November 27, 2003texas [chaos]Finally pulled the disconnectedly ranted and raved file off the laptop. In a nutshell:
10.22.03.
There is something about a wedding that simply implies chaos. Especially if
it's your best friend's wedding. I haven't even seen that fucking movie and
I think I understand exactly what it's going for.I missed my flight.
We left early. And I missed. My. Flight.
We stayed up all night and watched a movie so that we could be sure we left
early. And I missed. My. Flight.We were sitting in freaking morning rush hour traffic for just long enough
so that I walked into the airport just in time to watch my plane take off.
No. Not just watch. I could wave at it, too. So now I'm on standby. I'm at
the mercy of the airport gods.THESE ARE NOT THE DROIDS I'M LOOKING FOR.
They're not. Seriously.
Ugh.
I've been sitting here for two hours already. It's still too early to get a
seat assignment. So now I'm ranting at myself in the B4 terminal at Burbank
Airport. I've already called my wife. I've called my mother. I've even
called Crockett and chatted with him in trying to figure out exactly how
they're going to pick me up and have me at the Bachelor Party ("You are NOT
missing it.") when my plane arrives at 5freakin30pm. That's right. Slap in
the middle of Dallas rushhour.I should have brought a book.
I've tried drawing. Unsuccessful. I've tried playing Freecell.
Unsuccessful. I've tried playing Solitaire. Unsuccessful. Now... I'm
rambling. Ranting. RAVING. No. I'm not quite at raving yet. That's when
there's about 30 seconds left before I'm able to get a seat assignment and
suddenly realize that yes, I'm about to get onto a plane.A. PLAAAANE.
I've had two hours to let this cook, too. It wouldn't have been so bad if I
was able to jet into the airport and get onto the soaring bucket of bolts
before I really had time to think about it. But oh no. Now? I've had three
hours to sit here, chill, and do practically nothing except watch the
planes take off... and land... and take off.. and land. Oh hey, that one's
loading. But it ain't mine! Thus. Rant. Rave. Look at the ceiling as I type
and wonder just how many typos I'm going to have by the time I figure I
should look down again.None, so far. Tres cool.
I should call Beth. So far, she's one of the few people I know are still at
home. Sam's at work (though would be GREATLY amused at this) and arriving tomorrow so I can fill him in then. Beth,
however, I could call and wake up. Just for shits and giggles. I thought
about doing it at 9am when I was settling down for the wait, but figured
I'd save the batteries on my cell. And eventhough it would be a veritable
riot to call and wake her up (as I know she's crawled back into bed, or at
least onto the couch by now)..... I should probably keep saving the
batteries on my cell.No, not so I can call and say we're about to save the world when the
terrorists attack.I'm not worried about those creatures. I'm worried about the plane's damned
wing falling off.Lookit alllll these people checking in. The more the merrier, most would
say. But I just want a freaking seat. I don't care if they strap me to the
wing at this point. Sure, the ride would be a little cold.... but hey! If
they have me strapped to the wing, that's more stuff holding the wing ON.
The next flight out to Dallas leaves at 5pm.Ugh.
---.10.28.03.---on.the.plane.---
Eventually, I landed.
I was supposed to be picked up at the airport, but we already should have
seen what was coming. Called Crockett:Where ARE you?!?!
"Uh.... were are you?!?!"
I'm at the C-25 baggage claim at DFW.
"..... Wha....wh'time......ohshit."
Okay, so even if I'm three hours late I'm actually here a half hour early.
How long would it take you to get here?
"Uh... a Long time."Did I mention it was 5:30?
Yea.
Not good.
Now, the already harried and barely recovering from the flight Wolf is now
put at the mercy of Habib.... or in my case Mufasa (I think he was
African).... to somehow find a way from DFW to Plano (Plain. Ol'.) for the
limited cash that I currently had on hand. Crockett's mom was going to
reimburse me, but these guys wanted $75 for the ride which was fucking
ridiculous. At this point, I had $50. Someone was going to take me the
distance for $50 like it or not.Indeed. I got to Plano for $50.
Dumped out of the cab (quite literally) and instantly whisked off to the
(beginnings of the) bachelor party at the sushi restaurant of which I will
name later. I don't remember right now. However, it was the best if not
probably most expensive sushi I've had in quite a while. Buffet style even.
Needless to say I was trottingback and forth many, many times.After Sushi? I finally had time to go back and change out of my travel
clothes. Most people travel and try to look fairly neat and tidy. I don't.
Ripped up jeans. Comfy t-shirt. Vans. Not to mention the bright ass neon
orange Hawaiian shirt I was wearing so someone could find me in the airport
because I wasn't exactly sure if I'd know the person that ended up picking
me up. Poor Mufasa was blinded. So now? Off to the Church. No no,
The Church. Goth club I'd heard about for about six years running
and finally had a way to attend. So I attended in full Cali industrigoth
style.Yea. I stood out.
"So you're the one that had all the plane issues...."
I guess it was the pants.
At least it wasn't the shoes.Mina? Wanted to keep me. She finally found someone as demented as she was.
I told he we were out there. Just one per time zone. We're off to find our
Mountain and EST compatriots. I suggested we might want to consider Canada.The issues in Burbank were only the beginning, it seemed. The power had
gone out in Plano, as it often does when there's a slight breeze, and the
computers at the hotel were down. It took me 45 minutes to check in. My
ride to the hotel was about two seconds away from just having me take his
room and he'd chill in his rental car.Sleep finally came about 4am.
After, heh, I let the door to the room swing open and realize the "double room" meant "double BED." Sam was arriving in less than 24 hours. More like 15. This should become quite amusing.
FRIDAY - The drama continues.
Phone tag. Before I even get anywhere I'm going my phone starts ringing. It's Sam coordinating his pickup. Some guy named Ben was picking him up. Apparently, I was supposed to have remembered Ben from the club the night before and was to provide a description. MMhm. I just said "print and cherries?" Affirmative. Click.
"Crockett, tell Ben to look for the guy in all black with a leopard print bag and one with cherries all over it."
..... what?
"Dude, better than the neon orange Hawaiian shirt."
Point, there.Honorary luncheon at the freaking Highland Country Club. I can deal with
Country Clubs. I really can. There are times I don't even mind them. But a
stuffy luncheon with that went so far to have a seating arrangement and
little tags directing us where to go? *shudders* It was really cool. Really
fancy. And I'm sure incredibly expensive. But goddamn.Eh, something about the present and freaky green maribou here.
Intentionally vague to make some worry and wonder until I feel like filling
it in.By the time we drove back to Plano and changed it was time to go to the
damn rehearsal.Highland Park Cathedral. Apparently, it was planned that I be the center of
attention - other than the bride and groom, of course. Not only am I the
first of the "official" wedding party to enter the nave and the last to
walk out, and the tallest by several inches, but I was two-fisting it. Yep,
Nat had one more in the entourage than Crockett. No I was not strutting
down the center aisle with an huge cheshire grin. I was damn well
swaggering and the cheshire grin was enormous.Soak it up, boyo, soak it up.
Traffic adventures.
More, the race of who picks the best route to drive mostly across Dallas and BACK into Plano to get to Macchiano's first. We beat everyone by taking surface streets. Did I mention Dallas rush hour at 530?
Dinner at Macchiano's Italian Eatery. Oh. My. God.I had Aimee, one of the bridesmaids, take me home from the rest. so that I
could crash early. I was still exhausted from the night before and we all
had to be up superearly the next morning. So I say my goodbyes and we skip
the afterhangoutpartyishchillything at the apartment and head to the
wonders that were that were the trampoline beds at Hearthside Studio Suites.By that time, Sam's plane had finally come in and he was at the hotel.
Never had that boy looked so good. A damn familiar face with a huge hug. I
really needed it at that point, too. Ended up being drug back to the
afterhangoutpartyishchillythang so that Sam and Crockett could catch up for
a bit. By the time Sam and I got back to the hotel, it was around 11ish....
and we were up talking until at least 2.The double room ended up only having a double bed, too. So we had to share.
Not like my arm had to really be twisted. Was cute to call my wife and
leave a message on the machine going something like "Sam and I are in bed,
he with a glass of wine and me with a cigarette, 'bout to turn in, though
we'd call and say goodnight...." and just let the message drift off.Odd. We live in neighboring counties and have to go to fucking Texas to
catch up. He was amused. My accent had gotten so thick by this point it was
ridiculous.SATURDAY - Even more drama.
Wedding.
Limo.
Adventures with hair.
Picture.
Superfastsuperfly reception.
Pumpkin soup in pumpkins.
Lobster.
Tenderloin cuts.
Potato...... croissants?
Cake.
Surprise horse and carriage.
OUT! BY! FOUR!Hotel? Hang out? Fuck THAT noise. Sleep.
Duke nearly got himself mauled by waking us up pounding on the door rather
than having the common courtesy to call. We all know how well Wolf wakes up
to someone pounding on the door. Sam was quite amused at the fact I came
about a foot off the bed and yelled "quick!bathroom!" as he was totally
nude and we had no idea who was pounding on the fucking door.That gotcher mind right back in the gutter, didn't it.
Off to the afterreceptionreception. The 'kids' reception that didn't have
grandparents and relatives and high socialites attending.
Albertson's doesn't sell alcohol????
ANOTHER MALKAVIAN!
"Uh..... could we get two number fours, both cokes, one with no ice, a
number six with a dr. pepper and directions to the nearest liquor mart?"
"No.... I'm serious about the directions."
Driving in circles.
With people following us.
Finally arriving.
Presentation of medals.
Phone call alerting me to the situation in California and the fact my wife
has been on the fire line for the past two days and that would be the
reason that I left the message the other night instead of talking to her.
Insert a party-wide toast in honor of my wife.Sleeeeeep.
SUNDAY - Even. More. Drama.
Going to the airport with everyone else.
Rental car return drama: two tolls, heading to another state, Sam and I
splitting up at the shuttle.
Their planes leave at 1030 or 11. Mine was supposed to leave at 330.
Settle in for long wait. Again.
Call mom.
Call wife.
Call Beth. This time WAKE HER UP because dumbass forgot about the time change from CST. Meaning it was 7am. On a Sunday.
"Hey bra... they got me on an earlier flight, you opposed to picking me up
at 1230 instead of 430?"
Panic!
Fly.
Morepanic.
Oh god then seeing Dras for the first time in person....I have needed that smile and hug for seven. fucking. years.
For just a moment, after all that chaos and what would surely continue, I
felt at peace.
I felt so damn GOOD.Meeting Leina.
Assalted by dogs!
Chillin.
Attempting to message everybody and having NO ability to type whatsoever.
Boo. Yeh, his name is Ghost, but I call him Boo.
Hotel!
Or more, finding the hotel. The directions were a bit ambiguous.
Oddly.... no drama. We even had a choice of rooms.
Phone call and shot.
Monkey!
Wolf stripping down to boxers.
Wolf then getting up on the table in boxers to prove he would.
(Did I mention the shots?)
Tarot cards.
Stop button.
The pose!
The frightening accuracy of reading.
Another phone call.
Jumps.
Back rub. Oh god the back rub.Man.... I had thought my accent was bad before. Whoo.
When we decided to turn in I was out even before the lights were switched
off.MONDAY - The drama continues.
"Woah... he really can sleep through anything.... except food."
Yea, slept through their waking up, showers, tv, lights, everything, even
Dras leaving to go cook up some breakfast and make sandwhiches..... but the
minute he walked back in with the breakfast tacos I was up and ready.
Going to the carriage house to meet the horses he used to drive on the
tours.
J.D.
Driving around downtown.
Planet K!
Black dragon pipe for wife.
Lunch.
Chillin, chattin, burnin CDs.
Yea, Wolf and Leina shakin' thair thing in Drascoolio-yo's room.
To.... you know he'll kill me if I mention the song.
Out to the OTHER planet K so that Wolf can get another piercing - cause
hey, have to commemorate the trip somehow, right? I got my Dras helix. *big
grin* Right as the guy is picking up the needle to get it on.... phone
rings.
No longer just one fire in San Bernadino.
Fire is heading towards our house.
Well, they may be able to take my house but they can't take my fucking
jewelry!
"I GOT BLOOD!" (yea, for the first time, I bled on a piercing.... it's what
he was waiting to see, too, since Leina waited outside..... juuuust for
Dras)
TacoCabana.
You'd think getting food would be easy but OH NO. You'd think getting a fucking DRINK would be easy. But. OH. NO.
Hotel.
Chill.
No. CHILL.
HAHAHAHAHAHA.
Fifty thousand phonecalls.
Yea, last place you wanna back Wolf is into a corner.
Throw in the towel.
Finding Wolf's STOP! button.
Gloating over the excuse to brag Dras was pushing my buttons.
Up with Leina until six am to calm the fuck down...... dunno if Dras'll
ever understand how much of a hero he was to me just for the little things
he did years ago, when I needed it most.TUESDAY - Have we mentioned the Drama?
Check out.
Luuuuuunch.
Five hundred more phone calls.
White Oleander.
(45 minutes of PHONE. SILENCE. *awed look*)
The Dew Adventures.
Finally bought a damn book.
Getting bumped off not one, but two flights, and all but armwrestling the
flight lady into putting me on a fucking flight so I could get back to
California before there was nothing left to go home to.
Third flight leaving over an HOUR late because an engine was having trouble
starting. Yeh, I'm about ready to walk back to California.... or go apoplexic.
Understand you wanted me to stay bra, but geez *chuckles*
Making a connection in 15 minutes or less or your ulcer is free. At least I didn't have to deal with the
two hour anticipatory layover. Oh no. I made it from gate C25 to gate A19 (equivalent of like.... 55 to 19, the way DFW was set up years ago before they lettered the terminals) in less than 15 minutes. They actually held the damn plane for the five of us that needed to make some sort of connection back to Cali.So now, we're nearing two hours into the flight. I'm exhausted mentally,
physically, and emotionally. Note how the rambly went to listy. Maybe I'll
fill it in one day when I've the time. Maybe I'll just leave it at that so
we can all just chuckle knowingly at the endless drama. Now I know what
Beth means by saying she needs a vacation to recover from her vacation.I didn't want to leave.
I mean, I have to get back to help my wife, who's freaking out because
she's basically having to deal with the possiblity of evacuation all by
herself - even if I wanted to kill her or just not GO home more than once
during the countless phone calls because she was being irrational.
But I didn't want to leave Dras.
I've needed to be around him for seven years.
Seven. Goddamn. Years.
And all I got was two days.
The last of which basically fucked because I'm all worked up and tense and
upset about the fires.
It wasn't enough time.
I have no idea when I'm ever going to get the chance to see him again.
When I lay my head on his shoulder during that hug goodbye..... I almost
couldn't let go.
Just.....Somewhere, a blank filled itself in bra.... I hope you realized it, too.
---.11.26.03.----
And on a sidenote PS.... it's truly something else when you're driving home from LAX (after your wife was told by your cousin to go to Burbank instead of LAX, thus waiting an hour in baggage claim for her to drive BACK... baggage claim of which didn't have my bags anyway, THOSE were in Burbank, and the chaos didn't end there, by any means) with your wife at 2 o'clock in the morning. Winding up the 5 with three other cars on the road. Smokes so thick you can't tell where that ends and the smog and sky begin. Feeling her emotions change physically because you're home again, and not half a Nation away, so far relieved to willingly offer to drive the hated LA freeways. Remembering that bond which you share, no matter how stretched and torn and knotted the thread's been over the years. Leaning the seat back to relax while chatting and freewaying and suddenly coming around the bend to see the sky glowing bloody red because the mountains beneath are in flames. Noticing, in the eerie, angry backlight, the way her haircut has changed because of the parts that got singed off due to sticking out from beneath her helmet when she, herself, was fighting another fire 30 miles to the East. Some of it still pulling free from heat stress when you reach over to run your fingertips along the line curving around her ear. Watching the distant flux of the raging glow and emergency vehicle lights deepen the already dark and worn shadows beneath her eyes caused by lack of sleep because she's been out saving lives. Wondering just how far past the fire you can drive, if you can get ahead of it, if the roads are open, if the backburns 40 miles ahead have climbed the hill to barrel down towards your own house.... if you can, after all of this, get home to finally sleep in your own bed wrapped in the arms of your mate. It's really something else.
Times like this, I have no doubts how deeply I love her.
Posted by Wolf at November 27, 2003 03:43 AM
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