A Comedy of Air-ors

Archer didn't sleep on the airplane. He didn't want to play with any of his toys either. He didn't want to watch his DVDs or play with his Etch O' Sketch. He didn't want to play with his spinny yoyo thingy or his Magna-Doodle or read any of his books. He didn't want to do anything but try to stand on my face and open and slam the window shade while simultaneously pressing the reading lights on and off. On and off and on and on and, yeah-- for five hours.

Archer, pictured above: the calm before the storm, gate 47A, LAX.

We arrived in Ft. Lauderdale at 5am yesterday morning after THE most uncomfortable flight of all time, exhausted and just plain ol' sad. Because it sucks staying up all night. Especially when you WANT to sleep and you're sick with a week long head cold that (shock!) does not feel any better after a cross-country Red-Eye flight with a titty-twistering toddler who thinks late-night airplane rides mean party-time. Ugh.

I would also like to take this opportunity to let American Airlines know that their decision to play High School Musical 2 on a Red-Eye is by far the lamest most idiotic thing ever. High School Musical 2 is not Red-Eye material. High School Musical 2 should not be screened on a plane at 2am, or anywhere for that matter when the only people who aren't fast asleep are parents of young children not amused by singing, dancing candy-coated tweens. And no offense to Zac Efron, but you're no Shia Labeouf, dude. Not even close.

Oh and the bag? The super-huge way-cute bag that I very proudly fit all of our airplane stuff in? Ha! Well! The damn thing was so heavy that Hal had to carry it to keep it from breaking completely. Because the straps did not appreciate being weighed down by so much unnecessary crap and tore significantly on both sides. The bag was as pathetic and broken as we... Oh, dear.

Of course, this is what I get for having a "plan".... To hell with what I said in my last post. What an amateur I was! An optimistic, naïve, amateur! Next time = No Red-Eye. No giant bag. No nothing.

Our family seen here during happier times: Lot B Shuttle, LAX.

In fact, screw flying. I'm walking home to Los Angeles next week. The thought of another flight makes me want to cry. In fact, I did (cry). On the beach this morning. Right before I passed out in the sand, exhausted, sick and totally beyond frustrated.

Agahkjsdgakjhjdhkjhsflajw acsnau3o828u41op923p1 !!!

GGC

...Cross-posted at Straight From the Bottle because I'm lazy and exhausted and am hijacking some neighbor's faulty Internet and have been trying to post this effing blog post for an absurd amount of time because I keep losing signal. And I feel like the Grinch Who Stole Thanksgiving when honestly, I really did want to take this time to post about how thankful I am for everything in my life because I really am thankful and have such tremendous blessings and this year has been so great and I love my family and my friends and 98% of the time, my life. And Thanksgiving is about appreciation and love and eating a shitload of meat (which is, in my vegopinion kind of gross) and family and pilgrims and togetherness and cranberry sauce out of the can (always seemingly better than the homemade stuff) and being thankful. And I truly am. Really. Happy Thanksgiving to all.