Normally, I’ll just ask someone taller who is in the general area, or more often, when no one is around, like that day, I’ll just climb on the first or second shelf. But that day, the situation looked…questionable. It was in the cooler section behind the glass doors, and the first shelf looked slightly unstable. So, I decided, “you know what, I don’t really need yogurt, cuz I don’t really need a broken face.” I turn around to leave, and some 987 year old woman says to me, I kid you not, “Sweetie, can you reach some yogurt for me?” Well, gee grandma, I can’t say no to you, of course I will.
So, I climb on the first shelf, and the ENTIRE SHELVING SYSTEM rolls back like four inches, and the door CLOSES BEHIND ME. Then I hear it. That “Vrooooom” sound of the cooler re-cooling. Which apparently creates suction. BECA– USE THE DOOR WON’T OPEN. I am COMPLETELY in the cooler, holding onto the shelving system, standing on the second shelf, facing it, with my ass pressed against the suctioned shut door, and I’m stuck. Literally, there is no wiggle room. AND WHERE THE HELL IS GRANDMA?? I am actually stuck IN the yogurt cooler at the grocery store.
Well this is certainly a high point in my day. Finally the vrooming stops and the door is able to be pushed open WITH MY ASS, and I climb out. There are like five people standing there starting at me. It’s like I’m the freaking bimbo display at the zoo. And grandma? No where to be found. Well this is just great.
In other news, I took a plane last week with my kids.
That was fun.
I sort of feel like I deserve an award or something for bringing them both back alive, especially since the 2 year old boy child boarded a plane going to Kansas, all by his little old self.
I was getting a tag for the stroller so I could gate check it, and he was sitting just a few feet away from me. I had my eye on him the entire time, and he wasn’t moving, so I was ok with it. But then the rolling suitcase tipped over and in the moment it took me to upright it, he BOLTED with the lightening speed that only a two year old can posses. I’m standing there with the stroller, suitcase, and girl child, conveniently while the airport is playing its continuous loop of “Due to federal guidelines, it is unlawful to leave luggage unattended in an airport.”
So, I start to drag it all with me.
Then I realize he is getting farther away. So I abandon it. Then I think they might arrest me or something, so I turn around and grab it. Then I decide I don’t care and I run after the boy child. Just in time for him to slip behind a family handing their boarding passes to a ticketing agent and go running down whatever that hallway thing is called that leads to the plane.
I go running up there, and some woman literally jumps in front of me and yells “No line cutting! Back of the line! I was first!!” I’m a little panicked, but manage to spit out “No, my son just ran onto the plane!” and the ticketing agent was all “well, you will get on when it’s your turn,” and I’m all “No, he is only two, he isn’t flying,” and the agent is all “Well ma’am, that is much too young to be flying alone, you should not have put him on alone.” And I’m all “I didn’t! He ran on, you didn’t see him, I need to get him!” And the agent is all “I’ve been here the entire time, he must have had a boarding pass!”
At this point I’m envisioning him opening the emergency door and inflating a very expensive blow up slide, and wondering exactly how much bail money would be required if I was to storm the airplane. Eventually, as I am standing there arguing with the ironically blonde agent, a flight attendant comes walking out with the boy child, saying that no one on the plane will claim him. I WILL CLAIM HIM THANK YOU VERY MUCH. And then I will lock him in my suitcase until I get home.
Speaking of locking people in suitcases, while on vacation, there was this weirdo guy that worked in the food court area of the hotel. Every time he would see me come in, he would leave his post as the ice cream scooper, and try to chat me up.
“So, do you come here often?” he said in his creepiest voice.
No, that’s why it’s called vacation.
“Would you like to do something tonight?” No, not really. “Tomorrow?” No. Never. “So, you like the color pink huh?” Uh, yeah, I guess so. “Well your shirt is hot pink, and so are your running shoes.”
Yea, I like to try and make sure my attire matches, it’s a little life skill I’ve picked up along the way, THANKS FOR NOTICING.
“And your phone has a pink case!” Ok, well, I guess ya got me. I like pink. Don’t tell anyone. “Your kids look JUST like you!”
They look nothing like me. Their skin is like five shades darker than mine because they are %50 native american. “They are just tan. I bet you’re tan too.” Tan where dude? Tan under my clothes and not on any of my exposed skin? My family is from Dublin. I don’t have a cell in my body that tans. “Well they have your eyes.” They have the darkest brown eyes I have ever seen. I have the bluest eyes I have ever seen.
Can we just stop talking now?
The next day: “Hey you, I was waiting for you today. I get a discount at the gift shop, if you want to go shopping. I was able to get %50 off of the engagement ring I bought my fiancé.” Ok. First off, fiancé? Secondly, you bought her engagement ring in a hotel gift shop, on a discount!? “Where are your kids?” They were bothering me so I locked them in a suitcase and put them in the closest. “Oh.” Dude, I’m kidding. “Oh, yea, of course.” I mailed them home. Fed Ex, overnight, packed them a few snacks. “Oh, so does that mean you are free tonight?” Dude, STOP TALKING.
Me, encounter a strange character? No…never!!
So as the plane is taking off, this woman in the row across from me lean’s over and asks me if I want a magazine. I politely thank her and tell her I am jealous that she gets to read magazines, because I’ll be
“Oh, well here, take a few for your hotel then,” she says and tries to hand me seriously, like 25 magazines. “Oh, wow, you sure did bring a lot, didn’t you?” I say in an awkwardly forced laugh. “I’ve been collecting them for a month now, I figured everyone on the plane would like some reading material. I never pay for them, I just steal them” she says proudly. (Um…what!?) “These five came from the nail salon, this one came from the gas station, (she is now flipping through the stack) these three, no…four….no, only three, yea, these three came from my doctors office” she explains.
“Oh wow,” I relent, “you weren’t kidding.” “Well why on earth would I pay for something that I can get for free?” she says in her most shocked voice. “They are mostly ads anyways, so the magazine companies should expect that people aren’t going to pay for that!! So, here, take these,” she says as she leans across the aisle holding a stack way heavier then she is stabilized to hold, and nearly falls into the aisle. “No, really, thanks, I’m ok” I assure her, while pasting on my best forced smile.”
“You don’t want any!? Then why did I BRING ALL OF THESE!?” she proclaims in a clearly aggravated high pitched tone.
Whoa, ok….”you know what, on second thought,” I say out of sheer terror (I am trapped on a plane with her you know), “I could probably use a few for after the kids go to bed” “I knew it!” she screeches joyously as she happily hands me about a seven inch thick stack of magazines.
WONDERFUL. Now I have to travel with two kids, a stroller, luggage, and a six pounds of stolen merchandise. Faaaaaantastic. She then proceeds to forcefully offer me more unwanted items throughout the entire flight. Her half drank water for my son’s sippy cup, a lap for my daughter to sit on and color, her phone number, her picture taking skills, her sweater, some sort of homemade meat snacks in a baggie, and a million other things that I have thankfully blocked from my memory.
Thankfully, I survived that, and once we were safely in our hotel at night, I would literally hide under the covers in bed, and pretend to be asleep until the kids were asleep (darn one room wasn’t working out very well!). It was really hard to stay silent while I would hear — coming from the crib, straight from the mouth of a 2 yr old Boy Child in a tiny two year old boy child voice, “I no tired. I no night-night! How you day wuz mommy? How you day wuz? You day good mommy? Mommy? You day good? Mommy, why you no talk me? You no talk me mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Be nice mommy. Moooommmmmy, beeeee nice mommy, beeeee niiiiice. BE NICE MOMMY!!”
Then, he climbed right out of the pack and play and onto the bed with his sister, put his head on her pillow, and his arm around her.
I sat up, and at the speed of light he hopped off her bed and scaled himself back into the pack and play. I stared at him, he stared at me, we stared at each other, and then, totally stone faced, he said, “I do nothing.”
“Ohhhhh rrrrreeeeally little man, because I am pretty sure I just saw you climb back in there.” “No, not me. Me no do dat. Me seeping,” he says, looking at me like I have completely lost my mind.
Then flops himself down and goes right to sleep.
I about die laughing as “Jorge” tells us something totally non important. Then, my friend, who is in the middle of a conversation where what she said next was actually relevant, says “Bring the heat, I have something big to show you,” and I SERIOUSLY think my heart might explode from choking down laughter.
After he leaves, for some odd reason we decide that we should have gotten a picture of the hot stripper cop, with AMAZING teeth (I seriously don’t know what it is about teeth, flash me some super white teeth and I will have a hard time not ripping your clothes off). So me, being the unabashed person that I am, decides, sure, why the hell not, I’ll go get his picture.
So I stalk him.
Because that’s normal, and we all know how normal I am
But anyway, now I’m back home and let’s pretend we were talking about something that had to do with food so that I can segway into.. “and to end the week, a little food porn for you.”
You can’t have people over to watch the game without the world’s best nachos and homemade chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwiches!