Planes, Trains, Buses, and Automobiles

"GY%TURIOOXZMGHKF%^KLU+++#$!!!&*&*&*$$Bananapatch." That was the quote of the weekend in Philly, my children.

There were all kinds of fun and excitement present during my trip to see E, her hubby CJ, and my very first (yeah, I was a virgin) Meat Loaf concert. But what's left of my brain cells that E personally tried to kill singlehandedly can only focus on one thing at a time today.

CruiserMel's travel ghoulies have returned. I know I haven't gone into a whole lot of detail here, but I'm famous in some circles for my misadventures in all things transportational. And it usually occurs when I'm doing something whacky like having to be somewhere at a certain time.

Let's travel back through time, shall we? Friday I left work early, really early, in order to ward off any possible travel ghoulies that might make themselves apparent. I arrived at the airport almost a full 2 hours before flighttime, because I'm a good citizen that way. Of course, once you've gone through security, they have you captive and before I knew it, I'd purchased a diet coke, a bottle of water, a Wendy's spicy chicken sandwich, two trashy gossip magazines and some toothpaste - all in separate transactions. Overpriced transactions.

We boarded right on time. American rolls like that. We pushed from the gate at precisely 5:25 as scheduled. We're driving and driving and driving for ages when Captain I Will Get You There Whenever I Please announced that Philadelphia had not cleared us to take off. Wait, we're not in Philadelpia are we? Nope. He said that those pranksters in the tower in Philly were afraid it MIGHT rain or be windy or something (I think they just wanted to go to a strip club) and so we had to be held in something comparable to a cement pasture in the middle of nowhere. For almost two hours. He told us it could be 5 minutes or 120 minutes until we were given clearance to take off.

My newfound friend (we'll call him Coolest Guy in the World to Sit Next to on a Plane) immediately asked the flight attendant "So when does the bar open?" She had a look on her face like "Do you know how many of you creeps have asked me that in the past 3 minutes?" but really said "I'll check with the captain, it's his call whether we can pull the cart out." We both informed her that it would behoove her to sashay up to the cockpit and tell him the natives will get restless if we don't see that cart tout suite! Fast forward about a minute: The captain said if he can't drink, you can't drink. Nah, I'm kidding. Nevertheless, we were left drinkless for two hours. Luckily, I had my water and diet coke to drink. It's not the same, but I had people eyeing me in a lecherous way and I'm pretty sure they would've shivved me for my water bottle if there wasn't a restriction on weapons on a plane.

Two hours later, we were airborne, enjoying adult bevs, and on our way. Captain I Will Get You There - got us there in record time.

So, it's midnight on Friday and E & CJ arrive at the airport with cocktails in hand. And so it began - a night of giggling, tunes (aka toonces), bourbon, and more giggling. Until 7:15 in the A when E passed out with her head at the foot of her bed and me on top of her husband in the same bed, trying to talk him into joining me for another cocktail. I'm not one to ever call CJ the voice of reason, but he urged me to go on into my room and lie down a little while. Um, yeah. Like the dead.

When you go to bed at 7:15 in the A, you kind of lose the day. Ever happen to you?

Okay - so it's time to whore-up and get our fannies to a place called Upper Darby, PA. Being college edumacated folks, we wisely decided to take a train for the 12 minute ride. Once upon the train, the conductor comes by to collect our money. CJ asked how many more stops until 69th Street. After a pause: "W$*(%&$*%)#$%*(%$*DFJ$($?" Huh? "I can't understand a word that man just said," I said in my Texas twang that I only have when I leave the comforts of Texas, loud enough to draw attention from our fellow trainmates. Then he said it again. A woman on the train had to translate. Being originally a yankee way back, CJ gathered from that woman that the conductor had said "This train doesn't go there" sorta. We got our instructions to get off the train and jump through unbelievable hoops (and a city bus) to get to 69th Street. CJ just glared at ME during our adventure like this was all MY fault and said something about how we'd better find him some pink wine (yeah, he's explored his feminine side and kinda likes it) soon. We were all on board with that emotion. Then he volunteered what he thought the conductor had actually said and it sounded something like "R$*&#$*RSL#$%&$*$E&Bananapatch." I'm still laughing about that one.

I won't bore you with the details of the concert, though it surprised me how much I enjoyed it. Yeah, that's Kasim in the picture. I don't want to ruin anyone's appetites by showing a picture of Meat Loaf. You can thank me later.

But just because the night was falling together just fine during the show does not mean our travel ghoulies were gone.

We hailed a cab (thinking this was the best idea, she said with a straight face) to take us to our original train station where the racecar was parked. Um, yeah, so we've had a few cocktails, an overpriced hotdog and little sleep so we're cracking jokes in the back of the car when we realize that the driver was hopelessley lost. And we're from Texas. I thought CJ was going to take the guy on, but luckily we saw a policeman who set us on the correct path. And we got a big discount. At that moment, as we were getting out of the cab, I said something about how the driver was beginning to look kind of cute. And E said the 2nd best line of the weekend: "Yeah, he's good looking for a Hindu."

Believe it or not - the weekend actually got better from there. And soon, it was over, all too soon. Wahhhhh.