Mimi Morphs: Skirts On a Plane

I boarded late last night headed home after a short siesta landing somewhat safely in parts south. After a strange and tiring flight and dash to the gate through Washington Dulles' massive airport and witnessing two hysterical passengers go bonkers in the terminal, I narrowly escaped the bottles check without my makeup bag being confiscated. I thought I'd done it right this time. Quart bags, 3 oz. bottles and no weapons.

Easy, right?
Apparently not for me.
And I would of made it unscathed and untraumatized, had it not been for the crazy man on the plane.

I tend to tick people off wherever I go. Today was no different.
Epiphany #1: It is not a good idea to wear knee-length 2 3/4" heeled boots in an airport.

Not a good idea at all.

Security Check: The woman behind me was obviously in a hurry and kept breathing down the neck of my luggage. I loaded my carry-on and purse on the conveyor, obediently placed my laptop in the bucket - careful not to spill the peace globes -  and started to step through the body scanner.
Except, I forgot one crucial step to this dance.

Stop the presses.

Mimi needs to take off her boots.

Excuse me, would you mind passing a gray tub?'

Angry woman passenger did not hand it over gently. She dropped it rather noisily at my feet which were still snugly fitted inside the illegal Sinatra boots, causing a puff of air to playfully uplift the ruffles on the bottom of my pencil skirt - that's a modified pencil for all you skirt-challenged bloggers - and blow it straight up in the wind. Brrrrr!
Between my skirt explosion and the loud thud on the floor, security bells everywhere peeled loudly.

She was not amused.

Neither were the fifteen people in line behind her.

Nor the uniformed man staring down at my half-naked feet.

"Sorry,"   I said with a wide-eyed glance, It'll only take a minute."

I started to sing Happy Birthday Mr. President just to lighten the mood but decided it would be best that Boyfriend not have to bail me out of jail before I even made it back from New England.

So I unzipped, down-zipped and upzipped my way to the gate at the last call.

I always get emotional in airports.

When we finally boarded the plane

I called my son before take-off, as I always do, whose last words to me were "You never know when you fly these days if you'll come back home alive. Bye. I love you."

He will not be getting a lot for Christmas this year.

But back to the crazy man.

He was very tall.
With beady eyes and a crooked mouth.
Certifiably spooky.

And in the wrong seat.
Next to me.

To make matters worse, we were in a toy plane.
I've seen bigger crowds in an elevator.
I was not a happy cramper.

Just a I hung up, wondering if my son had had some strange premonition, the deranged man took his seat and asked with a I-want-to-get-frisky look,
"Do you bite?"


Remembering the kind and caring comment from the-child-with-no-tact I looked straight into his evil eyes and snarled, "Not usually."
He sat down and put in his earplugs.
Good choice. Wise man.

The reassuring stage performance of the safey precautions had begun - How To Survive a Catastrophe: Taking The Plunge (Act I). . You know. It goes like this.

1. Please stay in your seat at all times unless the pilot says it's alright to move about. Got it. No walkabout.


2. Make sure your seatbelt fits snugly around your lower middle section
which will hold you in your seat while you fall from the sky to your death. (reaching for the xanax)

3. Seat cushions may be used as flotation devices in the unlikely event that we need to land in water (xanax 3) and you still have sense enough to remember that before you take your last swim.

Make sure you are still able to read the instructions on the safety card while you fight sharks and hold on to your make-believe raft.
4. Should you need oxygen put your own mask on first and THEN help the person beside you.
I need oxygen now.
I looked at the man next to me.

I'm doomed.

Act Two:



5. If you are seated near an exit you will be required to assist those nearest you to escape in the chaotic event of an emergency evacuation of the aircraft. If you would rather not stay behind and die, please raise your hand.

I looked around.

Not one of the 39 passengers aboard the matchbox plane moved. Not a hand. Not a one. I don't think they really thought this through. Doesn't anyone care that I'm a Queen?

6. Please turn off all electronic devices, unplug your pace makers and turn down your hearing aid frequencies. We have disengaged the defibrillators for your convenience.

Cell phones and pagers are not allowed.
Just before the crazy man graced my presence with his Betty Davis eyes, I'd seen him make a phone call.

He hadn't heard a word the flight attendant said, his ears still plugged and his shifty eyes concentrating on a crossword puzzle in his lap. What kind of monster chews on a pencil at a time like this? He needed to know this information for heaven's sakes. It could save his their my life.

Yes.

I did.

"Sir?...Excuse me, sir.....Sir!!

A blank stare (This woman is crazy)
"Take your earplugs out, sir," pointing to my own two ears.
(I hate this woman)

"Your PHONE...uh...."
(I'm going to kill this woman)

This was not a good time for his pen to run out of ink.

By the time I'd scrawled the words "READ MY LIPS" all over the half-finished puzzle, he'd missed the part about how to save my life with artificial resusitation, mouth-to-mouth defibrillation and simulated insemination...whatever.

"Did she say to turn OFF your cellphone?" I asked.

"Yeah."
 " Well? Did you turn it off?"  giving him a well-cultivated teacher look.

Crazy man unbuckled his seatbelt and wandered to the back, trying to find the seat he should have been in before he was lucky enough to land beside Yours Truly.

He was gone just long enough for me to finish three-down; a six-letter word for "anti-anxiety agent." I wrote in x-a-n-a-x as I emptied the bottle.

Into his ginger ale.
That'll teach him to flirt with a pencil skirt.

NOTE: No, of course I didn't do that really. Everything was true up until the part about the ginger ale.

He was drinking coffee.