Not a problem though, the baby crying behind me kept great company,up until the man in the seat adjacent used me as a pillow. How did I survive the ordeal? I crawled into my happy place. The place where all those lovely people fell to a rather feiry doom. It didn't matter that I was killed too, because atleast I got them!
All good 7 hour flights must come to an end though, dropping me off in a layover at the wonderful world of Charlotte, North Carolina. I am not usually one to notice such things, but...
Where exactly are all the other ethnicities in that place? I was aboutthe only girl with a skin tone darker than pure alabaster. The only brunette as well. I am sure some of the other girls were brunettes, butit is amazing what a good bottle of peroxide will do to someone's'highlights'.
It wasn't the outer appearances that peaked my interest into noticingthis deficiency in colors, but the odd looks I received from children and adults alike. At one point I even made a trip to the ladies room, hoping I had food stuck to my forehead or something of that fashion. That would be a negative.
After settling myself in the airplane's assigned seat, I was overjoyedto find that, instead of behind me... the child was in the seat next me. Oh rapture, as he began to cry louder than anything else I have heard besides the bellowing of an air horn. Luckily, the mother was a kind and patient woman, even if the fools about her weren't. She calmedthe boy with the aide of a stuffed monkey I decided to bring along onthe trip (thanks Chet). In minutes he was placated, chewing on a butterscotch cookie the stewardess was busy giving out. A cookie thatsoon was spewed about by the cute devil child. It wasn't so bad, considering I rather pluck my eyes out than babysit. The parent was rather funny as she told me tales of her Megadeath concerts and funtimes as a roadie. I was rather surprised when she thanked me for helping with her child, perhaps a little kindness goes a long waywhen you have something screaming and grabbing at people's hair clung to you.
As I got of the plane, I was greeted by a rather frazzled Aunt who informed me that I would have to get up early the next day for a flight out to DC with her.
I got what precious hours I could and we spirited off to the terminal from which we had just came the day before. 10 minutes until the flightleft, or so we thought. Seems that the plane had left already. Infact, it had been gone for awhile. No, we were not late, it had taken itupon itself to ditch us. That, I have to admit is the first time I haveever missed a flight while early. The flight attendant was no solace,except to say, "Oh, it only has to be in the air by that time."
Correct me if I am wrong, but...WHAT IS THE POINT OF TELLING DEPARTURE TIME IF THEY ARE JUST GOING TO LEAVE WHENEVER THE HELL THEY FEEL LIKEIT!?