Blog post written late Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010 but sadly not posted until now due to lack of internet connection.
I must look like a threat. A very loud, red-headed threat. Why? Because while everyone else flew through security in Nashville, I was stopped for a pat down. And then? When we went through security at LAX to enter the international airport? I was subjected to a MUCH MORE THOROUGH pat down. The kind where I was offered the choice of a private room. The kind where the term “pat down” is actually a euphemism for “I’m going to slide my hands down your waistband to search for contraband.”
It was awesome.
I passed, of course, because the only contraband I’m packing around my waist is the evidence of my lemon bar addiction.
During the flight to L.A., we watched Dinner for Schmucks. It was a waste of two hours (and this is from the girl who loves Steve Carrell), but it didn’t matter. I was just glad to have the time pass quickly. I’m anxious to get to Hong Kong.
Because we had such a long lay-over in L.A., Clint insisted we go to the Holy Grail of all hamburger eateries: In N Out Burger. Since In N Out Burger is akin to a religious experience for my husband, he knew the location of the closest restaurant. We took a free parking shuttle to a lot next to the restaurant, walked over, and laughed as Clint filmed the restaurant, the menu, the sign, and his food. One day, Johanna will understand her daddy’s obsession and learn to laugh and roll her eyes like I do.
I still contend their fries are nasty.
I can type that here without worrying about incurring the wrath of my husband since he isn’t currently reading over my shoulder.
Now, we’re sitting at our gate, waiting for another hour and a half before we can board the plane, and I’m trying not to think about the fact that I’m about to strap myself into a HUGE metal can and fly across an ocean, a scenario which pits my fear of drowning against my fear of flying and turns me into something resembling a neurotic fool.
Which perhaps explains why I was searched.
One and a half hours. And I’ll be finally, irrevocably, on my way to my daughter’s country. I can’t wait.
P. S. I just let Clint read this and I would like to announce that even though I was an excellent wife who went to In N Out with him, even though I hate their food, my hubby felt the need to tell me that the coming flight is 15 ½ hours and that 15 hours and 24 minutes of that will be OVER AN OCEAN. *nearly throws up* *swallows a Valium*
P.P.S. His life insurance policy is totally up to date.
P.P.P.S. For details on where to send flowers for his memorial service, stay tuned.