Everything was gravy; then, they took my gravy. I got so pissed; I let it go; now, it's all gravy again :-)

Gimme back my damn Gravy!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Will's was on point!

My day started off great. It's Thursday and I go home. I got to sleep in late and for the first time in two months, I got to go downstairs for breakfast. Shout out to Hilton Garden Inn, Merrillville, Indiana. They have the best breakfast, cooked to order. I'd just done a little elliptical and so I knew the guilt would not follow me to breakfast. Will, the bomb chef there, made me biscuits and gravy, an egg white omelet and pancakes. Listen to me very closely-or rather, read very carefully. That gravy!??!!! The shiznit!!! I've never tasted anything like it. The chunks of meat were so flavorful and tender. The gravy, not too thick and not runny. Flavor galore. I waxed it off and devoured the rest of my breakfast. I ask Will to give me a cup full to take home for my compadre-I was telling him how good it was and I wasn't sure he understood, so I needed to bring him the magic.

Best airline ever!

I grabbed my cup of gravy and four biscuits and headed to the airport. My flight doesn't leave until this evening at 5pm but my Airtran crew always look out of me. I have never not gotten onto an early flight and moreso, they always make sure I get a business class upgrade. Shout out to Airtan Chicago, Midway!! Love you guys. Today was no different. I got to the ticket counter and saw Lance and Mrs. Williams. Love those two. I approached and they handed me a ticket. I didn't have to say a word. Like I said, they always take care of me. Today, they all had on yellow Airtran T-shirts and when I asked what was going on, they said it was customer appreciation day-and something about Southwest (not too happy that Airtran will soon, be no more). "Where's my shirt?" I asked Lance. "I got you," he said, and smiled. "Afterall, you're kinda like a part of Airtran. You fly with us twice a week." "Yep," I said, smiled and turned to walk away. (I used to have the biggest crush on Lance. I hope he never reads this ;-) 

I start off for the escalator and Lance yells out, "I'll get you your T-shirt for Sunday."  I usually come in on Sunday's. "I'm coming back on Saturday," I said to him. "Okay," he responded and I was off. Off to go through my favorite Thursday routine. TSA. I jest. I go through the business class line and I'm at the front. The officer looks at my ID, without looking up and said, "Oh, hi again." I smile and tell him hi. When you do this twice a week, everyone knows you. That's why I don't quite understand what happened next.

I don't see any gravy in there. She was just hungry

What can I seriously make with this?

I put my laptop in a bin, take my shoes off and put it in a bin with my sandals, my Hobo in another bin and my little bag (with gravy, biscuits, fruit, Reader's Digest) in another bin. I go through the X-ray thing, the one where you stand with your legs apart and arms up.

Got it down to a science. "You may step out," the officer says. I do. "Do you have something on your left leg?" he asks. "I lift the leg of my pants to show my anklet. He smiles and says, "Just messing with you." "Okay, Marquis," I say to him. Like I said, I do this every Sunday and Thursday so I know all the names of the regulars and they remember me. "Excuse me, whose bag is this?" I hear from the officer by the X-ray belt. I look over and of course, she's talking to me. Dammit! I go over and realize I've never seen her before.

"It's mine," I respond.

"You can't bring this coffee through here," she says, holding up my Hilton Garden Inn coffee cup.

Okay, let me explain something before I continue on with this story. Anyone who's had coffee knows what a coffee cup looks like, especially the ones you get at a hotel. They have a lid and a big enough hole at the top, through which you drink. Now, I ask you, could I possibly have coffee in the damn cup, have brought it from an hour away in a car, put it in a bag with handles, in a bin and sent it through the X-ray machine, without it spilling?  Uhm, not to mention that coffee is definitely a liquid and you would feel that, if this were coffee, it would be moving in the cup, the way a liquid does. What an ass, I thought!

"It's not coffee," I say to her, with attitude. I don't know her and she's being retarded.

"Well, what is it?" she asks.

I wanted to say something like 'arsenic' or 'liquid nitrogen' but because I like my orafices intact, I decide against it.

"It's gravy," I say and roll my eyes-because it sounds crazy and I look like a greedy pig who travels with gravy.

"Well, it's a liquid and you can't bring it through," she says.

"It's not a liquid," I say.

"It kinda is," she says, trying to swirl it (now, remember, if it was coffee, it would have been spilling at this point). "As long as it can be poured, you can't bring it through."

Gravy is not a liquid!!!!!

Okay, I took science  in high school, majored in it in college and taught science in high school and freshman college and yes, I know there are four states of matter (solid, liquid, gas and plasma). And my gravy, with it's meaty chunks of goodness is not a liquid and in fact, has more solid in it than not, so lady, you don't know what you're talking about. I should have given her a science lesson but I stopped teaching kids two years ago. LOL! I crack myself up ;-)

By this point, I'm pissed because, one, I want the damn gravy. Two, I want D to taste it like I promised him. Three, I just don't like this chick (yes, don't attack me. I know she's only doing her job). Four, Myron, is looking at me like, "I'm sorry," because he can't help and if it was him, he'd let me slide. Damn you Myron.

I look away from her and start putting my laptop in its case.

"Well, I'll have to take it," she starts, "Unless you want to take it back outside and drink it."

This bitch! I could have spit in her face. But, inside I was smiling, because that ish was rude as hell but so damn funny. How the hell would I look, going back through TSA to go drink a cup of gravy? LMBFGDAO (laughing my big, fat, gravy drinking ass off)

"Nah, you can have it," I say to her, trying to inject a little insult in there. She takes it and dumps it in front of me.

I grab my stuff and stomp away like a little kid, mad because the bad lady took my gravy :-(

You're worried about me and some damn gravy when I'm sure someone here has something so much more dangerous. Can someone explain to me what I could possibly do with a cup of gravy on a plane or some damn lotion or toothpaste, for that matter?  Please!

I finish buckling up my sandals when I hear an announcement, "Kelly Fleming, please report to gate A14 for an on time departure." Damn it, I'm here messing around with 'Gravy Chick' and almost missed my flight. But, Lance had my back, just like he always does. I head on quickly to A14, with 'bag and pan' in hand, minus my delicious gravy, the vile venom for Gravy Chick fading away. I'll just have to learn how to make that gravy and make some for D. And damn it, I didn't have time to go by Nuts on Clark to pick up some popcorn for him either. I got you next time D ;-)

I get to A14 and there's Lance. They must have a teleport machine in this damn airport because he just gave me my ticket at the ticket counter and now, here he is by the damn concourse gate. My first thought was, "Had I known, I would have asked him to take my gravy through." I'm a hoot. How would that have sounded? But, you don't understand how tasty it was-don't judge me. "What took you so long?" he asks and says something about making sure I get home. "Long story," I say, as he scans my boading pass and says, "See you Saturday." I get into the plane and my seat is 3F, by the window and this white dude is in 3E ( I mention his race for a reason). "This is my seat," I say, in my nicest voice.

"Are your sure?" he asks, with furrowed brows. 

I damn near lost it.

The only way to fly!

"What?" I say/ask him, with that look on your face that says, "mutha&u*c%er I do this twice a week-business class and yes, I'm black and a woman. What you saying? !!" I'd never say that out. I'm not crass.

He gets up to let me in and if he had a tail, it would have been between his legs. "I didn't mean anything by it," he says.

I just sit down and search in my bag for my headphones to listen to some Sirius FM, because this dude wants me to sin and I try not to sin, especially when I'm about to go 30,000 plus miles towards God. I'm thinking to myself, "Fool, you did mean something by it. If you didn't, you wouldn't be apologizing. Now shut the hell up and sit your ass down." But, I didn't say that either.

I could tell today would be a trying day. I grab my phone to call my mom and tell her I'll be home early.

From the P.A, the flight attendant exclaims, "Ladies and gentlemen, please power down all electronics with an On and Off switch. And if your neighbor does not comply, please press the flight attendant call button." I damn near peed myself until I saw Mr. 3E eyeing me. I WISH A MUTHA*U&C#@ WOULD!!!! He looks away. Damn right! I power down, but not too quickly. I have to prove a point to him and besides, I'm not trying to be stranded at the airport.  

I tune in to The Heat on Sirius and settle in with my Reader's Digest. "I'll take two Bailey's please," I tell the flight attendant, when she asks if she can get me something to drink. All the while, I'm thinking, 'let's get up to 10,000ft so that I can get onto my gogoinflight and blog about this mess!'