Category Archives: Cell phone

Airline Rodeo

I don’t get it.

We’ve all been there.

Yet it’s mind boggling.  It makes no sense.

None.

Airplane boarding.

Airplane de-boarding.

Let’s reflect, here at gate D-47.

There’s 15 minutes until boarding time, plenty of time to grab a coffee, visit the restroom, buy a newspaper, down a few shots of Jagermeister, make a phone call, snag a sandwich and some snacks for the flight but no.

Already passengers are lining up at the start of the catwalk entrance for the airplane.

Seriously.

The airline representative at the gate announces over the loudspeaker:

In a few minutes, we will begin the boarding process.  Please take note of your seat assignment and board when your row is called.

****

Right.  Like this actually matters.

Watch out, you’re about to get trampled!  Everyone and their brother pushes forward towards the gate.

Bags are hefted on to shoulders.

Pulley suitcases are squared up behind,  wheels double checked for quick launch and shoes scuffed against flooring, like bulls in tauromachia,  to ensure successful dodging of all slow pokes ahead.

Also remember at this time, your carryon bag must fit in the overhead compartment.  If it doesn’t fit in the overhead compartment, we are happy to gate check it for you.  (Side note: or just try and ram it into the overhead compartment while everyone watches while silently cursing you….as you are delaying the flight.. and see who wins, you or the Boeing 747)

****

Ladies and gentleman thank you for flying with Vexatious Airlines.  We are now going to begin boarding.

So begins the litany of prequalified fliers who are oh so savvy and much more dignified than you to actually BEGIN the boarding process:

First Class passengers.

Global Platinum Card Members  / Vexatious Advantage Shakers and Movers Members

Global Silver Card Members / Vexatious Advantage Unique Personality Members

Global Business Card Members / Vexatious Advantage Mediocre Members

*****

At this point you look around and a third of the gate has boarded the airplane.

Thank you for your patience.  We would like to continue boarding with our Vexatious Advantage Members who have reached Movie Star Status.

Those fliers who have reached Vexatious Advantage Soap Star Status, please board the plane now.

Thank you for your patience, our guests who have reached Vexatious Advantage Aim for the Stars Coupon Book Status please come down the catwalk.

*****

Another third have disappeared towards the plane.  Huh.

Welcome aboard to our Cat Lover Club

Welcome aboard to our Dog Lover Club

At this time, thank you for waiting, we would like to welcome aboard those guests who had tickets to the original Woodstock.  Those of you who had tickets to a Farm Aid concert, your time to board will be coming up, please wait for your announcement. 

Members of the press, we would like to offer you this time to board.

Families traveling with small children, or those who need extra assistance when boarding, you may board at this time.  If you need extra assistance, we hope you brought someone with you for that assistance.  If you are traveling with an emotional support pet please wait until you are called for boarding. 

Uniformed military personal, you can board at this time.  We thank you for your service.

Thank you for your patience, those who are too attached to their electronic devices to pay any attention to these announcements, we invite you to board at this time.   You aren’t listening anyway.

Prima donnas please board at this time and anyone who thinks they are all that, but aren’t even the pickle on the plate, please board at this time because you aren’t listening to any directions anyway because you think it’s all about you anyway.  

Our guests who are traveling with emotional support pets, including but not limited to: Golden Retrievers, teacup chihuahuas  himalayan cats, ferrets, ducks, teacup pigs, pygmy donkeys, ferrets, camels, spider monkeys, albino lizards, wallabies, hamsters, turkeys, porcupines, rabbits.

Farm Aid ticket holders, you are welcome to board at this time.

****

You look around and only a handful of people remain.

At this time we would like to begin general boarding beginning with the back of the plane. For those guests in row 35 – 20 please board now.  Oh, forget it.  There’s only 6 of you left, please figure it out and board now.  

 

****

Everyone is so anxious to get on the plane, they can’t hardly stand it.  It’s all about pushing and shoving. And for what exactly?

To be cramped in a tiny seat, with no leg room, shared armrests, crawling with bacteria and if you are damn lucky….your seat mates won’t be chatty. The toilets smell, unless bless the hearts of your flight crew (Who, by the way, have one of the hardest and least appreciated jobs in the entire world.  I thank them for all they do to make our journeys the easiest and most enjoyable they can.) have put a bag of coffee in the tiny little lavatory to absorb the piss-o-roma fragrance.

P.S.  Note, I don’t care about your kids, grandkids, your job, where you live or what book you’re reading or where you’re going. I don’t like to fly.  I only do it because it’s the quickest way to get there and I’m a little claustrophobic so please, leave me alone. I simply get into my seat, wipe everything down with my Clorox wipes, put in my earplugs and do my best to tune everything out.

As the fliers race down the gate catwalk,  waving their boarding pass in hand to be scanned, their magical entrance to the airplane granted and approved…quickly scurry beyond the doorway down the jetway.

Only. To. Be. Halted. 40 people back on the jetway.

Que the evil laugh.

They can’t wait to get out of the boarding area.  One of the privileged few.  Look at me.  See you suckers.  I’m outta here.  Yeah, well….guess what.

Here we all are.

Waiting.

In the jetway.

Aren’t you precious?

Let me grab my eyeballs before they roll out onto the tarmac.

Jackass.

You go from one waiting area to the next.  Why the rush?

Everyone gets on the plane.  No need to shove and sigh and huff and puff.

Bags stowed and we get into the air.

Eureka!

*****

For as absurdly impatient everyone was to get on the damn plane, it’s as if they had no idea everyone was expected to actually get off the plane upon arrival at the destination.

The plane lands, sometimes to the sound of applause…and arrives at the gate.

Passengers excitedly leap out of seats and annoyingly tap fingers and roll their eyes….annoyed we aren’t moving faster to get off the silver bullet.

Somewhere from the time we left the last departure lounge, to the time we arrived at the new gate…..the hundreds of passengers on this plane have had a mind fart.  Where has all the urgency gone?

Suddenly nobody can find their bags.  Where’s my glasses?  Where’s my book?  Where’s my chapstick?  Did I have a jacket?  Did I bring a water bottle?  What about the cell phone?  What gate are we going to?  I can’t find my shoes!  Is this my suitcase?  This isn’t my bag!  Where’s my husband?  What city is this?  Oh I’m not getting off here.  Can you help me close this zipper?

The circulating air has made everyone slow and stupid.  People who couldn’t get on the plane fast enough suddenly have spent the last 10 minutes, or longer taxinging from the runway to the gate picking their nose and pondering how daises grow rather than gathering their shit up from their seat and organizing their departure!

Fuck people – if you would pull yourselves together we could all get off the damn plane faster.  You idiots were so concerned about getting on first.  It’s all about me. ME. ME. ME FIRST. FIRST. FIRST.  However when we land, it’s like you’ve lost your mind.

Snap out of it and focus.  You are holding the rest of us up.  From the time the pilot said we have begun the 20 minute decent for landing, the smart ones started packing up.  Plan ahead folks….for arrival….not just the departure.  It works both ways.

Be smart.  Travel smart. Get out of my way.

 

 

 

 

 

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When Modern Tech Goes to Shit

 

brokenNo. No. No.

It’s me.  Not you.

After today, this is what I’m thinking.

It has
to be me – nearly every electrical thing I’ve touched this week has gone to shit.    Think I’m kidding, let me tell you.

CASE ONE:  The iPad.

I love my iPad.

Love it.

I don’t even know all the things it can do and I love it.

Although, I admit it, at first, I didn’t want to buy into it.  I didn’t want it for squat.  I had multiple bookcases filled with books.  This was my main reason for buying an iPad, along with Word abilities, the Net and eMail.

Yatta, yatta.  Yeah, whatever.  However, the main reason:

BOOKS.

I love to read.

You mean to tell me, I can carry 100 books with me?  In my bag?  O. M. G.

The catch for me was this….one of my favorite jobs was working at a Barnes & Noble throughout college.

B O O K S

I love the smell.  The feel.  The weight.  Holding books in my hand.  Turning the pages, smelling the ink, the crisp new pages yet to be seen by anyone’s eyes – these are some of the things that make my heart sing.  Virgin pages, never folded, free of marks.  I can spend  hours in a book store just wandering the aisles, all the volumes I’ve yet to read, topics unheard of….just waiting for me to pick them up.

Why did I need a stinking iPad?  I NEED the physical characteristics of the books, like a crack addict needs their multiple daily hits.  Like a car overhauling junkie needs their rebuild.

I caved.

I bought the first iPad.  Thus my junkie life of the iPad began.

However, before I continue this story, walk with me a moment, as we sometimes do….

Pour yourself a Jameson, Cockburn’s or wine of choice and let’s saunter together down the familiar roadway that is our twisted memory – filled with decrepit has beens and once glorified Jettson carton treasures of could have been.

Cue the dream music played by simulated harp.

Do you remember…..granted, depending on your age, you may or may not remember any of this.  If that’s the case, then just move on to your next blog and call it a good read.

Modern technology, for all the wonderful things it brings into our lives, annoys the shit out of me when it craps out and becomes useless.  Previously we had to actually demonstrate patience on a daily basis.  Not any more.  Today it’s all about instant gratification.  This in and of itself explain why NOBODY in Miami has any patience.

  • I remember going to the bank and the teller would have to type on my savings passport any deposit or withdrawal I made.
  • Our telephone was attached to the wall and the receiver had a rope that attached it to the button box that we used to actually push to the numbers.  Not to mention rotary dials!
  • Phone numbers started with letters.  KE5-5689
  • Toll booth plazas that actually took money.
  • TVs that were so large they sat on the floor and were their own piece of furniture.
  • Getting up to change the channel on the TV.
  • Ditto machines.
  • Thermal fax machines – and trying to uncurl your paper to read the fax.
  • 8-tracks
  • Beta players
  • Buying singles on 45 records and needing the special plastic part for the middle in order to play on your record player.
  • Coin operated pay phones.
  • Polaroid Cameras – true instant gratification snaps!
  • TYPEWRITERS!  I swear, I took the very last typewriter class.  BEST class I ever took.
  • Electric razors.  Although there’s something to be said about lathering up a man.

See what I’m saying, there’s no process any more – it’s all the instant process.  Hurry up and get it done is the mentality today.  There’s something to be said about taking your time, going through a process.  Like making home baked items whether it’s pasta, bread or lasagna ….. the time says something.

My iPad crapped out with a GIANT dead zone across the screen.  It made all types of things difficult.  Words With Friends became impossible as I couldn’t drag and drop my word tiles.  GRRRRRRRRR…..

Worse yet…as I sat in the hair stylist chair, ready for my ordeal, I settled into the chair, opened my iBook only to be horrified:

The iPad  selected, on it’s own, what book I should read.  Which I closed.  I opened the one I wanted.  It then continued to highlight, cut and paste various paragraphs….shut down the book, open another, highlight, cut & paste.

W T F!

It got so bad, I had to turn it off.

Long story, made an appointment with the Genius Apple folks – the something something  yatta thing is dead and I need a new iPad.  1/3 of my touch screen was dead, causing it to select things at random.  It was ridiculous. So here we go.   I expected it.  It was an old machine.

Get home and begin the upload of my download.  (I should have had kids, or I really need to make friends with 12 year olds who can fix the electrical shit.)

27 hours later…..my new iPad is still “uploading the back up.”

NOTHING  HAS   CHANGED.

Okay, I’m now officially on withdrawl.  And I’ve jumped off the high diving board, which in real life, scares the crap out of me.  (Remind me later to tell you how I did this with a bunch of soon to be Marines.)

I come out to the living room to bitch.  The Mister tells me….”you have a bookcase full of books.”

Oh, okay.

DON’T

EVEN

START

THAT

WITH

ME

M I S T E R.

The book I fucking want to read is on this piece of shit machinery that I can’t even access!!!! You see my fucking problem??!?!?  Do you?!?!?

I

AM

NOT

HHHHAAAAAAPPPPPPPYYYYYYYY!!!!

Long work days, stress and life in general…some nights I just want to read, in bed, with a glass of wine.  This night I could not do that.  This gives new meaning to having heads spin and green pea soup spitting out of mouths.

Yea, I am stuck to the ceiling, like some poltergeist entity.  And at this exact moment in time, I prefer it.  Just leave me be – thank you.  If you pick at me like a scab on your leg – you will regret it.

Trust.  Me.

I turned the fucking iPad off and climbed into bed at 9:15PM.  Annoyed, with a side of pissy.  It was safest for everyone at that point.

CASE TWO:  Nokia Cell Phone.

I am on my third Nokia phone.  I am a sucker for the camera.  It’s great.  In the last two months the little fucker has frozen up FOR DAYS.

Can’t slide the screen to save my soul for anything.

I could be trapped on the escalator to hell and having one call to safety – royally screwed as the dumb ass Nokia is yet again frozen in time.

The previous Nokia phone, if I was on a call too long, it would start setting off the flash for the camera and would get too hot to hold.  Literally.

Not kidding.

Now it freezes and I can’t use it.

For days.

Annoys me to no end.

Should have gone with the iPhone.  Of course, after my debacle with the iPad this week (two visit to the Genius bar, I’m thinking I’m going back to string and tin can.)

CASE THREE:  The dryer.

I start laundry today….Saturday.  The first load goes into the dryer only for a minute or two ….. just to get the wrinkles out.  Nothing major.  Pull it out, hang it up without incident.

In goes load two.

10 minutes later I go in to take those delicate items out that need to be hung up so they don’t wrinkle.

Hey!  Where’s the heat?!  I’m like the little old lady from the Wendy’s commercial from year’s ago…”Where’s the beef?!”  I’m pissed.  You have to be kidding me.  Seriously?

I unplug the machine.  I turn the dial.  I check the filter.  I restart.  Hit the GO button.

A few minutes later…..

NO HEAT!

Are you kidding?!

I march out to the living room and state to The Mister:  “The dryer has no heat.”

He comes in and does the same thing I just did.  NOTHING.  I mean

N O T H I N G

Now the machine doesn’t even turn on.

We flip the breakers.  Nothing.

I have now decided not to touch anything that is plugged into the wall.

Unless you want an electric shocker…..don’t touch me.

I am shocking the shit out of everything.

If I could figure out how to turn this into a paying job……

 

 

Drive! The! CAR!

Traffic annoys the hell out of me.

What I don’t get is, how can it be so bloody terrible?  If the people in the front would just go.  I mean really GO, how can there be all this back up?  If we’d all just GO the same speed it wouldn’t take us forever to get anywhere.  It’s called teamwork people.

What really gets me is the rubbernecking.

It’s like watching a stupid show on TV and after it’s over you realize THAT was a waste of your time.  Slowing down to see the crash or non-crash is….guess what?  A waste of time.  For you and me!  Good grief, Mr. Rodgers could have me a song out of this concept.

JUST DRIVE the car.  You have to actually step on the long rectangular pedal that’s on the floor on the right.    It’s a novel concept, but the car doesn’t go on it’s own – you have to assist.

Seriously.

There’s a car pulled over on the side of the road.   Everyone has to slow down to look.

There’s two cars pulled over – an obvious fender bender.  Slow down, let’s all look!

If there’s cars on the other side of the highway – with lights flashing – let’s all slow down to look.  There’s even a big concrete wall dividing it and you can’t see anything!

There’s a terrible accident and people are nearly creating additional accidents just so they can see the carnage.  I mean really.  For what?  To see if their day was worse than yours?  I fucking guarantee it!  If their car is waiting for a tow truck and there’s flashing lights at the scene.  Guess what?  They are having a suck day.  They win.  Now DRIVE!

The other thing about the traffic and I’m not even going to mention the blatant honking of the horns – which is out of control in Miami.  My brain waves don’t even function that fast.  It could be a game show.  QUICK.  Try to get your foot off the brake on to the gas pedal before the jackass behind you is honking and gesturing wildly.  Yeah, well the Alaskan will get to going when she’s good and ready.  Keep your pants on.  Besides, we’re all going to be at the next light together in 200 yards anyway.

The privacy.  People, your windows may be tinted by I can still see thru them.  HEY!  Yes!  YOU!  Picking your nose – I can see you.  Unreal.  Flipping me off?  I see you!  Yelling at your partner in the car – I see you.  Thinking you are the next best thing sliced bread – I see you.  It’s exhausting.

Lastly, hang up the phone.  In today’s world with bluetooth technology – there’s no reason people need to have that rectangular block of radiation next to their face while driving.  If drinking and driving is a hazard so is anything connected to holding that ridiculous cell phone and driving.  My cat can drive better than some of these people with the phones attached to their heads.  The car was one of the last places on earth where you could escape to the solitude of your thoughts and favorite radio stations.   Not anymore.  Apparently people can’t survive 5 -30 minutes without constant technological interruption

Shit.

So here’s the thing with the traffic and the endless line of cars during rush hour.  In Juneau, it was a rush minute.  I’m not kidding.  Four minutes and you were done.  Now, some days it takes me an hour either way to or from work.  (Although, after being here a year I am working on a system to beat the rush hours.)

I love my little Yaris.  His name is Norman.   Yes, he’s a boy car.  How do I know it’s a boy car?  He’s a stick…..duh.

I’m looking to upgrade.

All I’ve wanted for years is a Camaro.  Midnight blue with the glitter paint flecks.  V6.  I want the engine that purrs to a stop.  Every damn time I see this car on the street a little bit of drool forms at the corner of my mouth.  They’re common, but not as common as the BMW here.  Which is as common as sliced bread.  If I wanted to be a trendsetter I get a Subaru!

camaro

I

LOVE

THIS

AUTOMOBILE.

It’s hot.  I’d look hot in the car.  Blue, I’m going to BE hot in this car.  I want this car.  I need this car.  This car….makes me purr.  This is a sexy car.   The curves…especially from behind….wow.  Wow.  This car makes me talk like a guy.

BUT then, as things would have it in life.  An option appeared, one I was not expecting.  Now, I am truly in a quandry.

We’re sitting at a light.  Up rolls a Dodge Challenger.   White with a racing stripe.

Challenger

Ohhhh well.  Hello.  You.

Now.

Look.

At.

That.

Me. YOW.

Now if that isn’t a stud car.  And boy did that have a purr.  It was like a roar….not so much a purr.  I think I broke out into a bit of a sweat.  Of course, I’d want a V8 for this car – because this is a definite boy car.  There is nothing soft about this baby.

So now I spend my days driving into and out of work – looking for my cars.  Every time I’m sold on the Camaro one of these Challengers goes past and I say one word:

DAMN.

Of course the kicker ….. as much as I love my Camaro, the other day one went past and a grandma was driving.  Not that there is anything wrong with that but then I was thinking….really?

NormanOn the other hand, I could keep on with my Norman.  He was transported all the way from Juneau.  Great, zippy, keeps up with traffic.  Although he’s not real thrilled about doing 80 mph on I95, but I’ve had him up there.  Swear!

He can out run the best of ’em – in our own minds.  Go Norman!

Of course, in a Challenger…..imagine the speed!  The tickets….no good.

The Camaro….imagine how cute I’d look!  So good!

I think I need to go for a test drive and let my heart sing.

 

 

 

 

 

No Comprendo aka La La La Pencil

One thing I’ve learned since moving to Miami is…..I need to learn Spanish.

Pronto.

The local community college, had a Saturday class being offered this summer, “Beginner’s Conversational Spanish.”   Great!  Sign me up.  That’s exactly what I need.

Now, I will be able to make small talk in elevators, listen in on conversations when they think I don’t know what they’re saying and I can tell the Urgent Care to stop leaving messages for Juan….as they only leave messages in Spanish.  On my work cell phone no less.  I don’t know Juan.  How do I know what they’re calling about?  I had to ask one of my coworkers listen to the message, which I knew obviously it wasn’t for me.  It was in Spanish – duh.

Today was the day for my first Spanish class.

I was excited and ready to get going.  I logged the community college’s address into my GPS and headed out the door.  Of course, I had a general idea of where I was going.  Down the highway a couple of exits and then head West-ish.  When I got off the highway and was stopped at the first light, I should have trusted my gut and pulled a u-turn.  There was a vaguely familiar looking man sitting on the side of the road playing music.  On a 5 gallon plastic bucket.  For money.  He had a mustache like Cheech Marin.  Had I been quick enough, I would have snapped his photo as he looked like someone I used to work with years ago.  Enormously large bushy mustache….all you can see on the face…..stache and more stache.

Anyhow, I made my turn and quickly realized this was not the best neighborhood to be driving through.  I was expecting a scene out of West Side Story to erupt at any moment.  As I drove, I continued to keep my eyes open for unauthorized drag races to cross my path.  After a little research, I found that this town in particular had the highest crime rate in America in 2004.  Dear Lord, keep your eyes on the road and let’s just keep going forward.  I should have turned around at that light back there.

The ridiculous GPS, which sometimes sends me in circles.  Literally:

Turn left.

Turn left

Turn left.

Turn left.

Turn

NO!

Didn’t bother to tell me to Turn Right…..and I zipped right past the college.

Turn Left

Turn Left.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I know.

Click.  OFF.

I pull into the first tiny little parking area.  There is a LAKE of water covering three spots.  Being I am now living in Florida, my footwear is not suitable to navigate this wading pool.  I drive to the end only to realize the last open spot is clearly marked (with a Pictionary sign) for people with babies and strollers.  Crap.  I head out of the parking area and a lady is blocking the exit, trying to decide whether or not to turn in.  She finally decides to give it a try and turns past me towards the pool.  As I head down the road to the next parking lot I see she zipped into the people with strollers spot and I slow down to see if she has any babies with her.

That would be a big NO.

I give her a disapproving glare and continue on my way.  Seriously, parents have it rough enough and now they can get this one little break in life.  Uneducated girl is going to take one of their spots because she’s too lazy to walk from the next lot over.  I hope you get explosive diarrhea in rush hour traffic…  (This is my standard curse.)  Yes, apparently she is uneducated.  Even if English isn’t her first language the giant picture of a stroller should be a dead give away.  My guess is she doesn’t do well in Pictionary or Charade games.

After I get my spot, I head towards building Numeral Uno!  I am a few minutes late and make my way to the second floor to the assigned classroom.  Yahoo….so excited.

I open the door and the instructor first greets me with a “bon jour!”  Followed quickly by a “buenos dias.”  I mutter a quick “hola” while she explains they were just talking about the French language as she teaches both.  Whatever.  I grab the first seat I see, right by the front door.  As I go to sit down I look at the girl a few seats back.

It’s the STROLLER LADY!

Great.  A sign of things to come.  Another indication I should have turned around at that light with Mr. Mustache.

Suddenly the instructor is addressing me.  All I catch is, “Giruod jab, whiuyt?”

The only thing I can say is, “Donna.”  I assume she’s asking for my name.

Then she says, “Luiy weng tldiwl uls?”

My response:  blink blink blink blink.

Again she says, “Luiy weng tldiwl uls?”

Again my response:  blink blink blink blink.  For good measure I shake my head NO.

An older gentleman in the class yells out, “last name.”

Oh!  Powell.  Donna Powell.

Good grief.

She goes back to the question at hand and begins to discuss how things will be listed on the immigration form, regarding your name.  Immigration form?  What the hell?  This is supposed to be Beginner’s Conversational Spanish, not how to fill out your immigration forms.  Well this is strange.  Next up, the instructor, whose name I have not a clue, starts to talk about something that sounds suspiciously like, “come here lama.”  NO clue.  I have not one bit of an idea what this woman is saying.  It continues as she points to the board, each time with a different stress accent.  “COME here lama.”  “Come HERE lama.”  “Come here LAMA.”  She explains in English something about using the “tu” when speaking with small children and the “utes” when speaking to adults.  “Come here lama.”

By this time I start looking around the room to see if there might actually be a lama somewhere.  Here a lama.  There a lama.  Everywhere a lama lama.

Guess what?  No lama.  Damn.

The instructor continues with the lesson:  “Oulkjda  jldoa  pencil  a’kdao kluou!  Hwid, wolwd jweoub aoul?  Taden pencil aera oueab weraouib alkpie. Right?  So then, aoiudf’ag jlareio  aoiejang aliduar ieialgob  alkubow.”   Now I’m looking around to see what everyone else is doing.  Nobody has a notebook out…not even a pencil.  Even the instructor only has a cell phone and cup of coffee on the desk.  Should I ask if I am in the right class?  Is anyone else dazed and confused or are they getting it?  One guy is sitting there smiling like this is the biggest punch line he’s ever heard.  Really?  I am so screwed.

Well, it’s still only the first few minutes of class, maybe she’s going to start explaining whatever she’s saying in a minute.

Cue the hourglass timer…..any minute now we’ll be speaking in English.  Any moment.  Wait for it.  One minute.

“Taljgljb  kjadaljgio  alkjro?  Waoiudgh lkjdfopig qjdagji adlgajgoiuej akfji?  Haidoug lkaj it.  The plural of the uya aor, aoiuf alkjb as it is in English.  Veriu aloiu akdj polg akjb.  You want to aenbo agoiub and then in the French language it is pronounced ela aoub akuouv alouf vous.  Taerib aljboiue jaoe kjgi alkjir; buanb aiuelg which is what?”

Which is don’t make eye contact cause I have no clue what you’re saying and I’m pretty damn sure it’s not English.  La la la chicken.

“Bof lb iead, akjoie afoinl aulz ojghs oaurl and always make sure you ahbie pbiael aieug adiwow.  Now, of course sometimes bagowie wobbloiu aty byru xkiao. Zcait abiuet itub lama aeiu?”

This is getting really, really awkward.  Now it’s obvious she’s asking questions to the class.  I’ve got nothing.  The suck thing is I’m sitting in the front row.  Prime target for being called on.  Duck and cover.  Duck and cover.  No sense in trying to fake tying my shoes. First, because I’m in the front row and second because I’m wearing slip ons.  Total failure.  Whatever happens don’t make eye contact.

Shit.  Shit.  Shit.  Shit.

It’s dawning on me that apparently, you need a working understanding of the Spanish language for this “BEGINNER’S” class.  Well had it been a requirement, do you think I would have signed up for this hell?  I have no clue what this woman is saying.  Yatta, yatta, yatta SHE, yatta, yatta, yatta what do you call that? Yatta, yatta, yatta, yatta and then you yatta yatta yatta lama.

How the hell do I get out of this?  I better do it quickly before we partner up for role playing and conversations.  Oh my god, the horror of that thought.  As soon as she turns her back to erase the board I am out of here.

Now she’s talking about pronouns and tenses.  She’s asking questions and don’t you know it, STROLLER LADY is the only one answering.  I don’t want to be rude and leap up from my desk and bolt to the door, but I know it’s only a matter of time before we have to pair up.  What is this Top Twenty Spanish Pronoun Questions?  Let’s get on with it.  Turn around.  Turn around.

Honestly, I shouldn’t worry about being rude and walking out.  After all she’s the one speaking in another language that I don’t understand.  Geez.  That’s rude.  Miss Manners would not be impressed.

I casually take out my cell phone to check the time.  I have only been here 20 minutes.  Well guess what.  Time is up.  Gotta go.  Oh yeah, did you hear that?  Sounded like a fire alarm.  Gotta run.  I casually loop my hand bag over my wrist and pick up my book bag off the floor.  The instructor starts to reach for the eraser and I’m up and out of my seat faster than a naked man being bit by fire ants on the yin-yang..  As I swim through the air to get to the door I hear her say:

“Yzgibb   aoiuearlj olkg  iwkg  aiublka laopiw?  Zkie gubja….”

Don’t turn back, that could have been directed to me…..for crying out loud, this is an episode mix between Fear Factor, Whose Line is it Anyways and Hidden Camera.  I close the door….on what I think is mid-sentence and then breathe a sigh of relief, wipe the sweat off my upper lip and think to myself:  Gotta go.  The lama called……and it said SAVE YOURSELF!