YEE HAW! You are in for a Wild Ride! a.k.a Buck-up Buckaroo its not that Bad

I am currently sitting in the Calgary Airport. Overhead that hideous new Beyonce song is playing...no...not anymore it is Lady Gaga now. Who dresses cool, but that may be the extent of her appeal if you want my honest opinion.

Next to me rests a very distraught kitty, who is currently taking a break from his soft meows and spinning around in the carrier for a quick....oh don't you say it....but I want to....ok fine but you are going to seem like an idiot....so what.... a quick cat nap. *snickers* Honestly it is no laughing matter, he is very unhappy. He isn't responding the same this time to the half of a sedative. He was angelic when we flew out to Regina, but cleary all this hopping around is wearing his patience thin. No drug can convince him otherwise. To make matters worse I had a urination oopsie to attend to. Oh how pleasant....now I can't get the smell of cat pee out of my head....could be because I now smell like cat pee. Maybe that means the next person that sits next to me on my next flight will leave me alone (story will come later).

My flight experience so far has been mixed. First of all, the woman that checked me in was miserable, which would have been fine with me if she had done her job properly....she didn't though. What happened? Well, I waited 20 minutes in a line-up to go through the security checkpoint. No problem. I am seriously a pro at the security checkpoint. I know what to put in each little bin and exactly how much... BUT BUT BUT BUT.... I unloaded all my stuff, pulled out my laptop, took off my coat and sweater and I was pumped ready to pull the cat out and walk through the metal detector....when I asked for the go ahead to do so the guy looks down at my boarding pass and says "You have a cat?". No, it isn't a real cat I just bring my stuffie along for plane rides so I can play pretend. YES I HAVE A CAT. Look at me...I am covered in cat fur because he is one stressed kitty. The guy tells me to hold on so that they can verify my cat is authorized to be on the plane. That is cool whatever. But then they came back and told me there wasn't anyone upstairs that could verify it so I needed to go downstairs to the check-in desk and START ALL OVER AGAIN. I said “alright” with a sigh “but will I need to stand in that line-up again?”. He nodded and said it shouldn't be that bad. Meanwhile it was at least two and a half times the length it was when I was in it the first time. I was...I was...well I don't want to say what I was, but let me just say I came near to the point of telling him that it was their mistake so they had just better find someone to check my booking out because I didn't want to stand in that line-up again. But I didn't do that... He said he was sorry and that they have been screwing up at check-in all day. I can guess why, because I had to deal with the miserable hag downstairs.

I relented, went back downstairs and very unhappily waited in the line-up to check-in for the second time. I approached a different woman at the check-in counter, and she looked at me raised an eyebrow and asked me how my day was going. I was honest. From that point it was smooth sailing. She sorted it out, escorted me back to the security checkpoint and to the front of the line....not the very front, but close enough. No sooner did I get through the checkpoint I hear my name called overhead requesting me to report to my gate. Really? Not another complication I hope, and at this point I can't help but smirk at the idea of another problem. Turns out it wasn't a problem, actually the woman downstairs requested that one of the flight attendants meet me at the gate and help me get situated. I would never have requested such a thing, but definitely appreciate them putting out the effort to make sure my experience is as comfortable as possible. The flight attendant's name was Danny and she looked and sounded very similar to Sarah Silverman. Except she had a tiny little nose stud, and apparently loves cats. She wanted to carry him, but I wouldn't allow it. I am an overbearing, overprotective cat mother...so no you can't carry my cat.

Danny helped me get situated on the plane, brought me a cup of ice for boots because apparently it helps sometimes. The man that was assigned to sit beside me (well it turns out later that he is unable to differentiate between a b and a d) showed up, so she said if i needed her for anything to call, and went about her business. The guy sat down beside me and he .....wreaked of alcohol....great. You have got to be kidding me. Very first thing he does is say “so you made it through did you” with a drunken chuckle.
“Yes I did, they made a mistake, didn't book the cat”.
“Oh you have a cat?”
“Yes”
“In cargo?”
“No, at my feet”
“Oh”.
That is the last thing he said to me and I certainly wasn't about to strike up a conversation with him. Drunky Skunk. It was about at this point that the guy that was supposed to sit in that seat showed up...but they traded instead of righting the situation. So I spent the rest of the flight nervously attending to my cat, and the drunk spend the rest of the flight staring at me nervously attending to my cat. I suppose if he wants to watch someone while they are bent over with their cheek pressed against the seatback in front of them so that they can reach well enough to stroke their cat with a couple fingers to calm him that is his perogative. You can look at me all you want, but it is not a guarantee I am going to talk to you. I didn't even look back at him. Not once. Don't make eye contact, and avoid further contact. That is my motto. So here I am...in the Calgary airport...where the wireless connection is poor....and i suppose if I get a drink from Starbucks it may poison me....I am tempted.