I was trolling the Twitter last night and saw that Casey from http://thebookishtype.blogspot.com was having a rough time with a leetle person in the airport. (Btw, if you haven't checked out her blog, you should because she's made of awesome!)
Her experience reminded of an "interesting" one I had a "few" years ago. (That's code for vacation from HELL and before I was married with leetle people myself.)
It's a long and highly entertaining story and if we get the chance to hang out in person, I'll give you a cupcake and tell you every last detail but for the sake of this post, some highlights include:
4 "glorious" days of
~ over priced meals,
~ watered down drinks,
~ a severe case of sun poisoning
~ near death experience taxi rides
~ game time w/the Bahamian Customs Agents where we played "20 Questions"(where we were asked if we where trying to smuggle drugs out of the country using conch shells*?), "Patty Cake" (where they patted us down searching for drugs and weapons - always fun with sun poisoning) and "Needle in a Haystack" (having our clothes dumped out of our suitcases.)
~ and coming home with a kid named "Jeffrey" who attached himself to my leg.
*In case you aren't sure what a conch shell is, they are those purdy swirly shells that let you hear the ocean when you hold them up to your ear. It's best to leave those right there on the beach where you find them. Why? Well, because drug dealers tend to line the inside of those purdy shells with ALL THE BAD THINGS when they're trying to smuggle them out of the country. I found this out the hard way when my friend tried to bring one home as a souvenir. (Drug Dealing 101 right there)
I met "Jeffrey" while waiting in the customs line when he decided I was to be his personal chew toy. He was 4 years old. His name was "Jeff-reeey", I know this because he told me 100 million times! The kid.would.not.shut.up. He also kept.touching.me. (Btw, touching someone who vaguely resembles a human lobster is never a good thing. EVER.) His mother, however, found the whole situation "cute". Really?! I guess she was just happy someone besides herself was occupied with him. (I kept thinking, now I know how Bill Cosby felt.)
After our lovely game time with the BCAs we ran out to catch our plane which was now delayed because of us. We had to take whatever seats were left as our assigned ones were given to other passengers. All I wanted to do was take a nap but I guess my nerves weren't shot enough already because I no sooner clicked my seat belt when I felt something grab my foot. (again with the touching) I looked up and was met with two eyes peeking at me between the seats....Sugar.Honey.Iced.Tea.
Over the next hour I was tormented by "Jeffrey". Jeffrey who bounces the seat into my knees, Jeffrey who sloshes soda all over me (because my tray table is bouncing all over the place) and Jeffrey keeps.touching.me.in some way, shape or form. I ask Jeffrey nicely to please sit down, Jeffrey turn around, Jeffrey stop bouncing, Jeffrey stop poking, Jeffrey please stop touching me, Jeffrey stop, stoP, stOP, sTOP, STOP! The whole time the mother does NOTHING!
Finally, when I have had ENOUGH, I reach up and grab his seat with both hands (to hold it still) and I lean my face up so now I am the one peaking between his seat (and his mothers) and I growl, loud enough for the two of them to hear (but not enough to draw attention from anyone else)..."Jeffrey, if you don't turn around right now and leave.me.alone, I promise, I.will.kill.you!"
I got my nap.
Am I proud of this? No. (OK, so at the time? Yeah, I totally was.) Did it get the job done? Yes, yes it did.
Irony = when we arrived at our home airport, I rushed off to use the restroom and when I walked out Jeffrey, came running over, wrapped himself around my leg and started crying his eyes out. ?!?! His mother walked up, pried him off my leg and told him to say his goodbyes.
The relative who picked us up, laughed at me and asked if Jeffrey was a guy I'd picked up on vacation? 0_0
Her experience reminded of an "interesting" one I had a "few" years ago. (That's code for vacation from HELL and before I was married with leetle people myself.)
It's a long and highly entertaining story and if we get the chance to hang out in person, I'll give you a cupcake and tell you every last detail but for the sake of this post, some highlights include:
4 "glorious" days of
~ over priced meals,
~ watered down drinks,
~ a severe case of sun poisoning
~ near death experience taxi rides
~ game time w/the Bahamian Customs Agents where we played "20 Questions"(where we were asked if we where trying to smuggle drugs out of the country using conch shells*?), "Patty Cake" (where they patted us down searching for drugs and weapons - always fun with sun poisoning) and "Needle in a Haystack" (having our clothes dumped out of our suitcases.)
~ and coming home with a kid named "Jeffrey" who attached himself to my leg.
*In case you aren't sure what a conch shell is, they are those purdy swirly shells that let you hear the ocean when you hold them up to your ear. It's best to leave those right there on the beach where you find them. Why? Well, because drug dealers tend to line the inside of those purdy shells with ALL THE BAD THINGS when they're trying to smuggle them out of the country. I found this out the hard way when my friend tried to bring one home as a souvenir. (Drug Dealing 101 right there)
I met "Jeffrey" while waiting in the customs line when he decided I was to be his personal chew toy. He was 4 years old. His name was "Jeff-reeey", I know this because he told me 100 million times! The kid.would.not.shut.up. He also kept.touching.me. (Btw, touching someone who vaguely resembles a human lobster is never a good thing. EVER.) His mother, however, found the whole situation "cute". Really?! I guess she was just happy someone besides herself was occupied with him. (I kept thinking, now I know how Bill Cosby felt.)
After our lovely game time with the BCAs we ran out to catch our plane which was now delayed because of us. We had to take whatever seats were left as our assigned ones were given to other passengers. All I wanted to do was take a nap but I guess my nerves weren't shot enough already because I no sooner clicked my seat belt when I felt something grab my foot. (again with the touching) I looked up and was met with two eyes peeking at me between the seats....Sugar.Honey.Iced.Tea.
Over the next hour I was tormented by "Jeffrey". Jeffrey who bounces the seat into my knees, Jeffrey who sloshes soda all over me (because my tray table is bouncing all over the place) and Jeffrey keeps.touching.me.in some way, shape or form. I ask Jeffrey nicely to please sit down, Jeffrey turn around, Jeffrey stop bouncing, Jeffrey stop poking, Jeffrey please stop touching me, Jeffrey stop, stoP, stOP, sTOP, STOP! The whole time the mother does NOTHING!
Finally, when I have had ENOUGH, I reach up and grab his seat with both hands (to hold it still) and I lean my face up so now I am the one peaking between his seat (and his mothers) and I growl, loud enough for the two of them to hear (but not enough to draw attention from anyone else)..."Jeffrey, if you don't turn around right now and leave.me.alone, I promise, I.will.kill.you!"
I got my nap.
Am I proud of this? No. (OK, so at the time? Yeah, I totally was.) Did it get the job done? Yes, yes it did.
Irony = when we arrived at our home airport, I rushed off to use the restroom and when I walked out Jeffrey, came running over, wrapped himself around my leg and started crying his eyes out. ?!?! His mother walked up, pried him off my leg and told him to say his goodbyes.
The relative who picked us up, laughed at me and asked if Jeffrey was a guy I'd picked up on vacation? 0_0
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