Lola

(This is the second of 3 blogs I wrote on our flight back from Birmingham last week. After reading this one, you should be virtually panting for the third blog.)

She's been my lovely bride for over 40 years now and I'm mildly fond of her but the former Miss Massachusetts hit one out of the park at the beginning of our flight home from Birmingham. I mean the ball was still on it's way up when it left the yard on this one.

I'm sitting at the gate minding my own business, trying to look like I'm not checking everybody out within an inch of their life.

I'm especially waiting for some woman in those ridiculously high platform shoes, who seemingly came by in alarming frequency, to misstep, thereby making an orthopedic surgeon's day, when my bride presents me with a gift for the flight. (No, not a men's pair of those shoes.)

Now you have to understand that she's been buying me clothes for north of four decades and not once, not once ever (I exaggerate, maybe once) has she ever gotten me anything in my size, (XXL), my preferred color (Augusta green) or something that I actually needed. (I can hear her say, "I know it's a small and it's pink and you'll never use it but it was on sale and I thought you'd like it.") We could probably own ocean front property based upon the money for gas we would have saved from her not having to return virtually ALL the the articles of clothing she has ever purchased for me out of the kindness of her dear, misguided, little heart. But this time it was different. This time she bought me one of those soft, spongy horseshoe shaped thingys that fit around your neck when you fly.

                                                                     Lola

Now you have to understand that I grew up watching TV sitting on the edge of the couch hunched over so much so that my dear, departed mother used to say to me, "Sit up straight or your going to grow up in the shape of a question mark." As usual, she was right. I'm only missing the little period on my bottom. So, based upon my size (I'm affectionately called The Human Coke Machine by some) and my shape/posture, sitting on a airplane for any more than 5 minutes is an uncomfortable experience for me, not to mention the people sitting next to me. And since many flights last more than 5 minutes, I'm usually mildly cranky and irritable when we finally arrive at our appointed destination. The good news is that my normal slouch combined with the bend in my neck from sitting in a malformed seat for hours on end, usually means that I'm so slouched over upon exiting the plane, I stand minimal chance of banging my head on the ceiling of the fuselage as I depart. (Many times I save that thrilling experience for the top of the door as I exit the aircraft......Welcome to Sheboygan.....thud.)

I wore my neck thingy, now christened “Lola,” all the way back from Birmingham and I feel great. Almost makes me want to book another flight immediately.

I think I'll go out and buy my bride a XXL, forest green golf shirt to show her my appreciation.


Until next time..........