Ready to Rumble at the Airport
July 28, 2011 44 Comments
Yesterday, I picked up a friend at the airport and almost got into a fight. This is how it went down.
I arrive just in time and saw her waiting for me at the passenger pick up curb of LAX. I parked the car, popped the hood and got out to help her with her luggage. She either packed a dead body or slabs of concrete because that sucker was heavy. She grabbed one end I grabbed another but we couldn’t hoist the ton of bricks into my trunk. My friend weighs about five pounds and how she got that lug from the baggage claim to the trolley was a mystery to me. We struggled for another minute until I told her that we should take out some of the contents to lighten it up. She searched her purse for the luggage keys but she couldn’t find it.
It’s summer in Los Angeles. I’d broken a sweat and my temper’s flaring because I hate the heat and I hate crowds. I tried one more time to hoist the luggage this time by myself. I took a deep breath like an Olympian weightlifter, and lifted the beast of burden, but the damn thing was so heavy that I thought my uterus would collapse. I dropped the luggage and in my frustration gave it a swift kick, but I only managed to stub my toe thanks to my fashionable but impractical donning of open toe sandals. I screamed from the pain and from the corner of my eye I saw a burst of laughter from a fairly muscular four-eyed nerd. His jolly was obvious as I could see his great big teeth flashing as he ho ho hoed and he he heed at my pain.
Now, this damn M.I.L.K. looked strong and he could have helped us while waiting for his own pick up, but he didn’t. Now I could have just ignored him but I didn’t. Instead I took three steps toward him and said what’s so funny. The teeth disappeared and so did his chuckling. I asked him again and he said nothing. He took a step back and I took a step forward. He took another step back and I took another step forward. (We were doing the confrontation cha-cha-cha.) What you want he asked. I noticed the accent. He must have been from Assholeville. Again I asked him (no I screamed at him) what do you think is so funny.
There I was with a throbbing toe and screaming at some stranger from a strange land and I can only attribute my behavior to a temporary lapse of sanity. I know I’m crazy, but I’m crazy amiable, not crazy combative. Then he said you go away and stop terroring me. Huh? Terroring? Did he mean terrorizing? Did he just use the “T” word at the airport?
Then my friend came up to me and pinched my arm as a signal to quit it. I wasn’t going to quit it. I was ready to rumble even though the only thing I know how to do was pull hair and muscular nerd didn’t have any. She pinched me again and this time she grabbed skin and I screamed OUCH. Then the nerd got nervous (what a freakin vagina) and this time instead of teeth showing out of glee it was out of fear. My friend tried to pinch me again then I said will you cut that out it hurts. Then she said stop it; let’s just go; I brought you a gift.
The word gift tamed my temper. What kind of gift I asked. She smiled and said I got you a Prada purse. A Prada? How in the hell did you afford a Prada for me I asked. I have my ways she said now let’s go. I looked at the nerd one more time. He wasn’t laughing. Then we had the B.I.T.C.H. and nerd stare down. Guess who won that contest? The angry bitch goddess that’s who.
Anyway, I walked back to the car and this time I was going for gold. I took another deep breath, I tightened my girly parts, made a noise like a birthing mother and reminded myself of the Prada inside.
I DID IT! It’s amazing what thoughts of a designer handbag can do. Then I asked my friend for the key. What for she asked. I want to see the purse I said. Now? she said. Yes NOW I replied I didn’t do all that hoisting and sweating and almost rumbling without some kind of gratification. She found the keys and after some digging I pulled out the purse.
Oh it was pretty.
Just when we were about to get in the car, another car honked at us. We did exceed the three-minute limited in the passenger pick up. I saw the nerd walk toward the car. It was his pick up. So, I took my sweet old-time and before I got in my vehicle I gave him the birdie.
That’s not like you to get so mad my friend said. She was right and I thought about what really flared my temper. Was it the heat? Was it my toe? Was it because I didn’t like the look of the nerd? It wasn’t his fault he had bucked teeth. What made me so angry? Me, the chick who laughed at the malfunction of the universe. Why didn’t I find the humor in the situation? Then I realized that while I don’t mind people laughing WITH ME I hated it when others laughed AT ME even when the situation warranted the chuckles.
What makes you angry?
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© 2011 Lafemmeroar