I'm back from the Northwoods. And I'd say I was pretty happy to be back here and adding to this tripe.
But... the fact is: There are MANY bananamen here. Illegally. Without proper documentation. And, also, some grossish-looking Banana Slugs!
Truly OT!
Many of you would be on IGNORE... if I had more friends. TFI.
Heh heh.
Back to the tripe:
Once we were in the air. Chewing on our gum. We all started doing the regular things we do on a plane.
First, Beth pulls out her bag of books and sketching materials. And gets busy.
Second, Mellyman pulls out the map of the Orlando area and tries to remember how we get from the airport to Disney.
Again.
Thirdly, Tommy starts talking non-stop to Calvin and Mellyman. While reading the emergency proceedures folder. In the upright seatback in front of him. He asks Mellyman when we will be needing the oxygen masks? And why you must first put your own on BEFORE you attempt to help smaller children with theirs?
I try to ignore all of that. It freakin' freaks Me(l) out.
Fourthly, Calvin starts getting bored. And begins his ritual flight harassment medley. Beginning with Tommy. And some poking. And whispering. Moving on to Mellyman on the other side of him. And eventually to Beth and I. And the flight attendants. And a handful of other specially selected passengers.
Fifthly, I think about snakes on a plane.
And WHY? WHY? I would have ever been tempted to watch that movie.
Oh.
Samuel L. Jackson.
I like him. He swears real good.
Then I move quickly on to thoughts of planes crashing, people getting ripped from their seats, crumpled wreakage, and beer.
I wonder when I can order an alcoholic beverage. And how many? B/c I REFUSE to unbuckle my seatbelt and get up outta my seat. To use the bathroom. On a plane. UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY.
I figure my maximum is one. One beer on the plane.
Unless I'm wearing a diaper.
Then... it's more.
Sixthly, John stares straight ahead. Quietly. And looks nervouser than Me(l).
Pretty soon into the flight Calvin makes up a new game. For us all to play.
We realize this because he says, "Let's play Dookey Dookey Ho!"!
What the HECK is that?!
Beth and I ask together.
Calvin says, "It's my new game. I just made it up. It's fun to say in my head. And it's gonna be fun. Actually, it'll be MORE fun to say out loud. It's true, Mom, I just said it out loud and it was better!".
Ok.
Calvin unbuckles his seatbelt. I gasp. And he turns around in his seat and looks over the top of it at Beth and I.
Beth asks how we play.
Calvin points to Beth, "Dookey!". Then he points to Tommy's head, "Dookey". Then he points at Mellyman, "Dookey".
Then he points at Me(l): "Ho!"!
Then he does it all again.
Dookey, dookey, dookey... Ho.
Skipping himself entirely. And ending with me. Everytime.
By this time Beth is giggling, "What kinda STUPID game is THAT?!"???
And I'm not likin' the game much, either.
I keep ending up "Ho".
So I pipe up, "Calvin, I don't want to play anymore. I always end up being the 'Ho'."!
Beth is giggling like a madman. B/c she's 12. And... NO DUMMY! She figures out the joke I'm makin'.
Plus... the game is ridiculous. Too.
Then Mellyman burst out into laughter in the seat in front of us.
That usually means he's thought of something funny. And personally amused himself to death.
Either that. Or a cat is licking his barefoot.
I was thinking it was the former. B/c there better not be any cats on the plane. Along with snakes.
Obviously.
So I ask, "What's so funny... Miss Giggles Molloy?"!
He manages to gasp out, "Well... if the WHITE SHOE fits..."!
Before he snorts. At his HI-LAR-I-OUS wit.
He's referring to these:
Shoes.
Of mine.
Now...allow me to go off on a tangent of sorts. For a moment.
I really LIKE those shoes. They're very high. And at my advanced age and physical decay... I need some HELP.
Bringing SEXY back. NOJustinTimberlake.
I just can't manage to bring it back. In
CROCS. Anymore.
TFI.
Although... I'm not even sure Jessica Biel could bring sexy back in CROCS.
But... maybe.
Well... probably.
Moving on.
Those shoes are not only CUTE... but they are practical.
Yes... practical.
They are my handy dandy portable intoxication meter. For Mellyman.
The scale is this:
No beer ~ Mellyman does NOT like the shoes.
Two beer ~ Mellyman changes his mind and LIKES the shoes.
Three beer ~ Mellyman LOVES the shoes. And will not be driving.
Four beer ~ Mellyman, again, changes his mind. HATES the shoes. But only b/c he thinks OTHER MEN... probably like the shoes. Too.
We're takin' a cab. At this point. In a snit.
Five beer ~ I might as well REMOVE the shoes and put on my big dirty fishing hip-waders. B/c Mellyman is asleep in the cab. And short of a cat licking his foot. Startling and disorienting him. We're not having anymore fun. Tonight.
Again.
Ok.
That's my personal Mellyman breathalizer. Which doesn't require me smelling Mellyman's breath.
I'm thinking that cops should probably suit up in those kickbutt shoes. And they'd be all set.
Or not.
Also... you may notice that picture of my foot. Is from Disney. Our Disney trip... Boardwalk nite specifically. And Mellyman was driving. So was I. But... not comfortably. TFI.
At this point in the flight. While Mellyman was laughing. And I was giggling. And so was Beth.
Calvin said, "WHAT? What's so funny?"!
Nothing my darling son of the made-up tediously boring plane games.
Nothing.
And I noticed that John was looking around. The plane. Like something was wrong.
So I leaned over and asked him if he was OK.
No answer.
"John! Are you alright? Do you feel sick? Do you have to use the washroom?"
"Uhhh... I don't know."
Great.
Ok.
"Alright, John, there's a bathroom at the front of this plane. And at the back. Don't ask me how I know that. That's classified. But... if you have to go... feel free. Just unbuckle your belt and get up. Use the bathroom at the front of the plane. It's more fun. More people will see you. Escpecially if you look greenish. Don't ask me how I know that. It's also classified."!
John nodded.
So I added, "Oh. And there's this handy dandy little bag. Here. In the seatback in front of you. You can throw up in that. If you choose. Then the flight attendant will immediately wisk it away. To somewhere. Again...don't ask me how I know this. Capish? Oh yeah. And we call those bags 'ZZUBbags'. In our neck of the woods. Which would be Canada. You know... CANADA... the country that kicked your butts thoroughly in the War of 1812. You DID study that in school. Didn't you?".
Mellyman turned around and told me to "Shut it, Mel!".
Heh heh.
John decided to take my advice and head for the bathroom at the front of the plane.
Wobbling up the aisle.
Good LUCK! John!!!!
You're a braver man than Me(l).
Who was just sitting in the seat. By this time. Trying not to think of running water, snakes, plane crashes, oxygen masks, Justin Timberlake, my disturbing Gene Hackman/Richard Gere combo I call 'Gene Gere', the food at Chef Mickey's and... ZZUB.
All of the unpleasantries. In life.
I'd add: my Mother's cooking and spray-on tanner to that list.
But... I can only take SO MUCH. In a plane.
I'm happy to report that John returned from the washroom looking happier.
The happyhaunts and co. landed safely in Orlando.
To the loud cheers and applause of ONE really happy. Passenger.
Who everyone else stared at. Oddly.
Who was it?!
Don't ask Me(l). It's CLASSIFIED!
Cheers, Mel.
