Airport Fun

My Soap-Operatic Life

"Don't just ask for her phone number. If you ask for her phone number she will immediately and automatically envision herself sitting day after day on her sofa, bleary-eyed and twitching, waiting for you to call. And right then and there, she will hate you; she will never want to see you again.

Now instead, I ask the guy for his number, which doesn't help at all, since it takes me approximately five hours to work up my nerve to call, by which time it's invariably two a.m." -Cynthia Heimel

Took Linda back to Oakland airport. Which was vaguely fun for me, as I love going to the airport. Sounds kinda weird, I know, but the Oakland one is really nice, peaceful (no hurried Home Alone rushing here), and there's little stores and cafes around. What could be nicer?

For some possibly insane reason, I got dressed up that day- as in strapless-bra-and-skimpy-topped-dress dressed up. It was an outfit I haven't worn in public since my junior year of high school, when it turned on both Dumpster Boy and a trucker (as I was walking home from school). What is it with truckers that they think yelling stuff out a window is really gonna get them women? Oh, yeah, that REALLY makes me hot.

Anyway, Linda called the airport before we left (we were planning to leave at 7, so we'd arrive by 8, plane left around 9) to check on the plane, and got a recorded "plane is delayed- call back in 15 minutes." When she does that, the recording says that the plane will leave at 12:15 p.m. and arrive in Vegas at the same time as before- 10 p.m. By the time she gets an actual person on the line (7:35), she's told to leave home IMMEDIATELY, because if she's not there by 9:15 "they can't reserve her seat if anything happens." We haul ass outta there.

Of course, you guessed it that nothing had gone wrong with the plane she was going on after all.

Going through the detector was my favorite part of the night (boy, didn't THAT sound bad). This was because a somewhat cute security guy checked me out. I'm so happy when somebody who's NOT a creep/perv/freak/weirdo/dirty old man checks me out.

Comic moment- Linda apparently does not like crowds, and normally boards panes early. However, she decides this time "to stay with you all" until the end. Little did I know she meant THE end. What I mean by that is when they called the last boarding call, I was the only one who got worried that Linda (who's incredibly slow . . . remember Pier 39?) should actually get up and start moving over there. I mean, even I knew it would take her a long time to get up, walk the ten feet or so over to the gate, plus hugging and crying, and we should get started now. But do we? Noooo. My mother instead makes fun of me for ten minutes for- gasp!- wanting to be on time. Now that she knows anything much about THAT.

Linda didn't get up until every last person had gone down the tube. And naturally, I was right about the slowness and hugging. Meanwhile, the counter guy was trying to politely beg Linda to just enter the tube so they could close the door and get ready to leave. And even after they got her in the tube, she wouldn't go down by the other people, she kept talking to Mom through the door until a stewardess came up and made her. A case of how ONE PERSON can make an entire flight late (the plane pulled away 9:35). Oh, and did I mention she had a window seat?

Hawaii Watch: After she left, Mom asked me (Dad was farther down the way) if he'd mentioned where they were thinking of going on vacation. I said yes- and that obviously I was pleased with that- then mentioned Dad's scary little "last time" remark. She'd heard it too and didn't know what to say- since it's really probably true. Gee, I love that ol' ball of fear in the stomach.

Back to the beginning quote- here's something else from Cynthia Heimel:

"At some point during the early part of a relationship, the guy doesn't call when he says he will. It's a guy rule, just as it's a woman rule to say she'll be home when he calls and then purposely isn't. These are courtship rituals to see how much we can get away with.

When the guy didn't call, I used to pretend nothing had happened. Such behavior sets the relationship back to square one, with everyone pretending to be madly casual. Other people will tearfully cry, "Where the hell were you?" which is leading and demanding and pushes the relationship too far forward.

Here's what I'll do: I'll ask blandly, "How come you didn't call on Thursday?" If I get, "Oh, was I supposed to call?" I won't mind. Nobody likes to admit he's playing games. Although, now that the guy has been warned, if he does it again, he doesn't get the dog.

But if he has a hissy fit about how you can't tie him down and he was just too busy and what's the big deal anyway, I will run away."

I can't imagine me with a "normal" boyfriend (i.e. one who isn't some half-assed version of the breed), to tell you the truth. It's not as if I could behave like a "normal" girlfriend, constantly around, going to the guy's for Thanksgiving, etc. (Incidentally, I asked my mom, "Wouldn't you guilt-trip me for ages if I ever wanted to go to some guy's for Thanksgiving?" She nodded. Later she claimed that she'd "try to understand", but the message was pretty clear.)

No, I think I'll hear from him eventually. After the last little scene I find it hard to believe that I won't.

I am amazed at my healthy behavior. Who, me, normal?
Oh, by the way, I got school to reroute my e-mail to my address at home- so I guess my school address will now send mail here instead. Hmmm, we'll see.
So, which address to use? Hmmmm . . . either jdrutherford@ucdavis.edu or gr3ruth@pacbell.net. (Sorry no typed links, as for the life of me I don't remember the code and can't find the paper I have it down on.)

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