Amongst the Masses–part two

Alright, so I have to be fair. Several weeks ago, I wrote part one of the article Amongst the Masses. Actually, I never intended for there to be a part two. But, I wrote it before the holiday rush. And, as usual, the holiday rush kicked my ass. I truly believe that people are at their truest and worst behavior during the holidays.

You see, I still think that the airport is a real hassle for everyone. And, I understand why it is frustrating. The whole experience is a royal pain in the derrière. I get it. But, one can only observe so much bad behavior before you start to think that some of these people just need to get over it. There are much more horrendous atrocities in the world than your flight being delayed 30 minutes. The interesting thing to me is that the worst behavior doesn’t usually come from the business traveler. They fly enough to understand how the system works. So they tend to have more reasonable expectations. It comes from the family of 10 who never travels.

They are the ones who blame me personally for not having a place to change their baby’s diaper–as if I have anything to do with airplane design. They are the ones who leave that poop-filled diaper in the seat back pocket. (Not to mention the crushed cheerios, gummy worms, chips, skittles, and ripped-up magazines on the floor.) They are the same ones who get upset when their 18 month old–whom they purposefully chose not to buy a seat for–has to actually sit in their lap. Oh boy, could I go on. But, I tend not to enjoy blog rants. So, I better move on quickly.

I can handle children. I don’t have any of my own, which is wonderful; but, I can handle them. It’s their parents that are the real problem. When I look at the rotten behavior of the parents, I can’t help but wonder how these kids are going to be when they are adults. Probably, worse.

As much as I want to provide good service, it is really difficult when people’s expectations are so completely out of whack. Seriously. So, this is my own counterpoint to the first article. All you have to do is go to one of the many airline discussion boards online. I read them from time to time just for kicks. People really have no idea. They are paying less for their tickets than ever in airline history and are expecting more than ever. But, I guess that really is the American way. Get more, pay less. What exactly did you expect when you bought your tickets for $150 each way to go coast to coast. The person next to you probably paid $600 for the same flight.

Personally, my favorite complaint is when someone shakes their itinerary at me and says, “We were supposed to go from Norfolk, Virginia to El Paso, Texas, NON-STOP. We just found out that we have to stop 3 times before we get to El Paso.”

So I say, “May I see your itinerary, please? Thanks…oh, I’m sorry, do you see here were it says ‘stops’?”

“Yes.”

“And, under that it says ‘3’?”

“Oh.”

“And, it says ‘total travel time=13 hours 41 minutes’? That means that today you fly from Norfolk to El Paso, you have 4 flights/3 stops, and it will take you 13 hours and 41 minutes.”

“Oh.”(followed by silence and a seriously nasty look)

Really? People do not read. From Norfolk, Virginia, they could have flown all the way to Hawaii in that amount of time on a NONSTOP. Sorry, I said that I wasn’t going to rant. Well, I promise my next post will not be a rant. I just had to get it out of my system. Happy travels! ;-p

That Ain’t Right! ~ #1 **Grand Opening**

Hello, dear friends, and welcome to the GRAND OPENING of my new blog series That Ain’t Right! I’ve been running this idea through my head for quite awhile. I’ve been wanting to post more frequently with smaller “non-pillar” articles. Frankly, I need posts that don’t take quite as long to compose. So, I decided I should work with what I know. Naturally, living in SF and working as a flight attendant provides me with an unending series of encounters with some really weird people and their accompanying odd behavior. And, I shall affectionately refer to them as “the crazies.” You know, people that ain’t right. So, in honor of this momentous occasion, I would like to share with you the first of many crazies to come.

(all names have been changed to protect the crazy)

I have a theory about the way people treat the airplane. If they do it on the plane, they do it at home.

I think that there are millions of people who must pee all over the floor, leave it, and then walk through it in their bare feet. I also know for a fact that many people must leave their crap behind for someone else to clean up. My first crazy is Rufus the Dufus. He was a nester. A nester is someone who, on the airplane, literally builds a nest in their seat with all of their trash. They love to leave their nests (made of newspapers, diapers, cups, food, junk mail they brought from home, etc.) behind for me to clean up.

Well, I shouldn’t build this up any further, lest you be disappointed. Rufus’ odd behavior (other than his nest) was that he was wearing 3 pairs of reading glasses…all at the same time. He totally looked like a dufus. That ain’t right.

Me, Myself and I

One of my all time favorite and most quoted lines of all time comes from Jennifer Coolidge’s character (Sherri Ann Ward Cabot, see below) in Best In Show. Actually, I probably quote some line from that movie at least once a day. It’s a sickness. Really. Just ask Jeff.

Jennifer Coolidge in "Best in Show"

Anyway, back to my favorite line. “I’m just going to stand here until I get another message from myself.

My second favorite line to quote from the movie is from the scene where they are interviewing Sherri and her ninety year old husband Leslie: “Leslie and I have an amazing relationship and it’s very physical, he still pushes all my buttons. People say ‘oh but he’s so much older than you’ and you know what, I’m the one having to push him away. We have so much in common, we both love soup and snow peas, we love the outdoors, and talking and not talking. We could not talk or talk forever and still find things to not talk about.

Love it! But, I’ve digressed. This is what happens when I start quoting that movie, it just leads to another quote. Especially, when my friend Jaclyn is involved. And now, I want to go watch it. OK. Where was I? Messages to myself. Got it. I talk to myself. Ah yes, that’s what this was all about. I talk to myself. Let’s get on with this, Tyler. Ok, Ok, I’m done, really.

So, I guess this is another confession. (I do that a lot in my blogs, don’t I?) I am a self-talker. So as not to be confused with a normal person, I should tell you that I talk to myself…out loud. In fact, I sometimes have full-on conversations with myself. I always have. And just so that you don’t confuse me with someone with multiple personality disorder, I should let you know that it is all me that is talking, not some other persona that I have created. And, finally, so as to set myself apart from some crazy homeless person who talks to himself out on the street where everyone can hear; I only do it in the privacy on my on home.

Now that we have all the formalities out of the way, I would like to say that I find it interesting that people are afraid to admit that they talk to themselves. But, I know you do. And, I think it’s only natural. It’s kind of like journaling out loud. I often do it when I need to sort my thoughts out on something. Because thoughts are different than words. Words are stronger than thoughts. Words are actually very strong. They have the power to hurt and to heal, to tear apart and to bring together. That’s actually why I starting blogging. I wanted my words to be heard.

I originally heard this idea of the power of words from Eve Ensler, playwright/author of The Vagina Monologues, Insecure At Last, The Good Body. I love her work. She taught me that by avoiding words, topics, and issues, you actually give them power over you. Which is the other reason I started blogging. I wanted to talk about issues and topics that have had a hold on me, and therefore disarm them, rob them of their power. It works. Have you ever heard the idiom “elephant in the room?” It’s an obvious truth that is being ignored. When you say, “hello there, elephant, I see you there, how ya doin’,” it’s as if the elephant shrinks just a little bit. The more you acknowledge it, the smaller it gets. The more you ignore it, the bigger it gets.

So, I talk to myself. I’ve been busted many times, too. Mostly when I was a little kid and thought that no one could hear me, even though they were just 10 feet away. I lived most of my childhood in some other world. I was a chronic daydreamer. I still am, actually. I often have to work at pulling myself into the present. And, right now, I am getting a message from myself that says, “End this blog, and go watch Best In Show, you know you want to…” Thank you, Tyler, I believe I will. Talk to me later.


The Real Wedding Singer

Jeff and I were watching TV this weekend and happened to surf past The Wedding Singer, starring Adam Sandler (Robbie Hart) and Drew Barrymore (Julia Sullivan). Oh, that takes me back. You remember the movie, right? You know…Adam Sandler plays a washed up wedding singer whose fiancé walks out on him at the altar. Drew Barrymore plays a catering server who ends up falling for Adam’s character, and dumps her fiancé (whose last name is Gulia, which would have made her name Julia Gulia).

Needless to say, unless you like hearing Adam Sandler doing 80’s covers, this movie itself is washed up. So, we kept on surfing. But, of course, that movie always reminds me of my college days. Not because it was set in the 80’s, but because I was a real wedding singer back in the 90s.

I never did it for a living, though. I was kind of like the girl who is always the bridesmaid and never the bride. I have sang in more weddings than I care to remember. And, I have to admit it straight away…I hate weddings! Here’s why…

I think they are ridiculous. Not in a “oh, bless her heart…can you believe she wants that in her wedding…” type of way, but in a “these people ain’t right” type of way. Seriously, I know what I’m talking about here–these people ain’t right. One of the bonuses of being the wedding singer/musician (sometimes I just had to play the piano) was that I got an up close view of how horrible everything really was, but I didn’t have to actually stand up with the wedding party and pretend to like it. You have to know what I am talking about here–think bridesmaid dresses, gaudy flowers, etc. etc. I got to sit over in the corner and crack jokes or just shake my head in disbelief.

The number one reason that I hate weddings is clear. I can’t deal with the entitlement that goes along with it. It’s this attitude that says, “This is my day! I deserve to get whatever I want!” Ugh. I totally grossed myself out just typing it. I’ve actually seen brides throw temper-tantrums.

The second reason is that because they are entitled, they will put anything that they want in their wedding. And this is where I was always personally affected. If I ever sing at another wedding, there are several things that I swear on my severely sprained ankle that I won’t sing…The Wedding Song (There is Love). No way. No more Peter, Paul and Mary songs! Also, no more Everything I Do (I Do It for You). And, definitely, positively no more Chicago songs. You know…You’re the Inspiration. I just have to put my foot down. Ouch!

Most of the people’s weddings that I sang in were friends, so, I have probably just offended them all. Oh well, they need to know these things for their second or third weddings. Which brings me to the third reason I hate weddings. Freebies. Now, keep in mind, most of these weddings happened prior to my career as a flight attendant. I had to pay to fly everywhere. And, people just love to have their special day at locations that could not be possibly more inconvenient. I actually “opted” out of going to my sister’s and my brother’s weddings because they were too far removed–i.e. waaaaay too expensive to fly to.

But, as for my “friends,” I cannot tell you all of the outrageous things that were expected of me pro bono. I actually had one “friend” in college get mad at me because I told him I couldn’t afford to pay the $600 for the airfare to come and sing at his wedding (for free). The most common thing that people would ask me to do for free is what I call “filler.” Basically it went like this: they would discover at the last minute that their poorly planned wedding had gaps in it. Oh yeah, why don’t we just have the pianist play something there. “Oh, pianist, can you just play a little something while we wait for the bride to get ready?” That’s why I always came to weddings with loads of piano books. Better to be prepared.

Weddings bring out people’s true character. In mothers who may normally appear to be sweet and harmless you see the inner control freak. In fathers who may normally appear to be dominant and controlling you see that they really just don’t give a shit. And, in brides who may normally appear to be totally in love with the groom, you see that they are much more in love with the wedding than with him.

Wow, I just let out some seriously pent-up feelings about this subject. I feel much better now.

I can’t end a blog post about weddings without at least telling my funniest wedding experience. First, I fully support gay marriage. I fully believe that we should have the right to marry whomever and however we want. That doesn’t mean that I actually want to have a wedding ceremony. Especially, after I went to my first gay wedding.

It was several years ago. The grooms decided to incorporate a plethora of cultural practices into their ceremony, in order to honor the diversity of their beliefs, I guess. So, it started with both of the grooms being carried in by the wedding party while the entire congregation repeatedly sang a song entitled He Carried Me. Subtle, I know. At another point the grooms sprinkled rose petals over the entire congregation. This was followed by one of the grooms playing You Are My Sunshine on his violin. And, the highlight was when the grooms got dressed up as pink bunny rabbits for the congregation. I shit you not.

Some people just ain’t right.

An Angry Mob of Readers

Well, it couldn’t be avoided. I have to talk about my sprained ankle. You may remember me discussing my proneness to tripping in a past blog post entitled That damn crack. If you haven’t, you should definitely check it out. I do believe it’s one of my better blog articles. Anyway, I am only avoiding the real topic here–my ankle.

So, just prior to Thanksgiving I was on a layover in Ontario, CA. It was my first trip after returning from Montana, and I was feeling fresh and alive, ready to deal with the masses. 😉 I was at the hotel and stepped off the curb in front, when my right foot came down on a piece of uneven pavement. Immediately my foot rolled under and I felt a sharp pain in my ankle. It was almost like an electric shock that was warning me, “Hey, Dumbass, watch where you’re going!”

I can tend to exaggerate at times just for theatrics. What I have to say next is totally the truth…I swear on my sprained ankle…

My arms shot up into the air as if to warn anyone who may not have noticed me falling. Instinctively, I turned my body as I fell so as to not re-injure my right shoulder (which has been dislocated about 6 times). This was followed by a loud grunt, as I landed with a thud on the side of my right thigh. Before it was all over, I managed to completely roll over several times, just for flare, I guess.

I was totally stunned. How could someone like myself, someone who never trips or falls or gets hurt, manage to do this? Believe it or not, I was surprised. The very next thing that came to mind–and this should convince you of my commitment to this blog–was this very disturbing thought: I could totally blog about this.

Yes, it’s true. Before I started to worry if I had broken my ankle; before I began to wonder why I rolled over so many times (I mean seriously you would have thought I was on fire!); Before I tried to get up and wipe the dirt and oil off my ass I was thinking of you, my loyal and eager readers.

Now, don’t you fret, once I shook my mind free of the slow motion replay of what had happened, and the need to create a blog that was interesting, I forgave you. I mean after all, it wasn’t as if a mob of angry readers were there pushing me off the curb so that I would have something to write about. That’s just how dramatic the world is…in my head, of course.

Before you lose any sleep due to any guilt or regret you may be feeling, please know that I am on the mend. I won’t lie–It did hurt like a mother and still is a little painful. It swelled up to the size of a soccer ball and turned about 30 different shades of purple. Not to mention the recurring night sweats and constant fear I now have of curbs, my curbaphobia, if you will. But, I’m better now. And, it was totally worth it. I was getting short on material.

Thank you, dear readers, thank you.