August 21st
Wednesday morning. Annita is up and going EARLY in the morning. I roll back over and go back to sleep. She comes back into the hotel room at about 9 or so. Remember early in this narrative about the taxi driver telling us to make sure that we eat a donut at Cafe Du Monde??? Guess where she's been.....Guess who she didn't bring a donut back for......Ding-ding-ding......Tell 'em what they've won!!!!! In her defense, they're sugar coated donuts, and I'm not supposed to have sugar (which is why I drink Diet Beer!!!!). We wandered down a back street and had breakfast before clearing out our hotel room of all of our stuff. We had to pack everything we'd bought back into the same suitcases that we'd brought. She no longer made fun of the Volkswagon sized suitcase that I bought. I had more than doubled the number of shirts that I brought with me, and more than half of them will NOT be able to be worn in public. We finally got packed and made our way into the elevator for the ride down to the lobby for the last time. The doorman hailed us a cab and loaded our bags into the trunk. The cabbie evidently saw us coming and had installed overload springs in the car. Once at the airport, we stood in line forever before the lady behind the counter told us that I had been computer selected to have my baggage searched. It was a good thing I didn't buy that "100 Things the Al-Qaeda Terrorist Needs to See While Visiting New Orleans" book that I saw on the shelf. When I arrived at the concourse, they searched my laptop bag again (after it had gone through the X-ray machine) and then made me take off my shoes to check for bombs. That actually made me feel better as I climbed aboard the 737 for the flight to Houston. The feeling didn't last long though.
As we made our way to the runway, we occasionally hit "rough" spots in the asphalt. As I was sitting directly in front of the wing, I kept seeing the wings droop and flex. By the time we reached the runway for takeoff, I was beginning to think the wings were going to flap us all the way to Houston. Upon achieving cruising altitude, the pilot keyed the mike to make his announcement. Have you ever watched CNN and heard the accent of the Palestinians who condone the Homicide Bombings in Israel??? Same accent. I immediately started looking out the window of the plane for any tall buildings. Thankfully, Annita was again oblivious to my nervousness. The pilot kept putting on the seat-belt light as we flew out over the Gulf because of turbulence. He made the announcement about making the descent to the airport in Houston about the time that I began to feel slight pressure on my bladder. It had to be an hour later before we actually touched down on the ground. The pressure on my bladder was no longer "slight." At the rate he was taxiing the plane to the concourse, I thought I was going to have to get out and push. We came off the plane at concourse C32 and had to be at B86 for our connecting flight. B86 was still in the state of Texas......Just barely......And my eyes were beginning to take on a yellow tint. We kept following the signs to get to our concourse. We had to take a tram to make it out to the concourse (which was somewhere near Antarctica I believe). Once there, we had to descend a flight of stairs and run the equivalent of the Boston Marathon to make it to our gate. I gaze left and see the entrance to the women's bathroom. By this point, my eyes no longer have a yellow tint.....The pupil is now a bright yellow resembling the sun. I turned to my left to see a huge sign telling me that the men's bathroom is closed. You have GOT to be shitting me!!! I immediately handed my laptop bag to Annita and began another painful stroll back to find a men's room. Do you have any idea how slow you run doing the "pee-pee dance?" I was passed twice by elderly women with walkers.
I made it back in time to board the plane, which was the smallest plane of the week. There was one seat on one side of the aisle and two on the other, with absolutely NO leg room for my 6 foot frame. This was also the roughest flight of the trip. Annita had folded up the armrest between us and had rolled up her sweatshirt for a pillow, and had placed her head in my lap for a nap. At first I thought I was going to join the Mile High Club, but she assured me that wasn't the case. After viewing the scenery out the window for a while, I began to get sleepy. I rested my head against the inside of the cabin beside the window. Every time we hit turbulence, my head would float up and pound against the inside of the plane. Needless to say, I would wake up. I would look down to see Annita snoring peacefully (she hadn't woke me up, so I'm sure she wasn't bothering any of the other passengers). After landing at Wichita, she didn't remember any turbulence, which to me meant that she didn't feel me flinching everytime the plane jumped around. Life was good. After a quick bite at Carlos O'Kelleys (right next door to the horrid IHOP that we ate breakfast at), we began our long drive home.
The whole trip home was spent in contemplation about this story, and several days afterwards. I hope you've enjoyed what I've come up with.