I spent a little time painting in Photoshop and listening to music on the plane. 12.5 hours is a long time in the air. Copyright 2011 Totsymae
I want each and every one of you to know that I braved it through an eleven-hour layover in Seoul, Korea on my way back over here to the good ole U.S. of A. Actually, I didn’t have much of a choice. I met up with a little friend to hang out with during this time in a vast of a building. It was empty in that place around 11 at night. I had no way to charge my boyfriend laptop until the next morning, when I found out I could trade my boarding pass for an electrical adapter at the information desk. You know, the system’s different over that way.
Anyway, I was good and tired when I got back to America. I talked to my folks, dispensed a few gifts, went to my ole jail cell, place of employment to chat a bit and since I couldn’t fight it anymore, I fell my ass to sleep. It’s a 12-hour difference between there and here, folks.
I also have to tell you, from the time I left America and returned, I didn’t have seat mates ’til I boarded the plane from Korea. There we were, the three of us packed in like big ass sardines, folks. I had the window seat, right above the wing and it was a beautiful sight to see them clouds. I wanted to reach out and touch them.
Anyhow, Woman in the Middle, as soon as the cabin lights go off, got to tossing around like she was in her bed at home or something. It was supposed to be a relaxing time ’cause we’d been fed and everything but with all that there tossing I had to endure for what seemed like for damn ever, folks, Totsy got an evil thought going in her mind that she ain’t right too proud of. I got to thinking, “If you don’t stop that moving around up in this here seat, I’m gonna pop the shit outta you.” That was my exact thought, folks. But you’d be proud ’cause I didn’t act on it or nothing. I went on to thinking just how damn sexy an airline pilot is to me, flying that big ass machine and working all them controls, handling that turbulence and shit. You know, trying to think positive and all.
Then I had another evil thought as I was making my way through customs. I had to present this form saying what kinda shit I’d brought back in and answer questions on my whereabouts. Now, before I got up there, this fella had to get his little station ready. I knew right off he didn’t wanna be there. He carried on that way in his body language. I got up there and finish my round of questions and the little cover of my passport falls to the floor, ’cause he really don’t care shit about what he’s doing no how, folks. That’s what got me. That he’s got gainful employment here and don’t give a shit about it. Then, gives me this I-give-even-less-of-a-shit look that he made my little cover fall to the floor and offers me a weak ass apology. I just looked at him and thought, “You sorry motherfucker, you.”
I did, finally, manage to have myself a pat-down at my final destination but it was by some woman. I figure I must’ve flown in at the wrong time ’cause my Denzel look-alike wasn’t on duty to meet up with me for this strip search pat-down I’ve been looking so forward to. Though, I have to tell you folks, I slept like a dream in my bed. Only four and a half weeks I’d been gone but once I hit Hartsfield-Jackson Airport, it only felt like a day and some change.
It’s still a little early for me to head out to handle a little business and I’ve got myself a gang of things to do before flying out again. Plus, I’m back with my little family and that’s better than cool. Right now though, I gotta go see what I can fill my stomach with. May cook me a little somethin-somethin’ while I watch one of my favorite morning news shows to get the lowdown. So my good folks, I’ll catch y’all later.
I'm an artist who's writing,mothering, blogging and doing a few other things under the sun. I buy toilet paper 99.9% of every trip I make to the grocery store. I'm a people watcher, so I know you're here but drop me a line anyway.
