(Don't ask! I really got JACKED by the Travel Dept.)
Note to Reader: This may verge on the edge of girlie, so to any boy readers out there please read on, because this may help you understand the women in your life a little better. =)
The conclusion of my most recent read and my most recent travel assignment coincided somewhere in the skies over Colorado I believe. The trip was a workshop tour in our Inland Valley region and the read was the latest Jennifer Weiner novel Certain Girls which is a follow up novel to her first novel Good in Bed (not too dirty I promise). To all of you that enjoy a good laugh and a story about a girl that really in more than one way could be exactly you, this is a MUST READ!!! Without revealing anything too important, the end of this book did a completely wonderful one eighty from where I thought it was going and in turn, had me in tears at 35,000 feet. I was so completely engrossed in the life events of Cannie Shapiro and her daughter Joy Shapiro Krushelevansky that I didn’t realize hat due to one of those events, I was whole heartedly crying, full sobbs, in my row 25 window seat A. Thank goodness seat B was empty, but that having been said, C, the aisle seat was occupied by an older gentleman in a suit who I am sure thought I was going through some sort of crisis.
I had my folded up drink napkin in my hand, arms crossed across my chest, head leaning against the double pained port hole window when the man taps me on the arm and he says, in just above a whisper, “is everything okay?”
I quickly pull my ear buds from my ear and in an attempt to be graceful wipe my eyes and nose and clear my throat. “Oh yeah, I’m fine, I’m just listening to the end of a really great book. And well…” I said trying to choke back the emotion of the last fifteen min. “someone died. And well…” I continued trying to desperately keep it together. “It was just really upsetting.” I said as the tears began to flow again. “Shoot! I hate being a girl sometimes!” I sniffed as I folded the already soaked napkin and dabbed at my eyes again.
He grinned and reached into his inside jacket pocket (the same pocket they reach for in the movies when they want to shoot their crazy airplane seat mate), and produced a travel sized package of Kleenex (WITH LOTIAN!!!) and handed it to me. “When my baby girl was pregnant with her baby girl I got into the habit of carrying these cause she would cry at everything.” He chuckled a little and added “especially the songs on our town’s country music station. Kenny Chesney’s There Goes My Life was the worst!” We both laughed. “I think you women have it hard. He said looking up at the ceiling of the airplane. “Ya’ll all have so much caring inside you for everyone else. My wife says that every good woman deserves a good healthy cry every once in a while to keep herself from exploding and I think she’s right.” He looked at me with his sparkely wise old eyes and smiled "I'll let you get back to your book."
I took one of the Kleenex and tried to hand them back and he refused “Keep ‘em in case you go exploding on any of your other flights. We both burst out laughing “Thanks!” I said and I returned my ear buds to my ears.
I ended up needing that entire package before the book was complete and now I keep a couple of those travel packs one for me and one to give away to other “good Women” like myself.
Till Next Time,