'Where's Larry?'

Summer of 2001, friends of mine were planning a week long boating trip to Lake Powell. Two ski boats, a motor home and a bunch of tents. I was not planning on going on this trip at all. Although I was invited, I figured I just had too much to take care of at home with the kids and all.

Thursday, the day before they were leaving, Gary came to me and said ‘If you change your mind, be at my house at 7am. All you need to bring is your swim suit.’ I said ‘thanks, but I really shouldn’t. I’ve got too much to take care of at home.’

I get home that night, and my wife is doing her normal thing (nothing) and the kids are doing their thing. I think about what the week would be like without me. I really had no appointments. No agenda. Nothing to do. The more I thought about it, the more I realized everything would be fine even if I wasn't there.

11pm that night, I tell my wife I am going to Lake Powell for a week long vacation with my friends. Alone. After an hour long discussion about it, (aka: fight) she realized she had no say in the decision.

7am, Friday morning, I pull up to Gary’s house with one small bag packed. This bag included: Swim trunks, shorts, shirt, underwear, hats and deodorant. Aside from my shorts and shirt I had on, that’s all I was bringing. No camera, no food, no sunscreen and no responsibility what so ever. The best trip I never really packed for.

The first couple of days were great. I slept in the boat under the stars with a life vest for a pillow and a towel as a blanket. It was great! The days were filled with water skiing, beer drinking and cliff jumping. Lots of sights were taken in too.

One particular day, we headed up to Hite marina to get some ice. There were probably 6 or 7 of us in the boat. After we parked the boat and headed to the shop, I got drawn in by some t-shirts. As I was browsing, others went and got the ice and hiked up the hill to the bathroom. After a couple of minutes, I decided I needed to head up to the bathroom as well. As I’m hiking up, others from my group are walking down. I said I’ll be right down. Just need to hit the head real quick. They said ‘OK – Hurry it up!’

After I walked out of the bathroom, I noticed they were all piling into the boat. So, as to not make them have to wait too long for me, I started jogging as best I could, down hill, with my flip-flops on. As I’m half way down, I notice they start to pull away! Assholes. Screwing with me like that. So, I keep the pace knowing the are just screwing with me. I make my way to the store and they are reaching the edge of the wake break. Easily 200+ yards away. I finally make it to the end of the dock as they kick up the speed and pull away.

‘HEY!’ I yell. And keep yelling. Nothing. I’m waving my arms and jumping up and down trying every thing I can to get there attention. Nothing. They forgot me. ME! How could they forget ME!? I’m the life of the party! Don’t these assholes do a head count before taking off? Bastards!

Suddenly, I see a couple of them jerk their heads around and look back. Yes! They remembered me! Finally! The boat slows down and turns around. Good. They are heading back for me.

Then, the boat turns back around AGAIN. They then start going in circles. JERKS! There fucking with me….here we come…no were not….here we come…no were not... Assholes.

As I stand there waiting for them to make up their minds, they go in 3 circles, then, speed off once again. HEY! I yell out like they can hear me. Gone. They left me at the marina. Bastards.

I would later find out that the reason for them doing that was because something flew out of the boat and they went back to get it.

I start to think about how I’m going to make it back to camp and what I’m going to do to these assholes that night while they are sleeping. I look around and there is a boat that had just pulled up. They are now the only boat there. Some guy and his son.

‘Excuse me.’ I say. ‘When you’re done here, could I bother you to take me back to my camp. My asshole friends I’m with thought it would be funny to leave me behind.’

‘How far is it?’

‘Just 2 canyons down. Can’t be more than 20 min. away.’

The guy ‘ho-hums’ a second about it and finally agrees. He finishes getting his ice and what not, then me and his kid load up in the boat and head me back to my camp.

As we pull up, I see a few of them looking at me and realizing it’s me. I hear cheers…’Hey – there he is!’ ‘Yeah! Larry made it back!’ ‘Hooray!’

‘Fuck you assholes!’ I yell as I’m getting out of the boat. I thank the guy and he and his kid boat off.

Apparently they sent a recon car to track me down because after they got back to camp, the people there had asked were I was. The dipshits in the boat thought I had stayed back at camp! They never even knew I was with them. They never thought about it when they left the marina. Bastards.

After that, EVERYONE was always keeping track of me.

That night, Maga had slept on the other seat that laid down in the same boat I was in. In the middle of the night, it started to rain. Maga was sound asleep. I got up and nudged her to wake her so she could get some cover. I climbed in the hull on one side, thinking Maga was coming in. Fell asleep real quick. Next thing I know, I hear my name being called. You know…really softly. Still asleep, so not really clear. Then, I hear people talking…It was morning.
’Have you seen Larry?’,
‘Nope. He was in the boat last night. He’s gone now.’ Maga says.
‘I heard a splash in the water…did he fall in and drown?’
‘Laaarrryyyyy….’

This is when I finally wake up enough to poke my head up threw the door of the hull.

‘I’m in here! Now shut the hell up!’

I lay back down and try to sleep, but all I here are people talking about how they have to keep track of me from now on so I don’t get lost. Thanks guys! Your real friends.

Only a couple more days of that crap, so wasn’t too bad. Just being there the whole week with little to no responsibility whatsoever was nice. Never again will I have a vacation like that one.

Oh – until my business trip to Japan…..

The shot of a lifetime.

I went golfing over the weekend with my 14 year old son Jordan, my brother, Terry and his brother-in-law, Wayne. Here is a recap of the only event that afternoon worth mentioning.

Back 9, 18th hole. 147 yard, Par 3. Last hole of the round.

I’m first in my group to attempt to hit the ball. That’s right, attempt. That’s how good my game was going that day.

I grab my 6 iron. Now, for those that don’t know what this means…if I was any good, a 6 iron should carry my ball about 160-170 yards. And with this shot, I should be using an 8 (130-140 yds) maybe even a 7 iron (140-150 yds). No, I need to use a 6.

I stepped up on the tee box. Set my ball a little higher on the tee than I normally do. Just to get it up in the air a little higher. I figured I would not use all of my 6 iron so I could have better control.

I lined up my feet to the pin, set up the club on the ball and took a deep breath. Looked down the fairway to the pin one last time. Brought my club back and watched the club hit the ball. The hit felt good. I really got the ball on the sweet spot on the club. The ball went sailing down the fairway.

As I watched the ball fly, it wasn’t turning to the right in mid air like it normally does. It was actually going straight! Straight to the flag! The longer I watched it, the farther it seemed to be going. I mean, farther than I normally would have hit it. I must have really gotten a hold of it on the ‘sweet spot’ of the club.

As the ball came down, I seen it hit right in front of the green in line with the flag and bounce up. That was the last I seen of it. It must have gone behind the green. I grab my tee and as I walk off, I ask if anyone seen where it went. Wayne says he thought it went in the hole. Jordan says he heard a noise like it hit the flag. Terry wasn’t sure where it went. Wayne again, tries to assure me it went in the hole. ‘I’m pretty sure you just got a hole in one!” he says. “Don’t do that to me Wayne. Not cool at all!”

As they finish up, Wayne keeps telling me he is pretty sure it went in. We walk down the fairway and I am patiently waiting for the others to finally hit their balls up to the green so I can go look for mine.

As I get to the green, I start looking towards the back of the green by the parking lot for my ball. Nothing. I scan the surrounding rough grass and fringe. Nothing. I continue to look around as I walk up to the flag. Still I see nothing. As I get closer, I see the back side of the inside of the hole behind the flag pole, and no ball. I get up to the hole and look directly in and there sits my ball in the front side of the hole. A hole in one!

I did it. I actually got a hole in one. Un-freaking-believable! My game was over. Didn’t need to get my pitching wedge out. Didn’t need to get my putter out. Didn’t get the disappointment of getting another double boogey on a par 3. I got an eagle! First ever!

So now, I have 2 choices.

1- Hang up the clubs. I’ve done what most will never do in their life time.
2- Keep trying to get another one to see if any skill was involved.

I think I will choose the later. What, am I crazy!? Of course I am. I can’t quit golf! Are you kidding me? Never. I could get a hole in one on every hole and not quit golf. It may get boring, but I’m not quitting!

I have a dream....

What a fun time the forth of July is. Parades, BBQ’s, beers, ice cream, and fireworks. Love the fireworks (and the beer of course). Crowds of people gathering and the many different locations to let off and watch fireworks. Amazing how they get the different colors and shapes to the explosions that are ignited at the beginning of the fuse in each firework we light.

The symbolism of these fireworks are of the rockets and bombs that burst in the air used to fight for our freedom here in the U.S. That’s not to say that is where they are originated from, but it symbolizes defending our country. Very patriotic for a day we celebrate our independence on.

That brings me to my point. The day that we celebrate our independence on.

Now, I’m just as patriotic as the next guy. I’ve hit the parades, ate the hot dogs and burgers, drank the beers, (love the beers), ate the ice cream and done the fireworks with the kids until midnight. Good times. But getting up to go to work the next day is a bitch! Why the hell are we up going full speed 8 hours before we are supposed to be to work? That really sucks! We should be up ALL night celebrating! Letting off fireworks! Getting drunk! Playing card games! Cooking up Brats! Not trying to get to bed so we aren’t dragging ass the next day at work.

Of course this only applies to the forth landing on a week day, Sun-Thur. as apposed to the weekend, Fri-Sat. Because I work blue collar white man hours, Mon-Fri. (see disclaimer).

We have other holidays that we celebrate the night before, so why not the forth? New years day is celebrated right at midnight. Christmas is celebrated in the early morning hours. Not to mention Santa Clauses visit the night before. So why not have the celebration of our independence be celebrated on the very beginning minute on the forth of July? That’s right…12:00 am, July forth!

This can’t be that big of a deal can it? I mean, we are still celebrating on the forth. Just doing it at a different time of the day. This way, we can work all day, get home with the family, load them up in the wagon, and pick that nice spot in the park to watch the fireworks at 10pm, ON THE 3RD, until 10:30ish or so, then go be home and ready to do your own firework show at midnight! Stay up all night with the kids/adults and party your brains out until the wee hours of the morning. Spend all day the 4th recovering, and be ready to hit the keyboard first thing on the 5th.

Not too much to ask is it?

Lets all band together. Spread the word, and get this in the works for next year! (even though it’s on Friday in 2008, we can still do it on the 3rd, Right?)

Thanks for your support!

-L

What's in a name? Well let me tell ya!

Nicknames are fun to have. Sometimes, people have to do something and their friends give them a nickname for what they did. Here’s a good example…Jason (not his real name, mind you) was on a trip with a bunch of us friends and we all stopped at a little ma-pa restaurant to get some grub. Jason ordered a simple grilled cheese sandwich. He was asked if he wanted that on wheat or rye bread.

He said “White please.”

The girl replied, “we don’t have white. Wheat or rye?”

Jason was beside himself. “You don’t have white bread?”

“No” the 14 year old girl said. “we don’t have white bread. Wheat or rye?”

Jason was pissed. Gary said, “what’s wrong with wheat bread?”

“I don’t like wheat bread” Jason says, and he turns away and walks to the table with everyone else without ordering. And now, he is in a pissy ass mood.

Hey – if a 30 year old guy don’t like wheat bread, the guy don’t like wheat bread. I get it. Hell, I don’t like chocolate and haven’t eaten it since I was like 10! (I know…I’m not human.)

Gary then asks the girl if they serve burgers on wheat or rye only.

“No. We have white buns with seasame seeds on them. Would you like one?”

“No….” Gary says, “Get Mr. White Bread a slice of cheese, stick it on a bun and microwave it for 10 seconds and I’ll give it to him. And yes, I’d like a burger on a bun as well. Thanks!”

She smirks and goes about what she was told. Gary then brings Jason his lunch, and hands it to him saying: “here’s your grilled cheese ‘white bread’!”


Now, I have a nickname I have created, but I didn’t create for the intention of being a nickname for myself. It is more of a description of my birthday that I created similar to Christmas. However, friends have coined it as being my nickname.

Let me explain….

Christmas is an annual holiday that marks the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. Better known as Jesus Christ. The word Christmas is a contraction meaning “Christs Mass.” Christians are raised to try to be “Christ like”. Since I am Christian, I am trying to be “Christ like”. And what better way to be Christ like than to have a day like Christs? So, I have contracted my name “Larry” with “Mass” to get “Larmas”. This self proclaimed ‘holiday’ is celebrated on my birthday, June 16th.

Now keep in mind…I am not, by any means, trying to take anything away from, mock, or degrade the birth of Christ in any way shape or form. (see my disclaimer) I am simply trying to be Christ like and have my own holiday.

I don’t want to leave any religion out of my holiday. So, everyone is invited to celebrate Larmas in anyway they see fit for their own personal happiness and well being.

For those that celebrate Christmas by the exchanging of gifts, this is the rule:
When Christ was born, he got gifts. Now he is gone, everyone exchanges gifts with each other. This will happen with me as well. I get the gifts, and when I die, gifts will be exchanged.

Jews have the festival of lights that lasts for eight days. Eight days! This is insane! It is not fair that the Jews get over a week to celebrate as they see fit on Larmas. So, EVERY ONE gets to do what they want in anyway they see fit for their own personal happiness and well being for eight days!

These days are now defined as the Saturday before the 16th, to the Saturday after the 16th. (the last Saturday is commonly known to slip into Sunday morning nearly every single year – this is just fine, because….it’s Larmas and everything is ok on or around Larmas.)

Simple enough huh? Everyone is included. No matter the race, religion or education, when Larmas comes around, you can celebrate it anyway you see fit for your own personal happiness and well being for eight days.

This holiday falls at the perfect time of the year too. Right in the middle of the traditional Christmas’. This way, those of us in the northern hemisphere of the planet can celebrate a similar holiday in the summertime as the southern hemisphere gets the snow during the holiday. Perfect!

I would like to get this holiday known world wide so everyone benefits, and eventually we all can get a day off work (or 5) for the celebration. So, spread the word of Larmas to your loved ones and friends around the world!

Happy Larmas!

I hear the tequila inside me say....

My 30th B-day party was quite the bash…

The day started out on the golf course where 8 of us gathered together for a morning round of cigars, beer and golf. 9am, out on the 3rd hole I shank 3 balls in the river. Not good. 5th hole, lost 2 more out of bounds. 6th hole, lost another out of bounds. 9th hole – a 400+ yrd straight shot and I kill it! Best hit of the day. Straight down the fairway, less than 100 yrds from the green with a clean shot ahead. My second shot, I kill it! Fantastic shot…30+ yds past the green. Shit! Didn’t get any better on the green either.

The best thing about that round of golf was hanging out with the guys, smoking the stogies. We all gathered at Todd's house (yes, his name has been changed to protect the innocent), later that night for a beer tasting contest. The fee to get into the party was a 6 pack of unique beer. We must have had at least 20 different types of beer there. Not to mention all the liquor for the non beer drinkers. (aka 'White Bread')

The BBQ lemon pepper chicken and steaks Todd and his wife made were to die for.

As the night moved on, we were all getting our lips on the different kinds of beer we had to prepare for the test. We had a lot of studying to do before the final exam just hours away. We all continued to kick the beers back and smoking on stogies all night.

Then – the testing began. My turn came up, and I knew I had this in the bag. I grab the first cup. Knock it back, and swish it around. Then the second…third, forth, I knew what all six of them were. That was a lot easier than I thought. I grab my cigar and my beer and stroll back out to the back yard as the next contestant strolled in. I was counting on winning the main prize. (whatever it was.)

Finally, after what seemed to be hours of deliberation, the results of the test were released. The little 22 yr old girl that don’t drink very much and don’t smoke cigars had all 6 right!
There's going to be a tie between me and her! I just knew it.

Now, I don’t remember if anyone else got all 6 right. I just remember I didn’t. I got a whopping zero! None if them! I was shocked. I wanted a recount. Maybe they screwed up my ballot. I didn’t leave any hanging chads. How could this be!?

Oh-well, where’s the leftover beer, I’ll drink it!

It was starting to get pretty late. The party was still in full swing. I go down to the bar and White-Bread offers up a shot of tequila. He and my wife (now ex-wife ladies) strong armed me into having one. I fought vigorously for several seconds, then the pressure got to me. I sent the rest of my beer down and grabed the shot. We all kick em back and mine went down very fast. I don’t really like tequila so I don’t drink it. Ever. And the events that came about shortly after reminded me as to why I don’t like it.

Just as fast as the shot went down, I felt it coming back up. I set the shot glass down and started scrolling through my mental notes as to where the bathroom was. ‘Just to the left in the hall’ I thought. As I turn to run, I realize there is a sink in the kitchenette that is much, much closer. However, this sick is behind to ladies who are engaged in conversation and oblivious to the fight that is going on inside me. I have to make a choice. The bathroom – nearly 20 feet away, or split the ladies and hit the sink a mere 5 feet away.

I hear the tequila inside me say, ‘The sink!’. Off I go to the sink. As I head in that direction (again, a mere 5 feet away mind you) I speak very politely to the ladies, ‘excuse me please.’ They both take a step back as I approach and it was a good thing they did, because the tequila thought that me saying 'excuse me' was the secret code for ‘ok – it’s clear! You can come out now!’ I had barely got to the ladies, still at least 3 feet from the sink when the tequila/beer/cake/chicken all started its journey out of me, thru the air, past the ladies and into the sink. I see the two ladies do what Keanu Reeves did in the Matrix. I was very impressed. I don't think they were.

I was told that one of them was about to put a chip in her mouth just as I had done this. After I parted them, she politely set the chip back down in the bowl and walked away. Literally with not facial expression at all. (maybe this is funny only to those of us that were there....)

About 2 minutes later, after the laughter somewhat started to settle, someone herded me into the bathroom and sat me in front of the toilet, where I continued my praying. It felt like days. Weeks, months. Holy crap I felt like shit.

After I picked up my stomach and some of my lungs off the rim of the porcelain God, I realized I had a mess to clean up in the sink. I wobble my way out there, and Todd had his bio hazard suit on and my mess nearly cleaned up. I said ‘sorry buddy, I can do that’ and he looked at me with the eyes of death and said, ‘I got it man, don’t worry about it’. But his eyes…they told a different story. One like..’you are never coming over to my house again you drunk bastard!’ I’m sure he will tell you different, but I felt so bad.

After that, I don’t remember a damn thing. I have no recollection of getting home or the entire next day. I all remember is everyone saying, ‘It’s not a party until Larmus pukes!’

All in all, I think it was a great party and I would like to thank those that cleaned up after me when I obviously couldn't. And I apologize for all that.

Party on!

'It's not a party unless ....'

Parties are fun. Especially when the people you are with don't judge you or anyone else that is there. Just a bunch of cool friends hanging out, and having fun. No drama....sigh....good times...

Speaking of good times...Here's one:

Some friends of mine called a party to their house one winter day. It must have been new years or something. I Don't really remember.

I get there, and the party was already happinin. Shots were flying, beers were being downed, board games with alcohol were being played, music going...typical fun party. I had a few jello-shots to chase my beers down and a few shots of this, and a few of that. Then, the party moved downstairs and into the garage.

The house is a split-entry house, so you go down 4 or 5 steps, and your on a landing to the front door, then you go down 4 or 5 more stairs and you are on the bottom floor of the house. Straight across from the stairs is the bathroom. To the right is the TV room, and to the left is the door to the garage.

The garage has a typical 'male' setting. No car, dart board, work bench, yard tools hanging, you know, typical garage. Me, Dalton, (names have been changed to protect the guilty) his date Amber, Jason and his date Heidi are standing around in our own little conversation when Jason leaves to go to the bathroom. Heidi asks if any one needs another beer. 'I do!' I say as I start to down the last half of my someteenth beer. She grabs me a bottle and even twists the top off for me. 'Your awesome! Thanks!' I say. She smiles and says 'Your pretty alright your self...and your welcome!' and with that, I focus back on the conversation that was going on, when not 2 seconds later, the rest of my night began to come to an end...

As I stand there, holding my beer, I see Heidi, out of the corner of my eye, lift her beer as if she is going to drink it. Now, I don't know why, maybe the beer gods were watching, but I suddenly gripped my beer tighter, as if it was going to drop out of my hand, but I am now thankful I did! Next thing I knew, Heidi had 'tapped' my bottle and it started to foam over. (if your not familiar with 'tapping', this is when one idiot hits the top of a bottle with the bottom of their bottle. This causes the beer to foam up and shoot up and out of the bottle. It literally shoots up. 6-8 inches. So it can cause a mess if your not on top of it and start chugging it to prevent the mess it will make.)

My quick thinking saved the garage floor. I wrapped my lips around the top of my bottle and started chugging. Chugging foam that is. When you chug foam, it normally tends to fill every crevis in your stomach, throat, nose, ears, then your eyes and lastly, your mouth. This is exactly what happened. As it had gone through all the above, then into my mouth, I thought I had it all under control. I looked at my bottle and seen it was still foaming. I went to drink more of it, but as I tried to open my mouth, Daltons eyes were getting bigger and he started to move back away from me as he seen bubbles coming out of my nose. Heidi was crying she was laughing so hard, and the foam in my stomach wanted out. Bad. So, it started coming out. I knew there was no turning back. My cheeks instantly filled up and I covered my mouth to prevent anyone in the room from being decorated with what I was about to release. I ran into the house and busted open the bathroom door.

Now, remember a minute ago, before I got this new beer, Jason had left to go to the bathroom. Well, I remembered this as soon as I busted open the door and seen him standing there with his hand just zipping up his pants. All I remember of this is the size of his eyes as I busted in the room and him backing up against the wall like I was a freight train he was avoiding.

I didn't make it to the porcelain god in time for the first wave. In fact, when I flung the door open, it was pretty much on its way out then. It flew out of my mouth, past Jasons face, across the bathroom and on the back wall of the shower and into the tub. By that time, I had my body wrapped around the toilet hanging on like it was an old girlfriend I didn't want to let go. You know how the rest of that goes.

I don't recall much of the rest of that night. I do recall some kind of wrestling match out in the snow in the front yard, but everything else is pretty much gone. This was the first of what was to be several incidents at parties where my insides decided they wanted to join in on the fun too. Thus, the phrase 'It's not a party unless Larmas pukes!' was coined.

So - with that said, I would like to thank those that cleaned up after me when I obviously couldn't. And I apologize for all of that.

Party on!

I feel good...

I wish everyone could feel as good as I do right now.

The '4's

I was in Phoenix last week in the airport waiting to load the plane to come back home. I had just got done eating and having a beer, so I was feeling content. As I sit and wait with everyone else, I start my 'people watch' game. Across from me, a few rows over, is a very attractive, well dressed (business like) women. Approximately 35 yrs old, tall (5'8"+), olive skin tone, dishwater blond, with very nice cleavage she was very proud to discreetly display. On my 1-5 scale, an easy 4. Great eye candy.

All of a sudden, another '4' comes walking right in front of me and sits about 5 seats to the right of me. This '4' was shorter, about 5'5", brunette, brown eyes, olive skin, again - well dressed (business like) woman. This '4' was about 23 yrs old, and the more I looked and listened to her on the phone, the more she was becoming a '5'! She referred to herself as 'Bride-Zilla' on the phone several times, which was a big turn-on for me. This meant she had a great personality and loves to joke around. More great eye candy.

As I boarded the plan in my first class seat (I never fly first class. Not by choice though. This was a flook.) I sat and waited for my two '4's to board for my last peak at the classy women. As they went by, I realized that would most likely be the last time I ever see either of them again, so I take it in.

More than half way thru the flight, I get up to take a leak. As I finish in there, I decide that I better let my fart out while I'm in there. I let it rip. Not a bad one, but I've had better. The aroma is not pleasing at all. Must have been the pork chops and beer from the night before. I vacate and close the door behind me to contain the beast I left in hopes the air flow in there would tame it in a matter of minutes.

Just after I return to my seat, which is just across and back on from the restroom, and start buckling up my seat belt, I see my second '4' (now a '4+') walk past me and up near the cockpit of the plan. This is wonderful! I never thought I would see her again. What a great surprise! As I see her looking around as if she needs something, I glace over to the restroom door and wonder.....then I glance back at her....then she makes her way to the door. Looks at it as if she is looking for some sort of secret passageway and cannot find the candle to pull on to open up the door.

At this point, I still have not got my seat belt on. It has been less than a minute since I left the aroma of my insides in that small, small, small room. Unless the window was open in there, I know it is still finding its way in the pours of the wall.

Finally - after about 5 long seconds of looking for the secret switch, she realizes that if she just pushes on the door, it folds open. Did she see me come out? Does she know I exist? Is she suffering from a congested head cold? All these questions will be answered by just how long she stays in the stink tank. (I laugh to myself thinking...'this is good stuff here!')

I time her. 45 seconds go past. That is just about as long as I can hold my breath. She's better than me already.

90 seconds....

2 minutes! She comes out after 2 minutes! I see the door crack open. She hits her foot with it on the inside or something, but its a fight, I can see it. Finally, the door opens and my '4+' steps out. I don't want to look, but I can't look away. It's like driving by a bad car wreck, you look to see if everyone is ok, but you know you risk seeing something very bad.

She looks up from the floor as she walks out, and makes sure the door closes behind her. (maybe to make sure my insides don't escape). She looks down the plane from where she came from and I watch her eyes the whole way. She can't miss me. I am in a single seat on the aisle. I could nudge her with my shoulder. However, she walks by like I am not even there. Maybe she didn't smell anything. Maybe she made sure the door was closed tight to hide her little secret. I am tempted to get up and go in there to see what she left behind. But I control myself and realize that is just sick. Besides, we started our decent and so I was captive to my seat once again and I never saw either of my '4's again. Sigh.