaginable, spit it out at us.

Then she would look at us and laugh.

Now, she's only seven months old. Does a baby that little know what she's doing?

My answer is yes. Yes, she knew she was spitting food out at us and she thought it was hilarious.

Honestly, I thought it was pretty funny too. Some baby food got on my arm. Damn, kid, you can aim!

Like I just told my mom over the phone, the only thing we taught her today is that you can spit on people and people will laugh and love you anyway.

Normally that isn't acceptable behavior. But dammit, it was adorable.

Oh well. Like my mom just said: "Sometimes you have to break the rules and have fun."