Saturday, November 7, 2009

This is the End...of Day 2

The kids are in bed. My head is throbbing. But I've reached the end of the second day of being without Wifey. Which, if you think about it, is really the first full day. But I digress...

After I'd showered and shaved, I felt somewhat better. We went and did a little shopping at the open-air market, it was time to prepare our costumes for the Halloween party tonight. See, we'd been invited to a costume party, and after much deliberation I had convinced the children that we should go with "theme" costumes so we can all dress the same.

Our theme? The Royal Family from a deck of cards. So the girl was the Queen of Hearts, the boy was the Jack of Diamonds, and I was the King of Clubs (complete with golf clubs, because I love a good pun). Wifey, ever helpful, had designed and executed three really fabulous card fronts for us to wear.

All I had to do was finish the back of them and then figure out a way to get them to hang on us, which only took me about an hour and six yards of tape. Ah, tape. Is there any problem it can't solve?

While I was in the middle of this, I got a call from Wifey.

"So, you're alive!" I said. "That's good!"

"I envy the dead," she said. "I really do."

And then she proceeded to tell me her tale of woe from yesterday. I can't possibly hope to convey to you the entirety of her awful trip, so let me hit the high points:

She sat next to Dr. Doom's mother. No, really! After hurrying through security and making her way to the plane, she ends up sitting next to a rotund Latvian woman who proceeds to detail her entire life story to Wifey, up to and including ten minutes ago when she got lost trying to get to the gates.

But wait, there's more! It turns out that this woman's life is a series of misfortunes caused by other people giving her misinformation (Wifey told me she suspected a bad case of dumbassery on the part of Mrs. Doom).

The best part is this: they were stalled on the tarmac for five hours. So Wifey spent five hours sitting still listening to this, then nine hours in the air listening to this. She put in her iPod, and Mrs. Doom talked. They ate dinner, and Mrs. Doom talked. She tried to sleep, and Mrs. Doom talked. She watched the movie, and Mrs. Doom talked.

In my mind, I see the scene from Forrest Gump where Bubba is talking all about shrimp, only in a Latvian accent.

Desperate for something else to do, Wifey tried to get out her find-a-word book. Wifey likes doing these, but I don't, because I always get distracted trying to find dirty words they didn't mean to put into the grid but have on accident.

So Mrs. Doom starts pointing out words over her shoulder! How Wifey managed to keep from throttling this woman I will never quite understand.

Finally they begin the descent, and Wifey begins to dream of a life after Mrs. Doom. However, her new best friend had other ideas.

"After we land," Mrs. Doom says, "Can you help me find the luggage claim area."

"Yes, whatever," Wifey says, proving that she's a better human being than I am. "Just shut up ten minutes."

So Mrs. Doom shuts up ten minutes, and in this time, suddenly Wifey realizes something.

"You're not a citizen, are you?"

"No," Mrs. Doom says.

"Well, then, I can't help you. I go through a different passport control line."

"But you could wait for me," Mrs. Doom says.

"I have another flight." Wifey says. "But since I missed it, they've scheduled me on some different flight, I'm sure, and I don't know which one it is."

"I have a connecting flight too," Mrs. Doom says.

"But what if while I'm waiting for you my flight takes off?"

"It won't," Mrs. Doom says.

"But what if it does?" Wifey says.

"I only need you to show me where the luggage claim area is."

"I'm pretty sure there's a sign," Wifey says. "And besides, if I was near one of those rotating belt things and you were there I'm certain that I'd shove you on it and hope it decapitated you."

Okay, she probably didn't say the last part, but I'm sure she thought it.

When, finally, she arrived at the airport she couldn't get out fast enough.

So she's going through the customs area when an airport inspector comes up to her and asks her which flight she was on. The inspector frowns and says,

"Ma'am, we have reason to believe that there was a violation of the passenger's bill of rights during that flight."

"Really?" Wifey asks. "Because we sat on the tarmac for five hours with no food or drink?"

"No ma'am," the inspector says. "Is it true that they showed Land of the Lost?" Wifey nodded. "The horror," the guy says as he wanders off. "The horror..."

Well, after hearing that, I said the only thing to Wifey that a loving, caring husband can:

"Thank God I wasn't there. The kids would have driven us crazy."

Unfortunately, at that moment the line went dead.

Anyhoo, after a nap we were ready to go to the party decked out in our costumes (see what I did there? Card-themed costumes yield a lot of puns!)

It was quite a hootenanny, let me tell you! These people really know how to throw a party! And while everybody came as a wich, or vampire, and the kids came dressed as Clone soldiers (which I am convinced is either a neocon plot to lure kids into the army or a progressive plot to rob us of individual identities), we were the only playing-card themed costumes.

We were the hit of the party.

Everybody was amazed and impressed.

The whole crowd swooned over us.

Until the slutty she-devil arrived and knocked the wind right out of our sails. I mean, how do you compete with six inches of sheer red fabric, spiderweb tights, and double D cups?

You don't, that's how. But, being a man, I didn't mind so much.

The other part of the party that was good was that the people had hired a magician to entertain the children, so I didn't see hide nor hair of them for two hours. And at this rate, any break I get from them is magical in and of itself.

Ahh, sweet release.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end, and we eventually had to leave and come home. I cleaned us all up and sent the children to bed.

And I'll be going there myself quite shortly.

Two days down, nine to go.

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