OMG! The Pioneers would totally lose their minds if they knew that today, not only are travelers able to traverse the country in a single day, but that feat is accomplished by flying n a giant metal ‘n’ plastic machine, and one can also use a computer in the air! This is the Ukulady’s first time utilizing Tallulah Petunia Mackulele aloft. Some pre-NYC traveling observations:
1. It is not the wisest choice to request a ride to the airport from a Stoner. Time has no meaning for them, aside from 4:20. I know this because in my youth I was a stoner. Highlights from those years include smoking pot all over Europe; sub-highlight of that highlight, was puffing from an orange Fanta can at Jim Morrison’s Paris grave, where my pals and I gleefully spotted nearby graffiti declaring, “Smoke Pot!”; smoking dirt which had desperately been scoured from a carpet where the bowl had fallen, and as we were either too desperate or too high to discern or care about the difference between the cheap Boston schwag we smoked and actual dirt, so the bowl was repacked; and being caught in the dorms smoking pot senior year in college, by the junior-year RA. Alongside me was Former-Comedy-Partner and Best-Gay-Friend-From-Chicago. FCP was, at the time of Caught! an employee of the college and amazingly, not fired. BGFFC was hit with a hefty fine hours before graduation, which, unless the hefty fine was paid asap, he would be uninvited to graduate from college, potentially robbing his family, who had traveled from California to witness the event, of the inevitable joy and pride the commencement ceremony evokes. He paid the fine. I was sent to Emerson College Drug rehab, where I was the lone senior amongst freshman and we were asked to complete time-wasting tasks, such as listing all the words for being stoned.
So my stoner airport ride was late, but made up for it, by driving me all the way to LAX, rather than the flyaway bus stop. Stoner-Ride’s dashboard displayed healing herbs (not pot) and a half-smoked spliff lay in that little pouchy-scoopy thing under the ashtray – that resty thingy that in my car, holds an old mix tape from my ex ex ex and an aromatherapy squirty bottle from my Current Crush.
2. Once through security at LAX, I made a beeline to the airport lit corner to find out what’s going on with Brittney! Instead of Brittney, People and In Touch, both renown celebrity trash rags, featured cover stories on Prince William’s breakup and Virginia Tech. It’s says a lot about our culture that Prince William’s breakup and the Virginia Tech senselessness, tragedy, loss-for-words-to-describe-the vast and varied emotions-brought-on-from-it, share a magazine cover. I guess Brittney’s laying low.
3. LAX has superior people watching! I can’t wait to get to Houston though, where I’ll really have a lot to say! Already, my flight to Houston carries people in cowboy hats and thick accents and the heavily-twanged couple across the aisle from me are drinking his ‘n’ hers Bud Lights at 11am. Who does that besides rednecks, all-night-gamblers or circuit-party-goers? No, circuit-party boys do E and drink Red Bull. It is in airports where I feel the most repulsively smugly-superior; clutching my New Yorker, as I expertly make my way through the throngs of less-experienced travelers. I’m such a schmuck, judging others on their romance-novel reading-material and lack of familiarity with the new travel rules and regulations. I’m a total judegmental snob, but like Anne Frank, I ultimately do believe everyone is good at heart. What a fucking hippie thing to say. I played Anne once, so I feel I can quote her, as I embodied her for an exhausting 3 months. It was a highly successful run and the final performance I went onstage with a fever of 104, and subsequently went to the hospital afterwards, suffering from a friggin kidney infection.
Love The Ukulady
PS: Time to read up on the cultural events on NYC that I simply cannot miss! NYC makes me feel like Eloise, my first NYC fantasy!
PPS: I even put a rubber band around my nose once, to be just like Eloise, and the tip of my nose was literally purple for a week. Ahhh, childhood….