The games people play...and the need for gun control.

Last week I left to pick up C from his first year away at college. There is a blog about the year coming, but that one is still percolating.

So when I am taking the red eye from Portland to New York I like to try and pick out the people in line that are from Portland heading to New York and the ones that are from New York heading home. Now I know that there will be people that are just traveling through as well, and sometimes they get tossed into the "other" list, but for the most part it's the PNWers and the NYCers that I am sorting.

For instance...the dude with the skateboard wearing PJs and smelling faintly sweet...like ummm...incense...Portland. The woman with the very complicated hairstyle, full makeup and suit (on a red eye flight) New York. The musician with the waist length black hair cut in a vaguely Ramonesish style dressed all in black, New York...but the two younger guys traveling with him dressed in flannel with the goatees? Hmm...I would say Portland. Odd mix for a band, but I am sure their hippy, alternative, punk sound works for them.

The guy that decided the line to get on the plane didn't apply to him and so he snuck around the chairs and joined 3 people from the ticket agent...you know the one wearing super dark blue jeans, top siders and a gold chain? New York. The two couples he cut off who didn't say anything to him but looked at each other, raised eyebrows and shrugged...Portland. The woman from the back of the line who yelled..."Don't think we didn't see that!" New York.

The girl with the spacers the size of 50 cent pieces in her ears sitting with the boy with what can only be described as a miniature hula hoop in his nose? Portland. The young woman sitting two seats down from them who weighed about 20 pounds less than I though humanly possibly carrying a bag that probably cost more than my plane ticket? New York.

There was one woman who was throwing me off. She was obviously late 40s but trying to dress younger. And missing. Her hair was over-dyed black which on an older woman is usually New York and on a younger is Portland. But she just seemed not of either place. Then we got on the plane and she sat behind me....when she opened her mouth to speak it was...AH! Southern California!

I was a little lost at first, thought she must be a publicist and this blog was going to be about the inevitability of drug abuse amongst our celebrities. See, as this young blond and a young man who had been carrying a guitar he gate checked walked by they had a conversation in the aisle about sleeping on the plane. It became apparent that the blond was some sort of talent and the black haired lady was with her. She first offered her some Tylenol PM which the blond said didn't work, then moved on to Vicodin and some other pill which she produced from a zip-lock bag.

But no, it turns out that the black haired woman was the blond girl's mother. She is from San Diego originally. She was Miss National City when she was younger. She and her husband met and married when she was 20 and have been married 27 years. Her daughter wrote the hit song "If I was a Boy" that Beyonce released recently and they have been on a publicity tour since October. Friday they were going to meet with Clive Davis in Manhattan. She NEVER sleeps on a red eye which was going to make the next day really long, but it was totally worth it. See, her daughter is a star. She didn't go to college because she told her and her husband...Oh wait? Am I boring you? Did you maybe want to get to sleep?

Yes, I know all of this and more because she talked almost the entire flight to New York. And like I said, she wasn't sitting next to me, she was the row behind me. Apparently she never learned her quiet indoor voice so I would guess everyone within four rows of her knows her life story as well. At one point her seat mate (stranger to her, who could sleep on planes, though that hint was missed when given) must have fallen asleep because there was a stretch of quiet...broken by the loud braying laugh of Miss National City. (when I say someone has a loud laugh, they have a loud laugh) This woke me up and I thought to myself Seriously?? Or I should say...I thought that I THOUGHT it. Apparently I said it out-loud because the woman in the seat next to me gave me a comforting shoulder pat. Oops...and by the way Portland.

So this brings us to the last part of the title for this blog. Knowing that my next two days were going to be balls to the wall busy. Knowing the odds of me getting much more than a few minutes sleep on the next flight were slim. Knowing that Miss National City, My baby's gonna be a STAR! kept me from the three-four hours of sleep I was going to need desperately over the next few days I was faced with her when we got off of the plane...I had to settle for making "Bang bang" noises in my head as I took this shot...

Or at least I think it was in my head...the old man who was standing next to me who had been seated a few aisles away appeared to give me a knowing look...New York.