At least I fit in a[n airplane] seat (Vegas, Saturday and early Sunday)

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Spring Break '07

It is surreal to go outside and breathe sex. I have friends that are in Mexico building churches and showing themselves what they take for granted. I am lounging in an awkward hotel chair in the filthiest town in the United States: Las Vegas. Spectacular.

[Hysterical] Saturday:
So I'm at Aaron's birthday party, just back from getting WinCo with Monsters in my front pocket and I already have to be home for the plane that's three hours from leaving. Granted, I'm not complaining, just painting the picture.

I get home in the nick of time after skidding my bike on the edge of my street and sweated my way home. My parents, my sister and I get to the airport and we go eat dinner, which couldn't have possibly have happened at another time. We finally get up from the mediocore table of empty plates and biting truths and find a departing plane with few passengers missing. We were almost late.
When my mom was awake, I undid my foodrest and seatbelt when the Stewardess walked by. She was rude, and there for garnered no respect. I just wanted to piss her off. Mostly, though I sat on the quick trip across Badlands and ugly, dark landscapes that reminded me of Sim City and listened to my parents snoring. I had a great time.


We get off the plane and wait for almost two hours to get our stuff. That sounds aggravating and tedious, but I'm an optimist. I flirted with strangers and made jokes about people who visibly couldn't fit through doors. It's coming close to Midnight

But who knows my Dad? He is an Aggravation-Specialist. He likes to be angry and he likes to yell at inanimate objects. He wanted to kill the Alaska Airlines. This was strike one.

We go out and rent a car from some POS company that is filing bankruptcy as we speak. They argued, in his eyes, for an hour about what car he needed. My mom, my sister and I just cracked jokes outside. Strike Two.
The last step was the travel to the B-hotel. My dad is driving an unfamiliar car at one in the morning at the very start of Spring Break. How do we get from point A to B? DUH, TAKE THE STREET WITH THE MOST WANDERING, DRUNK COLLEGE STUDENTS IN THE ENTIRE CITY! (Strike 3, 4 and 5)

Here's the funniest part: We get to the hotel and there is only one room booked. My dad is quite possibly the angriest and most belligerent he's ever been. He raved and ranted as loud as he could at two in the morning.
(During this entire time, I keep making my sister aware that I had already called the floorspace adjacent to the bathroom for a bed. She laughed and laughed)

The fifth time we went to the lobby of the Best Western Mardi Gras, he realized that he booked the other room under my married sister's last name.
Strike 9. Game Over.
I went to sleep at 2:30 with a smile on my face. Whoooooo!! Yeah.