(If you get the obscure title reference, you get an automatic two entries to the BlogHer contest.)
We are in Phoenix (Tempe actually but it all blends together) for Baseball Spring Training, an annual event. Me, Mr. Stapler and 4 friends are here to sit in the sun, drink beers, eat icees and maybe watch some ball.
We took a late flight out of Burbank, giving us plenty of time to get drunk in the airport. I only had two glasses of wine but they were HUUUUUGE, giving credence to my theory that the worse the wine, the larger the pour. I am a cheap drunk, too, so I was well looped by the time the Southwest plane rolled in half an hour late.
Need I remind you that, when flying, you should NOT, NOT, under any circumstances, leave your Swiss army knife at the bottom of your extremely large purse that you always carry because you are an obsessive freak?
This can only lead to the dreaded extended TSA inspection in which they remove and regard every item in said 10-gallon purse with curiosity and disgust. Tampons, of course, six tiny bottles of Bailey's Irish Cream, why yes, tissues, coffee filter, books, notebooks, pens....and on the bottom, way down there with the spilled various medications, the knife. Sigh. Luckily I was drunk enough to not be too embarrassed but not drunk enough to become sullen and argue with them.
In an amazing coincidence, our next door hotel neighbors were drunk too! And NOISY! And very active! Thank Goddess for the earplugs in my vast purse. They were right under the package of cotton balls.
Anyway, we are here. Angels shirts on. Time to slap on the sunscreen.