I’m Totally RAD
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Oh no she din’t! She din’t just disappear for weeks with no word of warning and then just pop up in my reader unannounced like a zit on prom night!” That’s what you’re thinking, aren’t you? Hold off on your vitriol, Innernetz. Save that for Roman Po-skank-ski.
September has been one bitch of a month. Reactive Airway Disease (RAD), which is just a fancy way of saying, “we don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, here’s your mask, have a nice day,” and bronchitis have knocked me on my ass. My doctor doesn’t have an explanation for the fatigue that makes every day feel as if I am walking through sand dunes with Rosie O’Donnell strapped to one leg, Kirstie Alley to the other, and a box of donuts hanging around my neck.
The one bright spot in my month was my visit to the Mean Girl homestead. We laughed, we drank, we shook some booty. But it was over too soon. My buzz hadn’t yet dissipated before I was on a cramped, crowded plane home, remembering why I hate people to fly. First of all, it was the smallest fucking plane I’d ever seen. Somewhere in the Midwest, a child was frantically searching for his Fisher Price L’il People People Movers Plane while I was trying to squeeze my ass into a seat the size of an oyster cracker.
As I was putting in my earplugs and preparing for a nap, a woman sat next to me. I was rude, Innernetz. I did not make eye contact or even nod in her direction. I knew better. I seem to have a face that says, “Please! Talk to me! Tell me about your son’s ingrown toenail and your husband’s battle with psoriasis! What? Oh no, I’m not yawning. I’m just trying to eat my brain so I don’t have to listen to you for another god damn minute!” Even on the best of days, I hate small talk and chit-chat. Hate. It. So, I put in my earplugs, fashioned a pillow out of my knock-off pashmina, closed my eyes, and — tap, tap, tap
I tried to ignore the fingernail poking into my shoulder. Tap, tap, tap. With a sigh that clearly indicated “This Better Be Good, Bitch” I opened my eyes. “Yes?” I asked, in a voice that I have used to turn crying babies to stone and obnoxious men into bubbling pools of offal.
“You must be tired,” said the woman next to me, bobbing her head like a pump handle toward my makeshift pillow against the fuselage. Oh em gee! Thanks for waking me up to tell me! I was just wondering why my eyes were closed.
“I am. Very tired.” I grunted. I went to reinsert my earplugs when Pump Handle Pam decided it would be a good time to take off her migraine-inducing sweater of many colors, bump my hand, and send my earplugs falling to the floor where they disappeared with what was left of my patience and goodwill. I didn’t rest my head against the fuselage so much as I banged it repeatedly in an attempt to knock myself out. It didn’t work.
And then, Samuel L. Jackson walked on the plane. Well, not the REAL Samuel L.Jackson. But he looked enough like him for me to wish there were snakes on the plane and I was sitting next to the emergency exit with a parachute. Not Samuel L. Jackson took a seat at the front of the plane. Behind him was a man wearing a toupee so pathetic it was crying and some sort of cologne that fragranced the air. I think it was Eau de Budweiser. He wobbled his way down the aisle before finally collapsing into the row in front of me. He let out a loud buuuuuuurp! Yep, definitely Eau de Budweiser.
The next few hours passed in a haze of misery. Pump Handle Pam nattered on about her son’s football drama. Oh noes!1! He was second string! Tearful Toupee continued to depressurize, sending fumes of EdB through his blowhole like Flipper on a bender. And to make this the Best! Flight! Ever! John Goodman joined Kirstie and Rosie in a battle royale for the donuts. Because lethargy and muscle weakness wasn’t enough, the cough that had disappeared several days earlier returned with such vehemence that my body contorted as if undergoing an exorcism. Watery eyes and a runny nose soon joined the mucous maracas rattling in my chest.
I made it home, Innernetz. Mr. Dingo took one look at me and put me to bed wrapped in blankets and woe. When I finally dragged myself to the doctor’s office, I was told that my RAD and bronchitis had never completely disappeared; it had just been on hiatus. And it was back. So I’ve been hanging out on the couch watching bad TV with Dingo Girl, Not a Dingo, Rosie, Kirstie, and John. I’ve been feeling much better the past few days. Good thing, too. John just told me that we’re out of donuts.
Posted on Monday, October 05, 2009 at 12:40 AM.
Tags: Dingo Girl, La Vida Loca, Not a Dingo, Smoking, Drinking, and other Vices
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Comments & Trackbacks
You probably should have just stayed here. You were very healthy HERE. But getting on that plane with Eau de Budweiser WAS NOT a good idea!!! Do you need me to send candy pumpkins??
Pump Handle PAm? Tee hee...there must be one on every plane. And that is why if I fly, I try to make sure I have at least one small child with me; it is almost a gurantee that nobody will talk to me or, if the plane isn’t full, even SIT by me!
Well, I was going to offer to come up and take care of you, but since you’re out of donuts.....
Yuck. I’m sorry you have had such a mess of crap. And there is nothing worse than flying while sick. Except maybe flying next to Pump Handle Pam.
Dude. I HATE IT when people talk to me on the plane. And I’m fighting off the Monkey Plague. As usual.
darling you need a big box of chocolates and all will be well
Love “Pump Hnadle Pam” and her loser second string son.
I hope you don’t have what Spencer Pratt has. The crazies.
Hope you feel better soon.
Well, it’s good to hear from you again!!! 
I totally hate flying in planes solely because of the people you have to sit with. You don’t know them, where they’ve been, what they carry. I am lucky in that I am deaf… so all I do is sit there and not react to a thing. They may come away with the impression that I’m a snob, but most usually they figure out I’m deaf. The problem is… people LOVE flying with me because baby crying, people jabbering, noises of the airplane don’t bother me. try pretending you’re deaf sometime!
I sure hope your bronchitis and RAD gets 100% better fast!
Jules — We obviously didn’t drink enough alcohol to kill the germs. No, no more candy pumpkins! Well, okay, maybe.
Kori — There is one on every plane. She sits right next to me.
Shania — And they didn’t share!
just run — Flying while sick is the worst. With the cough and the sneezing, I was worried they were going to have the CDC meet me at the end of the flight.
k8 — Noooo! Fight the Monkey Plague. Fight it!
rosie — Will you come be my doctor?
igster101 — I told her he could always take up cheerleading.
Kristina P. — Whew! For a second there, I thought you meant a labotomy!
Summer — Thanks, girl.
Nikki — Why do people want to talk when they get on the plane? I don’t get it. You’d think my earplugs would be an indication that I am unsociable, right? Thanks for the well wishes.
No donuts? That is a greater tragedy than a second-string son.
Also, my reading comprehension is at an all-time low, and I totally thought Tearful Toupee was ‘depressurizing’ out of his butthole, which would have been much worse than his blowhole.
Ugh.
Hey, we need to talk. My trip to NYC is coming up!
Well, it’s good to know that you’re still among the living, and I hope you are feeling better. I miss the wit and wisdom of the Dingo posts.
Oh Dingo...I am SO sorry you have the monkey plague AND are out of donuts. Even on the best days, I hate flying (because, sadly, I AM the lady with the big butt who you groan at when you see her smooshing down the aisle). But I don’t talk to my seatmate unless they talk first.
Feel better soon!
You were supposed to come to RI and help with the baby, but I see what you chose to spend your time on instead.
Nice Barbie video, Dingo.
You cannot tell me that drinking and pigging out on candy pumkins was better than being barfed on by my kid. YOU CANNOT.
Flying in cramped quarters is the worst. Especially if all you want to do is take a nappy nap. You are like the nicest person on the planet. I’d have given Pam the cut direct and proceeded to hack all over budwiser breath until he asked to move. You know everyone’s scared of the pig flu. You could have used it to your advantage.
Hope you feel better. Stock up on Mucinex, oh and doughnuts you’ll need them.
The maintenance guy in our office, who’s in his 80’s, is just like Pump Handle Pam. He always wants to talk to me about something. It’s like an airplane seat-mate on a flight that never ends…
P.S. - My security phrase is ‘69services’, which took my thought pattern straight back to jr. high. :D
Even more reason for me to drive anywhere I need to be. I am not a people person and prefer Killians over Bud.
Ugh, sorry to hear about the crud. And it sounds like the only thing that could make the flight worse is if you had a little kid sitting behind you, kicking your chair. Hope you feel better soon!
I hope you feel better soon!
I haven’t been on a plane in years and years. Your story reminded me why I now usually choose destinations that can easily be reached by car (nowadays preferably accompanied by a boat trip to make it across the North Sea to the UK).
I just relived last Thursday’s flight home. Thanks so very much. ;-b
Feel better soon.
I hope you feel better soon, too. Nothing worse than the fatigues. A good sauna would help you out. I find a bit of heat therapy (That’s my phrase for lounging around poolside and taking regular trips to the dry sauna or steam room to heat up and cool off) kills most bugs. Then again, I have no idea what a dry heat would do to bronchitis.
People on planes drive me insane too. Why do the seats recline in coach? Why, it’s inhuman! It’s downright rude to recline your seat in cattle class. They should not be allowed to recline. You want to recline, pay up for business/first class. I like my food in front of me, not battling for space amongst my breasts.
I was sick last week and it was AWFUL. But being on planes while sick is double awful. Luckily I have a face that says “fuck off before I cut you.” I learned it while in a third world country surrounded everyday by beggars. It took a while to catch on that you shouldn’t smile and make polite noises with everyone that asks you for money, you should instead freeze them with your glare. I’ve been working it ever since.
isn’t flying just a blast? I used to be the talker and then I realized that when I was ready to stop talking my seat mate was not and so I just stopped bothering them and now we are both happy. Hope you’re feeling better.
Seriously...who ARE these people who don’t come prepared with an iPod, earplugs or book to occupy themselves?
saratogajean — If he had started depressurizing out of his butthole, I would’ve taken the emergency exit without the parachute.
April — Yeahhhhh!!! We’re going to play!!!
Mr. POSSL! — For a while there I felt like a zombie. I was excited—just in time for Halloween!
Ms. Darkstar — If you don’t talk to your seatmate until they speak, you are the PERFECT seatmate.
Crissy — I was going to come help you with the baby and then I realized that I don’t like helping with babies.
Toe — I can’t use Mucinex. Those nasty talking things they use in their commercials freak me out.
Geekhiker — Earplugs, my man. Invest in some earplugs.
Tara R. — I prefer to drive over flying as well. But it was a short weekend and while I drive fast, I don’t drive that fast.
Julia — Oh god, that would’ve been the last straw. The couple behind me were obviously leaving home for the first time because they were excited to see the World Trade Center.
Marjolein — Ohhh! You live in such a wonderful location. All of Europe is at your door.
Ree — You should get your company to spring for a private jet. It’s not to late to renegotiate your contract, is it?
Lyvvie — Reclining seats should be outlawed. And what’s with people not putting them in the upright position for take off and landing! Rude, rude, rude.
Prosy — I hope you are feeling better now. Thanks for the tip. I’m going to work on my, “I’m gonna cutchu!” face.
Jessica — Noooo! I can’t believe you were a talker. And if I remember correctly, you are also the person who brings a tuna sandwich on the plane.
AnnQ — They are the people who sit next to me.
dingo baby, please get better soon. it is sooooo hard to wait for the next funny installment of your life. you should’ve just acted crazy, told her you were flying to hallelujah or something. she’d be the one pretending to sleep, scared of getting sucked into your cult.
feel better!
Oh, not cool. Feel better, Dingo! That sounds like it would have been a miserable flight by itself, but when you add The Crud on top of it...ew. An exquisite form of misery, to be sure.
blakspring — Hahahaha! I bet if I told her about Hallelujah, I would’ve had the row all to myself.
inkpuddle — I must’ve walked around pulling wings off of butterflies in a prior life or something. No one deserves such a flight. Well, except people who pull wings off of butterflies.
Nightmarish. To add the list of annoying plane people, almost worse than the people who let their toddlers bang on the back of your seat...are the people who let their kids hang over the back of the seat and stare at you. Then you feel forced to smile at the wee one. Sorry you had such a craptastic flight.
Feel better, Lady!!!!!
I TOTALLY should have flown back with you! EXCEPT for that shitty plane ride!!! And the Bud breath guy… And the poker lady. Wait. I’ll take the next flight.
I hate talking to people on planes. Once a girl sat next to me and literally covered her head with a blanket. I was thrilled. I wish every flight neighbor would be so considerate.
I think you need to invest in an earplug croakie so they stay attached to you somehow next time someone bumps you while you’re handling them.
Oooo, but you haven’t lost your wit! Thus, I know you’ll be fine.
JM — I am working on perfecting my Turn Annoying Child and Ineffective Parents to Stone look. When I do, I will send instructions.
Allie — Thanks! I hope to see you on your next trip to the city.
Jules — Yes, you should have. Don’t you feel bad now?
Mel Heth — Your seatmate sounds fantastic! Maybe I’ll sell earplug croakies on Etsy. I’ll make a fortune!
Reagan — I’m feeling much better and much bitchier. I MUST be on the road to recovery!
Hopefully your noxious fumes got to Pam and BudBoy. They’re probably whining on FaceBook about the woman next to and behind them who was hacking up a storm. What’s the world coming to when looks that kill are ignored?
I am so glad I do not have a face people want to talk to on airplanes. Sitting next to smelly people for hours is bad enough...no way am I talking to them too.
Hope you feel better...found you through Mean Girl and figured since we were featured in a video together I should come over and say “holla”.
Just discovered your blog and this little story is very funny - not so much for you but hilarious reading. I have the say irritability level on planes - especially when I am tired and grumpy. When will someone invent a plastic bubble for airplane and train travelling????
The trick to making people leave you the fuck alone on airplanes is not to be an asshole since that only works about 50 percent of the time, but to smell like one. Just drink yourself into oblivion the night before then the morning hangover makes you look and smell like a homeless person. Not only will people not talk to you, but they will change seats just so they don’t have to sit by you. The only problem is the unwanted side effects like headache and vomiting (damn you Bourbon Street!), so perhaps you could somehow “fake” the homeless look/smell next time. I hope you’re feeling better. You’re still quite funny even though you feel like ass.
RAD?!? I have never heard of this disease! I am so sorry to hear you have been sick. Also, I miss you, friend!!! I hope you feel better soon. xo
jules just told me that you love candy pumpkins. i’m pretty much going to internet stalk you now
The visual of Rosie on one leg and Kirstie on the other is gut wrenchingly funny!!!
I’ve had enough of these motherfu**ing toupees on this motherfu**ing plane!