Arriving Departed.

Part III: "Oh, we have 12 vacancies. 12 cabins, 12 vacancies."-Norman Bates.

Well, after the free beer was passed around, everyone on the plane got trashed and we all joined in and sang kumbaya and shared a bag of pretzels. It was very reminiscent of the elevator scene in "You've Got Mail" or any of the movies where people don't know each other but are forced together because of situations out of their control and then they bond and I stopped recording the events on my vomit bag.

And then we landed.

I had totally forgotten why I was even on a plane at this point. I hadn't had anything to eat since a handful of greasy hash browns circa three a.m. , the beer had kicked in and Mash and I were just so ready to get out that we didn't give a fuck if we were about to be dropped off in the middle of the Sahara, left to wander the desert with nowhere to plug in our hot rollers.

Obviously, I flipped out a little.

I guess, to be fair, it was more like I turned the switch from "normal and slightly drunk girl on a plane" to "militant". I was not getting off. Sorry folks, party's over. I WANT TO GO HOME.

Unfortunately for me, Mash had made friends with the Marine sitting behind us (later I discovered that everyone in Jacksonville is a Marine ,so it wasn't that weird that Ashley and I were the only a)women on the plane and b) non-marines on the plane) and she un-buckled my seat belt and grabbed my carry on while he said, "I'm sorry I have to do this, but your friend asked me to and she's hot". He then proceeded to PRY MY ASS OUT OF THE SEAT AND SHOVE ME TO THE DOOR.

In retrospect, Mash did me a favor because I would later find out that a bet was made that I would be the last person off of the plane. I wasn't.... So this made me look more excited and less terrified (which wasn't the case).

SO, there I am. Off the plane. Standing on the runway, in the rain, like an idiot, while Mash gets the phone number of the dude that man-handled me off the plane "in case we need something later" ...riiiiighht. I look over to the terminal and see the reflection of myself in the mirrored windows. That would be the first of many times during the trip that I actually thought "Oh, good grief, I feel sorry for HIM." I looked exactly like someone who had slept for two hours, been up since three, laid on the floor of an airport for seven hours, and had six beers in twenty minutes.

Mash walked up and we had no choice but to go inside.

I know this sounds weird, but I don't really remember too much about meeting him and getting the luggage and getting into the car. I guess total panic had set in and so it is all very fuzzy. I DO remember him walking up to me and trying to give me a hug but he was using both hands and I was going to do the whole one-arm-hug thing and it was really awkward.

So, we left the airport and headed to THE BATES MOTEL (Attn: Marcy. see Psycho for reference). On a scale of one to ten on the "nice hotel" rank (one being the lowest) this wasn't a decimal over a 2. We were running so late that I DID NOT GET TO TAKE A SHOWER. Can you EVEN imagine how disgusting I was at this point? I washed my face and fixed my hair and make-up and dumped about a third of my perfume bottle all over my body. Then I started chain smoking.

And that's where I'll leave you.

*up next: The ball. Yup.