Memoir Monday: when I make 2,220 people delay their vacation so that I can get a cup of coffee

I know it's not Monday.  But I have been wanting to do a Memoir Monday for so long and, well, Mondays are just not a good day for me.  So I am going to do a belated Memoir Monday, courtesy of Travis at I Like to Fish (that's his button over there -->).  If you'd like to check him out, and read some of the his Memoir Mondays and those contributed by his loyal followers, click on the button to the right.

And here we go, with my personal Memoir Monday....

Shortly after I moved to Arizona, my new friend SuzyQ and I planned a 3-day cruise from Long Beach, CA to Ensenada, Mexico. It was supposed to be a girl’s trip, but one by one people slowly backed out until all that was left was SuzyQ and myself. We decided to go anyway.

The drive from Phoenix to LA is about 6 hours, so we drove up the night before and stayed with my best friend in Laguna Niguel. That part went as planned.

The next morning we got up, with a whole day stretching before us. The cruise ship didn’t leave port until 5:30 that evening (with boarding starting at 5:00) so we had plenty of time.

That is, we would have had plenty of time had I not severely underestimated Los Angeles traffic. And the sad part? I had no excuse. I had lived in Los Angeles. I knew from experience the true level of brutality that is the Los Angeles freeway system.

According to Mapquest, the drive from Laguna Niguel to Long Beach could be accomplished in 42 minutes. 55 in traffic. Okay, so it’s 2pm on a Friday… we should be fine, right? Heck, we even have time to stop off in Irvine and meet an old college friend of mine for a cup of coffee.

Two hours and one cup of coffee later, I was starting to panic. I was stuck in gridlock on the 405, not even remotely close to Long Beach, and we were supposed to be there in less than an hour.

At 5:00, still stuck in gridlock somewhere around Huntington Beach, we called the cruise terminal. Explained the situation.

“Well,” they said, “As long as you can make it here before 5:30, you’ll be fine.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” Said SuzyQ, her nerves and an empty stomach full of coffee getting the better of her.

“We’ll make it,” I assure her, not at all confident of that fact. “I used to live in Long Beach. I know those streets like the back of my hand.”

At 4:22, we exited the freeway into the east side of Long Beach. We had 8 minutes to make it to the far southwest end of Long Beach.

According to Mapquest, this can be accomplished in 21 minutes. We didn’t have 21 minutes, we had 8. I drove like a madwoman, using every back alley and side street I knew, and we arrived in front of the cruise terminal, tires squealing and engine smoking, in 7 minutes. Yes, seven minutes. I watched the clock on my dash change from 5:29 to 5:30 as SuzyQ went bolting to the terminal entrance while I pulled away to find a parking spot.

After parking, I met SuzyQ in the cruise terminal. She had a sad look on her face and a piece of paper in her hand.

“They won’t let us on. They’ve already pulled up the boarding walkway. The ship is getting ready to move away from port.”

I looked at the ship, still sitting placidly next to shore. “But it hasn’t yet, right? And didn’t we just spend the last twenty minutes calling them every five seconds to assure them that we would make it by 5:30? It’s 5:30!”

SuzyQ held up the piece of paper in her hand. “They gave us directions to meet the ship in Mexico.”

The directions went as follows:

Meeting The Ship in Ensenada

1. Walk over to the Queen Mary Hotel Entrance
2. Take a taxi to the local Greyhound
3. Take the Greyhound to Tijuana (Mexican Border) Central Bus Station
4. In Tijuana, Take the “ABC” bus line to Ensenada
5. In Ensenada you can check in after 8:00 at the Cruise Terminal
6. If you arrive early in Ensenada you may want to get a hotel until the morning (average arrival time for this trip is about 1a.m.)
7. Average price for the whole trip is about $30.00

Oh yeah right, two young ladies travelling alone are going to take the bus to Mexico so that we can arrive at the bus station in Tijuana at midnight, transfer over to the Ensenada bus, and then somehow try and find a hotel within walking distance of the bus station at 2am. Because I’m sure that a) the bus station is a hub for respectable people, especially in the middle of the night and b) hanging out in the cities of Tijuana and Ensenada between the hours of midnight and 2am is also quite safe.

Brilliant. That, obviously, was not an option. Backup plan? Tears.

After about five minutes of crying and ten more minutes of hapless employees referring us to slightly-higher-up hapless employees so that they could deal with the stupid crying girls, we met a man that told us the good news: they were putting the walkway back out so that we could board. The ship’s Chief purser had agreed to let us on the cruise.

We were hurried through embarkation process and ran across the walkway to the ship, dragging our luggage until finally we stumbled into the bright lights and subtle stuffiness of the inside of the cruise liner. Chandeliers were sparking warmly, people were milling about drinking cocktails, and we had never seen anything lovelier in our entire lives.

It was 6:00 pm. The ship was half an hour behind schedule. Because of us.

Once we had recovered from our near-disaster, we had a fun time with activities like horseback riding on the coast, eating, attending comedy shows, eating, participating in poolside games and enjoying adult beverages, buying knockoff designer sunglasses (me), eating, winning the no-buy-in shipboard poker tournament (SuzyQ), and taking pictures of random objects, such as:

phallic-looking door handles

towel animals

and wanna-be lucha libre dudes hanging out in the elevator.

We also found some time to chat up our fellow cruise-goers.

“You would not believe it,” we’d say, “we held up the whole cruise ship!”

They would chuckle and reply, “yeah, we were running a little late ourselves.”

SuzyQ and I would look at each other in silent communication, “You have no idea what we really mean when we say we were 'late for the cruise.'"

Tom Cruise found me at work

I was doing internet research at work today and I do, truly, mean work-related research.  Not the kind of "research" that involves looking at funny You-Tube videos or checking out the latest products on Amazon.  

I was searching for photos of hazardous materials containment for mobile refuelers.  The photos came up, and I scrolled through the results...

spill containment... spill containment... spill containment... Tom Cruise...spill containment...

WAIT... what?  Tom Cruise?  It doesn't really matter if you know what "spill containment berms" are, it's still pretty obvious that they are not a famous actor.  No clue why Mr. Cruise came up in my search.  But he did: See the search results

I get cranky when I need sleep

Last night, I couldn't sleep.

I don't know why - I just couldn't.  I lay in the hotel bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, listening to the frogs and my husband's soft snoring.  And I wasn't just not tired, I was absolutely wired.

So I got my iPod, turned it to my "slow music" playlist, and hoped to lull myself into sleep with a soft musical selection.   After what felt like hours (but was probably only an hour or so) I was finally almost asleep.

And then my husband decided to move around in his sleep.  I was wide awake again.

Irritated, I shimmy out of our double bed and head over to the other double bed in the room. I was so pissed that I was not asleep!  So by golly, I was headed over to the other bed to sleep by myself, where no one could wake me up from almost-slumber.  Chris's suitcase, which happened to be sitting on the bed, made its way quickly and loudly to the floor of the hotel room.

"What are you doing?" asked my blurry-voiced husband, half-awake.

"I. CAN'T. SLEEP.  And I want to be asleep and I was just about asleep and then YOU woke me up with your moving around and crap." I stage-whisper, my annyoance seeping through every word.

"Well," he says, "I was asleep."

"Hmph."

"Do you want another pillow?  Would that help?"

I paused... He did have the good pillow.

"Yes, please."  I reply, my voice syrupy-sweet.  He throws me a pillow.

"Hmph."

"NOW what?!" he asks, in exasperation.

"That's not the good pillow."

More grumbling, but I got the good pillow.  I crawled into the other bed, snuggled up against the one soft fluffy pillow in the room...

And I slept like a baby.

The Hat! The Hat! The Hat is on Fire!

In order to properly understand the reference here, you must be familiar with both a) the 2004 movie Eurotrip and b) the Bloodhound Gang's 1996 remake to "The Roof is on Fire," in which the lyrics read, "the roof! the roof! the roof is on fire!"

My roommate and I watched the movie Eurotrip shortly after it came out to video.  For some reason that is unknown to me now, we thought that scene where the guy's hat was on fire and he mistook his friend's warning for a fiesty rendition of "The Roof is on Fire" was the funniest thing EVER.  It was a running joke between us for well over a year, and each time it brought us to tears, we laughed so hard.  Again, I don't know why.  It's not really that funny.

Now on to what I was really going to say.

Chris and I flew into Phoenix this evening, and after a short ride home from the airport, arrived at the house.  The first thing I noticed was that our house smelled... well, kind of odd.  Specifically, it smelled like new tires.  Yeah, I know.  Weird.  So I lit a couple of scented candles to dispel the mysterious odor.

Chris and I proceeded to flop on the couch, turn on the television, and relax after a long day of work and travel.  This went on for about twenty minutes, until...

*sniff* *sniff* "Um, Chris?  Do you smell something burning?" I ask.  He didn't.  Perplexed, I check on the candles, which all seem to be doing okay.  I blow one of them out, thinking maybe the wick was running low and causing a little smoke.  A few minutes go by.  The burning smell returns.  Even Chris can smell it this time.  But I chalk it up to the lingering smoke from the candle I had just snuffed, and we settle back into our television show.

The cat jumps up on the couch to snuggle up with us.  I can see she's got a funky bit on her tail, but I figure she just got in to something.  Then I notice that "burnt" smell has returned.  A few seconds go by, and something clicks.  I look at the cat's tail a little closer.

Oh. My. God.  The burning smell was coming from the cat.  That funky bit on her tail?  Charred fur.  The cat has burned her tail on the candle.  A large patch of fur on her tail was signed and/or gone.  Which explained the mysterious burning smell.  The best part?  It didn't burn enough to actually get to the flesh, so SHE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW.  She snuggled up with us, purring away, completely oblivious to the fact that she had been waving her tail too close to the candle and burnt down her tail fur.

The cat! the cat! the cat is on fire!

Willie Nelson, Kid Rock, and the Mayor

A few weekends ago, The Husband and I went to an outdoor country music festival known as “Country Thunder” located in the nearby town of Florence, AZ. The headliners for the night were Willie Nelson and Kid Rock. We did the usual giant-outdoor-music-festival activities, which included:

• Browsing the sales booths with the trashy t-shirts
• Spending 20 minutes trying to guess how many food/drinks you will eat/drink so you don’t have leftover food and beverage “tickets” and yet you don’t have to stand in line again
• Spending an insane amount of money on “tickets” for food and beverages
• Playing the beanbag toss and winning a free radio station t-shirt (if you’re me)
• Playing the beanbag toss and not winning (if you’re the husband)
• Getting your picture taken by one of the program sponsors
• Stuffing your face with food and drinks so that you don’t waste any of those no-cash-value tickets
• People-watching
• Oh, yeah, and maybe also listening to some country music artists singing

At the end of the night, as we were leaving the Kid Rock concert, we left the gate behind a sweet older lady who looked like she should be baking cookies or knitting, not attending a Kid Rock concert until 11pm on a Saturday.

“Hey, look at that kick-ass grandma in front of us!” one of my friends said. “That’s so cool she went to Kid Rock. I’ve got to get my picture with her!”

“Excuse me,” we said, “would you mind taking a picture with us?”

“Oh hello,” she said, smiling, “I’m the Mayor of Florence!”

So it turns out we got our photo taken with the Mayor.

But no story is complete without some pictures. I mentioned earlier that the group of us got our photo taken by one of the program sponsors, Cricket Wireless. While I was online searching for my picture, I browsed through some of the other yahoos that had their picture taken. I’ve picked some of the winners and posted them here. Enjoy.


Um, NO. No, thanks.



Three guesses (and the first two don’t count) on which headliner this guy came to see.




Hey look! It’s Kid Rock and Pam Anderson… oh, wait, nevermind.



Excuse me, sir? I believe you may be accidentally wearing your girlfriend’s cast.



Only slightly more fantastic than if he had been wearing one of those t-shirt tuxedos.



These fine ladies are demonstrating the versitilty of the Jack Daniel’s bandana. Now they just need one more lady in need of a miniskirt, and they’d have a complete set.



Their parents don’t let them out of the house much.

So if she’s a “playboy bunny” then he’s a… what is that thing… an armadillo?

I really have no explanation for this one.

This lady’s outfit just screams “class.” Or, something like that.

In which Southwest Airlines says I have a problem

I think that Southwest Airlines has secretly “cut me off” from partaking in any alcoholic beverages on their flights. No, really, it’s a conspiracy and here’s why.

Due to my temporary commute between Phoenix and San Diego, I have been flying the friendly skies twice a week. PHX-SAN on Monday morning, SAN-PHX on Friday evening. The husband and I have become big fans of Southwest’s “Business Select.” Had you asked me what I thought of Business Select six months ago, and I would have told you it was a $15 waste of money. I mean, who needs a free drink coupon, right?

But there are several perks that make that $15 worth every penny, the first of which is: priority security lines.  As Business select, you get to run through what is essentially the first-class or employee security line, which is usually very short. The second perk I like? Priority boarding. Now, I used to be one of those people who thought, a seat is a seat, right? Especially on a short flight – I laughed at those fools who would stand in line for an hour at the gate just to have a good seat on an hour and a half flight. I mean, really.
Then something happened to change my mind.

Whenever I had a flight with an assigned seat (e.g. any airline other than Southwest), I never hurried to the gate. The bottom line was that I was sitting in the same seat no matter when I boarded the airplane, so why spend more time in a stuffy metal tube than necessary? Until one Christmas when I had a flight to my parent’s house in Michigan. I was checked in plenty early and I even had an assigned seat. In fact, the seat number was written on my boarding pass. We were shuffling up to the gate where the stewardess was taking tickets when suddenly she stopped the person in line in front of me.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but this flight is full. I can’t let you board.”

Huh?

With no warning whatsoever, they simply just stopped letting people on the plane. The flight was overweight and regardless of the fact that myself, the lady in front of me, and the ten people behind me had assigned seats, we were not getting on that flight. To make a long story short, there was no other flight out that day, or the next, or any day until after Christmas. There were no rental cars until the next morning and the airline couldn’t even secure us a bus. The whole time I was kicking myself, because had I just gotten in that line sooner and actually boarded with my boarding group, I would have been happily en route to my destination instead of stranded at the airport right before Christmas.

Needless to say, ever since then I am much more prudent about boarding the airplane. I don’t worry so much on the PHX-LAX or PHX-SAN or PHX-LAS flights, because they’re a dime a dozen and getting on another flight is usually relatively simple, but there’s another problem on those flights for which priority boarding is very useful. And that is the overhead bin space. Nobody wants to check their luggage these days, even on airlines like Southwest that don’t charge for it. So if you’re on a full flight, and you’re in the last two-thirds of the people boarding, chances are you’ll have to check your luggage and wait for it at baggage claim.

But back to what started this whole ordeal. The third perk of Business Select: drink coupons for one free alcoholic beverage (plain old sodas and water are still free). To be honest, I probably have more drink coupons than I can use. The flight is short enough that I barely have time to enjoy my beer before it’s seatback up and tray tables stowed for landing. And also, I can’t use them on those Monday flights. Work day, and all. However, ever since last Monday, Southwest has been mysteriously neglecting to give me my “free beverage” coupon.

Last Monday, I got to the airport and went to the kiosk by the gate to print my boarding pass. It printed my boarding pass (1 of 2) and then my drink coupon (2 of 2)… but my drink coupon got jammed in the machine. I looked around. I waited a few seconds. I watched the screen, and rolled my eyes in disgust when it flashed onto a plain display that read “Out of Order. Please use next kiosk.”

Great. I reach my hand into the kiosk… if I stretched, I could just grab the tip of the paper. After a lot of fumbling and almost giving up twice, I managed to grab on to the paper and pull.. riip. It tore out right at the perforation, which meant the part of the paper that actually serves as the coupon was still stuck in the machine.

Friday, I print out my boarding pass at the office. I swing by the printer and grab the papers on my way out the door. Halfway to the airport, I realize it has only printed out the boarding pass. No drink coupon. This is the second time in a row!

And then there was this morning. As I approached the kiosk, I noticed it was the same kiosk that had done me wrong the week before. I eyed it warily. It blinked back with it’s helpful “check in here” sign. I checked in, it printed my boarding pass, and it printed my drink coupon… then stopped. It was Déjà vu – my drink coupon was stuck in the kiosk in exactly the same manner as the Monday before. The screen switched over to its out-of-order “Please use next kiosk” screen.

Seriously? Am I cut off or what?

EDIT: The husband got a letter in the mail from Southwest Airlines today, ironically.  They were awarding him 4 free drink coupons as an appreciation for his many flights.  Of course, this meant he had to walk over to me and wave the envelope in my face, while saying the grownup equivalent of "Nah-nah-nah." 

Pbbft.

I'm a Space Alien and you need to let me in the cockpit

So imagine that you're flying back to California after a nice visit with your family in Helena.  You're headed back with another friend of yours, nickname "Slappy" (and for once, I did NOT make this nickname up).  The flight takes off and you close your eyes for a little nappy-nappy time.

The next thing you know, you wake up and the airplane has made an emergency landing in Idaho Falls and your friend is in handcuffs for trying to gain access to the cockpit by claiming he is a space alien.

Yes, I said space alien.

Don't believe me?  Google "Space alien aircraft" and see what pops up.

I was actually going to write this post yesterday, but it hadn't filtered into the news outlets yet.  It's much more fun when I can link to the news article and then tell you the caveat to this whole story:

I know this guy.  And his friend.  This is why I can tell you that his nickname is Slappy and he's always been a little crazy but never in a million years did we think he would try and take over an aircraft by claiming to be an alien from outer space.'

Guess it shows what we knew, huh?