Recommended wine for today’s entry: Well, when I hosted a wine tasting event last month, my friend Jody and I, in an attempt to be mischevous, purchased a bottle of under $5 chardonnay, to see if we could trip up our friends. We cleverly disguised the label and … THEY LIKED IT! HEY MIKEY! It’s called Gato Negro and it is from Chile. The Web site describes it as “a pale gold color with an aroma of delicate overtones of bananas, peaches and pineapple. A soft balanced wine with classic New World tropical fruit.” The average rating from our group was a 7, and descriptors included, “clear, light” in color and “light citrus, floral” scent … “very light,” “slightly acidic,” “not too dry, tastes unoaked” and “velvety, floral” for taste. Actually worth picking up a bottle or two for nights when you’ve spent too much at the mall and are trying to assuage your guilt.
I’ve done some traveling recently and you know what? Even if we didn’t have psychotic idiot terrorists threatening our security, I think it’s quite fitting that all travelers go through some sort of screening process.
Terrorists are exceedingly scary, but regular-folk-gone-freakshow are nearly as frightening.
For example, let me introduce you to the lady in front of me in the security line as I left Ft. Myers, Florida last week. And I wish I could say that I was exaggerating for the sake of humor. I’ll start at the top.
Bleach, bleach, BLEACH blonde hair done up big, like Barbara Mandrell in the 1980s.
Deep, deep, DEEP tan, probably a combo of chemicals, tanning bed and sunbathing on a nudey beach filled with old people in denial.
Oh, and I can’t forget — she had some sort of sore, giant and white and a little oozy, centered right in the middle of her plumped-up upper lip. It’s possible that it was like the air hole on a blow-up raft, and she just keeps it there for refilling. But it was quite disconcerting, especially being stark white against her dark cowhide leather face. Eeks.
Tight, animal print sweater barely concealing a fake chest that is attached so high that when she looked down to take off her shoes she almost suffocated.
Cordoroy skinny jeans atop spike-heeled boots so high that my ankles throbbed when I looked at her.
Now my mother used to say “don’t judge a book by its cover” and so I gave the woman the benefit of the doubt.
But my mother also used to say, “OHMYGOD WHAT IS THAT WOMAN THINKING?” and so, all doubts gone, I continued to gawk.
I had strategically selected screening line number 3 because this chick only had one carry-on. So I thought she’d just toss it up on the belt and whoosh — we’d be streaming through security. Wrong. She put the carry-on up on the rack and proceeded to pull out a computer, esconced in a (of course) leopard print case, which she slowly unzipped, extracted the computer, opened the computer, turned it off, and set it in a lovely gray container. Good. Let’s go, bimbo, through the X-ray window …
Nope. Then out comes a purse, with a cell phone, an Ipod and a baggie filled with assorted items. OOh, not done yet, now not one but two cosmetics bags, from which she extracts lotions and potions and necessities like hairball remedy for cats (No, I made that up, but they were items as ridiculous for travel as that!) and she loads items into baggies…and loads items into baggies…and loads items into baggies.
Come on, lady — your face has been completely reconstructed at a cost of like $100,000 — couldn’t you choose a finish that didn’t require makeup? But no, I still stayed behind her in line.
Then she had to peel herself out of the spikey ankle boots and you know how they say that your balance starts to go after after age 50? Well this chick was a decade plus beyond the beginning of the end of balance AND she was standing on one spikey heel to take the other one off. Thank goodness she didn’t try to hold onto MY arm, on accounta whatever that ooze was coming from the air hole on her lip had my gag reflex on high speed.
Next came the chain belt, which proved to be difficult to undo because of the length of her talons.
FINALLY, she was ready to go. And this is what the man said to her before she walked through the scanner:
“Ma’am, have you had a hip replacement?”
WHAT??? Now how in the hell did he know that? Because everything else had obviously been replaced? And if she’d had a hip replacement, why was she wearing spike heels?
Anyway, she nodded and proceeded to hold her hands above her head for the manual pat down. Smiling and giddy.
I think she faked the hip replacement.