The Jetlagged

I only told you that I might have boughten one of those SkyMall items to get you to come back. I didn't. But we totally bought three nurse pens with "Los Angeles" written on them for the children as souvenirs. Although we haven't given them to the kids yet. I just don't know if I can part with a writing untensil that has five different colors all in one pen.


And for sure, I can't stop saying boughten. Thanks, Natalie!
The first flight out there was uneventful. And whether you are flying a commercial airline or battling cancer, the lack of an event is a pretty big deal. I bought a bacon sandwich and either made those around me on the plane feel nauseous or envious, but either way, there were no feelings in-between. While I ate, Matt read the ethics chapter of a book titled The 10-Day MBA.

I am pretty sure he was done with the chapter before I finished my sandwich.

We had a two-second layover in Chicago before the Southwest cattle-call began. The flight attendant made an announcement that those boarding in the C group needed to find a seat. "C stands for Center seat today, so please find one because we want to leave."

I think I could be a Southwest flight attendant.

There was a woman behind me with the voice of Cher from Clueless. She did not stop talking the entire four hours of the flight. No matter how hard I tried, I could not tune her out. I felt pretty bad for the woman sitting next to her who was held hostage for hours on end while this woman talked about anything from leveling her backyard to which form of CPR her husband preferred. I kept tossing her the stink eye but there was no shutting this chick up.

Well, except for the first five minutes of our in-flight emergency.

Is there a doctor on the plane? Great. We're almost done with Lost. Please don't let us crash on an island and miss the last ten episodes.

The woman in front of us passed out. When she came to, she felt like her right side was numb. Suddenly, there were two doctors and a nurse standing over her bombarding her with questions.

(I wonder what would have happened if there were no medical professionals on the plane. Maybe ask if there are any cross-stitching enthusiasts on board? That's who I'd want starting my IV.)

The lady felt light-headed, so they laid her down on the floor in the aisle.

Doctor: Ma'am, do you know how old you are?
Woman: 73.
Doctor: Ma'am, do you take any medications?
Woman: No.
Doctor: Ma'am, do you have any health problems?
Woman: No.
Doctor: Ma'am, you're telling me you're 73 and you don't have any health problems?
Woman: No, I don't have any health problems.
Doctor: Do you have diabetes?
Woman: No.
Doctor: Do you have pulmonary issues?
Woman: No.
Doctor: Do you have any heart problems?
Woman: No. I don't have any health issues.
Doctor: Did you take any medication today?
Woman: No. I don't take any medicine.
Doctor: You're 73 and you don't take any medicine?
Woman: No. I don't take any medicine.
[Passenger next to the patient looks through her purse and finds a bottle of pills.]
Doctor: I thought you just told me you didn't take any medicine!
Woman: Those are my vitamins.
[Doctor looks at bottle and reads the words CENTRUM MULTIVITAMIN.]
Doctor: Well, I guess that's why you're 73 and don't have to take any medicine.

Luckily for me, I used the restroom about two minutes before the in-flight emergency; had I missed my window of opportunipee, I think my eyeballs would have turned yellow from all the decaf-instant-airplane coffee. The woman and the doctors were blocking us in our seats for an hour and forty-five minutes. But I think it was meant to be. One of the flight attendants gave the doctors an IV bag full of fluid so the docs could get her blood pressure up, but apparently out of all the medical equipment on the aircraft- needles, tubing, oxygen tanks- there was only one alcohol swab. So if you pass out in front of a diabetic, not only will she be able to hook you up with some alcohol, she can also check your blood sugar.

You know, because the doctor really doesn't believe you have no health issues. Come on, lady. You're 73.