Freshly Hoosiered

Spent 6 days in Indiana with the folks. Oh, how I needed it: to escape the annoying city I now know as "Northern Mexico" and dwell for a few days in a town barely two miles from one end to the other, where almost all the inhabitants speak English. Or at least a backwoods/inbred "I seen him downta the Dairy Queen" version of it.

I made an incredibly stupid mistake when booking my travel. A couple months back, I chose a random time to go see my family. Hmmm. Early February. I'll leave on a Monday, since Scott is off that day, and can more easily take me to the airport.

The random Monday I chose? It just happened to be the day after the Super Bowl (held in Phoenix) and the day after the FBR Open golf tournament (held in Phoenix) ended.

When I got to the airport, the crowd was impossible to believe. Like a combination of Christmas travel, Russian bread lines, and "A Missile is Headed for Phoenix Tomorrow, Get Out Now or Fry Like a Slab of Bologna at Graceland" crowds.

Normally when I fly out of here, there are maybe 40 or 50 people in line ahead of me to check their luggage and get their boarding passes. On post-Super Bowl Monday there were approximately 600 people in line when I got to the Southwest counter. I, along with the other pathetic fools, was herded all the way to the other end of the terminal, then guided outside the terminal to stand in a line a full block long. Everyone was freaking out. Hard. And so was I. Would I make my flight? Would there be fistfights? Would I go insane before I even got inside the terminal? Would I get into trouble with a TSA person like I did that time in Fort Myers?

I stood pondering my level of stupidity, trying to rank my stupid decisions in order of their heinousness. Where, for example, did choosing this day to travel rank in comparison to handing over the shit-bomb concoction to Mrs. Fossilfuel? And where would that decision rank on my lifelong scorecard of stupidity? Where does my transforming Mrs. Fossilfuel into a rectal pinata rank against, say, my poor choice of a prom date?

Examining one's own history of stupidity does make the time pass. Fortunately, Southwest Airlines showed themselves to be efficient. There were a dozen Southwest employees moving the line along, shouting instructions, busting people who were trying to cut in line. One woman's job was to stand and loudly repeat this: "If you have a Super Bowl program inside your luggage, please take it out and carry it onto the aircraft with you. Do Not Put Your Super Bowl Program Into Your Checked Bag!" When the guy in front of me asked her the reason for this, she claimed that the programs somehow would set off the X-ray machine. No one believed her. What she really meant was "If you're stupid enough to check that program, it will be stolen by baggage handlers and sold on Ebay before your buttcheeks warm up your seat in economy." After her announcement there were so many men fumbling with so many zippers, it sounded like "roofie" night at the Kennedy Smith beach-house.

In only 40 minutes I had checked my bag and was on my way to the security check-in. The line there was just as scary, and dispersed with just as matter-of-factly, this time by, dare I say it? FRIENDLY, well-trained security people. Unbelieveable. Miraculous. I was going to make my flight. Hallelujah!

Except for this: half the flights were cancelled because of the ghoulish fog in Chicago. Mine was delayed by 90 minutes, but not because of fog. I was told at the gate that "around 300 private Lear jets are trying to leave the airport" and us poor-ass fokes would have to wait our turn.

I can't believe it did not occur to me to take my Lear jet to Indiana. Another stupid decision I will need to rank.