Loss is a part of life but when it happens to you, it's always shocking, saddening and causes a lot of soul searching.
My aunt passed away last week. It was relatively sudden - - she had surgery five or so days beforehand and developed complications. I thought she would pull through because my aunt was a fighter. Hearing that she had not pulled through hurt me terribly although my tears wouldn't come until her funeral.
So I had to take Tuesday off from work to arrange for air travel, boarding for my dog and because I had nothing I felt was appropriate to wear to the viewing and to the funeral. Does everyone have a viewing or is that a Southern thing? I know that out here in California it's perfectly acceptable to wear slacks to a funeral but when you're old school Southern, you wear a skirt or a dress (if you're a woman, obviously, although I guess if you really want to wear a skirt or dress and you're not a woman, go for it.)
Whenever you aren't looking for a basic black/navy blue/gray skirt, they are everywhere. I mean, everywhere. However, when you have one morning or afternoon to find something that fits, that isn't loud, that doesn't come to your toes or graze your hooha . . . good luck. I went to Kohls, which is always my go-to place. They had nothing. Sundresses but not appropriate. Short skirts that would tell everyone not only what kind of underwear I preferred (and whether or not I actually wore underwear) but also my waxing (or nonwaxing) habits. I bought a skirt and top out of fear - - didn't particularly like them and, of course, they weren't on sale. I panicked that I would have to go to the mall, park a mile away, and then go through rack after rack to find something decent, at which point they would either not have my size or I would be painfully price gouged.
Enter Target. I almost forgot about Target in my worry and fear. There is a Target in the same shopping center and I thought I might as well pop in and see what they had, even though I figured it would be a wasted trip. Five minutes in and I had found a basic black skirt that came right above my knees, as well as several different blouses that would be appropriate to wear. Salvation! No mall jaunt necessary!
Having that day off from work allowed me to pack as much as possible so I wasn't doing it last minute - - my usual routine - - and also allowed me to prepare my dog's meals for when I was away. (My dog is as spoiled as I am and on a special diet.)
Fast forward two days and everything appears to be going smoothly. As my layover in Dallas is only 44 minutes, I "upgrade" my back of the plane window seat to a middle seat in the first row of economy. The first row is considered an upgrade because of extended leg room - - so important when you're short like me. I went with the upgrade, figuring that I would get off the plane more quickly being in the first row. The downside to this seating choice is that you are looking at a wall the entire flight. I like to see. I'm not flying the plane or anything but because I have control issues, I like to see what's going on. Staring at the wall is not my cup of tea. Additionally, because you do not have a row in front of you, you also do not have a seat to stow a bag under, nor do you have a tray table to put your drink, book, etc. on. I was pleasantly informed on taking my seat that my handbag would have to be stowed in the overhead compartment during takeoff.
What now? I am the type of person who has nightmares about losing my handbag. I cannot go anywhere with a little changepurse or tiny wallet. I need my mobile phone. I need my wallet. I have my keys. I need my lip balm. I have three pairs of glasses - - sunglasses, reading glasses and glasses in case my contacts are out. I have a baggie of soft peppermints when I travel, as well as multiple packs of chewing gum to keep my ears from popping. I also have my iPad in there, with many books and several movies downloaded. I was so flustered that I let the flight attendant take my bag, with everything inside, and put it away.
Shortly after I take my seat, a man sits down next to me in the aisle seat. He is busy talking into his phone. He plops down and proceeds to push my arm from the armrest. I give him an "excuse me?" look and put my arm back, which he ignores as he is still busy having a conversation, but he does elbow me in the side as he puts his arm back. I mutter a "dick!" under my breath as I get a whiff of the bucketful of cologne he has doused himself in before boarding the plane. I am not a highly sensitive person when it comes to scents but good Lord . . . I begin to feel queasy and wish that I had my peppermints and gum.
The announcement comes over the PA to turn off all mobile devices, laptops, etc. as we are preparing for takeoff. My cologne-loving neighbor continues his conversation. Clearly he (and his conversation) are more important than anyone else on the plane.
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| Not my flight but could have been. adventureswithben.com |
This is where being a writer comes into play because the second thing I think of (the first being "ewwwwww!") is that I wish I could get my phone to take a picture of this so I could attach it to this eventual post. Writers always imagine how to write about every situation they are in.
The rest of the flight was relatively uneventful if somewhat distasteful. We landed in Dallas early and I easily made my connecting flight to Atlanta. I jumped on the Marta train, as I always do when landing during the day, to head north where my brother was going to pick me up. And here is where things got strange again.
I've never had an incident with anyone on the Marta before and I've taken it for years. On this day I was taking it during rush hour so you would think the likelihood for a "situation" would be much slimmer. Apparently not.
I feel sympathy for anyone who is mentally unwell but that doesn't make it any easier to be the target of their rants. This man, after attaching himself to someone else who exited the train prior to me, sat next to me in the only other available seat and spent the next twenty-five or so minutes telling me that we are all here only to die, that people spend too much time on their cellphones and don't talk to each other any more (that part may actually have some merit.) Of course he was yelling this in my ear once my cellphone rang and I was trying to tell my brother where I was. Upon hanging up, the man then told me that "he doesn't love you!" and "he doesn't even like you!" I did my best to ignore him, while keeping my sympathy in check, but it was downright difficult when he announced to the entire train that I was "only looking for someone to have sex" with me. Ummmm, okay.
I got sympathy eyes from most of the other passengers - - you know, they make eye contact with you and you can tell they feel sorry for you but oh-so-grateful they aren't in your seat. When my stop mercifully came up and I stood to leave, my extremely verbal neighbor yelled "Where do you think you're going? Get back here!"
And that, my friends, is part one of my journey home.
