Getting to New Orleans

For random blog fodder, I took notes during my adventure to get to New Orleans. This is what the notes combined to form. Enjoy the ramblings.

The Wednesday before heading to New Orleans I got everything packed and ready. Early, I know, but I also know that I forget things. The extra day should have given me plenty of time to remember the stuff I forgot to pack. At least that’s my logic.

That worked pretty well as I was able to remember at least a dozen things before Thursday night. I had a 3:40AM alarm with all my stuff by the door, including clothes and toothbrush, so I could literally roll out of bed and out the door to go pick up Christina and get to Westchester County Airport for our 6AM flight to New Orleans via Charlotte. Here is how all that panned out.

9:30PM: I crawled into bed to try to sleep. By some miracle, I did.

10:30PM: I was awoken by the end of Mind of a Chef. Mr. Frosting had fallen asleep while watching it. I scrounged for the remote and turned off the TV to try to fall asleep again.

11:30PM: I was awoken by the sound of Xs door opening. Then a splashing followed by a gaggy sound. He was puking. Went into the bathroom to see that he had not puked in the toilet.

Me- Where did you throw up?

X- I don’t know.

Me- Did you throw up?

X- I don’t know.

Me- Well this has been a productive discussion. Go stand next to the potty.

I started to head back toward his room to find the puke trail. And then I stepped in it. He had thrown up in the doorway- thankfully on the tile.  I woke up Mr. Frosting up so he could help me out. X was kind of in a stupor and upset and I didn’t want to wrangle him and try to clean up the vom. So while I cleaned him up,  the hubby cleaned the floor. I tucked X back in and then tucked me back in.

12:30AM: I had almost fallen asleep when I was snapped back out of it by X’s door opening again. “I threw up in my bed.” Great. Mr. Frosting was kind enough to go handle it so I could sleep and maybe not further expose myself to whatever pathogen was wreaking havoc on my kid.

2:30AM: I woke up again. Because why not? It’s not like I had to drive an hour to somewhere I’m not familiar with in a few short hours.

3:18AM: I woke up 22 minutes ahead of alarm. Oh well. Let’s get this show on the road.

On the 6AM flight to Charlotte, there was a priest sitting behind me. Actually, I found out that he was a bishop. He wouldn’t shut up talking to an elderly black woman. She was apparently heading to Charlotte for her dear cousin’s funeral. I had to hear all about the churches that she goes to and where he preaches and how god told him to buy gifts for all the mothers in his congregation on Mother’s Day. I was trying my damnedest to just read my book (I was finishing up Terry Pratchett’s The Color of Magic for the umpteenth time) but dude just had one of those voices that you can’t help but hearing. Side effect of being a preacher man? I dunno. He drove me more than a little batty, especially when he began asking the holy spirit to raise the wings when we started hitting some turbulence. (For the record: it didn’t work.)

To make matters more annoying, the dude sitting next to me was blaring Nickelback from his iPhone loud enough for me to hear. Note to self: Ear plugs.

After what felt like the longest flight in history, we landed in Charlotte and I was able to get some food and coffee in my system. Huzzah for the Starbucks barista!

Charlotte to New Orleans was pretty much standard. I had finished the Pratchett novel and picked up Jonathan Maberry’s Fall of Night- a zombie novel in which a pathogen was engineered to torture murderers and rapists but accidentally made zombies instead. My brain took that and ran with it to drive me to think about Guillermo Del Toro’s The Strain in which there is an infestation of parasite-spread vampirism. The outbreak comes to New York via an airplane.  I hadn’t been on a plane since reading this book. I was very tempted to double check with the flight crew as to whether or not there were any large, unexplained boxes of dirt that may or may not contain the slumbering body of the vampire Master.

Pardon me, but are you sure there isn’t one of these under the plane?


Given the heightened flight security in this post-9/11 world, I thought that might cause a bit of a panic. Or cause me to be duct taped to a seat in the back of the plane. I kept my paranoia to myself.

We landed safely in New Orleans and, as far as I know, vampire-free.

End of ramble.

Oh, and for the record, I wrote this while home sick with whatever stomach flu thing that X had. Whoopee!