Ignoramus

The airport.  This is a fun place, maybe more fun to me because I haven’t had any drama in my life for the past eight months.  This morning the Chief took me to the airport for my three month trip back to Texas.  After checking my two, very large, very full bags...I head to the line to get through security.  In front of me a little boy is with his dad.  He is asking his dad four hundred and seventy-two questions about flying.  For about two minutes I thought MY little man was in front of me!  After a long pause, enough for me to sigh relief thanking God little man was past the age of questions, he turns to his dad for another round of questioning.  This is how it goes:

Child: Do airplanes have car batteries in them?

Dad: No, only cars have car batteries in them.

Child: So, if it doesn’t have car batteries...we are flying hoping Jesus holds on tight to the plane and doesn’t drop us?

Dad: Thats right, but the planes are also made to fly on their own.

Child: Just in case Jesus is busy?

Dad: Yes.

There is another long pause as the dad is helping the little boy take off his shoes.  

Child: Will I be able to see clouds?

Dad: Yes, really well, if we can get a window seat.

Child: Will I be able to roll down the window?

Dad: No, they don’t let you do that.

Child: Because then Jesus might try and climb in to take a break from carrying us?

Dad: No, you can’t roll it down because it would make it hard to breathe.

Child: Oh.

Another pause.

Child: Why would it be hard to breathe? Does it smell?

At this point he heads through to the other side out of earshot.  The way his little mind was turning was almost...refreshing.

I make my way to my gate.  Walking in front of me is a woman with her two year old...on. a. leash.  I admit, when Little Man was about that age, I too thought that was the greatest invention ever.  I strapped that thing on him, clipped him in, and tried to test it around the house.  He took one look down at the clip across his belly, and you could almost follow his train of thought as his eyes drifted to the long strap behind it.  He promptly sat down and started whaling.  I took a picture of this, the one and only time I put it on him.  

This idea is now very strange to me.  Why would people put their children on a leash, and put their dogs in a stroller?  What is wrong with society?  Think about it for a second.  We have these cupcakes that dress their dogs up in clothes and treat them as if they were children.  Last weekend we were out of town and I watched a dog go by in a stroller.  A STROLLER FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!  Of course this wasn’t some mutt basking in the sun, it was your stupid little yapper dog that never shuts up.  In my opinion, if it weighs less than five pounds, it isn’t a dog, it is however, a long haired rat that thinks it’s a princess.  Look here princess, you are no better than my 95 pound mutt that we call our “special needs” child because she can’t catch a marshmallow if it hit her on the lips.  So here goes by this hairy rat with a tutu on and a ribbon above it’s left ear.  I am thinking to myself, was this owner dropped on her head as a small child?  Does she know that is a dog and not a two-year old child?  Then I thank my lucky stars that my mother isn’t a fruit loop like this retired, obviously extremely bored, and too rich, woman.  So back to society.  We dress our dogs up and push them around in strollers.  Then we put a leash on our toddlers and walk around in public with them.  Let me tell you folks, the cheese is sliding off everyones crackers....

Forty-five minutes later, I am sitting on the plane trying not to make eye contact with anyone.  This is the most stressful part of flying.  I am so fearful that I am going to be stuck between “morbidly obese man”, and “woman with screaming baby”...both making me want to put a screw driver through my left eye ball.  I got lucky.  The plane filled up and I wasn’t stuck with anyone crazy.  We get up in the air...away from escape, and I hear a man snoring.  I bend forward thinking it was the man next to me, and it wasn’t.  I look behind me and there is the criminal.  A man in the middle seat with his mouth hanging open.  I am trying to read a book, and I am not sure why this is making me so irratated.  I was having flashbacks of all the nights that I have laid awake and listened to that same maddening noise.  I had the urge to kick.  The man next to me doesn’t know how lucky he is that he doesn’t have bruises running up and down his legs.  I know he wasn’t the one snoring, but he was the closest one to me.  I want to make it very clear, I am not talking about just a bothersome little rumble.  This fat ass snored for 2 hours straight.  Do you know how loud a plane is?  You of course have the irritating plane hum, then you have the random baby screaming...you may even have talking around you.  The only thing I could hear for 2 hours was this obnoxious snoring.   It was infuriating.  I seriously wanted to hit someone.  I was sitting there, with my eyes reading the same lines on my book over and over again, thinking about how I could possible shut the man up.  Here are some scenarios that came to mind.  

1. Stand up, turn around, and shove a napkin in his mouth.
2. Tear open my bag of pretzels, and throw them one by one at his face.
3. Scream at him to shut up.
4. Ask “woman with screaming baby” to swap places with his neighbor.
5. Tell the flight attendant that he was talking about a bomb earlier, and that he was very suspicious.  
6. Roll up the Air Mall magazine and start pounding him over the head with it.
7. Fill my mouth with soda, shake it around, stand up, turn around, and shower him with love sprinkles (this one probably is a no, because the innocent victims on both sides would also get the soda spray).

As I sat there, pretending to read, my anger stepped up to a top level position.  I wanted to put my hands over my ears and scream.  I love the Chief, but when he snores, it takes everything for me NOT to punch him in the face.  I wanted to strangle this stanger.  Just as I grabbed my pretzel bag and prepared to send them flying (which is a HARD thing for me, because I love Southwest pretzels like Molly loves peanut butter), the ignoramus woke up.  

I took a deep breath, and my heart rate slowed as the plane met the ground.  One flight down, two more to go.  

Graveyards...

I am trying to accept this is the state I live in.  Embrace it.  Find things you love about it.  Lets see...I am close to everything...well thats not the case considering I have to drive 15 minutes to get to a damn grocery store.  Okay, I have lots of friends and family...hmmm, wrong here too.  I not only have no friends, but my husband is staying out later and later every night...probably making friends (bastard).  Okay, there is something good...the food!  No wait, that isn’t possible considering every freaking restaurant is Italian and if I see another noodle or slice of pizza I might just take the pliers and pull my toenails off one by one.  Back to the positive...oh oh I know...I have learned my way around.  Nope, not that either because I CAN’T GO ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY MAGELLAN...not even to that damn grocery store!!!  Okay, this blog has taken a turn for the worse...

Back to the positive.  Something this state has that is wonderful...graveyards.  Recently I have decided to “take to” them.  Some of them are absolutely breathtaking.  I have taken pictures.  Check this one out

So pretty right?  This one is super old.  Many of the tombstones are simply large rocks with nothing written on them.  Look...

Here is another...

And another...

This one is my favorite...

Another Saint Mary's, this one is in Rhode Island...

See the picture above?  I want to know what you do to get a gravestone like that!  Just think of all the money thrown into that shrine, for a dead person!...or family!  Check out the one two above it...so many stories behind this!  Can you imagine, a mother, loosing her baby girl (only a year old), THEN just when you think it doesn't get worse, a few weeks later, she looses her 5 year old son.  Imagine the grief she went through.  She is left with two children.  One, dies only four years later.  Now she is left with only one son, who dies at the age of 22.  What was going on with this family?  How sad is that?!?  To have a gravestone that large, they must have had money, right?  Why couldn't the children be saved?  I wonder what disease robbed this woman of her children.  

Look at this odd graveyard...

So, I wonder what the rocks are for?  There were only 15 gravestones, but each of them had rocks spread across the top of them.  Is it the result of children playing in the graveyard, or does it mean something?  This one definitely left me stumped.  

I will close with this grave stone that I saw in the Saint Mary Cemetery (Rhode Island).

Laying tipped over in front of this stone was a single plant, that was dead.  I was going to move it before I took the picture, and decided I better not.  What a sad stone.  It was alone by itself.  It wasn't in the shadow of an oversized stone, and it wasn't camouflaged in with other stones it's size.  There it sat, alone.    

Did I make the right call?

Yesterday, after begging, pleading, and making promises I didn’t intend on keeping...the Chief agreed to take me to the beach.  My simple argument is, we have lived here for 8 months...we are less than 40 minutes away from a state beach, and 20 minutes away from private beaches...and we haven’t been!  So we packed up for a day at the beach.  I was giddy the whole drive over there!  Seriously, like an Ethiopian child going to the ice cream store. 

We pull up, get out, and unload.  We head to the sandy white spot where I know I will hear the waves and see nothing but water.  We walk up to this:

Guess everyone else had the same idea.  I have never seen so many people in all my life.  After wandering around trying to find a place to settle, we decided on a spot big enough for my towel and the Chiefs chair.  I covered myself with oil (don’t tell the mom), and sprayed the Chiefs pasty white chest with sunscreen and settled down with a book.  As I am reading, I turn to look at the Chief.  Before we left the house, I asked him if he wanted to bring something to read.  Reluctantly, he threw a magazine in my beach bag.  Now, as we lay here, I asked him if he wanted that magazine.  He responds, “I don’t need to read, I have enough entertainment watching all these people.”  He sat there for the full three hours people-watching.  This is something I love about this man.  He doesn’t require my entertainment, in fact I’m pretty sure he probably prefers me to be quiet and reading...so I went back to my reading.  

A few hours in, an older gentleman came and sat down in an empty spot close to us...but closer to 4 teenagers.  He was probably 45ish.  Okay...let’s just cut to the chase here...he gave me the heebie jeebies.  There was something about this man that made my skin crawl. He began talking to one of the male teenagers (16ish).  He was talking to him about VERY adult topics.  He was telling him about his girlfriend that overdosed, and then went on to tell him about a drug bust that involved cocaine.  I am not sure if it was the mom in me or what but there were red flags all over this man.

1. He was at the beach in shorts and a t-shirt. Not a swimsuit. He didn’t take off his shirt.
2. He was eating animal crackers. Seriously? 45 year old bachelor (no wedding ring), eating a kiddie treat?
3. He planted himself next to 4 teenagers.        
4. He digested himself into a lengthly conversation with a 16 year old boy about very adult topics.  
5. He is a pervert.
6. He is a pervert.
7. He is a sick, nasty, pervert.  

So I think I listened to that for about ten minutes before I turned to the Chief and asked if he was hearing this.  The Chief, coming to the beach to do nothing but please me, and look at hot chicks, didn’t want to get involved.  My stomach was literally turning.  My hands started shaking.  When I feel like that, I can’t do anything but think about worst case scenario.  The Chief, seeing the path I was heading towards, asked if I was ready to leave.  We ending up packing and leaving.  

I feel guilty.  In a circumstance like that, do you do something?  I figured I had three choices.

1. Pull the teen aside and tell him to be VERY careful, there was something creepy about the man he was talking to.  
2. Tell the man, loud and clear (making sure all surrounding people heard) that he had no business talking to a teenager about such adult subject matter. 
3. Packing up and leaving. 

I chose, in my opinion, the easy way out.  I still feel guilty about it.  If that were my child he was chatting with, I would hope and pray someone would speak up and tell the creep to find someone else his own age, and leave the kid alone.  Had I not been with the Chief, I would have said something.  I think kids are so naive, and I feel that pedophiles think they are slick and sly.  Maybe the man was completely innocent.  Maybe he had no friends and came to make some kind of connection.  Maybe I have him pegged wrong.  I am a pessimist.  I see the worst before I see the good.  Instead of seeing innocence, I see the crime it can lead to.  I trust no one.  As we were walking away, I was saying a prayer that the child would not give the man any personal information.  

I hate that I see a situation like that and immediately jump to evil.  Maybe that is wrong, but that is this world.  It is full of evil.  I know I can’t save everyone, but I hope and pray I didn’t walk away from something that could have been prevented.