Food on an Airplane: A Sit-Down Tragedy (Not to Be Confused With Airplane Food: A Stand-Up Comedy)

Here's a story that I tell you more as a warning than anything else. In fact there is no other reason I can (with an existing conscience) admit as to why I am sharing it.

I took a plane from Chicago back to D.C. today. I actually missed my original flight because I was the last person to check in so they bumped me and put me on a later flight. I graciously accepted my fate in the form of a complimentary voucher and some extra time.

As a consolation prize of sorts, I went and bought myself a burrito. Veggie with all the fixings if you must know! They stacked and packed that mound of nutrients; it was locked and loaded for deliciousness with an intent to satiate hunger.

So I got on the later flight, paper burrito sack in tow, and I promptly fell asleep. This action turned out to be great timing because the flight was delayed and I slept through most of the tarmac time including waiting in a queue of jets to take off. If you think waiting in line at the post office is bad, try waiting in a line of airplanes at the going postal office. Ok so nobody actually suddenly raged out, but the old lady next to me did put her head in her hands and sigh so heavily that the bookmark in her Sue Grafton novel slightly ruffled. I know!! Pretty crazy stuff.

Anyhoohaw, we eventually took off with no great fanfare and so did my appetite. My friend Joe warned me about not eating a complicated meal on the plane, but I brushed off his advice. The old lady next to me cracked into her Starbucks scone so, as far as I was concerned, it was game time for the stomach fiesta!

Burritos are always inhumanely large. I should have factored that into my calculations. I wonder if this guy did.
photo courtesy of Flickr and Dan Phiffer

Well, shortly into my foray down Guac n' Cheese Lane, something horrible happened. Salsa started dripping down my arms, or more accurately, into the sleeves of my jacket. I tried to prevent the leakage, but when I corked one tomato spout, another one would dribble out somewhere else. It was hopeless. I could barely eat that monster quick enough. And then, when it seemed like things couldn't get any worse, a single, bold black bean fell down my shirt.

Once I managed to sandbag most of the condiment flood and jam the rest of the soggy tortilla down my gullet, I decided to conduct a full-fledged bean investigation. I found it, lodged in the nook of my bra. Well, of course, as I tried to extricate it, it fell way down into the lower torso region. I searched everywhere, the seat, my person, and the persons next to me ("Excuse me, but have you seen a single, orphaned black bean? No? Well, thanks for nothing!"), but it was nowhere close to be-an found. Giving it up for lost, I went on with my seated life.

(Cut to three, suspenseful hours later...)

I was off the flight, bags in hand, and ready for the world! And then I went to the bathroom for a quick wash-up, and something bizarre and grotesque happened. I found the bean. Lodged in the holy sanctuary of my belly button, seeking asylum for the past (tomato and avocado) chunk of my life. I threw my fists at the sky yelling "Why! Why! Whyyyyyyyyyy!"

You guys think you're so fun and carefree. I'm never falling for it again.
photo courtesy of Flickr and Amy Grace Elizabeth

There were no answers. There still aren't. The black bean's family is still making inquiry as to his whereabouts. There was salsa all over the crime scene. [Roll Lawwww and Hors D'oeuvres credits].

P.S. Yes, I have an innie. How dare all of you.

Demons Have Feelings Too

So as a follow up to the last ticklishly-unsettling post, here is another. I went out for a dear friend's birthday last night, and I joined the party for the post-dinner drinks portion of the evening.

We went to a homey, bargain-heavy locale, and to make it even better, one of the regulars decided to treat us to a round of Jello shots, I am wagering due to the celebratory nature of our gathering. I decided to abstain as I was the only one who had to drive home shortly.

He came over to our table of revelers and merrymakers to present a toast as we shot Jellos, and it appeared to be in prehistoric Latin via cryptic chanting. I felt like we were being initiated into the Skulls rather than raising our glasses to our health and wealth.

Well, after a few sloppy tries on getting it right, someone dared to ask, "What does it mean?"

And this prize peach says, "It's a toast you say among friends, and then you know that whoever doesn't say it and doesn't drink is a demon!" Then he looks straight at me and points, smiles rakishly, and saunters away, chuckling to himself.

Well, way to drop a verbal bomb on the table and then leave me to frolic in the fallout.

Just to show he meant business, when we were leaving the bar, he then proceeded to shake everyone's hand and bid them a good night. I thought we were friends after all because he warmly shook my hand, but then followed up with, "I'll wish you a good night even though you're the Devil!"

Ahem. Well, thanks for the generosity. Even us devils are having a hard time stealing souls what with this recession and all.

Sheesh!

That sly dog! He was probably planning to call someone a demon all day! Tomorrow he'll probably call someone a witch. Yeah I said it!
photo courtesy of Flickr and Adam Pieniazek

Time Is on My Side? Sure Doesn't Feel Like It!

There's a musical clock in my parents' house (in which I still reside, whoa whoa, adulthood) that plays the same song when the time hits the hour. The song it plays is Are You Lonesome Tonight?, famously covered by one Mr. Elvis Presley. Though this is the instrumental version...thanks goodness, but barely. I'm just saying it makes for some pensive moments.

What a masochist of a clockmaker. Clockmakers still exist, right? Otherwise, I would cringe to work in the factory that produces these bad boys. People would just use their lunch breaks to whimper and, at the end of the day, they'd punch out their tears.

You Kiss & I Tell

I saw a couple sitting on a bench making out in a pretty little corner of a college campus last night but here's the clincher. Their faces weren't moving. They were just frozen in one long still-life of a tongue lock. Is this a new trend? If so, what's the catch?

I mean, what's the draw? The hook?

It was definitely fun for me, but for them, I don't see the appeal as much.

A hard sell, folks, a hard sell indeed.

And don't say they both had braces, and didn't want their individual grillz to grate against each other. I will come find you, and make you take it back.

Like this, but like this at moments 1, 2, 3, 7, AND 51
photo courtesy of Flickr and pedrosimoes7

It was like a Big Red commercial but not in a good way. Yeah I said it!