Oh, neat. It’s Monday.
I know, that sounds like the least enthused beginning of a post ever, right?
Well, I’ll be honest, Mondays after traveling to/from home in Pennyslvania are always a little rough. For financial reasons as well as a love of spending Sunday nights watching CSI with my little brother and sister, I like to return to the Raleigh-Durham airport on Monday mornings. Unfortunately, that tends to lead to a 5 am (or earlier) Monday wake-up call.
In case you missed it, you should check out my Six Pack Sunday: The Science of Beer edition. It’s pretty much one of the coolest beer events I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Luckily, I had a tasty surprise just waiting in the freezer for a Monday where “cooking” was the last thing on my lunch-mind.
4 minutes in the microwave, and you have: Trader Joe’s Green Curry Infused Rice!!
The ingredient list is beautiful: Jasmine rice, green bell pepper, carrots, coconut milk, basil leaves, green curry past, light soy sauce, sugar, sunflower oil, holland chili pepper, and key lime leaves. Not too shabby, right?
While the taste was perfect, I thought it was missing something….
I was craving a few more veggies and had some leftovers in the fridge to add to the mix. Broccoli, mushrooms, red pepper, more carrots, and baby corn!! Add this to the warm, spicy slow burn of a quality curry, and you have yourself a colorful lunch to fuel me through the day!
Chances are, though, if you made it this far, you’re not just interested in my Trader Joe’s mouth-party. You wanna hear the juice.
This Friday, on my way to Philadelphia, I experienced the absolute scariest flight of my entire life. That’s really saying something, too, considering I fly anywhere from 1-2x a month and have been for almost 3 years now (before then, I flew less frequently, but still more than your average bear. Or person.)
I flew Southwest, as I always do, because it’s fast, it’s cheap, and their seating system rewards aggression. It’s
kill or be killed sit or be sat on, out there, and I was a lucky duck who got a primo windo seat. I had a great book on hand, a handsome boyfriend I was flying to, and a few of these bad boys to whet my whistle…
Though there was a bit of rain in the forecast, both in Philly and RDU, the drizzles weren’t getting me down.
Then, as luck would have it, the pilot announced over the intercom system that, due to weather and possible turbulence, there’d be no drink service. AND NO PEANUTS!
That’s a bummer, but really, not the end of the world. I was peeved (and thirsty), but just trying to get to the PHL.
I sat to read my (incredibly emotional and intense) book and was approximately halfway through the (very smooth) flight when the silence was broken. It was broken by screaming:
“HELP!! IS THERE A DOCTOR ON THE PLANE?! IS ANYONE A DOCTOR?! OH GOD, IS THERE A DOCTOR?!”
A huge lump surged in my throat as I, along with every other passenger, turned to see a flight attendant running through the aisle, waving her hands.
Having watched thousands of episodes of TV shows where that inevitably means one of a few select tragedies, I was petrified.
a) we had all just contracted meningitis, a la that very special episode of House
b) there was a terrorist on board, and maybe the president, a la Air Force One
c) there was…. something on the wing. A la Twilight Zone
Either way, in my mind, my plane was doomed.
As I watched a white haired fellow (who I’m PRAYING was a doctor) leap out of his seat, seemingly shouting FINALLY! MY DAY HAS COME! with his body language, I prayed to all things holy (and some things unholy, like that airplane gremlin) that my life wouldn’t end on this plane (or before I finished ROOM.)
Then, as suddenly as the screaming began, the silence returned. My fellow passengers and I craned our necks back, hoping for some indication that a life hadn’t ended in the exit row, and that the rest of us weren’t infected. We looked to the flight attendants, who bustled about in an orderly fashion, as if nothing was amiss, plastic smiles glued to their face.
What the FORK AND KNIFE had just happened?
Well, when that grinning attendant strolled over so nonchalantly to collect our trash (though, since none of us had gotten beverages or snacks, there wasn’t much trash to be collected) I gestured for her to come and collect my apple core (a self-brought snack, thank goodness!!
“Excuse me, ma’am, would you mind telling us what all the commotion was about? What happened back there?”
“Oh, don’t you worry sweetheart! It was nothing! Just some fellow who woke up and wasn’t feeling too well, he’s doing fine now.”
So you mean to tell me that, when someone doesn’t feel too well after groggily waking up on a plane, you race through the aisles screaming bloody murder for a doctor?! Was that in the training somewhere?!
I certainly hope not.
Needless to say, the rest of my day was spent jumping at every loud sound made and clutching my chest at the hint of turbulence. The train ride, thankfully was a little less adventurous, and, when I finally reached the beau, I hugged him like a spider monkey clinging to a branch mid-tropical storm (factual basis of that statement is up for debate. I don’t know if spider monkeys even live in tropical areas. Just go with it.)
I haven’t started coughing up organs or bleeding from my eyes yet so I’m pretty sure I’m okay, but just keep an eye on me y’all. If you don’t see somewhat regular tweets and posts, chances are, I’m living out the plot of Contagion.
Either that, or the airplane gremlin got me.