It’s been a
while since I last traveled pretty, and that has been for an assortment of
reasons. For one, the summer heat is
brutal and makes it tough to look and feel your best. It’s hot for anyone, but when you add hip pads,
breast forms, nylons, and a face caked with makeup, it becomes truly
unbearable. The other reason I’ve been
flying in boy mode is because my wife has become increasingly unhappy with my
activities and has been letting me know this pretty much every chance that she
gets.
As I was
packing my things for this week’s trip, I was running around in shorts and a
new t-shirt when my wife made a comment to me.
“I like the
way you look in that shirt.” She said with a smile.
“This ol’
thing? I just found it hanging in my closet.” I replied with a grin. After a
brief pause, she started laughing and then replied.
“You are so broke in the head. You have no idea
what is in the boy side of your
closet, but I’ll bet that you know every single thing you have hanging on the other side!”
Of course,
that’s just plain silly, I thought to myself, because I have a really shitty
memory and way too many female
clothes for me to even come close to
recalling each and every one of them! I suspected that I wasn’t going to be
doing myself any favors if I told her that though, so I let it ride and only
replied with a laugh. She wasn’t done though. . .
“I miss Matthew.” She said with a forlorn look
on her face. It took me a second to realize what she had said as it seemed kind
of out of context.
“What do you
mean?”
“Just that –
I want Matthew back.”
“Umm , I
never left. I’m still here ya know?!”
“Yeah, but
it seems like ‘Kimberly’ is taking over.”
“Hell, I
haven’t traveled as Kimberly in over a month!”
“I still
think you’re obsessed with it.”
“I don’t
know if that’s entirely fair. I go to great lengths to only do this when I
travel and am away from home you know? You never have to see it or deal with
it, so I’m not sure why it is a problem for you. I can’t help thinking that
maybe you’re obsessed with it.”
She decided
to change her angle of attack after that comment.
“You know,
every single time you leave the house that way, you risk our family.” She said.
I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that one, and was a little taken aback
by the anger in her voice.
“Sweetheart,
you know that your mother has already told everyone in your family right? I
have no idea how she found out, but she made sure that everyone else knows now.
What risk is left?”
“How about
your job? If they find out that you are misrepresenting the company when you
are traveling on their time and money?”
“I’m not representing them this way – I
wouldn’t dream of going to a customer like that. How I travel is my business.”
I replied, getting more than a little defensive.
“I just miss
Matthew.” She said again.
“Baby, I’ve
never changed. This is me, and has
always been me. I honestly don’t know
what to tell you if that makes you so unhappy.
I hate to say this, but maybe you should decide if you want me anymore.
I know that this is not what you signed up for or expected, and I do understand
that. If you can’t stand to be with me, I’ll let you go. I don’t want you to
leave, but I I’ll let you go if you want to.”
Funny thing
– you expect that I would recall her answer, but I was so upset that I guess I
don’t. Obviously she didn’t say “get out” though . . .
I didn’t
share this to air my dirty laundry in public, I just figure that I always share
the amusing and fun stuff with you so it’s only fair to also comment on the bad
things that happen and on the consequences that go hand in hand with my
choices. Sigh . . .
So Monday
morning I found myself back in the Austin airport as always, and I made my way
to the US Airways counter. The ladies there still aren’t quite as friendly as
the Delta folks have become with me, but I think that they are warming up a
little. It goes without saying that I had the full attention of all of the
women behind the counter as I stepped up. We exchanged the usual pleasantries,
just minor chit-chat and nothing of note, and then I made my way to the
security check area. As I was removing my shoes and sparklies, an absolutely
stunning woman wearing a flawless “business woman” dress looked at me for a
moment and then approached.
“You aren’t
Linda are you?” she asked, very hesitant and clearly pretty sure that I wasn’t.
“Nope!” I
told her with a laugh.
I wonder if
she has found Linda yet?
After I put
all of my things onto the x-ray machines belt, I made my way over to the body
scanner to wait for my turn to go through it. For just a brief moment I was
delighted to find that there was a large fan behind us, desperately trying in
vain to cool all of the folks waiting in line. I say I was delighted for a
moment, because that’s all it took to realize that I was in trouble! The cute
summer dress that I was wearing was made out of a very light material, and it
very much wanted to help me do an impression of Marylyn Monroe. One second I
was prim and proper, and the very next second the skirt of my dress was trying
to climb up to my ears. Needless to say, I frantically grabbed at the dress and
held it in place against the offending breeze while I waited my turn with a
bright red face.
I’m pretty sure that I didn’t show anyone
more than is proper, but I’m not
positive. . .
After I
boarded the airplane, I was off in my own little world, listening to my music
and reading a book on my IPAD, when an off duty flight attendant took the seat
directly in front of mine. I had to laugh though, when part way through the
flight she went to the lavatory for about five minutes, and when she came out
she was wearing casual clothes and had her hair down.
“Now that was a quick change!” I told her
with grin.
“I know! You
get pretty good at it with practice!” she laughed.
“I’m
especially impressed given the lack of room in those bathrooms! There is hardly
enough room to sit in there, let alone change clothes!”
We laughed
about it for a minute or two, and then she started telling me about how her
divorce had just been finalized, and she was going to meet some girl friends
for her first night on the town as a single woman in 17 years. The thing that
struck me was how very happy she seemed at the whole idea!
I had one
giggle moment that was work related while I was in Detroit. The machine I was
repairing uses several gold plated mirrors, and sometimes these need to be
cleaned, so I asked my customer to show me the way to the men’s room so that I
could run the mirror under hot water. He was leading the way, and I was
following him while carrying a $4000 mirror that was still at around 190
Celsius (HOT!). There were several men leaving the restroom as we entered it,
and he turned to me.
“Do you want
me to hold it for you?” he asked as we entered the men's room. Of course he was
referring to the mirror, but the guys that were leaving the room didn’t know
that, and the looks on their faces was priceless!
“All things
considered, maybe you should consider rephrasing that question?” I asked him.
When I
returned my Avis rental car, the lady that took care of me was one that I have
dealt with several times before, and she happily greeted me.
“There’s my
favorite girl with the killer shoes, and oh, those are awesome!” she said.
“Thank you!”
I laughed
“So - how
did you like the car?” She asked while pointing at the Ford Flex I had rented
“I loved it.
To be honest, I don’t care for the boxy outside, but the interior is awesome.”
“Yeah,
that’s what I thought about the outside too, but I really like the car.”
“I liked it
too. Can I have it?” I asked with grin.
“Sure! I’ll
trade you the car for the shoes?”
“Your on!” I
told her, and we both laughed at the absurd trade.
I think that
the Detroit airport must set their equipment to be a bit more sensitive than
other airports, because I’ve been breezing through the body scanners for months
now with no problems, but I hit a brick wall here. As I exited the scanner, I
turned to look at the display that shows the inspector that I am either good to
go, or shows them where they need to inspect my person. I groaned as I saw that
it was marking my chest area and my waist. The chest area is no great surprise
as I was wearing breast forms, but I still have no idea why it flagged my
waist. Anyway, the inspector apparently wasn’t happy with the results and asked
me to enter the body scanner again. I’ve been frisked quite a few times, but
this was the first time that I’ve ever been asked to go through the machine
again. The only flaw with that plan was that another woman had already entered
it and was standing there with her hands above her head waiting for them to
scan her. The inspector asked her to step back out of the machine but the woman
apparently didn’t hear her and so continued to stand there with her hands up.
“Ma’am!” The
inspector called out firmly to her. “Please
step back out of the machine!”
The poor
woman turned dark red as she put her hands down and backed out, and I turned
dark red as I re-entered and took her place.
Nothing
changed on the second trip through though, and I still wound up getting frisked. This time they even took swabs on
my hands and put them through a machine. The woman taking the sample gave me a
regretful look that seemed to say “I’m sorry about this” and so I tried to
lighten up the mood.
“What? Do I
look like a terrorist or something?” I asked with a laugh.
“Not at all,
it’s just procedure!” she replied
“Sure sure .
. . “ I said with a skeptical and sarcastic tone of voice, and gave her a wink.
I’m sure
that you’ll all be happy to know that she didn’t find a trace of any explosives
on my hands . . .