Friday, August 04, 2006

Blessed in Beverly Hills.

Sunday, July 30th
The reservation peops ordered me a car for 1 pm. My flight left at 4:45 pm. I live 7 miles from the airport-you do the math. I called the dispatch at noon to ask for a time change to 3:00 pm. We compromised at 1:30. Great. The driver (luckily) was running a little late, so he got to my house around 1:32. I forgot to purchase Gas-x ahead of time (my prevent-jet-lage cocktail), so I had the driver stop by the drugstore...this also bought me some more time.

I decided that I better load up on cash at the ATM next door, so I made a second stop. I inserted my card into the machine and all of a sudden this message appeared: THIS ATM IS TEMPORARILY UNAVAILABLE. DON'T WORRY, A REPAIR TEAM IS ON THE WAY (or something like that). I, of course, immediately had a vision of this repair team swooping in like a NASCAR team, popping open the ATM and handing me my card with a smile, and then realized the reality of my situation. I was going to have to bail on my good friend-my ever-faithful WAMU mastercard gold debit card.

And who do you call in this situation? Your honey of course. He cancelled the card and met me back at the apartment with a few 20's and then I was on my way. The entire 14-minute drive to the airport I was on the phone with the bank answering security questions (a few of which I got wrong, oops) and ordering a new card. The driver pulled into the Jetblue terminal at 2:08. With no bags to check, and a non-existent security line, I wasn't sure I was going to make my 4:45 flight.

When I first got to the jetblue terminal, I felt so weird without my posse, that I found myself seeking out a psuedo-posse. I met two French babies (6 weeks and 6 months old), a 16-month-old with an Elmo tee shirt name Nicholas, a toddler in a Maclaran stroller sucking a lollipop, of which I jokinly asked to have a lick (no response), and a darling baby, 14 months old, name Vivian. As if that weren't enough, I then decided to call my good friend E-dawg to discuss the past 6 days of her being a first-time mother. 45 minutes later, I was acclamated to being alone.

I bought a strawberry yogurt smoothie and settled into my book. The time flew by. Before I knew it, we had boarded the plane and were off. I sat next to a mother an daugther team originally from the Chicago burbs (like me), currently living in LA, who had enjoyed a girls weekend in NYC. I bartered my middle seat for the mom's window seat. She pulled out the August issue of Real Simple, and I couldn't resist, I showed her page 127. She had me autograph the Tide ad. So funny. They gave me the hard sell on LA. Still not buying it though.

The 5-hour flight was the fastest I have ever taken. It was heaven. I had a rotation: read book, magazine, browse tv, go to the bathroom. I think I made it through 2 full cycles of this, and I even got to watch The 4400. That show is so ridiculous, but apparently I am now a sucker for sci-fi.

As the flight approached it's descent, I started hoping I would see someone with my name on a sign, to give me a ride to the hotel, and sure enough, there was Charlie with K. Glass on his little paper. He drove me from Burbank to Beverly Hills in a stretch limo. Swanky. I chatted with my mom on the way and then arrived at the Four Seasons. I checked in, and apparantly no one had agreed to pay for this siesta yet, so I had to put my credit card on file (the only one I had left since the ATM ate my other one). I took the elevator and walked into Suite 503. The bose speakers were playing beautiful classical music and I saw the palm trees out my balcony and felt lonely. I wished I had a warm body in my bed to keep me company. I realized in that moment that I did miss my posse, and I wished I could share it with them. I also felt enormous amounts of joy, that it brings a little tear to my eye. I am so blessed.


Anonymous said...

Just found you on the INet. You're definitely the diva. What did your sweet darlings eat at home?


Kage said...

anon, I believe there were a lot of hotdogs consumed....I have proof in a photo that one was doused in peanut butter...and my baby's poop was more clogged then it has EVER been, also proof.