California

9:51 a.m.

Hey, so, how was your weekend? Did you fly across the country to be in L.A. for less than 36 hours? Because we did! We certainly did! For a wedding! An L.A. wedding!

We met all the usual examples of self-absorbed jerks during our air travel experience, including That Jerk Who Throws a Hissy Fit Because He Wanted to Sit in the Exit Row, the Disgusting Making-Out Couple, complete with Inappropriate Tongue in Ear Action, and The Moron Behind Me Who Put His Feet Up On My Seat The Entire Flight. I don't know why people act like such dipshits when they fly, but oh, they do. I also cringed everytime I saw a couple with a baby, when invariably one parent was juggling the baby, all the baby paraphernalia, and luggage, while the other parent was walking along light and easy and perhaps sipping a coffee.

We had four different flights, and on every one we sat next to a parent with an Angry Child. I always feel bad for the Angry Child, because, dude. I want to cry angrily when I fly. I would sob too if it was not so "inappropriate." Flying sucks. I say, get it out, Angry Child! Yell all you want! Express your discomfort and enrage those stupid jerks who are tongue kissing six inches from me. Enrage that idiot who wouldn't stop having the cell phone conversation after being warned by the flight attendant six times. Make the guy with his feet on the back of my seat MISERABLE, Angry Child. Good for you! Thank goodness someone can express how TERRIBLE flying is. But, sometimes, I'm befuddled by the parents of the crying child. Like when the baby is an infant, and the parent keeps angrily hissing "Shhh. STOP IT. SHHH. QUIT CRYING." I remember one flight, when the baby next to me cried and cried and cried. After an hour, the kid looked at me. I smiled at him and waggled my fingers in a wave. He magically stopped crying. I smiled, he smiled. I did not touch him, I did not move anywhere closer to him, I just smiled. He laughed. Then the parents noticed what he was looking at and snatched him closer and turned his head so he couldn't see me. They hissed, "Don't look at her, what are you doing? Quit that!" The baby, of course, started wailing again and continued for the duration of the flight.

Flying is weird, is what I'm trying to say.

Oh, wait! I can't move on yet, you can't escape that easily. I have two more flying stories!

One is, when we got to our gate Friday afternoon, they announced our flight was delayed two hours. We got the text message saying it was delayed, every monitor changed to say it was delayed, the monitor AT our gate said it was now departing at 6:20. So after some people panicked and rebooked, I said, "Hey, let's get a beer" and J said, "Okay!" Several people from our flight went to the closest airport bar/restaurant. We ordered food, and sat for 15-20 minutes. Mid-meal, we heard an announcement that they were closing the gates for our flight, last call!

About ten people looked around, confused, and I ran to our gate to check. Because...what? The monitor still said 6:20, and it was 4:20-ish. The guy at the gate was all "LAST CALL GET ON THE PLANE." And I was all "IT'S TWO HOURS BEFORE YOU SAID, THERE ARE LIKE TEN PEOPLE IN THE BAR EATING." And he rolled his eyes and waved his arms around and was all, "WELL YOU BETTER HURRY UP AND GET THEM WE ANNOUNCED THIS HURRY UP I AM CLOSING THE GATE."

So I galloped back to the restaurant and yelled, "WE GOTTA GO THEY ARE CLOSING THE GATE, GO NOW!" and mass hysteria ensued. We all got on the flight, however, even though the gate guy was cranky. I like to think that my running and yelling abilities were put to good use, and that I prevented 8-15 people from missing their flights. In fact, I like to think that I saved the day. Perhaps I deserved a ribbon, or even a trophy. A trophy with an airplane on it or something, or maybe two airplanes. My ancestor, Patrick Henry, would be proud.

Except I think I'm confusing him with Paul Revere, but anyway. SOMEONE would be proud.

The other story isn't so much of a story, as much as it is just me leaving my cell phone in the shuttle in L.A. But the driver is mailing it to us. I tend to lose my cell phone a lot, and as I mournfully dug through my purse I told J I didn't deserve to have a cell phone. But, as I said, the driver found it and I'll have a phone again in roughly a week.

So! How about some photos, yes?

We saw a lot of this, in L.A. This is why I am not sure why people like to live there. I mean, we got stuck in traffic at one in the morning. This is what I will remember from L.A., along with the smell:

















This is how J feels about humanity:

















This is me with a really pathetic tree, struggling to survive in a parking lot. I was all, look, the wilderness!






















I hope I don't offend anybody. I'm just not the L.A. sort. I'm more the...other sort. Whatever that means.

Kisses!

We didn't really...go anywhere, or try to see anything, or even rent a car. We only had a few free hours until it was time to get ready for the wedding.

This is my awesomely cool husband, after we got all dressed up. Good thing he looked so fancy...he had to jump in and perform spur-of-the-moment ushering duties when someone didn't show. Look at how he is too cool for this suit! It is one of the many reasons I love him:






















He and my sister-in-law's long time boyfriend have a good time when they get together.

















Look! We're cute!



















This is me again, wearing my fancy dress.





















Me plus my sister-in-law, who was a bridesmaid. She is cute:

















More of these guys. They are each at least 6'5". Jerks.






















This is us, at the park where they took photos.






















It rained a little. This is the bride, J's sister, going to the van to get out of the rain.

















This is when they danced:






















These guys again! Constantly up to no good!


















This is more of my husband, who is really quite animated:






















And this is proof that I really can't be taken anywhere. I am obviously Out of Control, even in evening gown situations. Also, that is the SIL's boyfriend's arm and tie. Earlier in the day I offered to iron his shirt, and then retracted my offer because I am Lazy. So he ironed it himself. Anyway! It's too bad I was there too briefly to be discovered by some sort of celebrity type, because I obviously belong in the socially elite category:

















The weekend was fast and exhausting. We were happy to come home to this yesterday:

















Love,
black sheeped