I got home this evening from my trip to Mississippi. It was everything all rolled up together... Great sadness mixed with seeing so many precious friends. And guess what? A MAN HIT ON ME ON THE PLANE!!! I am not joking. And he wasn't even like the last greasy hairy butt crack guy at Blockbuster! He was even good looking people. I know! I am still so shocked! But, I've just gotta tell you the details, cuz honeys... this MADE MY DAY!
Okay... so I flew from Jackson to Dallas in a little tin can and then got on a big 737 to Denver. There was one aisle with three seats on both sides and dang it all if I didn't have to sit in the middle seat. The guy sitting by the window was macking on a subway sandwich that he apparently threw out a few extra cents for triple the red onion on. Yeah, my eyes were watering before I even reached my row. The guy in the aisle seat was right in front of me and graciously took my backpack with my 40 lbs. of books (hey, I carry a 10 lb bible... because I'm just that good of a Christian, so you know) and stowed it in the over head compartment. I, of course, was very stressed by the fact that I was going to be sitting between two men and, you know, our arms or legs might touch or something... so I was afraid I might break out into a nervous sweat or something. I, ummmm, really don't like people I don't know touching me.
Well, we all said howdy to one another and then proceeded to ignore each other. I am reading, The Shack, so I got back into it. The guy in the window seat had brought enough food to sustain him through the winter should we have crashed in the mountains. He must have had a fear of having to eat other passengers to save his life. Anyway, he had this bag of licorice that he would take one piece out of and then make a racket crinkling the wrapper as he folded it back over and stuffed it into the seat pocket in front of him and then thirty two seconds later dig back out and do it all again. What the heck? Take a couple pieces out or eat the whole dang package!!! Which he did. One at a time, over and over... and over. It was nauseating because the oppressive red onion stench emanating from this man made me feel like I had eaten the red onions myself, along with rubbing them all over my body and up my nostrils... heck and shampooed my hair with it. Mouth breathing wasn't even helping. And, no, he is not the guy that hit on me.
Okay, here's how it went down. He He!!!
Mr. Made My Day started talking to me about 20 minutes after take off. He lives in the Virgin Islands and is an engineer on a ship. He was raised in the Bronx and his father is from Italy and his mother is from Puerto Rico. He speaks several languages so he had a pretty cool accent. He got married at 18 and his oldest daughter, who lives where I do, is 29 so I figured real quick he is 47, but he didn't look it. His son is a firefighter in New York. I actually couldn't hear a lot of what he told me but was unwilling to lean in closer to hear him better. When the beverage cart was getting close he asked me if he could buy me a glass of wine. I thanked him but declined and at that point I thought... huh?
Well, a couple minutes later he told me I have a very soft and slightly husky voice and I thought... No, this guy isn't hitting on me is he? Is he one of those dudes that digs fat chicks? No... No. He keeps talking and telling me about his duplex that the side he rents pays for the whole thing and how he's looking into starting a motor scooter business near where his house is because they don't have any around there and he thought it would be a good investment. And he tells me some more about his children and grandchildren. Then he says, "You have beautiful eyes, they are a little unusual." What the heck? One of my friends children told me this weekend that my eyes were weird so I asked him what he meant and he told me they looked like big blue marbles. I've also been told they look like blue snake skin... nice. I don't like snakes.
I thought... Does this guy not see that I am the human equivalent of a Jolly Green Giant? My knees are nearly hitting the seat in front of me and his most definitely are not. I could totally take him in arm wrestling. I've also mentioned my husband quite a few times... Okay, I am totally being a freak. He is NOT hitting on me. It doesn't make sense. He's just one of those super nice touchy feely talky kind of guys. Dream on big girl.
Then he says, "I'm staying in Denver with my brother but I'd like to drive you home." I told him thank you and that my husband was picking me up.
I thought... HITTING ON ME!!! YUP! Totally hitting on me! Holy Cow! He's not even ugly! Oh my gosh! What is wrong with him?!?! How many years has it been since someone has hit on me? The guy in Blockbuster... when was that? Greasy hairy butt crack guy... HOW COOL IS THIS?!?!? HE HE!!! I CANNOT WAIT TO TELL MR. MACCHIATO!!! This guy is awesome... okay, he's weird and he's a loser because he knows I'm married but... oh heck, he hit on me! Ewww... what if he's like some Latin Lover Murderer and everything he told me was a lie... and he like has chloroform and a lair that he takes his victims to... and he purposely targets middle aged boring women because they get sucked in by him and his compliments? This plane needs to land now. I don't want to be next to him anymore. But... he still made my day.
I shook his hand and told him it was nice talking to him and when I got off the plane I hung out in the bathroom for awhile... even helped an old lady (I need to blog about that... for some reason I am an old lady magnet in public restrooms and have done some pretty odd things). Mr. Made My Day was nowhere to be seen at baggage claim, much to my relief. I stepped out and was immediately sliced through to the bone with razor like fingers of coming snow. Mr. Macchiato pulled up and gave me the best hug ever. When we got in the car I excitedly told him about Mr. Made My Day.
He just raised his eyebrows while he looked at me and said, "You are such a freak."