"Darling, I could never be your mother"

The wonderful thing about being on vacation with Bi and Vijlet is that you never have to worry about anything. It's the perfect step-out-of-the-plane into open arms scenario. Very heartwarming.

So the flight from Boston was delayed by 1.5 hrs because of bad weather in Chicago (it was drizzling). As we waited at the boarding gate and I watched Gilmore Girls Season Two Disc Two, my ears were assaulted by the sounds of loud and rather rude conversation. There was this one guy talking to another chap and a cow of a woman who were yelling speech at each other even though they were standing together. It was very annoying. They went on to complain about United, how the service is always bad, how they're always late, how their stock prices should be falling, how the company should just fold and go away because they're the devil-incarnate and how United has a personal agenda to make their life miserable. On full volume. In the middle of the boarding area. I wanted to slap them. So then, they were asked to keep it down by the woman sitting next to me working on her laptop and the main obnoxious bastard, without breaking the flow of conversation, actually glanced at her derisively and said, "sorry to interrupt your AOL chat session lady". I wanted to slap him. Then he looks at me and winks. I really wanted to slap him. I looked him up and down and made wot I hope was a face of distaste and went back to Gilmore Girls, wanting to slap him.

So we board. The nice United man moved my seat from 20E to 6F which is always nice. There was a man with a heavy German accent sitting one seat away with, unfortunately Obnoxious Man in front. No matter, I said. I shall put my headphones on and read my book and not let him bug me I said. German Accent Man had very odd boots on. They were heavy, almost like military boots and he was wearing dark green trousers, a brown shirt with a long brown coat. He walked funny too. Very stiff. He had a briefcase - a brown patent leather bit of business. He was short. With a toothbrush moustache.

I'll let that all sink in, shall I? So anyway, GAM spent the entire flight staring at me as I napped. It was very disconcerting. Well probably not the entire flight but every time I woke up he was looking at me. I had bad Hitler dreams.

So then I wake up at a point and I see we're about 20 minutes to land so I buzz mine hostess to get a drink and OM in front yells out that he wants another whiskey (another?! it's a two hour flight!). She brings it to him glaringly. He strangely realizes that he's lonely and must commune with his fellow man and gets onto his seat on his knees and peers over at me exuding whiskey breath. I ignore him, waving my hand in front of my nose. He begins to speak and sadly I can hear him through my headphones. I take headphones off and look at him questioningly. He grins like a deranged monkey. I say, "What?" He says, "What's that you're reading over there?" I say, "It's a novel concept. It's call a book." He swigs whiskey. I resume reading. "Is that the Osama fellow?" I look at cover where there is nice picture of Sidney Poitier. "How does this look like the Osama fellow?!" "Well he's black in't he?" I look at him in awe of his stupidity. He swigs more whiskey. I say, "this is Sidney Poitier, yes, Barak Obama is also black but that means nothing in this context and Osama is the man they're trying to find, I hardly think he would have written a book that has the words 'a spiritual autobiography' on the cover that could be bought at any bookstore in the US." He swigs more whiskey obviously not comprehending. I want to slap him. Seat belts need to be fastened and he goes away. I shake my head. GAM is smirking at me. I look out of window hoping for quick landing and speedy exit. We land. Everybody stands up to queue in the aisle to leave. I don't. (I'm in a window seat and there is no question of having enough head room for me underneath the oxygen mask compartments to be able to stand straight and they haven't opened the doors yet so why bother). OM leans over and barks, "so you're going to Minneapolis?" Same flight was carrying on. No, I says, I'm getting off at Chicago. "This is Chicago" he says. I want to slap him. "Hey give me your number so we can hook up sometime" he says. Mind you, he's dressed like any other travelling salesman in his khaki pants and blue shirt and striped tie with grey jacket and looks about 35. "You've got to be kidding me," say I. He does not respond but as he walks down to the exit he is heard clearly muttering, "stupid c*nt... needs to get laid". At which point I tapped on his shoulder and when he turned around, I slapped him. Then I picked up my bag, pushed him aside and walked out of the plane. I think I saw the air hostess grin at me in sister solidarity. Now, I'm not the slapping kind but I have to say that was quite satisfying. I highly recommend it.

Vijlet was there to pick me up and towards their new home we went (Lincoln Park, beautiful duplex condo, very nicely painted). Bi was there waiting with open arms and lots of yakking was done over some wine and very spicy lamb curry.

Yesterday we went to Devon St. for some shopping for the home and then to watch Eklavya and eat Indo-Chinese at Hot Pot Kitchen. Very delish food. Very disappointing movie.

Time has shifted ahead this morning and as usual I'm up at the crack of dawn waiting for the bedroom door to creak open and footsteps to be heard on the stairs going towards the tea preparation area.

Hello! I hear water being poured into a kettle. That's my cue.