Up, Up & Away: On My Way To a Writer's Conference

By the time you are reading this, I’m probably at the airport standing in line, trying to prove I am who I say I am, trying to figure out what keeps making the metal detector beep, (the underwire bra maybe?) And if that man passes that wand over my boob one more time, I’m going to have to call it “first base”, and he hasn’t even offered to buy me a drink. Then, when I finally get into my assigned seat, I just know I’m going to be sitting next to some guy who had onions with his breakfast, and who thinks because he’s male (owner of his own joy stick) and bigger than I am, he gets my arm rest and part of my leg room. (Gotta have room for his joy stick and his boys.) Then he’ll fall asleep on my shoulder and snore to the tune of Jingle Bells. And when I arrive, my luggage will be on a plane to Calcutta and I’ll have to borrow clothes from Nora Roberts or Jennifer Cruise. Hey, I hope they don’t mind if I have to get them hemmed.

I know, I know, I’m doing some negative visualization here, but can you tell I’ve flown before? And all of the above situations have happened to me. Well, with the exception to borrowing clothes from Nora or Jennifer. And it wasn’t because I didn’t try, but they got back to their room before I was able to pick the lock of their hotel door.

Oh yeah, I’ve done my share of flying and had my share of flying disasters. When I was doing travel articles regularly, I did two to three trips a month. In all fairness, I’ve had plenty of good flights and met plenty of really great people on flights. Ahh, but it’s the bad flights I remember the most. And the ones that are the funniest.

For example, there was the time I was flying in from Virginia. I’m in the plane and in the middle seat in the row in front of me is a nice-looking man in his late forties. Then comes a woman and says, “Excuse me,” and pushes past him, sliding her bottom across his lap as she scoots into the window seat. “Ohhh, so sorry,” she coos in a sexy voice. “Didn’t mean to brush up against sensitive parts.”

As a romance writer, always looking for a little motivation, my ears perk up. Then she pats him on his arm and says, “Good thing we know each other.”

I smile and think how sweet. Sweet gets a bit sexier as they whisper in each other’s ear, and I’m leaning forward to hear all the sexy tidbits. Hey, this is research. Unfortunately, sweet and sexy didn’t last too long. We ran into some really bad weather, and they started ordering scotch. I swear to you, they went from, “Do you know what I’m going to do you when we get to our hotel room,” (in a good way) to “You are such f&^king A-hole.” But the slurs weren’t the highlight.

Nope. The highlight came when she took the phone out of the seat in front of her and started beating her husband in the head with it. And what happened next was the real eye opener. The flight attendant came over and moved her to first class away from her man she’d just assaulted. I mean, I thought I already knew all the ways to get bumped to first class. I might try it next time the guy sitting next to me starts snoring.

Of course, like I said I shouldn’t be thinking negatively, so let me try to visualize a positive situation. Hmm, I know. I get past the metal detector without my boobs being wanded, I sit next to a woman (hey, I’m a married woman or it would be a hot male cover model) who is pleasant and then pulls out a novel titled, Weddings Can Be Murder and she starts to read. She’s enthralled, she’s giggling and sighing in all the right places. She loves it. Then she flips to the back to see the author’s picture and in total amazement she turns to me and says, “Oh my goodness, you look so much younger and thinner than your picture.” (Hey, this is my fantasy.) Of course, she gets me to sign it and promises to tell everyone she knows about this great author she met on the plane.

Okay…so that’s my flying fantasy…and that’s my blog. What about you guys? Any flying stories to tell? Come on, share a few. And remember, it might be later tonight before I get to the hotel room and am able to respond to your comments.

Crime Scene Christie