Let’s see how many short stories I can brainstorm now that I’ve done about 5 hours of work and I still have another 5 hours to go before I start my work day tomorrow.
I was in Minneapolis this week. I went from high-70s in San Francisco (the city, mind you) to low-30s. The pilot announced, “We’re leaving Fall in California for the start of Winter in Minnesota. Buckle up, folks. We’ll be on our way soon.”
I was thinking, ‘We didn’t leave Fall. We left Summer! This is our Indian Summer–the best weather we’ll get in California all year. And I’m leaving town. This wasn’t part of my job description. I’m not supposed to travel.’
The Grand Hotel, the one I gush about when I stay in Minneapolis, couldn’t seem to get it right this time around. I think they put me in the smallest room they had. Usually there’s a separate bar area, but this room had the bar on top of the desk. I had to move it out of the way to setup my laptop and get work done.
Every day, the guy who brought my complementary morning beverage BANGED on the door. He’s supposed to do a light rap of his knuckles. Not only did he bang the door down so the whole floor could hear (I could hear every wake-up call he made on my floor), he knocked 30 minutes earlier than he was supposed to. At least he was consistent!
The first morning, I laid in bed for another 30 minutes, got up naked, and peered out the door while quickly sliding the silver tray into my room. About being naked, well, I can’t sleep with the fan on which is the only way to get the temperature down. So I end up sleeping naked–not typical for me.
The tea kettle looked different than I’m used to seeing that first morning. I cooed, “Oooh, they have different tea kettles.” I poured and out came….yucky disgusting poo-poo colored coffee. “EWWWWW!!!” I waved my hand in front of my face to try and dissipate the stank already wafting through my nostrils to my sleep-deprived head. I thought I was going to puke.
That night, I explicitly admonished, “Please bring tea. I hate coffee and someone brought coffee this morning. “
The bad karma followed me on the way home, unfortunately. On my return flight, the stewardess had it out for me. As much as I hate their stupid $5 snack packs, I had become extremely hungry, so hungry that I was shaking. I didn’t take my eyes off of her as she walked down the aisle (I was in an aisle seat). Several feet ahead of me, I waved my hand and caught her eye. She pushed the cart right on past me.
She kept moving along. I whipped my head back, grabbed her arm, and repeated, “Excuse me!!!” This time louder and angrier.
“What do you want?” She looked at me like I was a little child. She was tall, blonde, thin. But she looked old, probably in her late 40s.
“A snack pack!” I felt my cheeks reddening.
Even though I had $20 in front of her face, she talked down to me, “It’s $5.”
“Well take the money!” I screamed. I could feel myself losing composure as she slowly counted the change in front of me. I could see her intentionally skipping the $5 and $10. She gave me fifteen dollar bills. I rolled my eyes and loudly groaned in disgust.
I was in a pissy mood, but got over it as I became engrossed in my book. I could hear someone calling out, “Blanket…blankets?” I looked up and waved my hand simultaneously. It was her. The same bitchy stewardess. I had the blanket in my hand, but felt a tug at the other end. She leaned down and whispered, “Thank you. You should say ‘thank you.'” Then she walked away.
I was furious. My blood was boiling. The seatbelt light was turned on. I considered getting up anyway and having a few words with her. How rude! The seatbelt light continued to remain on. I breathed slowly, counted to ten. Thought about Jesus and Buddha…what would they do? If it weren’t for that damn seatbelt light, I wouldn’t have cared what Jesus or Buddha would have done, I was ready to rumble on the plane.
The seatbelt light didn’t go off until it sensed I had finally cooled off. By then, we were practically back in San Francisco where the Indian Summer awaited me.