Yes, Dexter is a V.I.P!!!!

He Hates Me!!

Dex hates me and I can't blame him. My poor boonkie had to go into a stupid bag and not only be carted around like a common criminal or a piece of meat, but had to be put under the seat in front of me on my flight. A flight that was twenty minutes longer than usual.

Look at his little face :-(



He is a VIP

I love Airtran but I think it's about time they stepped up their game and be the first airline to allow maniacs like me to purchase a seat for her dog. Yep, I said it. Since we treat our animals like family, we should be allowed to travel with them like family. Do you put your mother in law under the seat? I bet some of you will say yes. I probably would if she got outta place. I'll tell you this though, I'll treat Dex better than I would any mother in law-so there. And, he's so much more better behaved than any human I've met :-)

Airtran does have the right idea though. They gave me a big ole', green tag that said, V.I.P (Very Important Pet). Yep, and then, everybody knows I have a dog with me and wants to stop me to ask, "What kind of dog do you have?" "Did they charge you to take him on board?" "Did you drug him?" And, you know how social I am-I just looooovvvee talking to strangers.

So, get on it Airtran, before you switch over to Southwest *gagging at the thought*. I need my boonkie right beside me, in a seat, with his seatbelt on, legs crossed :-)

 

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!'

Really, September 11 didn't change the way we live? Yeah, right!!!!!

 

It's Thursday at Atlanta's Hartfield Jackson International Airport, after September 11th. I'm making my way through the sea of business travelers with roller bags. Man, I hate those!! There's nothing I hate more than a selfish roller-bag puller, who doesn't even try to make sure they're not tripping anyone. 

Anyhoo, this blog isn't about that but it offers some foreshadowing. I hit the gate, running, try to trip a woman with a roller bag who wouldn't move out of the way. I needed to go to the bathroom. I make it without leaving a puddle and I'm on my way to the train for baggage claim. This is what the hell I see. 

A doggone line to get onto the escalator. Are you kidding me? Now, keep in mind that I took the pic, so I'm not at the front nor am I at the back.  And they say 9/11 didn't affect us. Get outta here with that mess! Took me about 20 minutes to get down a flight of escalators. You know why? Well, yes, the obvious line but because those clowns with the roller bags don't know how to carry them on an escalator. I hate them, I tell you!  And then, when I finally get to the bottom of the escalator, I don't see why there was a holdup to begin with. Rubbish.

I get outside and traffic is backed up. Atlanta airport is always crazy but there were barriers all over, and police galore! I suppose there might have been some kind of threat or something and Atlanta Hartsfield Jackson is the busiest in the world, so I get it.

On another note and I'm not sure if this has anything to do with September 11, but what the hell is the deal  with people wrapping their luggage with saran wrap? Here these two are, lugging around bags 'o plastic and for what? To keep it clean? That's the whole point of luggage. You know they're going to throw them around, damage them and get them dirty. And, uhm, it's not like you're travelling with LV. I doubt they were even Samsonite ;-) Okay, I jest. Everybody lays claim to their own treasures. Who am I to say a word? But, can someone seriously tell me why the plastic? Please!  And, if you do know why, can you please explain if the plastic has anything to do with safety because I know TSA checks the bags you check (I get those white check sheets in my suitcases all the time-I hope they're not sniffing my undies). How do they get into the bags anyway without tearing the plastic. This is too much. I just don't understand.

September 11th, ten years later.

I got to Atlanta Hartsfield International airport and expected mayhem. Well, I  was more than surprised to say that nothing could have gone smoother. Not only did Atlanta TSA give every officer OT but they were on top of their game but with such a great spirit. Everyone was laughing and making jokes (which had me kinda worried that they'd miss something). But, they made it so easy to go about 'the business'. I got my 'I remember' sticker and headed right on to concourse C with nary a finger up my legs or bag and no, 'ma'am, we're going to have to run your bag again.' Kudos to you Atlanta TSA. You did it when it really counted ;-)

TSA-Total Sexual Assault!

TSA is off the chain. You're, somehow, getting rubbed, touched, undressed, patted and groped. Now, for someone who doesn't get it on a regular basis, one might like that.

Today was no different. Okay, it was, for me at least. I didn't get molested today. I got hit on like crazy though. Not sure why. Maybe, it was because I had the girls on display, a little today (not intentionally-that's how the doggone blouse fit, okay. Don't judge me.)

Got to the belt, took my shoes, belt, owl earrings and thirty-five braclets (bangles, if you're Jamaican) off. Put everything in the plastic containers and went through the scanner thing (I have this down to a science-do it every Sunday and Thursday). Nope! It buzzed me. I pat myself down. I'd forgotten this necklace. I asked the guy behind me to take it off for me. Yes, a little bit of flirting but mostly because it has a funny clasp and I couldn't get it. I go through again. I'm buzzed. Okay, what gives? The officer was very nice, 'belt?' I said, 'off'. He asked, 'maybe it's those BIG bra underwires.' I could have kissed him. This full body shaper from Lane Bryant was doing its job very well and like I said, the girls were working it today. 'That may be it,' I say to him. He told me he'd have to pat me down. Didn't really want him to so I checked my wrists and yep, I'd left one bracelet/bangle on. I took it off and went through again. I was good to go. My TSA officer looked a little disappointed. Too bad. Not my type.

I go towards my belongings and this freakily handsome black guy was going through my things. I approach and he asks, 'are these your very nice things?' 'Uhm, yes,' I respond. 'Do you need to go through them?" He answers, 'Nah, just seeing what you've got going on.' I reach for my belt, in a seperate container, because I forgot to take it off and had to send it in solo. "Is this your belt?" "Yes," I respond. He lifts the belt and checks it out. "Nice belt." Really dude...it's a regular old belt, but whatever. Are you kidding me? And if that wasn't bad enough the conversation continued like this:

Him: So you like accessories, huh?
Me: I do
Him: Well, they're nice and they look good on you.
Me: I didn't even put them back on yet
Him: I saw you before you took them off (cheesing the entire time)
Me: Okay, thanks
Him: Where are you off to?
Me: Chicago
Him: You live there?
Me: No, I live here (not sure why I'm answering him:
Him: Oh, for real. So, why are you going to Chicago?
Me: (smiling) I work out there
Him: Oh, nice. So you have a condo out there or something.
Me: No. (no need to elaborate)
Him: Got someone out there?
Me: No (thinking, 'shouldn't you be asking if I have someone here in Atlanta, where I live?)
Him: When do you come home?
Me: On Thursdays
(The entire time, I'm getting dressed-for lack of a better term)
Him: So you stay in hotels or something?
Me: Tony, I have to run (he had a name badge on with that beautiful smile)
Him: Wait, what time is your flight?
Me: Now
Him: So, I'll see you again next week?
Me: More than likely (God, I hope so)
Him: Okay beautiful. Be good in Chicago. Save some for when you get back.
I smile, walk away and go sit to strap up my slippers.

All the while, these two other TSA officers are laughing. I look over and smile and I guess one thought that was an invitation to come over and talk to me. His name is Nobles (badge. Didn't I just mention that?)
Nobles: Tony's kinda shy. How are you?
Me: Aren't terroritst coming through if you're not monitoring?
Nobles: (smiles). Nah, we're good. Where are you off to? (Way to go US TSA/Atlanta!)
Me: Work

Him: When do you come back?

Me: You guys do this a lot, huh?

Him: What do you mean?

Me: Exactly. I gotta run Nobles. Got a flight to catch

Him: How'd you know my name?

I just smile, shake my head, wave at Tony and the other random officer, touch Nobles on the shoulder and walk away.

They made my day.

No matter where, no matter when, I gotta get my Zzzzz's!

I'm flying out to NY from Atlanta today. Yes, Atlanta, the busiest airport in the world. I can attest to that because I fly into Atlanta every Thursday and out on Sunday's and no matter what time I'm en route, I'm tripping over roller bags and tripping random kids.

So, today, the Friday before Labor Day Monday, it came as no surprise that the airport was, as usual, 'off the chain'. I got to my gate, in a light sweat, as usual, because TSA just put me through the damn ringer-leaving me violated. I step over a few feet and jump over a few bags before I find a seat, a seat that has a bag and a book in it and a nasty chick beside it, looking at me, as if I have no right to ask her to get her stuff off so that I can sit.

I have about an hour before my flight so I decide to charge my phone. I look over for the 'so convenient' charging stations and that's when I realize that there are people sleeping on the damn floor. They were right there in front of me but I'd gotten so used to them that I didn't even notice them today. I do a ballet move to get over her sleeping, bundled up body and plug in my phone. Now that I'm in the midst of the pajama party-sleepover, I realize how many of them there are and how horribly horrible they look and smell. And, to make matters worse, she's farting. Yep, and that's the only charging station. Dammit!!!

I hear an ad on the TV behind me and I start to smile. It's the one about Hartsfield Jackson International Airport being the busiest airport in the world and the hub for sleepovers for missed flights. But, they're bragging about these rooms they have that you can sleep in for $30 an hour if the hard ground is too much for you or if you're Donald Trump, because I'd need at least $150. I love my sleep! I guess this group here isn't 'balling' like that.

So, needless to say, my blog is all about the horrors of missing your flight. When I was a kid, I'd love going with my mom and brothers to Florida where we'd spend the night in the airport to get up and go to McCrory's for breakfast. To us, that was a treat and so much fun. I guess it depends on who you're with, huh? Things just aren't the same. For one, they don't have McCrory's anymore :-(

Theh airports should, however, think about putting in some showers though. That would be rather nice, so if you HAVE to stay in the airport overnight, you can at least freshen up. Don't you think that's a good idea?

Is that really necessary?

What idiots are we surrounded by that they needed to put that sticker on the plane's engine? I mean, really now! Are you that stupid that you'd think to enter or sit on or even go near, for that matter, an engine-an aircraft engine at that? What's crazy is that something happened in the past that prompted it. Some idiot probably sued because they were burned when they got too close. SMH!

This little store's got the right idea....

Pretty simple y'all. Life is good. Celebrate Life!!!!The fact that you got up this morning and are reading this, is reason enough to celebrate/rejoice. So what! You had a bad day!? Get over it. Know that YOU can make the next one better. Stop into Life is good @ Chicago Midway Airport and see what all the fuss is about.

It ain't easy being GREEN

Now, this brought a smile to my face. I love ingenuity. A water bottle refill station in the airport. And lookie-lookie. It's right beside the water fountain. I guess someone didn't think this one out. But, the idea is still pretty doggone fantastic ;-)

This is the mess that pisses me off at the damn airport

This is the B.S. I deal with every freaking Thursday at Hartfield Jackson International Aiport-the busiest airport in the world. Yes, the world! These damn parents and their damn kids, doing whatever the hell they want. If the kids aren't running rampant and free through the busy concourses, it's this mess-a kid riding on his, who I presume is the mom's roller bag and screaming to high heaven's for her to go faster. And, guess what! She does! I wanted to just trip them both, but I didn't. I just shook my head and kept it going-smoke coming out of my ears.

You parents suck!! Get a grip of your children and teach them what's acceptable in public and what damn sure isn't.

That's not the camera. That's some serious sweat on dude's face!

This guy sure made me nervous. Today, I got an an earlier flight and got the exit row seat, instead of my usual. Here comes this guy and God only knows what's going on with him but man, he was sweating bullets. My nerves set in, wondering if he knew something I didn't. We didn't even take off yet. Fingers crossed and prayer said. "Lord, get me home safely and please, no turbulence." Who knows what would happen to this guy is we hit a few bumps. The bathroom is way in the back and the front ;-)

It's that hot in the 'A', even the planes are sweating ;-)



Napkins in the vents? Really!








How we roll in Atlanta on Airtran!
CLASSIC! I can't make this stuff up!



Welcome to SoulPlane-Airtran style



It's that hot in 'Hotlanta'. Even the doggone planes are sweating.

Conversation overheard while  I was drinking my Vodka and Fuze:

Passenger way behind me: What the hell?!

Flight Attendent: Don't worry. This is not a ghetto plane. They're there for a reason.

Me (thinking): Oh, this is 'fittin' to be good.

Flight attendant goes to front of plane and gets on the PA system: Ladies and gentlemen, I know some of you are wondering why we have napkins stuffed in the vents above your heads. Well, we're not ghetto. They're there because of all the condensation.

Passengers burst out laughing. I think I peed a little.

I LOVE AIRTRAN!!!!! <3 

Back to my 'Road Warrioring' after a long vacation.

So, I head out tomorrow and I can't wait to experience what I am sure will make me either smirk or smile. Of course, you know I'm good for it and will definitely share........

Indiana by way of Chicago by way of Atlanta.