The day the ostrich died

Today, after 5 long days of work, I saw the bus coming across the ramp to take me home and discovered something amazing - I can run! I'm not sure if I'm ready to put aside the whole foot surgery excuse for being lazy, but it can't be denied. I ran, in all my navy blue polyester Naturalizer granny shoed glory across the ramp - pulling about 90 pounds worth of bags no less.

I don't know if it was the fact that I flew five days in a row, or that my pilots were annoying me, or that I got up at 3:45 this morning, but I was so glad to be off work. I did get to have a cup of coffee with my favorite pilot today which made things a little better, but it's been a long week.

One thing that has been nice about my week has been my passengers. I didn't come across anyone who was terribly rude. There were actually quite a few friendlies. Yesterday on the way to Wichita a group of men came and sat in the back near me. Their accents were as redneck as I have ever heard. They said they were from Douglasville and we were trying to figure out how we grew up within 30 miles of each other but could barely understand each other. The one who chose to sit right next to me was 47 and had me laughing from the time I sat down. At first I was laughing at the number of double negatives and don't never got none of them's he was throwing into every sentence. I wish I had had a tape recorder. He was fidgety and hyper like a 14 year old boy. He kept asking for drinks cause he said they mellowed him out. I wasn't sure if that was a good idea, but if it would make him calm down I would consider it.

Somehow in the midst of all the words coming out of his mouth I caught that he had killed an ostrich. This is a story I need to hear. He started by telling me that he was in a Mexican restaurant with some friends and they were "all cut up." His girlfriend was mad - no it was his wife - no his girlfriend. He decided to drive home (I later found out the girlfriend was supposed to drive, but since she got mad she started drinking and rode with someone else). On the drive home he went off the road and hit a big green pole. But before he hit the pole he ran through someone's fence and knocked it down. When he woke up in the hospital one of his employees (yes, this man is responsible for other people) was standing there looking at him, twirling the ends of his mustache (complete with hand motions) with his wife and his girlfriend both standing behind him. He thought that he had died and gone to hell.

After three months of recovery he felt really bad about the fence and went back to the place where he wrecked. He told the guy he wanted to pay for his fence. The guy said "It's not my fence I'm so upset about. When you drove off the road the tire came off your truck and hit my prize ostrich that was sleeping next to the fence and killed it. That's what I'm upset about." I guess just to make sure, the ostrich killer guy called the tow company and confirmed that there were in fact feathers on the tire when they collected his truck. So he had to buy that man a new $700 ostrich AND pay to fix the fence.

The man sitting on the other side of me and I both wondered to each other "who needs fiction when you have real life?"

I also found out that the ostrich killer has two girlfriends now (no more wife). Conveniently they're both named Jennifer. One is Mean Jennifer. The other is Nice Jennifer. Nice Jennifer knows about Mean Jennifer, but Mean Jennifer doesn't know about Nice Jennifer. And if she ever finds out everybody better watch out. I wondered just how mean Mean Jennifer could be. "She's just mean - like try to run over you with a truck mean." He said Mean Jennifer is getting kind of old, she's almost 29, so he might have to trade her in. At this point I figured he must have a lot of money to be able to trade women in at this rate. He said it does help. He also has lots of toys - trucks, cars, boats, jetskis.

That made my day. I did confirm that he was no longer drinking and driving and that he was sorry for his mistakes.

And really, who needs fiction when real life is this interesting?

open mouth, insert snuggie.

For the second time in my life I just thought "a snuggie would be good right now." I'm not sure how that makes me feel. I don't want one, but they definitely are on to something. Don't you hate it when you're typing in a cold room and the blanket keeps falling off your arms?

I survived my dayline Monday (thanks to a airport scavenger hunt Trish made for me), but the weather made flying miserable. Now I'm in Albany, NY on day two of a four day. It's been a good trip so far. I'd already flown with the flight attendant and first officer which helps. Last night we were in Canton, OH and ended up meeting an odd man who parted his hair in the middle, wore a black suit with a white cowboy style dress shirt (black piping on the seams), and the typical flag/eagle tie and runs threading shops and a lady who is a masseuse and bought an adult daycare franchise in Lawrenceville. Our captain is the kind of guy that gives pilots a bad reputation. (Whatever comes into your mind is probably true.) He is nice enough, though, and gave everyone dollars and made us all take turns picking songs on the jukebox.

Two of the three guys I'm working with don't seem to have their filters installed correctly. When we are in public I am constantly frightened by what is going to come out of their mouths next. Yesterday one was loudly hoping for the demise of one of our sister connection carriers to another person on the train with us because he "hates them so much". Today we had a really awkward ride to the airport. An elderly gentleman was in the van with us and asked what a word meant. It is a word that has been used lately in reference to taxes, but has an alternate sexual definition that a lot of people are unaware of. Instead of just saying that is was something sexual, he (being the helpful man he is) described what he thought it was in detail. At least he used the proper anatomical words.

Welcome to my life.

Within the last two weeks I've had two of the most glorious nights of sleep that I can ever remember. Both times I took allergy medicine and drank herb tea. I'm very curious whether it was one of them or the combination. I'm on my third cup of tea in the last few hours and drug free so maybe I'll find out in the morning.

sleepy time tea thoughts

Easter is almost over and I have nearly accepted that I can not get out of working tomorrow. I really should work since I haven't very much in the last 3 months. Part of my lack of enthusiasm stems from the fact that my alarm is set for 4:40am. Then on Tuesday I start a four-day trip. Welcome back to work.

I really shouldn't complain since I just spent six beautiful days in Napa Valley. We went out for the memorial service, but were able to see a lot of J's friends and family and Christine and Scott. It was a really great visit and the weather was amazing. The memorial service was the saddest thing I have ever been a part of, but it was also inspiring to hear how highly they were spoken of and how they had enriched everyone's lives around them. One thing that people said over and over was how they lived life to the fullest - and they included their loved ones in all of it.

I'm still processing everything that has been going on lately, but I hope that once the trauma of everything passes I don't forget the things I have seen and learned lately.

I hope that when I die, whether I'm young or old, I won't look back and wish I'd spent less time on facebook or hadn't neglected the important relationships in my life. There are times that I find myself skipping forward to the next day before the current one is over, flights I just want to end, mornings, afternoons, and evenings gone with nothing to show for them - and I don't want my life to be that way. I want to have something to show for it. More importantly, I want those around me to have benefited from it.

I've been spending a lot of time lately practicing music with the girls. We're playing at a reception on Saturday and have to have at least two hours of music prepared. I think enough time has passed since the tortures of college that I am beginning to enjoy playing again. I hope this time we really do take our quartet seriously and practice regularly.

Yesterday we were practicing and something sounded particularly good. As I listened to us play it struck me how many different, amazing factors went into the beautiful sound. To start with, some (probably crazy) old man wrote the music hundreds of years ago. The four of us are the daughters of two brothers and of two college buddies. We started playing together when we were nine and ten. We went to a somewhat crazy school but it kept us together and playing through high school. Our parents sacrificed to buy us instruments and pay for lessons. Then we played in college together. Now we're all in our late twenties, still friends, still playing together. Some parents teach their children another language when they're young so they can experience the world through language. We were taught to read music, and can now enjoy the world that way.

This has been enough deep thoughts from Grace for the time being. I'm worn out from a great day and must sleep now so I can be the best flight attendant possible tomorrow.