Cheez-its, anyone?

I had a great time visiting friends out in California, dipping my toes in the adored ocean, searching the desires of my heart, talking to school officials, praying for direction, and fortunately rounding the whole thing out with a lot of Christmas food and laughter.

The most unforgettable part of the trip, however, was the first leg home. I had to stop in Las Vegas and have a short layover, where I thought I'd spend one single quarter at the 25 cents slot machines, and see where it got me. What a story it would be if I won money; no loss if I didn't.

I flew Southwest, which has always had a system of group seating rather than specified seats, giving you an "A, B, or C" on your ticket, and you board and pick a seat at the time your group is called. Now, to make things a little more organized, they've added a numerical, secondary order, so you'll get a "A 38", "C 19" or so on to keep those people (you know who they are) from rushing the gate as though it's the running of the bulls in Pamploma. Clearly, the addition of the numbers isn't hard, though it is only about a month old. Well, the boarding attendent must have either thought that we were all incapable of catching onto this new system, or were trying out for boot camp, as he gave us 5 straight minutes of instructions that took over the lovely "Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas" with a: "GOOD AFTERNOON, AND THANK YOU FOR FLYING SOUTHWEST. WE HAVE A NEW, I REPEAT, NEW BOARDING ARRANGEMENT, SO PLEASE LISTEN CAREFULLY AS TO THESE RULES SO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING. YOU WILL SEE ON YOUR TICKET....(five minutes pass...) IF YOU ARE NOT IN GROUP A, AND ARE IN GROUPS B or C, THEN PLEASE, SIT DOWN AND RELAX (he's kidding, right? i can't relax anymore with this five minute bombardment to my sanity) UNTIL YOUR LETTER AND NUMERICAL GROUP IS CALLED. I REPEAT, GET TO KNOW YOUR NEIGHBOR AND MAKE SURE THAT YOU KNOW YOU ARE IN CORRECT NUMERICAL ORDER!!!!"


Finally, after getting in proper, perfect, numerical order, I got on the plane. I saw the two little ladies that I could have chosen to squeeze between, but opted for the still empty rows in the back. As I sat down in the aisle seat, eyes peering up at the strangers who shuffle by, I wondered as to who will be my seatmates for the next hour and a half. Suddenly, two guys appear: one clean cut (a little older than me), one with long hair which a nervous twitch keeps out of his eyes, with chest adorned with solidly studded leather jacket (roughly my age).

"DUDE. BRO. Wherever you're sitting, I'm sitting. I hate flying." says Mr. Leather Jacket.
"Ok, bro."
Leaning over to me, Mr. Leather Jacket says with vodka breathe, "Hey, there, sweetheart, you traveling alone?"
"Sure am. You can have a seat here." I answered ever so calmly, yet still reeling with the effect he had on my olfactory senses.

So, Mr. Leather Jacket sits next to the window, and Mr. Clean Cut sits as a buffer between us. It turned out to be an extensively entertaining ride...Turns out that Leather Jacket man is in a Thrash metal rock band, with the stage name of "Cheeze," telling all about his fears of flying, his desires for Cheezits someday...(that's right, he meant kids), the fact that the 400 metal studs on his chest only cost 9 dollars, and need for gin from the stewardess. When I asked him how he got through security with that much metal, he told me, "Dude...bro...this is my ARMOR. You can't leave home without your armor!" After partaking in an abundance of congratulatory or agreeing fist pumps and being called a "bro" or "dude" more than I care to every be called again, I found he was totally fun to be around, and completely harmless in his own right. Both Mr. Clean Cut and myself promised to go to his concerts...if they ever make it to our states. Good luck.

Turns out Mr. Clean Cut was a home mortgage guy. ("Hey, at least he's completely typical," I think.) "And, I'm also a professional poker player. Won 117K in 2005 at the Bellagio Invitational." (His appearances of complete normalcy fell apart in my eyes.)

He did have an uncanny ability, however, to read me. He knew that Cheeze didn't really intimidate me. He knew I'd been flying for a long time and wasn't afraid of it at all. He told me "I'm not intelligent like you." and was an all-around nice guy.

And he said I had a good poker face. Now I just need learn how to play.




Oh, and that 25 cent slot machine? It only took bills. Figures. I didn't play at all. :)