I was
supposed to have the weekend and the entire next week at home, and considering
that in the last three weeks I’ve only seen my family for a combined total of
about ten hours, i was really looking forward to it. That wasn't to be though.
Friday morning I entered my office for the first time in three weeks and stopped at my manager’s office to say hello.
"Good morning Frank, how the hell are you?" I asked him, trying to sound a good deal more cheerful than I really felt. He just looked at me for a moment and shook his head from side to side.
"It's a bad day, to be honest. A very bad day. Why don't you come on in and close the door behind you." He told me.
"Well THAT doesn't sound so good!" I replied, with more than a little bit of nervous in my voice. I'd never seen my manager look this bummed out, and to be honest, it scared the hell outta me because I know full well that my company is in the process of layoffs. His demeanor filled me with the dreadful thought that maybe my number was up, despite his repeated assurances through the years that I would never have to worry about that as long as he was my manager. With my heart feeling like a lead weight at the bottom of my chest, I entered his office, closed the door, and took a seat.
"Okay, so what's up doc?" I asked, still trying to keep the mood lite.
"I don't know how to tell you this, but I need you on an airplane tomorrow morning."
I kid you not, I almost cried with relief right there on the spot. Here I was, afraid that I was about to lose a job that I know I cannot replace, and afraid that I was going to have to face my wife and children and tell them that I had failed in my most sacred responsibility - to provide for them. Instead, it seems that he had only felt horribly guilty about having to ask me to be away from home for another weekend, and possibly for thanksgiving as well. As compared to my fear of losing my job, being told that I was needed was an incredible relief.
"God damn it Frank, don't DO that to me! You scared the shit outta me the way you were acting! You don't EVER need to apologize for sending me on a service call. I don't give a shit what day it is or where the work is to be done, this is my job and I REALLY like my job!" I told him softly, still feeling like I might fall over with relief.
"Well, I know it can't be easy when you have children at home." He said apologetically.
"Yeah, that can be a bit of a problem, but it's not half the problem as telling them that they are gonna be homeless in a month." I replied with a laugh.
Now all I had to do was tell my wife that she was going to have to cancel her plans for a badly needed Saturday away from the children, and explain to my little ones why I could not take them to the movies as I had told them that I was going to.
Friday morning I entered my office for the first time in three weeks and stopped at my manager’s office to say hello.
"Good morning Frank, how the hell are you?" I asked him, trying to sound a good deal more cheerful than I really felt. He just looked at me for a moment and shook his head from side to side.
"It's a bad day, to be honest. A very bad day. Why don't you come on in and close the door behind you." He told me.
"Well THAT doesn't sound so good!" I replied, with more than a little bit of nervous in my voice. I'd never seen my manager look this bummed out, and to be honest, it scared the hell outta me because I know full well that my company is in the process of layoffs. His demeanor filled me with the dreadful thought that maybe my number was up, despite his repeated assurances through the years that I would never have to worry about that as long as he was my manager. With my heart feeling like a lead weight at the bottom of my chest, I entered his office, closed the door, and took a seat.
"Okay, so what's up doc?" I asked, still trying to keep the mood lite.
"I don't know how to tell you this, but I need you on an airplane tomorrow morning."
I kid you not, I almost cried with relief right there on the spot. Here I was, afraid that I was about to lose a job that I know I cannot replace, and afraid that I was going to have to face my wife and children and tell them that I had failed in my most sacred responsibility - to provide for them. Instead, it seems that he had only felt horribly guilty about having to ask me to be away from home for another weekend, and possibly for thanksgiving as well. As compared to my fear of losing my job, being told that I was needed was an incredible relief.
"God damn it Frank, don't DO that to me! You scared the shit outta me the way you were acting! You don't EVER need to apologize for sending me on a service call. I don't give a shit what day it is or where the work is to be done, this is my job and I REALLY like my job!" I told him softly, still feeling like I might fall over with relief.
"Well, I know it can't be easy when you have children at home." He said apologetically.
"Yeah, that can be a bit of a problem, but it's not half the problem as telling them that they are gonna be homeless in a month." I replied with a laugh.
Now all I had to do was tell my wife that she was going to have to cancel her plans for a badly needed Saturday away from the children, and explain to my little ones why I could not take them to the movies as I had told them that I was going to.
After
having spent over a decade active duty army with me, my wife was quick to
understand and support my need to "put the mission first". My
daughter on the other hand. .
"But
WHY do you have to go? Tomorrow is Saturday!" She wailed, and then let
loose with huge sobs. Her tears brought her little brother running to see what
was wrong.
"Tomorrow is Saturday and daddy has to go bye bye again!" She wailed at him loudly.
In all my years of traveling, this is the first time that my daughter has ever gotten upset about my leaving, and it really tore me up. Soon all three of us were teary eyed and I was in the unenviable position of trying to explain to two little people why I had no choice in the matter, and that whether I liked it or not, I DID have to get on that plane in the morning if we wanted to have a home, toys to fill it with, and food to eat. With a heavy heart, I headed up stairs to see if I had enough clean clothes for the trip, and to pack them if I did. My three year old son followed me up the stairs, because let's face it, it doesn't matter what daddy is doing, my son wants to be with me. So there I am, putting things in my suitcase and trying to keep a close eye on what the critter was taking out of the suitcase, when it occurred to me how I could make my nine year old daughter smile. I walked out to the stairwell and yelled down to her.
"Tomorrow is Saturday and daddy has to go bye bye again!" She wailed at him loudly.
In all my years of traveling, this is the first time that my daughter has ever gotten upset about my leaving, and it really tore me up. Soon all three of us were teary eyed and I was in the unenviable position of trying to explain to two little people why I had no choice in the matter, and that whether I liked it or not, I DID have to get on that plane in the morning if we wanted to have a home, toys to fill it with, and food to eat. With a heavy heart, I headed up stairs to see if I had enough clean clothes for the trip, and to pack them if I did. My three year old son followed me up the stairs, because let's face it, it doesn't matter what daddy is doing, my son wants to be with me. So there I am, putting things in my suitcase and trying to keep a close eye on what the critter was taking out of the suitcase, when it occurred to me how I could make my nine year old daughter smile. I walked out to the stairwell and yelled down to her.
"Hey Audrey?!"
"What?" She yelled back, taking off the headphones that she was using with the IPad.
"I need to put together a couple of outfits and really could use your help." I told her, trying to sound sincere without crossing the line and sounding patronizing. I honestly don't think that I have ever seen my daughter move so fast before, because she dropped the IPad on the couch like it was a hot potato, and then ran so fast up the stairs that she actually beat me into my bedroom a few steps away. You see my daughter considers herself to be quite the little fashion expert, and she has often tried to help me pick out outfits before. You have no idea of the risk that I was taking with this diversion though, because my daughter has a very "unique" sense of fashion. There have been countless times when my wife and I have given each other the "oh my God" look after seeing the outfits that she has come downstairs wearing before, but except for the rare occasion when she has worn something that was too short or not warm enough for a cold day, we let her do her own thing. We both feel that it hurts no one to let her express herself and be her own individual. The problem in this context is that she thinks everyone else should be just as brave and unique as she is, and willing to take the same fashion risks. Alas, I am not. . .
"Ok!" Said little miss fashion expert. "NOW I'll show you how to dress like a young person!" She said this smugly, sounding as if it were about time that I conceded the fact that I needed her help with fashion. Her comment sent shivers of dread up and down my spine, and if you had seen some of her outfits in the past, you would understand why.
"Now hold on critter! You do understand that some things that look right on a little girl your age are not going to look right on an old person my age right?"
"Sure!" She said so quickly and dismissively that I knew for absolute certain that she believed no such thing.
"All right, so here is my problem" I told her. "I've got this really pretty patchwork peasant skirt with lots of different colors in it, and I just can't decide what top to wear with it. I've picked out some that I think might work, but I just can't decide."
I laid the floaty skirt out on the bed and then showed her the pile of red and purple tops that I had set aside as possibilities. I thought that I might outsmart her by limiting her choices to only those that I already thought might work.
"Ok, so here is our 'maybe' pile, and here is our 'no' pile." She told me, pointing to two different spots on the bed. She came up with that idea so quickly that I suspect that maybe this is something that momma has taught her for choosing her own outfits.
"Sure! That works!" I replied with a laugh, and we started working our way through my pile of options.
"Nope. . . "
"Maybe . . ."
"UGLY!"
"Maybe . . . "
"That looks too much like an old lady . . . "
All of these opinions she offered while setting the tops in the appropriate piles. In the end, we had maybe four purple tops in the "maybe" pile, but none of them made for a really awesome outfit.
"Maybe we should look at some other colors!" Suggested my little fashionista, and then before I could slow her down, she had bounced off of the bed and had buried herself deep inside of my closet.
"Oh hell. . . "I thought to myself, knowing that my plan to limit her choices had just crashed and burned. Now there was no telling what she might come up with.
"What about blue?!" She asked
"Umm, I don't think so." I told her, but still we held a couple of blue tops up to the skirt so that she could satisfy herself that it wasn't gonna work well.
"How 'bout pink?! If you wore pink, you could wear these shoes with it!" She said, pointing at a pair of four and a half inch bright pink stilettos.
"Umm, I don't think so . . . " I repeated again, but yet again we had to hold a few tops up to the skirt just to convince her that it wasn't gonna be an option.
We went through a few more options in this way before she pointed at a black sweater top with silver and gold sparkles in it.
"What do you think about sparkly black?!" She asked, tugging on the top and looking up to see my face. I was reaching the end of my patience and was trying to figure out how in the hell I was gonna find a way out of this without hurting her feelings, but then I paused for a second. I never would have considered pairing the two, but the more that I looked at it, the more that I thought it might well be our best bet yet. I took the skirt and laid it out on the floor, then placed the black sparkly sweater at the top of the skirt to see what they would look like together. Much to my surprise, I thought it looked like a great outfit, and very much like something that I thought that I might look good in. I took out a red belt and laid it across the top, and then set a pair of red shoes at the bottom. My daughter stood there with her hands on her hips, positively beaming with pride in her selection.
"That's the one! That's my favorite!" She loudly announced.
"I think you did it critter! I never would have thought of that one. Thank you SO much for your help!" I told her and then knelt down to hug her. It was right about then that grandpa showed up for our Friday night pizza dinner, so I again thanked her for her help, and reminded her that we probably shouldn't a tell grandpa what she had been helping me with. We held hands on the way downstairs and my little fashion expert was no longer upset and unhappy that I had to go away again. Clearly my plan to distract her had worked spectacularly well, but now I'm prolly gonna have to live with the precedent that I just set. It's gonna be exhausting if she takes it upon herself to "help" me pick outfits every time that I travel!
After
dinner was done, and grandpa left for home, I headed back upstairs to pack my
male clothes, and then burst out laughing as I was zipping up my suitcase. It
had just struck me that I had thought I was done and was zipping up the
suitcase, and yet I hadn't packed a single male shirt for work - not ONE! Sure
am glad that I realized this BEFORE I found myself at the airport!
That night before I went to sleep, I changed the alarm on my cell phone to 3AM, and then fell off to sleep with my wife laying in bed next to me and watching TV. The next thing I know, my wife is waking me up and it is 3:45 AM - a full 45 minutes after my alarm was supposed to have gone off! It seems that I had once again failed to recall that my daily alarm is set to go off only on week days and so if my wife had not just happened to wake up, I would have missed my flights.
Much to my
shock, the lines at the TSA checkpoint in the airport were HUGE! They did the
usual zig-zag thing at the checkpoint, but then the line extended half way down
the concourse! The only times I had ever seen the lines this long were during
the yearly South by Southwest music festival. I knew that there were a lot of
people headed in to Austin for the
Formula 1 race, but I hadn't thought that any of them would be headed back out already! Fortunately, as a frequent
flier, I get to use a special lane that only had three people in it.


"Please
state your full name." The female TSA agent told me as I handed her my ID
and ticket.
"Matthew Huddle." I offered. To my great amusement, her eyes jerked up to look at me with shock and surprise clearly written in them. She looked back and forth at my ID and my face several times.
"I'm not even gonna ask. . ." She finally said with a mischievous grin.
"Welcome to Austin! I'm just doing my little part to keep it weird!" I replied with a wink.
"Good for you! You have a great day and a nice flight!" She said with a laugh as she handed me back my documents.
"Matthew Huddle." I offered. To my great amusement, her eyes jerked up to look at me with shock and surprise clearly written in them. She looked back and forth at my ID and my face several times.
"I'm not even gonna ask. . ." She finally said with a mischievous grin.
"Welcome to Austin! I'm just doing my little part to keep it weird!" I replied with a wink.
"Good for you! You have a great day and a nice flight!" She said with a laugh as she handed me back my documents.
As I
walked away from her, I realized that on some level I had missed surprising
people that way. It is great for my ego when it is so obvious that they had not
realized that I was really a male until I had to tell them with my ID. As often
as I fly these days, most of the TSA folks in Austin recognize me and of course
know what I am, but this woman I had not seen before.
Of course it pretty much goes without saying that the damned body scanner flagged me, because they do more often than not, and so there I was with another TSA inspector in front of me.
"Ok, I'm going to have to pat you down here, here, and here!" She said with a grin as she showed me the spots that she intended to touch. Her grin made it clear that she knew exactly what I am and thought it was amusing. This is fine with me, as I would much rather have people react with a grin and humor, rather than with irritation and suspicion.
"No problem. That damned machine of yours doesn't like me much, so I've done this more than a few times before." I laughed.
"That is such a cute dress!" She told me as she patted me down.
"Thank you! I've been looking for the perfect red dress for a while, and this is as close as I've found yet."
Of course it pretty much goes without saying that the damned body scanner flagged me, because they do more often than not, and so there I was with another TSA inspector in front of me.
"Ok, I'm going to have to pat you down here, here, and here!" She said with a grin as she showed me the spots that she intended to touch. Her grin made it clear that she knew exactly what I am and thought it was amusing. This is fine with me, as I would much rather have people react with a grin and humor, rather than with irritation and suspicion.
"No problem. That damned machine of yours doesn't like me much, so I've done this more than a few times before." I laughed.
"That is such a cute dress!" She told me as she patted me down.
"Thank you! I've been looking for the perfect red dress for a while, and this is as close as I've found yet."
Soon, I
found myself sitting in the gate area, and a woman with a small dog sat down
next to me. Within seconds of her taking the dog out of its little carrier, she
was surrounded with happy and squealing children, all crowding in to get their
faces licked and to pet the puppy. It was so adorable that I just had to snap a
pic of the happy little puppy party!
On the
flight to Philly where I was to catch a connecting flight, I started writing my
blog on my IPad. When we landed, I was caught off guard when a young woman
walked up alongside of me and spoke.
"So are you writing a book or something? I've never seen someone type so much on an IPad before!"
"No," I told her with a laugh, "I just travel a lot and write a blog about it."
"Oh! I write a blog sometimes too!" She replied.
"It's kind like a diary huh?" I asked her with a smile, and she quickly agreed with a laugh.
"So are you writing a book or something? I've never seen someone type so much on an IPad before!"
"No," I told her with a laugh, "I just travel a lot and write a blog about it."
"Oh! I write a blog sometimes too!" She replied.
"It's kind like a diary huh?" I asked her with a smile, and she quickly agreed with a laugh.
I had
another gratifying moment at the Avis counter when the clerk looked at my
contract, my driver’s license, and then at me.
“I’m sorry, but this reservation is for ‘Matthew’. I will need to see your license please”. He said. I was just opening my mouth to clue him in when the light went off in his head, and with a smile he handed the contract and keys over.
“I’m sorry, but this reservation is for ‘Matthew’. I will need to see your license please”. He said. I was just opening my mouth to clue him in when the light went off in his head, and with a smile he handed the contract and keys over.
On my two
hour drive from Albany to Fishkill, you have to stop at a couple of toll booths
– one for the highway, and one for a huge bridge into the Poughkeepsie area. I
had to shake my head when I pulled up to the bridge, rolled down the window,
and found myself facing the same guy that was rude to me the last time that I had
made this trip. The last time, he had stared at me for about 30 seconds before
saying something along the lines of “That will be $2.00 just because . . . “
“That will
be $2.00” he said as I pulled up to his window.
“OK, and
can I please have a receipt?” I replied as I handed him a $5 bill. He handed me
back my change but no receipt.
“Excuse
me, can I have a receipt please?” I repeated. This time he didn’t say anything,
he just stared at me again for about 20 seconds. Finally, I guess he had
decided that he had been a prick long enough, and he handed me the receipt
without saying anything. Ah, what a joy . . .
Most of
the rest of my time there was all based around work, and so not much to write
about, but I did get to meet another TG for dinner one night – Marian Johnson.
You read about people who “have a laugh in their eyes”, but you rarely actually
come across someone like that. Marian is definitely
one of those people, and her eyes just glittered and shone when she laughed. We
blew about two hours talking about nothing in particular – life, marriage, and this
interesting lifestyle that we have.
So when it
came time to head for home, I did it with more than a little trepidation. It
was the day before thanksgiving – the day widely considered to be one of the
very worst times to fly due to the crowds all trying to get somewhere for the
holidays. That morning I was listening to the news as they described heavy fog
causing problems and delays at multiple major airports across the North East, a
pending strike at LAX that was supposed to take place today, and all of this
while heavy crowds were all trying to fly the not-so-friendly skies. It looked
like it was NOT going to be a good day to travel . . .
I
seriously considered flying as Matthew, just in case there were serious delays
or in case I got stranded, because I have come to learn over the years that a
delay anywhere in the USA can cascade
into delays everywhere. The thing is,
we had made a big production out of my daughter helping me to pick out my
outfit for today, and I just hated
the idea of telling her that I had not worn “her” outfit. I decided that I
would suck it up and go as Kimberly, and just deal with anything that happened.
I had to giggle as I was getting ready, because they had all of these “talking
heads” on the news, giving all of their hints and suggestions on how to get
through the airport system quickly, and one of them was saying how you should
dress simply and not wear shoes and clothes with buckles and straps.
“Yeah, we’re
gonna ignore that advice today!” I
was thinking.

“I LOVE
your hair!” she practically gushed at me.
“Awe
thanks!” I replied, as I took the proffered ticket and then continued on my
way.
In
anticipation of heavy traffic and large crowds at the airport, I left quite a
bit earlier than I normally would have, and so I arrived at the airport more
than three hours before my flight. I grabbed my luggage and things out of the
rental car as the Avis rep was checking it in. Given how many things I have
forgotten and left behind lately, I found myself chanting over and over in my
head “Coat, backpack, purse, suitcase, toolbox, coat, backpack, purse,
suitcase, toolbox, coat . . .”
“Excuse me
miss, what was the last name on the contract?” The Avis rep interrupted my
internal litany of things not to be forgotten.
“Huddle” I
replied, peaking around the trunk lid at him.
“OK!” he
said with look of relief in his eyes. Clearly the first name of “Matthew” conflicted
with my appearance and so he wanted to be certain.
“I just
wanted to be sure! You have a great day a happy thanksgiving!” He said with an
honestly friendly voice and a genuine smile. I thanked him and wished him the
same, and after placing my receipt in my purse, I returned to my internal
chant.
“Purse,
backpack, toolbox, suitcase. . . “
Stepping
out into the crosswalk between the parking garage and the airport, a woman
tried to kill me. I kid you not, she was doing at least 40 MPH in the 20 MPH
area, and blew right through the crosswalk right
in front of me, even though I was mid-way through it. I never even had the time
to yell, but I did catch a glimpse of the woman’s face through the windshield
and she was clearly terrified. How
she had failed to see a tall woman wearing a long red skirt, and pulling two
huge bags behind her, I will never know, but the look of fright on her face
made it clear that she had not noticed me until it was far too late. With my
heart pounding so hard that I could swear I felt my wig bobbing up and down
with each beat, I stood there in the center of the street for a few seconds in
shock. Eventually my survival instinct kicked back in and reminded me to get
the hell outta the middle of the street before I was run down.
When I
entered the airport, I was surprised to see the crowd that wasn’t there. Despite all the hype on the TV news, the airport had
far fewer people than I normally encountered in Albany. The airline check in
counter was not crowded, and the TSA inspection point was also virtually empty,
and so very quickly I was speaking to a female TSA agent.
“So what
happened to the nightmare crowds that were supposed to be here today?” I asked
her with a grin.
“I don’t
know! I guess they all decided to drive instead!” she said with a laugh as she
checked me back my documents. When she waved me in, I found that they had all
of the X-ray machines running, despite the fact that there were clearly not
enough passengers to really justify it. Once again, I sailed right through, and
was collecting all of my things at the outlet of the X-ray machine. At the
outlet of the machine was a drop dead gorgeous TSA inspector, and she was
watching my things exit the machine.
“Cute shoes!” she said as my red heels came rolling out.
“Cute shoes!” she said as my red heels came rolling out.
“Thank
you! Hard to believe it, but they are considerably more comfortable to wear
than you might expect too!” I replied. She was still watching me as I grabbed
all of my odds and ends – my shoes, coat, backpack, laptop . . .
“Clearly I
travel with too much shit!” I said with a laugh, while looking up at her.
“Hey, it
is what it is, and we need it all, so what can you do?” she answered.
I had yet
another good laugh when I boarded my connection in Philly. The US Airways rep
at the jet bridge scanned my ticket and I got about half way down the jet
bridge toward the plane when I hear someone calling out behind me.
“Miss?
Miss?!” To be honest, it took me a moment to realize that the “miss” being
hollered at was me. Once that clicked, I stopped and turned to see what he
wanted.
“I’m
sorry, but I think that there has been a mistake with your ticket.” He said,
gasping a little because he was a bit short of breath after chasing me down the
jet bridge. When he got to me, I handed him my ticket.
“I think that
you have the wrong ticket.” He told me apologetically after a moment, and then
showed me my own name on the ticket. I started to laugh.
“No sir, that’s
me all right!”
He looked
confused for just a second, and then his face lit up.
“Oh, I see!” he said with a huge grin, and then
reached out and touched my shoulder. “I’m so sorry! You have a wonderful
flight!”
When the
plane landed, I was repeating my litany of items not to be forgotten as I was
gathering my things together.
“Purse,
backpack, coat, purse, backpack, coat . . .”
This time,
I didn’t forget or leave anything behind, but the universe still got the last
laugh: I went to the wrong parking lot with my purse, backpack, toolbox,
suitcase . . .