You’ve gotta check out this link, sent to me by reader Kim. If I had the time, you KNOW I’d be doing up a site like this for Miz Poo. Hee! The Vampire Beast series especially cracked me up.
The smell of Febreeze is very strong right now, and I know not why. Who the hell’s been spraying the Febreeze? Anyone? Bueller?…
So, the parents arrived all safe and sound and ten minutes early yesterday. For once, I was actually there waiting when they walked out through the security thing, which is unusual – usually they’re almost to baggage claim before I come wandering up to find them. I hadn’t been to the airport since last August, so I was surprised to see that you can’t park directly in front of the terminal anymore – you used to be able to – and there were several cops keeping watch from different posts by the doors. We couldn’t go to the gate to meet my parents as they came off the plane – without a ticket you can’t get past the security gate – but it was interesting to watch people go through security. I’m so used to seeing the security people all but taking a nap, that it was startling to see them not only awake, but aggressively eyeballing anyone who went through. Almost every man had to be wanded, because change in their pockets or their belt buckles set off the alarm.
And in fact, my mother was randomly selected at the gate in Atlanta for a going-over by the wand. Here’s where I’d insert a snarky remark about the likelihood of a doddering 60 year-old white lady being a terrorist threat, but you know? I won’t.
And here’s where I’d insert a snarky comment about the likelihood of the Huntsville/ Decatur airport being a terrorist target, but again I won’t. B’sides, Redstone Arsenal actually makes it possible that this area could be a target, so I’m not sending trouble an engraved invitation by making stupid comments, no sir I’m not.
Here’s the other Gatlinburg story I forgot to tell Tuesday. You’ll recall that I mentioned that we rode the Sky Lift to the top of the mountain and took 64,000 pictures of the purty view, yes? Well, as we were standing there taking pictures of the view, I said "Oh, I want a picture of the two of us!", and I ordered the spud to take a picture of Fred and I, and then Fred took ten thousand other pictures of the view, and then we were thinking that we’d spent enough time looking at and taking pictures of the view, there was nothing in the crappy, over-priced little gift shop, so we thought we’d head for the Sky Lift and go back to the bottom.
As we TURNED to walk out of the observation area, I heard Fred say "Oh my god," sotto voce.
You didn’t know I knew words like sotto voce, did you? I got the cul-chuh going on sometimes, mmm-hmm.
"Wha-" I began, and then it was upon me. The second darkest, nastiest, most horrific stank I’ve ever experienced. It was a stank that coated the inside of my nostrils, and was so thick and noxious that I could actually TASTE it.
Some asshole had dropped a fart-bomb and then simply walked away from it, letting all in the area be blasted unexpectedly by the stench. Coughing, covering my mouth and nose, I half-ran from the area, hoping to outrun the odor. Fred, catching a glimpse from the couple standing a few feet away from us, did his best to disavow all knowledge.
"It wasn’t US," he promised. To which they responded by asking Fred if he’d take a picture of them, so perhaps they believed him.
But, man. How NASTY is that, to let something like that loose in a crowd? You could kill someone by doing that, you know. Gah.
That particular experience reminded me of the time Fred and I did some Christmas shopping in Boaz – it was probably almost 6 years ago, actually, because it was my first Christmas here – and we were wandering through some no-name toy store, looking for presents to buy the spud. We headed all unknowingly down an aisle of kids’ books, and walked face-first into a cloud of rankness that to this day makes me want to gag when I think about it. I honestly thought that perhaps someone had lost control of their bowels all over the floor, and I was watching where I was walking – and trying not to throw up – because god knows I didn’t want to step in anything.
Fred was as grossed out as I, and as we whispered to each other, a guilty-looking man with a half-smirk on his face walked by us. I couldn’t help myself – I glanced at the ass of his pants to see if there’d been a loss of bowel control, but saw no evidence of the sort.
You know what? If you’re going to drop a bomb like that in a public place, at least try to get AWAY from people, instead of doing it in the middle of a crowd or in the middle of a crowded store.
People are so nasty sometimes.
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