is it just me?

I was traveling this weekend which is usually the source of quite a bit of fodder for me, but I must admit that traveling alone with a 15 month old really impinges on one's ability to people watch in an airport. however, since I am an excellent multi-tasker (just ask my resume!) I did catch a couple of things. while playing in the kids' area in Cincinnati, exposing my child to as many transcontinental germs as possible, I got to enjoy two people have a conversation for my benefit. You know the type, they are talking a little too loud for it to be just for their own benefit, and they are trying to make something that is probably kind of boring sound interesting. This woman was telling her husband that "they just need to pay us the $10,000 that they owe us" which would have been interesting had it been followed by "for killing his wife" but was less compelling since it was actually followed by "it's making the whole division look bad". But I could tell she was hoping I was paying attention. Her slightly unruly 3 year old was busy getting the face of (and scaring) my midget, and her mother was too busy trying to impress to notice that she was spilling doritos everywhere and generally being a menace. A cute menace, but still. Actually the little girl said something that piqued my interest much more than her mother's (clearly very important) business dealings. Her mother told her to ask me where we were going, and when I asked where SHE was going she said "To where my mom lives." Really? Interesting. I mean, it was clear that this child was not the genetic production of the two people on the sideline, but I had sort of assumed they were her parents. The woman even said that the girl was the same age as my little one the first time she was in that play area, indicating a long history. I would have loved to get the whole back story there, since it would have been more interesting than plopping the baby lizard at the top of the 8 inch slide for the one billionth time, but somehow I didn't think it was appropriate. On a side note, when the woman stood up to leave I could not help but notice she was wearing one of the most unfortunate pairs of pants in the history of the universe. Hopefully those people will give her her $10K and she can use it to buy a decent pair of pants.

Anyway, I had a lovely weekend in my hometown, including a visit with an old friend who I have not seen in nearly 15 years. I dealt with the awkwardness of this as I do with many such situations: by drinking. Really, there are some things that just require alcohol consumption, and this was one of them. I survived, but have since been wallowing in a weird sort of anti-nostalgia time warp which I am hoping to snap out of soon. It actually started before this weekend and I seem to keep adding fuel to the fire, which must end before I am dressing in oversized clothing, watching 90210, and sulking around like it's 1993.

We had a bit of a snafu on our return trip which involved three hours in the airport before taking off on our first flight, which caused us to miss our second flight. Just what you need when traveling alone with a young child. After nearly two hours of letting her stuff her piehole with the myriad of bite sized carbohydrates I had in my bag, climb on chairs, push the stroller, etc we were getting low on tricks just in time to get on the plane. So then you have to hold and entertain a cranky child in the space allocated to you, which is approximately the size of a Japanese tanning bed only vertical. good times. At that point I was thinking "I would kill someone for a diet coke" but alas when they ask you if you would like anything to drink you say no, thanks, since said diet coke would be a sparkly temptation which you could not offer your child which would then become grounds for screaming as if your toes were on fire until you were finally handed the can which would, inevitably, end up all over everything in a five foot radius. sigh. despite my wishful incantations of "time for night night?" it was clearly not time for anything as boring as night night, so the baby lizard kept sticking her head in the aisle and waving to the stewardess, who would not crack a smile. I'll be honest: I have a cute kid. This is not bias, it is scientific fact. And if a really cute kid who is not yelling and doing other unseemly things on your airplane is playing peekaboo with you and waving and you cannot bring yourself to smile at her, you really REALLY should not be in a customer oriented job.

And so, we continued our journey doing the best we could. I completely lost my dignity somewhere between the time that I ate the prelicked goldfish cracker that was stuffed into my mouth and saying "look! do you see the airplane?" in my super breathy mom voice that is specifically designed to induce excitement about thing that are not exciting. At that point, success was measured in number of seconds that BL was not crying. And so, as I stuffed myself in to the Little Tikes playhouse at Gate A23 at 10pm last night, playing round one million of peekaboo through the shutters, I really didn't care what anyone thought. Which is probably good, since I am not a small person and those playhouses are designed for small people. And so ended another chapter in the book Things that Are Not the Same with Kids. Chapter 15: Airport Delays.

I don't like you either.

Today I am back at work, and ran out for some lunch. There's a new place across the street and the food is quite tasty, though it is really slow. This means that if you order takeout you spend a lot of time loitering looking at a TV which is on mute and does not have closed captioning, and (if you are me) covertly eavesdropping. This restaurant was recently opened by some people that sort of seem too young to be doing something like running a restaurant, but whatever. It's a couple, and the girl is always the one to take your order and your money. For some reason, she is not very friendly to me which is kind of foolish because I go there often, and they need my money. But today I figured it out: she doesn't like girls. We all know those kind of girls. The ones who only like to deal with boys. This was cemented for me when she was being friendly and joking around (see below) with the guys in front of me, but then I come up and she is giving me tight lipped one word answers and keeping our exchanges as short as possible. As I am waiting, a guy comes up to get a refill on his coffee, which she does not charge him for, and the exchange goes like this:

shopgirl: how were the tacos?
customer: pretty good (sounding unenthusiastic)
shopgirl: good? good!
customer: the chips were good
shopgirl: well that's what we like to hear! thanks so much for your honest opinion!
customer: *thinking cute shopgirl must be flirting with him* well, it IS taco Tuesday!
shopgirl: it certainly is! have a great day. *gives death stare to wiscolizard*

I am not kidding you. Come on. The guy says he likes the chips? They're from a bag! You didn't cook them. And you thank him for his honest opinion and give him free coffee? Yet for me you have nothing but to dump my change into my hand without a word? Bitch. I wish there were more good places to go for lunch so I could cross you off my list.

Maybe I was still bitter from the first exchange I witnessed:

Guy #1: I'll have the tacos
shopgirl: hard or soft?
Guy #1: hard
shopgirl: *faking a laugh* gawd, that sounds really bad doesn't it?
Guy #2: sounds good to me

Whatever, Beavis.