Jersey.Girl.Genius

Death Metal At 35,000 Feet

Two hours into my flight back home and the guy behind me has his iPod BLASTING. It could practically be a sing along, if I liked death metal and knew any of the three words to the songs. At first, I thought someone was playing Guitar Hero. The mind numbing chord progressions and four minute guitar solos were making me dizzy.

I can feel him head banging in his seat. I want to turn around and yank those fu**ing ear buds right out of his deaf ears. What’s the point of having earphones if half the plane can hear your crap?

The captain of this flight was one of the chipper, gung-ho variety. Pointing out our exact route prior to take off, when we’ll be flying over which monument, the things that I could care less about. Everything looks the same at 35,000 feet. The hoover dam? Teeny weeny itsy bitsy ants. If he chimed in to tell us that we no longer had to pay for blankets and pillows, or that there would now be free food for everyone (and I'm not talking about a slim jim and some pringles) he'd have my undivided attention.

Captain Overzealous: We recognize here at Northwest Airlines that it’s not only our pleasure to have you on board; it’s also our privilege.

You bet your ass it’s your privilege. I had to sit next to a guy who whipped out Q-tips, stuck them inside a gooey tube of Neosporin and then shoved the Q-tips up his nose, one nostril at a time. He made no attempt to hide this nasty pre-takeoff ritual. He just kept swirling away, as if he was merely brushing some lint off his jacket.

When did they stop boarding the plane by row number? First class first, women with small children, gold/silver/platinum elite members, then the back of the plane to front. This trip, they boarded all of the underlings at the same time, which made for a chaotic mad dash. Now that most domestic airlines are charging $25 to check any luggage, the line of mad dashers were all squeezing and jockeying with one goal in mind:

I’m finding a goddamn compartment for my carry on before you are. Even if it’s over-sized, I’m carrying this shit on. If I could just board first, I’ll take my time and really shove it in there. Move it!

The Jersey in me comes out every now and again. Waiting in line at the DMV, at airport ticket counters when my flight has been delayed or canceled and when giant sweaty deaf men seated behind me listen to Death Metal as if its docked in the frickin’ Bose iPod station.

Excuse me, would you mind turning that down? (gesturing to my ears) I was sleeping and it actually woke me up. You must go to a lot of loud live shows or play in a band …

Mr. Sweaty Lip Deaf Metal didn’t actually speak to me. He looked at me like I had just eaten his last Flaming Hot Cheeto. He then shifted himself in his seat, nodded once and then pulled his black baseball cap down to cover his eyes.

Your Homo Away From Homo

I received a very special email offer the other day from Olivia, pioneers in lesbo travel. Well known for their women only cruises and midnight buffets, this e-blast wasn't pimping out drunken karaoke, hoops with Swoopes or tennis with Martina. Olivia was inviting me to pack it up and move on out ... to Tucson, Arizona!

Olivia's prez, Judy Dlugacz, recently announced plans to offer up townhouses in a brand spankin' new lesbian intentional community. The website talks about "putting the LIVE in Olivia." And by LIVE, I think she means building you your very own dog park.

"Amenities in our gated community are abundant so when it’s time to relax, enjoy two resort-style heated pools and spa with fountains, and sunning decks, well-equipped fitness center, multiple barbeque pavilions and a lavish clubhouse. The community will be enhanced with additional improvements including a dog park, a fitness course, a volleyball pit. Local community public parks, expansive gyms, a golf course, museums and art galleries, protected parks and wilderness hiking are all nearby. Tucson has bike lanes and trails throughout much of the city and skiing is available within a half an hour’s drive, during the right time of year!"

While I have no desire to live in Tucson, the thought of living in a gated lesbian community got the wheels turning. Namely, what would the interrogation be like at the security gate?

Security Guard: Hello there, ma'am. We only allow lesbians in these gates, so you'll have to answer the following questions before we allow you passage into Bush Gardens.

Anonymous gay in a Subaru: OK, no problem. But make it quick, me and my friends here are visiting Amy and Jessica Helsey-Hoff in unit 419. We're helping them build a new fence so that their Guatemalan baby can run around in the yard without getting hit by golf balls. The woman driving the cement mixer behind us is with us too ...

Security Guard: What actress hasbian appeared as "Buddy" on Family and as Barbara on Empty Nest?

There would undoubtedly be perks living alongside 75 other gays. Association fees? Zilch. With 10 pipe fitters, 3 plumbers, 15 carpenters, 6 landscape architects, 2 electricians, 3 nurses, 4 doulas, 8 midwives and 1 resident who specializes in drywall, the need to hire out for special projects -or- gayby home births would be few and far between.

Speaking as a condo owner myself, I'd love it if there were just a few more gays around to pick up some of the communal slack. Y and I have become the "go to" unit when anything catastrophic happens that needs tending to. Internet is down, heat goes out, it's the gays who make the call. What's that I smell? Dead squirrel in the basement? Let the gays handle it. Snow removal wack job gets in a "turn off your damn blower" cafuffle with our neighbor in the middle of the night? Gays again. OK, it's true. We're well connected. Gays tend to have friends with circular saws and always know someone with a truck. We also tend to walk around with a gay version ofAngie's List in our heads. We do come in handy. Which is what makes the Olivia offer so ... intriguing.

Wonder if they'll offer communal Keens and a lifetime supply of Kashi with ownership?

Things I've Learned From Shark Week.

Move over Oprah!

My TIVO has a new crush this week, and his name is Les Stroud. I've recorded 7 sharky shows in all, featuring juicy nuggets like "Survivorman: Surviving Sharks" and "Sharkman" - a new, two hour tonic-immobility potpourri, featuring some of the most amazing stunts, interesting factoids and unbelievable shark encounters I've ever seen. Sadly, Discovery Channel did re-run many of the same programs they've shown previously. It would have been nice to see a few more new additions, but can you really blame them? I, for one, am happy that they don't have heaps of new material to work with when it comes to shows like "When Great Whites Attack." I’ll watch the Australian abalone guy and his stoner son with the Sideshow Bob fro once more any ol’ day if it means another year went by without another attack.

For those of you who are not obsessed with Shark Week like I am, thought I'd break down some of the very basic tips and observations here for your reading pleasure. After all, it's the very least I can do to ensure that your next trip to the Florida Panhandle or Australia's SW coast doesn't end in bloody chaos.

1. I would rather sit with a giant bull’s-eye on my head in the stands at a fiery air show, or work a double shift in a poorly ventilated coal mine, than be forced to dive for Abalone in Australia. G'day, Great White.

2. If you're swallowed head first by a shark, and it hasn't also swallowed both of your arms, proceed to poke it in the eye. By poke, I mean punch and claw. It doesn't like to be poked in the eye. Neither do I. Poke Poke Poke

3. If you resemble a seal, sea lion or a large dog while swimming or floating, you have no business being in the water. Find another hobby while you're on vacation.

4. So we know that sharks don't like to be poked in the eye, but apparently, some like to be stroked on the snout. How the hell did someone figure this out without being EATEN ALIVE?

5. Your first aid kit should include an emergency tourniquet if you plan to attempt any the above. Which I am by no means recommending. How To Stop Blood Loss Wiki, 101

6. If you find yourself "surf casting" in knee-deep water with bloody shrimp and tuna bait in your pocket, you deserve to be eaten. This is the mindless equivalent to strapping raw, bloody T-Bones around your neck and then wondering why the Rottweilers won't stop chasing you.

Many more interesting tidbits and accidental nibbles can be found on endless repeat. See The Discovery Channel for a full lineup of Shark Week programs here: Shark Week Program Listing