I woke up on Friday at 4am to catch my red eye to San Diego, worked all day and went to bed at 11pm. Woke up Saturday at 6am, worked all day and went to bed after 1am. Woke up Sunday morning at 6:30am, worked all day and caught my flights back to Austin.
My connecting flight left Phoenix Sunday night at 9:50pm. Let me tell you, I was wiped. So wiped that I barely flinched when the connecting airplane was so small I had to duck down to get in it. I walked around the corner, saw it, and said “oh lord….just get me home, okay tiny?” This was after a gentleman in line was educating all of us about the plane that went down this weekend. Thanks for that, homie. But I was so tired, I just loaded the plane. I texted my husband, “Safely on plane, see you on the other side.” Then I remembered that country western song from a few years back about the guy who was on an island vacation and sent a post card to his wife with a note that he missed her and wished she was with him in paradise. (Which I’ve always wondered about…Why were you on an island vacation solo? Were you really solo? If you wish I was there, maybe you should have bought me a ticket? I think there’s more to that story. Anywho.) She ended up getting the card in the mail a few days after she learned her husband died when his return flight crashed.
Just in case, I deleted my text and instead sent my husband a picture of my tiny plane, explained that my tiny carry-on barely fit, and told him I’d see him in a bit.
Because I’m big on manifesting my desired outcome, and this seemed like one of those ones you want to get right the first time. But also because I didn’t want my husband holding on to his iphone 4 longer than he should just because he never wanted to lose the love of his life’s haunting last words.
I’m dramatic and anti-hoarder like that.
It was a full flight. I was exhausted. I sat slumped, half awake, waiting to depart, and that’s when our male flight attendant started walking us through the safety instructions……in jive.
A slow smile crept across my face.
“Alright, people, <>. Glad yo’r here.”
He continues. I giggle and look around to share my amusement with others. I’m left hanging with my facial “high five” in the air. Nobody else is entertained.
“Your seat? It floats. Use it in the event of a water landing. <>. If you gotta’ baby, be sure to put your mask on first. A’ight?”
The girl next to me says, “I have no idea what he’s saying.”
That’s when a little old lady with a white ‘phro stood up and said, “Maybe I can help. I speak jive.”
No, actually, that’s when I turned to her and said with a straight face, “Allow me to translate, I speak jive.”
She didn’t get the joke, so that’s all I said, but I laughed and laughed at myself.
(Rereading this just now I realize I was completely delirious at this point and my seatmate likely thought I was on drugs, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.)
I realized too late that my tiny plane was so tiny that the flight attendant was actually standing at the back of the plane, which was actually not far from me. So, he overheard me. When he came to give me my drink later, I was already smiling in complete gratitude for the experience he provided. He had a little crooked grin. I think I earned his respect for being ‘in the know’.
Or maybe he smiled back because that’s what the flight attendant manual says to do to placate crazy people.
Regardless, thank you US Airways. Much appreciated, much needed.
Oh, and thank you Airplane! Giving back to humanity since 1980.