Curse Of The Pelosi

My poor husband.

In addition to dealing with all of my maladies, such as neurosis, dementia, pre-menopause, and general flakiness, the man is charged with supporting me in the life style that I have decided to become accustomed to. I am very high maintenance and absolutely refuse to eat generic mac and cheese or store-brand ketchup. I feel personally responsible to keep Teresa Heinz in the life style she has chosen for herself, which apparently involves mail-order Senators and mac and cheese prepared by a workforce of twenty-seven chefs.

Traveling is a large part of his position, and one thing that nationwide travel is teaching him is that people like us, in general, are loony tunes. Last week, he had the privilege to visit San Francisco. Now I was worried about him traveling there because I was certain that Nancy Pelosi had placed travel restrictions on folks from the fly-over states. I have also heard that conservatives have been known to spontaneously combust within the city limits on multiple occasions. Alas, the worry was for naught and the business was good. He had a great meeting and wonderful seafood. Who does not love a meal that appears with a mallet in order to whack- a-mole the crab before consumption?

 I fear Nancy Pelosi placed a curse on him because the trip home was absolutely hateful. It is not nice to laugh at his pain, but we will.

The day went something like this, from his point of view, my voice…

8:45 a.m. On the plane, ready for takeoff, sitting between two tiny, older ladies from India in the last row of coach.  Grateful to not have any human spillover in my lap for a three hour flight. This departure will be a piece of cake.

8:50 a.m.  Bad gas…it that me or one of the nice old ladies? Would prefer that it was, but fear that it is not me. Why is the plane not leaving?

8:55 a.m. That was not my gas, smells like curry; I have not had any curry. Now that was a belch. Definitely not me. Pilot apologizes for delay, plane is broken. Text wife that plane is broken, just to cause needless worry.

9:00 a.m.  How does gas find itself on a perfect five-minute deployment schedule, alternating ends without fail?  Send wife silly reasons that plane is broken as she will believe anything and it will humor me.

9:05 a.m. Truly remarkable feat of the human digestive system. Incredibly accurate, there is a science paper to be written here.  Every five minutes…

11:10 a.m. Breathing through mouth for hour and a half, still have not departed….may vomit as I actually taste curry…at least close to tiny restroom.

11:15 a.m. One old lady residing in tiny restroom. Losing humor…text wife that gas cap was left off plane.

8:15 p.m. Finally off plane, standing in line for hotel voucher as all connections were missed. A sneaky man seems to think he can cut the line….Apparently his trip to Germany is more important than where we are all going…..wife auditory witnesses of verbal fist fight with German…I am sailing high on curry gas, love of airline courtesy, and jet lag.

10:20 a.m. (Next day) finally home. The Indian lady with gas is flying high above Dubai, German dude, publicly humiliated, still in Chicago, and I am exhausted listening to an earful from the wife about why it is NOT funny to tell her that the gear shift knob is broken on your airplane.

Curse you back Nancy Pelosi, curse… you… back.