Breaking Up is Hard to Do

I try hard not to censor myself on this blog. It’s important for me to have a space where I can tell silly stories, but especially to work out whatever’s on my mind at a given moment. It is important to have this outlet. Since my last break-up, I’ve been hesitant to write anything about it. It felt like I was censoring myself, but the boundaries were in my mind’s difficulty to make sense of it. I’ve spent the past six months trying to understand what happened and take it in.

I have worried and still worry that I won’t find anyone I connect with the way we connected or who will love me as well as he loved me. I’m worried he spoiled me, and I won’t have something that good again.

Sometimes I mention The X, and when I do, it’s usually a hint about “what went wrong.” I haven’t gotten too specific about that because it is complicated and also so close to my heart. The truth is I miss him. And I have missed him. I’ve thought about him every day since we broke up. He is a good man, and one I will always love and hopefully also one I will always know.

We were involved for three years. I wrote a post about it a year or so ago. Check it out – I was such a sap!

In August 2005, I got laid off from a job I hated. I wanted out of Atlanta, and I seized the opportunity to start fresh. Two weeks before I moved, I temped for a week as a receptionist. X worked there. I still remember the first time we talked.

I was trying to find a file on a computer, and someone was helping me. He stood close by and started humming, “Passenger Seat” by Death Cab for Cutie. I said, “Hey! I know that song. I love that band.” Months later, he confessed he was testing to see if I recognized a song by his favorite band. I am so clueless.

The last day I was there, he said he heard I was moving to DC. He loved it there and would be visiting soon. He asked for my number so he could call when he was in town. Again, oblivious me, I thought nothing of it. Until he called a couple days later, drunk after a long day of tailgating, and left the best voice message I’ve ever received.

“Hey. This is X. I just called to tell you I think you’re super cute. Super cute. I like you. And I know you’re moving next week, but before you go, we should get together and share some cold, domestic, light beers.”

It made me laugh a lot, and you know I called him back. How great is that message? It makes me grin just thinking about it. He’s such a straightforward communicator, and I was so attracted to that because I’m the same way.

I didn’t have any intention of seeing him before I left, but the guy I was dating at the time…well, that’s another story, but let’s just say things went south…so I thought, “You know what? I’m gonna call that guy who thinks I’m super cute and invite him to my going away party.” And I did just that.

We had fun, and at the end of the night, we stopped at a gas station and talked by his car. A homeless man asked me for money earlier when I was pumping gas, and I gave him a couple bucks. While X and I were talking, the same man came up and asked for money. I reminded him I’d already given him some, and X later told me it made him think I was the sweetest, cutest girl he’d ever seen. Aw. He said it made him want to kiss me, but he chickened out. What he did was give me Death Cab’s new cd and tell me it was a gift to remember him by. He was so cheesy, but you know me – I lapped it up.

We kept in contact with emails and phone calls, but nothing too serious. I just thought of him as a friend. Until one night, about two months after I moved, he called, and we ended up having one of those great, long conversations where you share everything about who you are. We talked for three or four hours that night. So long, my face was hot from my cell phone.

A few more super long conversations later, and we both bought plane tickets to visit each other. My weekend in Atlanta came two weeks before his weekend in DC. Riding up the escalator to baggage claim, my stomach was full of butterflies and nerves, and I saw him standing, waiting for me, holding a single red rose. Our first kiss was in the airport parking garage. In November 2005 – almost exactly three years ago.

It was a sweet beginning, but we later dubbed that “The Awkward Weekend.” He teased that I was a cold fish, and I joked that he had moon eyes. The truth was that I wasn’t ready for anything big or serious. I wasn’t over my last boyfriend. He really broke my heart, and it took me a year and a half to fully get over that and heal.

In that time, X waited, and we became close. He had a girlfriend at some point, I had a couple one-monthers, and every few months, we’d find ourselves pulled back together. There was something very real there that neither of us could let go of.

We had our problems. We didn’t work out. We weren’t meant to be. But I don’t want to talk about any of that. I don’t need another post-mortem. When I see him now, I don’t have the desire to kiss him. I don’t miss him that way. But I do want to hug him. I want to be near him. I want to have real conversations – something we were always able to do. I think we worked because we communicated. And we communicate in similar ways, which is near impossible to find.

We connect in a way I haven’t experienced before or, of course, since. We made sense to each other. He got me instantly. I never had to explain myself to him - he just knew me. In most of my relationships, that never happened. I've never been with anyone I could talk to the way we talked, never been able to open up in those ways or be totally intimate and vulnerable. One of my best friends told me yesterday that I seem like the most open person, but people who know me see that I’m not at all. With him, I was.

He's incredible - a writer and a firefighter with a master's in international affairs, such a Renaissance Man. We always have the best political discussions, and I miss sharing the Sunday paper over coffee. He always makes me laugh. We always have fun – it doesn't matter what we’re doing. We’re always comfortable. Everything's easy – no drama, no mess. I never felt nervous or that I had to watch what I said or did. He was my very best friend for three years. I miss that so much.

This summer was hard for me because I had to let go. Everything in DC makes me think of him. We only talked a few times a week. Text messages, emails. We talked on the phone just twice while I was in DC. It was too hard. When you share so much with someone, when there is so much love, it hurts because you know it can’t ever be like it was. Before, we told each other everything. We talked a couple times every day, which would normally annoy me, but never with him.

One night in June, a great date with a new guy was ending. As we walked past X’s old firehouse, the new guy asked if I wanted to spend the night. A million thoughts went through my head in that brief moment, but a big one was X. There was his firehouse. I even paused to glance at it. It felt like he was watching me. It’s a totally different thing when you’re used to looking into the eyes of someone you love who loves you than getting into bed with someone you hardly know. It ended up being a wonderful night, and one I don’t regret, but it was a tough first step. As moving on always is.

When my grandfather got worse this summer, there was only one person I wanted to talk to. And I couldn’t. A Friday night in August, I drove from DC to my grandfather’s house. His doctor visited that evening, and I sat on a bed in his house knowing that he was getting bad news just a few feet away. I cried. All I wanted was to talk to X. For a few moments, I wished we were still together because he would have been right there with me. And if not, he would have been calling and texting and checking in on his booger. Ha. He called me Booger, and I called him Goober.

When I saw him for the first time after my grandfather died, he asked lots of questions (he always asked questions, and I liked that because it made me feel like he cared). I answered them all honestly. But it felt different. It felt weird, I was guarded. I knew that as much as I wanted him to be the one I talked to about all that happened, he couldn’t be.

We’re seeing each other tonight, and I know it’ll be great. I always feel comfortable and safe with him. We still care about each other so much. As hard as it is to forge a friendship after a long, intense relationship, it is a necessity to both of us. I cannot imagine my life without him in it. I cannot imagine never knowing him. He helped me grow and change so much. He is a special man, and being a part of his circle is a special place to be. I am lucky to have known such love in my little life. I am lucky to call such a great man a close friend.

America! Fuck Yeah!!

This is an incredibly important day. I am so happy and hopeful, words fail me. I hope you will forgive me, but I am going to write about politics tonight. I normally try to keep that out of my blog because although I am a very political person, I like to keep this space separate from that. I support your right to speak your mind and have your own individual opinions. Please respect mine. I believe President-Elect Barack Obama - there are no red states, no blue states, there are only the United States of America.

I spent the evening with friends at a gay sports bar in Atlanta. There was an Election Watch Party sponsored by a group of Obama supporters. I started out with a good friend, Sweet M, and then a large group of friends met up with us an hour later. It was a blast, but I do really miss DC.

I just had to watch the results in public, surrounded by people who share my views and would cheer when I cheered. It's like watching a UT game at a UT bar or a Colts game at a Colts bar. I once watched a Colts game at a Steelers bar and actually cried (Football is important after all - it was a big game and Sweet Tony Dungy's son had just died).

Georgia, our home state, was one of the first states called by CNN. It was red. Of course. And everyone in the bar booed loudly, which I found especially amusing. Booing our own state? I love this bar. Just like booing our own team at a UT or Yankees game - we demand perfection.

CNN was on almost every TV. Atlanta is, after all, CNN's home. I did ask our cutie waiter (gay as the day is long) to turn one of the channels to NBC because I love the little ice map. How do they color the ice rink? It's so exciting watching all the states change color ooo ahh. And I have to admit I have a bit of a crush on Brian Williams.

The best part of the evening (well, duh, aside from the result) was CNN's special graphics. Oh, they outdo themselves every year. I just can't wait to see John Stewart make fun of this one. They had...a hologram. Yes, Anderson Cooper, the Silver Fox, and Wolf Blitzer spent parts of the evening talking to a hologram. My favorite was when Will.I.Am. of the Black Eyed Peas appeared as a hologram. I'm not sure what his qualification was to appear on CNN, but I'm pretty sure it involved being a three-dimensional laser image.

Sweet M really enjoyed the hilarity of this special effect. Laughing, she pointed out, "I mean, a hologram? Are we in the 1980s? They do know the 80s are over, right? And that JEM and the Holograms already did this?"

Seriously. A hologram. Oh and the greatest was the tagline at the bottom said: Will.I.Am. Via Hologram. The big questions of the night were, "What is Anderson looking at when he talks to the hologram?" and "Are the holograms live? Or were they taped?"

Sweet M also pointed out that CNN was probably pretty pleased with their hologram graphic. "My question is, how long has CNN had this hologram technology just waiting in the wings? Were they saying, 'Ooo! Election Night's the night to unveil this to the world!'? Is it really that hard to do? Is it a big deal that CNN had the technology first?"

I suggested that perhaps MSNBC used cartoons (I love you, Keith Olbermann, but Ben Affleck did a good job of showing how cartoonish you can be) and Fox News had actual aliens (i.e. Bill O'Reilly and Karl Rove).

Sweet M and I must have looked troubled because a man came by our table and said, "Don't worry. I'm not worried. It's going to be ok. He's going to win. I woke up this morning, and I just knew it. I felt at peace."

We laughed and thanked him.

"When I woke up today, all I was thinking about was, 'What am I going to wear?' I am not a gay man that dresses. I don't dress well. But I wasn't worried about the election at all, just what outfit to put on."

He was our best friend of the night. Periodically, he came over and encouraged our group. At one point, he asked my name. I told him and he kissed my hand saying, "Yes, The Beautiful One." He went around the table complimenting the rest of my friends. The Sexy One. The Irresistible One. When Sweet M asked our friend for his name, he answered, "The One You Wish You Could Sleep With."

As the results were pouring in, I was sending and getting text messages from all my favorite people. None of us could believe it was really happening. I honestly bet my mother (my hardcore Republican mother) a bottle of wine that McCain would win. I was betting on America being easily scared, racist and ignorant. That's not to say that everyone who voted for McCain is any of those things (duh, of course not). Just that I thought there were enough terrible people in this great country to push McCain over the edge. I underestimated our nation. I was wrong. How dare I dismiss our progress so easily, how dare I deny myself hope.

America is taking a chance on something different. Right now, it's 1:06 am. I've been home for 20 minutes, and the horns have not stopped honking outside my Midtown apartment, the people are still cheering.

A couple of my friends saw that Oprah was crying and shouted that they were sure she was so happy, she was giving things away to everyone she met tonight. "You! You can have a house! A car for you! A European vacation for you! No! Houses for everyone!"

I have never been more proud to be an American. After 9/11, I reacted more like and felt more like a New Yorker than an American. Today, I finally see America for the first time. That's not to say I'm not patriotic, that I don't love my country or that I'm not grateful for all the freedoms I am blessed with. I am. But today, I see everything in America that I always believed in but had never seen or experienced so fully. I love America because I believe in equality. I believe in opportunity. I believe in taking care of our fellow man. I believe in grace and dignity for everyone. I believe in tolerance for difference. I believe in justice for all. And I actually, finally, believe that hope can be realized. It's as though everything I've ever believed about our country and about humanity became true in that moment. I am full of hope. God Bless the United States of America.

"It was we, the people; not we, the white male citizens; nor yet we, the male citizens; but we, the whole people, who formed the Union." - Susan B. Anthony

"I am a firm believer in the people. If given the truth, they can be depended upon to meet any national crisis." - Abraham Lincoln

"I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past." - Thomas Jefferson

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

"If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer...And to all those who have wondered if America's beacon still burns as bright – tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope." - President-Elect Barack Obama

Forget The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, Where's the Party?

Halloweeeeeen! My all-time favorite holiday. Every year seems to top the last. We had a huge group of crazy characters out – 15 in total. And there were some funny costumes. My friend JP was a Rorshach blot test. That was creative, but not many people got it. One girl asked if he was Captain Underpants. The funniest was my friend Gov dressed as a Douchebag. Did I mention he has a super serious job?

Oh my gosh, and I love the subway on Halloween. Everyone sitting around like everything's normal while wearing crazy costumes. I saw a hotdog, a taco and a puffy sponge. Last year, we saw three girls dressed as the Fanta Girls, and Gov actually worked with one of them.

I, of course, was Catwoman, and it was super fun. I had a whip and felt all tough and badass. I kept all of Adams Morgan safe from jewel thieves and muggers all night. You're welcome. When we were walking to the first bar, a guy dressed as a cat started talking to me. He thought I was with JP, and I did not correct him.

“You look hot.”

“Um, thank you.”

Then looking at JP, he said, “Sorry, dude. No offense.”

“None taken. She looks hot.”

“Meow!” He started laughing hysterically and pawing in the air like a crazy person. “Hey, if things with you two don’t work out, you and I can always go to an alley and drink some milk!”

“Yeah, that’s true…”

Then some random drunk guy dressed as a rasta guy (possibly not a costume?) said, “Hey, Catwoman. Hey, Cat Man.” I love drunk people.

We showed up at the first bar and started handing our IDs to the door guy. One colossal problem - I couldn’t find mine. I told the door guy, who seemed genuinely disappointed and told me I could come inside to look for it. I didn’t have it with me. I had my Metro card and my credit card, but no stinking driver’s license. Oh no – was Halloween ruined?

One friend offered to go back to the house with me. But the house is all the way in Fucking, Virginia, and even with taking a cab, I’d lose an hour and a half. Not to mention how expensive it’d be.

Aw, but my friend Britney Spears saved the night (she was dressed as Britney from the “Toxic” video). We’re both the same height, both have blue eyes and blond hair, and she suggested giving her ID to me. I could take a few friends, find another bar and test it out. If it worked, one of the friends would wait half an hour before getting Britney and everyone to meet me. Not to mention I was wearing a Catwoman mask so it'd be a slamdunk.

I thanked her and headed off to another bar. We walked up to the bouncer, and I was nervous! I’m such a bad liar. I tried talking to the guy in hopes of distracting him, but he looked suspicious and said, “Lift it up.”

I knew he was talking about my mask, but I was scared! I was such a little goodie-goodie I'd never even used a fake ID before. I did what Mama said, “Use what the good Lord gave ya.” I opened my coat and flashed my sexy Catwoman costume. The bouncers cracked up. The guy said, “The mask! The mask! I meant for you to lift up your mask!” So, between giggles, I did, and he told me to go in saying, “The next time you think someone’s saying that to you, the answer is no!”

Triumph.

We danced our little asses off all night long. I’m not sure that I love anything else more in the world than dancing. I always make friends with the deejay and spend half my night requesting songs. My one Halloween wish was to dance with a stranger, and that wish was granted. I danced with some guy who looked just like Usher. Hot.

I have decided that pirates have a thing for me so next year, I may be a pirate wench. Last year, a pirate told me, “Surrender the booty!” I laughed and asked if that worked on anyone. He sighed and said, “Not yet.”

This year, I got more pirate love. Dude was a scrawny, little thing, and after telling me he liked my costume, he asked what I was dressed as. Ha.

“I’m Catwoman. You’re a pirate, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s your sword?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Where’s your parrot?”

“I don’t have one of those either. I do have an eyepatch though,” as he said this, he pulled his eyepatch down off his forehead and onto his eyes. But he got the string caught in one eye and panicked saying, “Oh! I can’t see! I can’t see!”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Be careful with that eyepatch - they're tricky. Good costume, though.”

“Thanks. I’ve had it since I was seven. I was a fat child, but I’m a small adult.”

So that was a lot of self-disclosure. Again, I love drunk people.

I didn’t see as many Sarah Palin’s or Joe the Plumber’s as I thought. We counted only two of each. I talked to one Sarah Palin, though. I said I had some really tough questions for her. She responded that she didn’t have any answers and then flashed an Obama shirt from under her suit jacket. I also saw Batman and challenged him to a fight. He responded with a pervy wink.

A friend I saw Saturday night showed me a photo of him from Halloween. He dressed as himself in a bubble bath. It was hilarious. He cut out the bottom of a white laundry basket and wore it around his waist. It was full of white balloons, and he wore a shower cap and goggles. He also carried a rubber ducky. So cute.

Boy woke up early Saturday morning and stepped outside to get something out of his car. It was around 8:30, and he spotted a dude doing the Walk of Shame from the Metro still wearing his costume from the night before. He said the guy was dressed as Super Mario and had a metal cart around his waist, complete with a steering wheel. He was Mario Cart. The funniest is the guy made the most of his absurdity by steering himself as he walked.

Seriously, there is no better holiday.

Quiet Heroes.

Barack Obama's grandmother died last night. He spoke about her, and it made me think about my Papaw. I miss him so much. He really was such an encouragement to me and taught me to be strong and take chances. Our family will not be the same. I will not be the same.

Here is what Obama said:

"I'm not going to talk about it long because it's hard to talk about."

"She was one of those quiet heroes we have across America, who aren't famous. Their names aren't in newspapers. But each and every day they work hard. They look after their families. They look after their children and their grandchildren. They aren't seeking the limelight. All they try to do is just do the right thing."

In a statement released Monday afternoon, Obama and his sister said that Dunham was "the cornerstone of our family, and a woman of extraordinary accomplishment, strength, and humility."

"She was the person who encouraged and allowed us to take chances. She was proud of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren and left this world with the knowledge that her impact on all of us was meaningful and enduring. Our debt to her is beyond measure."

- cnn.com

Thank You, Coach Fulmer.

Ok, I've been hating on Fulmer this season just like a lot of Vol fans who love their team and hate to see us losing so badly. Before the season started, I was upset because I love David Cutcliffe, and I was sad to see him leave us. I think he'd be a great head coach at UT, whether or not it ever happens. I love Fulmer, but like many, I do believe his career at Tennessee has run its course.

Today, after Saturday's loss to one of our greatest rivals, Steve Spurier, it was announced that our beloved coach will be leaving. Here's some information from my friends at the Knoxville News Sentinel about this decision:

"The announcement signifies the end of 16-plus seasons for Fulmer, which brought 150 victories, two SEC championships, five division titles and a national championship in 1998.

Since then, however, the Vols have failed to win an SEC championship despite winning the SEC East in 2001, 2004 and 2007.

The Vols are 3-6 and 1-5 in the SEC, which marks just the ninth time since 1896 that Tennessee has lost six games in a season. The Vols have only lost seven games in a season once, in 1977."

Regardless of anything, Fulmer is a true Tennessee Vol. He's been an outstanding coach, the players love him, everyone respects him, and he's done a lot for our little community. He will be missed and will always be loved.

Go Vols.

Here are some good stories about the coaching change -

Phil Fulmer Agrees to Step Down as Vols Coach

Fans Offer Plenty of Suggested Coaches

ESPN - Fulmer Agrees to Step Down

SI - Fulmer Will Not Return for UT

Seeing the Fulmer Situation from All Sides - This one is actually from last Friday about the mounting demands for Fulmer's ousting.

* I watched the coach's press conference. He cried, and I cried with him. He's been a Vol for forty years and loves Tennessee as much as we do. I don't believe we'll be able to find a coach with the kind of passion and love Coach Fulmer has for the Tennessee Volunteers. God bless you, Coach, and thanks for always giving your all to Tennessee.

Yosemite Sam! Put Those Guns Away! Can't We Talk This Through?

I'm at an airport. Ick. And just made some random lady angry.

We were standing in line to check-in, and I noticed that a kiosk opened up. Politely, I said, "Ma'am, I think there's a machine open if you want to step up." She didn't say anything, but walked up to the machine. A man who had been talking to a customer service representative stepped back to the machine and started using it. He talked to the rep for a few minutes without touching the machine so I assumed he was not going to use it. Random Lady got mad and glared at me.

"Uh, I don't think so."

"Oh, I'm sorry, it looked like he wasn't using it."

"I may look old to you, but I'm not that old. I know what's going on."

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to help."

She looked 45. At the most. I shook my head in confusion and tried not to let her negativity make me all crabby too.

I don't get anger. I just don’t get it. I am a simple person, often times too simple and so I can miss complexities of a situation that may seem obvious to other people. I don't like to overcomplicate anything or overanalyze, which can sometimes mean that I’m naive. I'm just a simple girl. I rarely get mad and often find myself confused when other people are.

It's a silly emotion to me. Sometimes when someone is mad about a small thing, I think to myself, "Oh, I wish you could see how ridiculous you seem right now because then you wouldn't be mad, you'd be laughing." I laugh at myself sometimes when I get mad and realize how silly I'm acting. I think it's healthy and necessary to be able to recognize the absurd in yourself.

To me, the most frustrating thing in the universe is a misunderstanding. I know a lot of people hated that movie Babel, my good friend E is one, and there are good reasons why. But I liked it because it did a great job at showing how even the smallest misunderstanding could have serious and severe consequences.

Most conflicts, if not all, begin with some form of misunderstanding. And I do understand how frustrating that is, I get frustrated too when it happens, especially when it involves someone we care about because we expect and want those people to understand us. But I almost never get mad. Getting mad doesn't solve the conflict or bring about a quick, peaceful resolution - it just perpetuates the situation and makes it worse.

I talk it out. I explain where I was coming from, I try to understand where the other person was coming from, and my goal is always to get to a place of mutual understanding. I don’t think everyone does that. I don’t think everyone thinks critically about how they contributed to a situation or what they could have done wrong.

Someone told me once that 80% of the time, anger comes out of fear, but people rarely recognize that. When someone gets mad at me, I wonder what fear could be contributing to that. And when I get mad, I ask myself, “What am I afraid of?” That always helps me see the bigger picture of what’s going on.

My friend, Boy, was out with us for Halloween. His sister was in town so she met up with us too, and while she was dancing, some guy shoved her. He was trying to get through the crowd, she was drunk and probably dancing erratically and blocking his way. She shoved him back, and that started a fight. She wasn't mad, but he was furious. She just kept saying, "It's cool. You pushed me, I pushed back. We're even. Let's dance!"

Which just made him madder. Mad people hate it when you don't get mad too. I think it makes them feel like you don't understand what's going on or that you don't care.

When the guy saw he couldn't get through to her, he turned to Boy and, thinking they were dating, said, "You gotta keep an eye on your woman. You gotta keep the bitch in check." Any brother would get defensive and mad if anyone called his sister a bitch, but Boy just thought the whole situation was ridiculous and laughed it off. "She's my sister. Whatever." The mad guy stormed off.

The Bible says not to let the sun go down on your anger. In a romantic relationship, I take that very literally. With friends and family, I take it to mean that we have to resolve any misunderstanding or conflict quickly and with respect for one another. With strangers, I try to restrain myself from talking to them further and just drop it. Another key to resolving conflicts is recognizing which battles are worth fighting and which are worth dropping.

I had to stop myself from saying anything more to Random Lady. I just sighed to myself and moved on. Thinking about how confusing it is for someone's first reaction to be anger and praying she has a better day.

Leavin' On a Jet Plane...Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again...

I love to travel, but hate flying. But if I wanna hang out with my awesome friends who live far away, I gotta deal with all the crap that goes along with it. I bit the bullet and flew up to DC yesterday for a fabulous Halloween weekend with my favorite people.

While standing in what seemed like the longest security line ever, I spotted a guy trying to cut the line. I hate cutters. Line cutters, that is. You might be more important than me, and you might have a more important place to be, but the fact is you’re still flying coach with the plebes. So chill out and wait like the rest of us suckers.

I kept looking at him, trying to place him because he looked so familiar. He reminded me of someone I’d seen in a movie or TV show, but I just couldn’t figure out who. Then it hit me. Peter Griffin from Family Guy. That's right - the guy with an ass for a chin. He looked exactly like him! A real life Peter. When I realized it, I had to turn my face because I couldn’t contain my grin.

He was supposed to be three people behind me. But he was trying to cut two people in front of me. Ooo ahh, Peter, being in front of five whole people is really gonna make all the difference in your day. I saw others in line noticed he was cutting too and decided to wait and see what happened. The guy he tried to cut in front of eventually moved up quickly so Peter couldn’t cut. The guy in front of me did the same thing, and I followed suit as did the guy behind me. The fifth person was nice or maybe just timid and let Peter cut. I’m sure that was a sweet victory for the lazy bastard.

Before I knew it, I was standing in another line. The line to get on the freaking plane already. I hate the zones. Why do they have zones? As if relegating us to “coach” isn’t enough, they have to place us in another hierarchical order of importance.

And where did “coach” come from anyway? I don’t get it. I’m not a coach. Maybe there was once a Joe the Coach like Joe the Plumber, and he was some kind of everyman all us schmoes were supposed to identify with. Or maybe it just sounded better than "Last Class" or "The Po' Folks Section."

Regardless, I always manage to be in the last possible zone. Zone 7. Which means I’m one of the last to board the plane, which means I’m one of the last to put my stuff in the overhead bins, which means I usually have to move shit around or store my stuff five rows back. Really, though, I’m not bitter.

So I’m standing in line contemplating my inferior place in the world and who I’d have to flash to score a Zone 5 pass. I mean, I’d settle for Zone 5, geez. And I hear an argument behind me. There’s a young married couple with a toddler in a stroller. I hear the woman exclaim, “We’re not sitting together?"

"Uh...I guess."

"You didn’t click sit together? Why didn’t you click sit together?”

“I dunna know, you didn’t tell me to.”

“It’s called common sense!”

At this point, I start to silently chuckle and pray they don’t notice my shoulders bouncing up and down in hysterics. Because sorry, bro, but it is common sense.

“It’s no big deal.”

“It is a big deal. We’re not sitting together. It’s common sense. You should’ve known to click sit together.”

“So we’ll just get someone to switch with us.”

“You. You’ll get someone to switch with you. I can’t believe this.”

I can’t believe this either, lady, I’ve already been amused by some pretty entertaining characters, and I’m not even on the airplane yet. Who needs to pay ten bucks for a tiny bottle of cheap wine when you've got clowns like this around you?

I tried to keep an eye on them once we were on the plane to see if they did switch seats. I couldn’t tell, but I did hear the woman say, “I can’t believe we’re not sitting together.” And sigh loudly. Not sure if that helped their case or not. I do know that was one bumpy ride…