My Girlfriend Janine

Several weeks ago Jeff and I went to Montana to visit his family. I know, I know…that is so Brokeback Mountain of us. Actually, while I can assure you that neither of us were herding any sheep, it wasn’t exactly like going on a gay cruise either.

Montana really is a beautiful state. It boasts some of the most open spaces in the country. I guess that’s why they call it “Big Sky” country. This is the second trip I have made to the “Treasure State.” The first was during the summer of 2006. It was during that first trip that I met Janine. And, I can’t talk about Janine without first saying how much I adore her. In fact, that’s how I always start out any story about Jeff’s sister, “So, I got to talk to Janine on the phone…God, I adore her…anyway…”

When Jeff and I walked off the plane in Great Falls in 2006, Janine literally vibrated. I’ve never experienced such a welcome in my life. She was so excited to see Jeff and to meet me that she stood there and giggled…and shook. Of course, I immediately fell in love. How could I not? Anyone who shakes with excitement when they see me has to be on my list of favorite people.

Part of why I love her so much is that she has cerebral palsy. I have always had a soft spot for people with disabilities. Even as a kid, some of my friends at school had special needs, and my mom started her career at the local elementary school working with children who had special needs. The other reason I adore Janine so much is because of her non-complicated view of the world. At times, she does get frustrated by her limitations and does have the occasional temper-tantrum, she also says what’s on her mind.

Here is one particular conversation we had during this last trip…

“I like your coat.”

“Thanks, Janine.”

“I like your socks.”

“Thanks, they’re just brown socks.”

“I like your jeans.”

“Thank you, Janine.”

“I like you.”

“I like you, too.”

(Be sure to envision lots of shaking and giggling throughout the conversation.)

At this point, she proceeds to tell whomever is close by that she likes me. Janine is so good for my ego.

Amongst the Masses

Jeff and I went to Montana to visit his family. It was a great trip, and I will share more about that later. But, first things first. I have a theory about travel. And, here it is…if those who work with the flying public would actually fly once in a while, they would have a much better perspective and would treat the flying public differently.

Jeff and I usually buy tickets when we travel. Now, realize that, being a flight attendant, I could fly for free–even on carriers other than my own. It’s just that I hate to non-rev. That’s the term airline folks use when they use their flying benefits to fly for free. It’s not that I don’t like things that are for free, I do. It’s that Jeff has to buy a ticket since he doesn’t work for an airline. And, I really hate the stress of trying to get where we’re going at the same time by flying stand-by. Who wants to be sitting in an airport waiting for flight after flight, while your partner is already at your destination?

You see, amazingly, for someone who flies for a living, I am a horrible flier. Oh, I could manage through it, if I were traveling alone or with another flight attendant. But, I don’t like the stress of it…especially when I am on vacation. So…I buy a ticket and travel like everyone else. And, after doing this several times, I am convinced that every airline employee should do this once in a while. Here’s why: Airline employees need to know what the passengers go through.

Here’s my “airport experience” as a flight attendant…

A pre-arranged van picks me up from the hotel an hour before the scheduled departure time. I am dropped off at the curb and walk directly to the front of the security line, bypassing everyone. I am allowed to leave my belt and shoes on and I am not restricted by liquid bans or number of carry-on rules. I show up to the airplane before anyone gets on it and take my time getting settled before any passengers board. At the end of my day, I gather my belongings and walk straight to the hotel van. Someone loads my luggage into the back for me and I am off.

I am not saying that there are no stresses for me at work. I do have to deal with passengers who are difficult. I am bound to the plane often for 10+ hours. And, if there are delays or other circumstances, I’m right there with everyone else. But, from traveling among hoi polloi, here is what I have learned:

The “airport experience” of the masses…

Expecting long line-waits, I had to arrive at the airport at least two hours before my departure. I wait in my first line for the ticket counter. I check my bags, say a prayer that they’ll make it to my final destination and move on to the security line. I wander through the snake-shaped line, pausing for flight crews and passengers with special needs to squeeze in front. Finally, at the front of the line, I have to take off my jacket, my belt, and my shoes. My bag, which has no liquids, is chosen for further screening. I watch without touching, the agent ruin my careful packing job. I am left with my belongings in a pile, half-disrobed, and a TSA agent pushing me to “move on.” I finally get myself re-organized and head to the gate and wait some more. I finally start to board the plane and wait in line again.

Now, the fun begins. I am 6’2″ and sitting in a middle seat for two hours. It’s not exactly comfortable. But, I’m fine. It’s only a two hour flight. At least, I’m not flying international. I arrive at my first destination and have a connection. So, I have to go through the boarding process again, followed by another crammed flight on an even smaller plane. Once I arrive at my final destination, I then deplane and wait again for my luggage, hoping that it made it all the way.

The amazing thing is that this scenario doesn’t even involve any delays or cancellations or actually any of the really extreme situations which can happen on a trip. My point is that flying is not fun. There is no question about that. Even in writing this out, I empathize with the flying public. It’s interesting to me that while I am at work, I usually think that people should be better mannered. But, honestly, now, I think that most people are just doing the best they can with a rather unpleasant experience.

And, I know as a passenger and a airline employee, it is just nice to know that someone understands and cares.

I’m back!


Hey, everybody. Finally, I’m back. I decided to take a month off. I needed time to come up with some fresh ideas. Plus, it’s been an incredibly hectic month! I went to Montana for a week to visit Jeff’s family and then it was time for Thanksgiving. I seriously sprained my ankle in the midst of it all. Of course, I had to find time to work, too. I never realized that all I had to do to find new material was just live life…

So, here we go! Enjoy “my life.” I do.

I’m a victim.

I’m a victim. Yeah, yeah…I know everyone thinks that they are a victim. But, seriously, I am a victim. Jesus. There, I said it. I feel soooo much better. Wait…actually, now that I said it, it doesn’t sound quite right–I am a survivor. There. I like that much better.

I am a youth choir survivor. This may not initially sound like a big deal, but, it is. You know, youth choirs…think cheesy music and choreography. Sort of like Up With People, just not as “polished.” My first (that’s right, there was more than one!) choir was called Harmony, Inc. It was a youth choir that got together for a month every summer to rehearse and tour and evangelize the vastly pagan area of our country called the Midwest. Of course, we had thousands of converts. 😉

It was during one of these tours that I met a brassy soprano named Laura. Laura was everything a young gay boy could hope for in a “girlfriend.” She was big, both in size and personality. She styled her overly-curled blonde hair so that the back of her hair was hanging over her forehead. She was sort of like an early 80s version of Madonna, only on steroids. Clearly from the moment we met, we were destined to be together. In many ways, she was one of the most bizarre looking people I had ever seen. Laura was a misfit–truly, one of my peeps. So, of course, we instantly hit it off. Most important to this story, however, Laura was a drama queen. Literally. She was the president of her Thespian troupe. So, it is no surprise that our whirlwind relationship had all the workings of a Shakespearean tragedy. Our love was not to be…

Following a particularly emotional choir rehearsal, she approached me and said, “We’ve lost our spark.”

“Huh?” (I was like totally articulate in high school)

“You know, when we first met, there was a spark between the two of us…well, it’s gone.”

“Are we breaking up?”

“Let’s just be friends.”

It was at this point that I first mastered the fine art of holding a grudge. I also learned how to so completely ignore someone that it caused them acute pain. At least, in my head, that was the case. I continue, to this day, to excel at both of these skills.

If Laura wanted to “just be friends,” I would kill her with my glares or lack thereof. I’d teach her a real life lesson: Don’t mess with a confused gay teenage boy. I have a feeling I wasn’t the only one to teach her that lesson. Somehow, I managed to survive the following weeks by pouring my angst into the music. I could force the tears out at the height of a song. Unfortunately, so could my ex-girlfriend. It became a weeping contest. All would see that I was truly a spiritual person who had been through a lot–more than Laura. It all was really great drama. At least, until the director approached us after one of our concerts and asked if we could “control our emotions” just a little bit. How embarrassing for him–trying to stifle our pain. I’d direct my venom at him.

That would free me from being mad at Laura. We bonded over our hatred of the choir director. Of course, we became best friends.

Agggghhhhhhhh!!!!

I’ve been living in the bay area for close to five years. And, I’ve only felt two earthquakes. One was so subtle that I thought that I was just dizzy (that, too, happens on occasion…). Last night, though, I thought it was the “big one.” My first thought was that something had exploded. It started with a big jolt. I actually saw the walls of my apartment shake. Then I watched the TV stand, lamp and all 9 of my chirren sway back and forth.

In light of my last post, I would like to distract you for a moment. If you haven’t taken the time to meet my 9 children, please do so. Here’s the video. They’ve been begging me to make another video. So, I probably will do that soon. They had so much fun during the first one.

Anyway, back to the earthquake. The shaking went on for about 20 seconds. For those of us who come from parts of the world where the only shaking going on involves deranged drunken parents and their children, it is an unsettling experience. My first instinct was that I needed to get out of the house. My second instinct was that I should put on some shoes. Wait, I should take my cell phone. And, my Mac. I should probably turn the lights off to save electricity…

Ok, let’s just say that–keep in mind, I’m a flight attendant who has been repeatedly trained to evacuate an aircraft with the command: “LEAVE EVERYTHING!”–well, let’s just say that I failed. Now, I have to give myself some credit, the earthquake wasn’t actually as big as the initial jolt made it feel. It was only a 5.6 on the Richter Scale. And, it was centered over 50 miles away.

But, it got me thinking. I’m the one who forced Jeff (who experienced the 1989 earthquake) to agree to my earthquake emergency plan, complete with meeting places in various locations. I should be able to handle the most important step: Get out of the house.

At least I didn’t run out screaming “I don’t want to die!” only to discover I was half-naked and that half of the population didn’t even feel the quake.