Economy class

There are a lot of ways I am tough. I can navigate foreign languages, entertain a room of 8th graders, and I make a mean salsa. This all happens when my basic needs of food, water and sleep have been met. But catch me after a bad night's night's sleep or too long between meals and I'm a cranky, whiny pile of goo. I realize this makes me unfit for battle, long desert treks, Antarctic exploration and probably motherhood. It also doesn't help in international travel.

I am in Chicagoland right now. That's right - the USA, land of SUVs, high fructose corn syrup and freedom. I was lured here by frequent flyer miles and these cunning characters:

My defenses were already down as I started the trip with a cold I'd caught from those snot-nosed kids at summer camp. This caused my ears to pop during takeoff and me to be generally whiny and snot-nosed also (I have only been really sick once on an airplane, after an Italian food poisoning incident. I was wearing my yellow rain boots and let's just say they came in handy). I traveled in the back of the plane. They used to call it "coach", which makes me think of quaint horse-drawn wagons. Now it's economy, which makes me think of financial responsibility. Really they should call it the class of "shut up and be glad you got on this plane at all, little miss free miles." This is what I am sure the flight attendant wanted to say when he shoved a cellophane-wrapped tray at me.
"Is this the pasta?" I asked.
"No," he said, "it's the gluten-free meal. I had you down for gluten-free."
"I never asked for that. I'd like the pasta."
My husband Brian would have kept his mouth shut and eaten the gluten-free meal like the team player he is. But I was hungry and tired and my ears were popped out. "Give me my gluten" is what I wanted to say, "in fact, I'd like extra gluten. Bring on the carbs or you'll be sorry! And I want that whole can of ginger ale."
He rolled his eyes and threw the pasta on my tray.

I bet in first class there is a salad bar and waiters in tuxedos and free champagne. I bet there is someone to tuck you into bed and gentle ocean sounds playing in the background.  Someday I'll make it up there... after I explore Antarctica.

The annual family photo - just photoshop Brian in and we're all set.

photo credits go to my Aunt Sue. Nice work!