I have to document travel because…well, just because I have to.

Yesterday my shoe broke while I was walking through a convention center. Oh, bother. Until that happened, I would have probably bet money that there would be a gift shop/snack shop thingy in a convention center that sold some form of super glue. I would have been wrong.

Lucky for me, the hotel adjacent to the convention center had such a place, and I happily plopped down my $4 for a .000001 oz of Krazy Glue. I hobbled off to the ladies room to be my own cobbler.
I was thinking about how much I disliked the fact that the marketers of this substance decided to misspell “crazy”. Things like that annoy me. If we’re on a road trip and pass a “Kountry Kitchen”, I have to keep driving, no matter how hungry I might be. It’s a personal standard.

So, I was mentally busying myself with the ponderings of this marketing strategy when I realize that I’m just not being successful in getting any glue out of the tube. I’ve poked the hole with the big push pin that was included in the packaging, but nothing is happening. I don’t have a knife, so I gnaw off some of the tip, hoping I don’t get Krazy Glue on my teeth. Still nothing. I gnaw off more of the tip. Nada. I gnaw off ALL of the tip. Nothing.

So, I hobble back out to the lobby, where my trusty travel companion is wondering if I’ve gotten lost. How long does it take to glue a shoe? I admit that the glue has gotten the best of me, and I can’t make it work. He’s a chivalrous guy, so he grabs the Krazy Glue and explains to the nice lady at the hotel gift shop that it’s defective. They get another package of Krazy Glue… same result. Another package… same result. Another package…are you starting to see a pattern? 5 packages of Krazy Glue, and not one available drop. The hotel employee even went to the manager’s office to get an open tube just so I could glue my shoe and even that didn’t work. Krazy situation.

Today I’m on a plane from Newark to Ft. Lauderdale via Atlanta. I love flying Delta because they give you Biscoff cookies. Actually, they give you a choice of peanuts, pretzels, or cookies. I can never understand the people that don’t get the cookies. Who would rather have pretzels than a Biscoff cookie? I immediately distrust these people.

That’s how I came to pay attention to the Penis Lady. I’m sitting in 16C, watching the snack lady come down the aisle. It’s entertaining. I can hear her clearly say “Would you like a snack? I have peanuts, pretzels, or cookies” from at least 8 rows away. However, about every 2nd row, there’s someone who says “I’m sorry, what do you have?” Really? You have not heard her say “peanuts, pretzels or cookies” 14 times? Those are invariably the people who don’t get the cookie, which reinforces my belief that I’m traveling with a large group of weird people.

There is a lady in 15D who gets the peanuts. This attracts my attention. I can reasonably believe that some people get the pretzels because they’re watching their sugar or some other noble reason, but there is no excuse for getting the peanuts. Airplane peanuts suck.

She’s in her 50’s, looking pretty tree huggerish. She’s wearing Birkenstocks and a krazygluesweater vest, and her naturally graying long hair is held back by a huge barrette. She reminds me of Jane Goodall. Before she opens her peanuts, she puts her tray table down and takes out a sketch pad and a book. The book is “Beginner’s Guide to Sketching and Drawing”. From my seat, I have a good vantage point, and I’m always intrigued by people with artistic talent. I’m immediately excited that I’m going to be able to be entertained by someone drawing while I eat my cookies and drink my diet Coke. I have a pretty plain life, people….it’s these little moments that bring me happiness.

So she reviews the book for 2-3 minutes, takes out a big charcoal pencil and opens the sketch pad. In about 30 seconds, I’m thinking that whatever she’s drawing is shaped like a penis. In another 30 seconds, I realize that it IS a penis. Not your Michelangelo type penis, either. This is a penis worthy of some bizarre cartoon porn magazine. I am now totally captivated.

Page after page, she keeps drawing the same penis. I sense that she has some pretty strong feelings for the owner of that penis, and I’m not sure they’re good. I’m starting to wonder if she’s flying to Atlanta to see the penis, and possibly tell it off. She’s wearing a wedding ring, and I’m wondering if this is her husband’s penis. I’m kinda scared of the penis lady.

Then the pencil stops abruptly, and I see the lady has looked to her left and seen me admiring her sketching skills. She doesn’t seem happy about this, but I smile at her nonetheless. She flips over another page and draws a tree. She looks over and glares at me again then closes her sketchbook.

Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes the entertainment portion of our flight.

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