If it’s Monday, I must be home. Right?

I’m finally back in my batcave…where I can snorf and growl to my little heart’s content. Last weekend I was in Seattle attending the always fabulous PNWA, then I whupped home where The Daughter and I drove down to the desert to spend some time with my folks before she leaves for Boston to attend grad school. Then we whupped home so I could repack and leave for Oregon to attend another conference this past weekend.

And yes, I got the feely-uppy treatment that only a TSA worker can provide whenever I ding the metal detector. Damned bionic hip.

No trip would be complete without an embarrassing moment. Flying home yesterday morning, I was opening a yogurt at 35,000 feet. Now, I realize opening anything at 35,000 feet has its risks, which is why I pointed the business end of the yogurt away from me. What I failed to appreciate (and one can forgive me for being exhausted and getting up at the insane hour of 3:30 a.m.) is that my point-of-yogurt ejection was aimed at my seatmate in 6B.

Not completely without my wits, I tried putting a napkin over the yogurt so it wouldn’t blow. But at the last minute, the napkin fell off just as I pulled back the foil cover and peach yogurt blorked all over my seatmate who, thank the Cosmic Muffin, was sound asleep. I gasped in horror and wondered if I should reach over and wipe the yogurt off her sweatshirt. But I’d wake her up and she’d see me dabbing at her sleeve and wonder what the h-e-double hockey sticks I was doing tossing my breakfast all over her.

So instead of doing the right thing – the thing my mother would have told me to do – I sat there with a fist shoved down my throat in order to stifle the guffaw that threatened to erupt. I ended up doing the only sensible thing I could think of (remember, I’m overly tired), and went to sleep. And left the yogurt (hers and mine) uneaten. It tasted terrible.

I realize that God isn’t smiling at me right now and is contemplating some kind of appropriate karmic lesson that will teach me some humility and manners.

So while I await my heavenly penance, I’m going to take a nice long nap today and will blog tomorrow about all the interesting discussions and questions that are rolling around authors’, editors’, and agents’ minds.

G’night. And if anyone is thinking of eating yogurt, direct your aim accordingly.

8 Responses to If it’s Monday, I must be home. Right?

  1. NinjaFingers says:

    I’m glad I wasn’t sitting next to you!

    I just got back from Europe and my flight back was a me-sandwich between Mr I’m-Going-To-Recline-My-Seat-Right-Back-On-A-Daytime-Flight and Ms I’m-Going-To-Kick-The-Seat-In-Front-Constantly-And-Occasionally-Stretch-By-Thrusting-My-Knee-All-The-Way-Onto-The-Armrest-In-Front.

    Could have been worse. Only one of the toddlers across the aisle screamed constantly…when he wasn’t running laps of the plane.

  2. Frank Mazur says:

    If she discovers who “yogurted” her, she’ll be sure to query (she must have something she’s written)… and then what will you do???

  3. I had a kid across the aisle from me who had ants in his pants the whole trip home. I considered it my absolution for blorking my seatmate.

    Frank asked:what I’d do if she queried me. Why, deny it all and feign righteous indignation, of course. Isn’t that what evil editors do?

  4. Saronai says:

    The beagle’s not the only one amused. Thanks for the story, it made me giggle and smile. So…because I’m amused, I’ll probably share the same karmic end.

    Oh great.

  5. Just really hysterically funny!

  6. tbrosz says:

    Easiest answer to your yogurt problem: when the seatmate wakes up and notices it, point to the kid across the aisle. Be sure to hide your container first.

  7. Pretty hard to manage considering she was sitting in the middle seat.

  8. tbrosz says:

    My kids could have managed it when they were smaller. Heck, my kids could probably have managed to make a mess in the pilot’s cabin even behind that locked door.

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