Honeymooners & Babies

22 Mar
“It just needs to be popped back in,” MarMar from the bathroom, commenting on the closet door that I just broke.
“Thats what she said.” Laughter.
I couldn’t help it! But really, I did just break the closet door in the condo that MarMar has taken me too. In Florida. In the sun. Away from all heart-ache and possible worrisome and confusing thoughts. Really, what do you have to complain about down here? Other than too many young men on the beach trying desperately to look like Jersey Shore spike-heads, and old men almost running you over by their golf carts while you jog on the sidewalk (THEY SHOULD GET A SPECAIL LICSENSE TO DRIVE MINI-VEHICLES), and massive amounts of children/babies eating sand, throwing sand, crying in the sand…
But, this trip, started not off as blissful.
In fact, within 5 minutes of boarding the plane, I really thought “Well, the shit is going to hit the fan and I am going to have to be sedated on the plane.”
It all started with a baby. Marmar and I did not have seats next to each other, but both agreed that once we were seated we would try to convice our stranger-seat partners (simply by batting our eyelashes and flashing a toothy-grin) that we have a friend we would like to sit by and could really use the seat. This would work, of course, assuming this person was male. If female, then we would just have to explain that it is like girl-code not to split of friends on plane rides. And if she didn’t switch, we would sass her.
So ANYWAYS, I am getting all settled in a window seat. “Fantastic!” I think to myself, “I love, absolutely adore, window seats.” Then I hear a gurgle sound and look up. Peering over the seat in front of me is the tiny little head of a something-month old baby. And boy, is he cute. Adorable. Drooling fabulously. He has got big brown eyes and a full-head of sandy-brown hair and is completely covering the top of the seat in drool. He really has a lot of drool. Should the mother be concerned? Should I tell her? Naw, he probably is just salvating over thoughts of going to Florida and being in a warm climate. I am probably doing the same, just hiding it better. (Please let me know if I do this. Thanks)
This baby clearly is a show-stealer. He has my full and undivided attention and I keep making monkey faces at him and he just keeps giggling and drooling. Mostly drooling. Maybe this is a real issue? Whatever, if my day consisted of eating mush, being cradled in big arms, and wearing onesies I would probably drool constantly. (I really hope this is not foreshadowing my elder years…)
THEN all of a sudden my crush on this adorable little man is interruped when a buttocks is thrust into my side. Oh, I think, the strange sitting
parner has arrived! And has a big butt, ew. All the more reason to get the seat change.
I turn away from cute baby face and am about to say hello as friendly as possible to Mr. Buttocks but to my horror, it is probably the worst thing I could be stuck next to on a plane. Let me rephrase that- be stuck on a plane right now at this moment in my life when I am trying not to think about love or a loved one or kissing or muslces or blue eyes.
To my horror, a rather sturdy and husky build couple- clearly HONEYMOONERS- are shoving their over-sized butts (WITH MATCHING PLAID SHORTS I MIGHT ADD) into the two seats next to me.
My row has turned into a third-wheel, and I am a the BIGGEST-MOST-AKWARD-ANGRY third wheel ever known to man kind.
These two troll-lovers (they kinda looked like trools, very pale and hairy, curls everywhere) are totally, utterly oblivious to me. And are kissing. Groping. They have no problem letting everyone know that they are happily married, blissfully each others, and just want to… well, they really just look like they want to go back to their honeymoon-suite. Wherever that is. Under a bridge probably, since they are troll-like.
Or maybe they should go on “What Not To Wear” because these shorts are just not doing it. Don’t get me wrong, I like matching my outfit with my parner. I think it shows that you are confident and care what each other is wearing, enough to let everyone else know in the room “Hey, we match because we love each other and want everyone to know that. And plus, now if we are in lost in a crowd, we can find each other easily.” Maybe they are going to a theme-park and thinking ahead in case they do get separated.
Anyways, I collect myself and decided to ask them anyways. You know, if one of them would be willing to switch so my friend can sit next to me and keep me from yelling some sort of horrible thing like “Don’t make lifetime promises because you might ruin it! He might break your heart or steal your ovary for drug-money! And she might leave you because you look really bad in plaid shorts!”
I say “Excuse me,” forcing the most I-am-trying-to-look-very-happy-and-calm smile, “But, are you two planning to sit together for the whole flight? I mean, are you two…. together?”
That was lame, L, I think. I’m such a clutz. Of course, they are together!
Literally, peeling her flushed-face away from her husband, Bride-troll answers “Mhmmm, yeah…. yeah we are together alright.” She murmurs
it and licks her lips, diving in for more sloppy kisses from her husband.
Oh dear. OH-DEAR. I can feel it starting to bubble up now, a little eruption has started in my gut, clenchign around my heart and my throat is beginning to close up. Where is the baby? What happend to the baby? I smile weakly back at Bride-troll and try to keep myself from feeling utterly annoyed and devasted all at once. And try not to think about honeymooners. And blissful happiness with another. And love. I need to find the baby, he is the only one that can save me now!
He is still there, head peering over the seat, drooling. I look at him. His eyes meet mine and I decide that he must understand how I feel. I try to speak to him, telepathy (you know, whatever it is called when you speak through minds), telling him to fall over and fall into my lap and distract me. Or drool all over the couple and keep them from making out. Please, baby boy, just fall over. I’ll catch you. I’ll even drool with you if you want!
“L! Get up here! I got the guy sitting next to me to switch!” Marmar yells from up the plane.
What? I can move? I don’t have to sit next to honeymooner-troll-couple-that-are-eating-each-other’s-faces? Praise the Lord. Thank you baby,
that drools and blesses the plane.
I grab my carryon, somehow get out of the seat successfully without the couple noticing. Really, they are are intertwined and connected. They should really just tape themselves together.
Settled into my new seat, window on one side and girlfriend on the other, I feel calm and happy. Excited. Off to warm weather! I avoided a total eruption of emotions! The only bad thing about my new seat is that I no longer can stare at my new crush, drool baby. Oh well.
The drink cart comes and looking at Marmar, we think the same thing instantly.

Bloody Marys, anyone?

I think I deserve one of these. Plus, I am getting a full-serving of veggies. All the more justifable.
And 30 minutes later, the infant across the aisle way, puked everywhere and it smelt of baby-spitup. Go figure.

One Response to “Honeymooners & Babies”

  1. pamela March 26, 2011 at 8:55 pm #

    priceless! even when ur in a relationship, those ppl who have no consideration about how others feel about PDA make you sick. barf. but not baby barf. just me barf.

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