I Wonder If The Pilot Knows My Butt Is Puckered?

After Big Daddy had a mental shit re what time my flight left, it was time to finish breakfast and head to the airport. Once there, of course we had to walk completely through the airport to get to my ticket area. At the end. In the basement. BumfuckEgypt. Half way through the walk, he looks down at my cute little face and says, "You need to quit stressing."

Was this said in a compassionate, 'I know you're terrified of flying, my poor beloved' voice?

Hell no it was not.

It was said in his Clint Eastwood 'toughen up, you pussy' voice.

So, I canted my head up at him, arched a brow and responded, "Why do you think I'm stressing?"

Big Daddy: "Because you're breathing hard."

Phat Mama: "I'm stressing because I'm breathing hard?? It couldn't be because you had to park out in the back 40 and sprint through this motherfucker, Bruce Jenner? It couldn't be that one of your strides equals three of mine? It couldn't be that I have a big, luscious, spectacular ass (if I do say so myself, and I DO) in case you havn't noticed since the last time you wanted to mount up doggie and girls with big butts don't run anywhere.. it's against the fat ass religion. I'm not stressing, I'm waiting to have a McHeartAttack!"

Big Daddy: "Look, we're at your boarding gate and there's a bench. I'll sit with you until you quit stressing."

P. Mama: (Too bad tazers aren't allowed in airports.)

So, it was time for me to go, alone, back to the boarding area. With a kiss and a tight hug (choke), off I went. And there I sat, for two hours. Because.. I WAS EARLY. I talked to everyone that came and sat, waiting for our flight. I wanted to know who I was going to crash with. On a first name basis. So I could be polite when I screamed, "You go through the escape exit first, Bubba.. you're fatter than I am so you'll make a cushy landing for me."

And I was hoping, fingers crossed, that I didn't sit beside anyone with a baby. I didn't want to chance any of those irritating heroic feelings creeping up on me if it came down to me or the kid.

Finally, we were called to board the super huge jet that looked like big death on little wheels. And of course, someone in front of me has to stop and stow their carry on cow in the overhead.

And while waiting, I just happened to stop right in front of the open cabin door where the pilot stood greeting people. Mayhap he noticed my peering around him into the teeny place full of NASA instruments. Or maybe he noticed the look on my face that suggested full on anal-puckering. Either way, he asked how I was doing, to which I replied, "Terrified."

Pilot: "First time flying?"

P. Mama: "No, but it was years ago."

Pilot: (winks) "I promise to get you there safely."

P. Mama: "Was the winking to signify flirting or that safe is a big freakin' joke?"

Pilot: (laughs) "You're beautiful."

P. Mama: (blushes, possibly preens) "It's the chubby face - it makes me look younger. That's why I stay fat - wrinkles or chub, guess which wins my vain war?"

Pilot: (laughs) "Beautiful and funny. I like curvy women."

P. Mama: "So does my husband. He told me to shut up recently. Pilots make good money, right?"

And the line starts to move because Passenger 57 finally got his fucking heifer stowed away safely. So I start walking towards my seat. The pilot calls after me, "Where are you going?"

P. Mama: "Milwaukee."

Pilot: "What's your name?"

(By this time, everyone is watching the exchange - you know, all those people that I talked to so I knew who I was dying with.)

P. Mama: "Jody."

Pilot: "Well Jody pretty girl, I promise to get you safely to Atlanta."

I smiled and climbed into my seat, ass backwards, struggled for ten minutes with the seat belt that Paris Hilton couldn't fit into while looking over the shelf I call my boobs and finally settled, we prepare for take off.

Pilot: (over the intercom) "I'd like to welcome everyone today to Flight #6969 headed for Atlanta and a special welcome to Jody, whose going to Milwaukee and is nervous. It'll be just fine, Jody."

Humiliation. Head buried in the puke bag to hide from all the stares. Dear Almighty, why did I talk to these people? Anonymous carnage is really just fine.

P.S. If you get me there safely, God.. I'll quit smoking.

And then I looked to my left. At the woman sitting next to me with a precious baby boy on her lap.

Shitdamnfuck, I'm going to have to save the kid. I need a Marlboro.