The Jew Christmas Whoring Of 2005

Yeah, that card about sums it up. Actually I think nice straightforward beating would have been an improvement over my holiday weekend. However, I think I could easily be nominated for some sort of Guinness record for most screwed up Christmas ever.
If only I were making this up....

Christmas Eve:
It started normal enough. My usual holiday Jeckyl & Hyde mood swings were in full effect. I was wrapping last minute presents & watching football. I got a call from Mr. Robinson. We chatted for awhile & he mentioned that he had Monday off and asked me to come out to NY on Sunday. I promptly explained to him that since I wasn't Jewish I actually had some place to be on Sunday with my family. My mother then gets a call from my aunt who announces my dad will not be attending Christmas on Sunday. Christmas Day in my family might as well be called 'The day of the year I see my father'. So to find out he was not coming was a little shocking. My mom, strange romantic that she is, proceeds to explain my invitation to go to NY. For whatever reason my crazy catholic aunt thinks that instead of Christmas at her house I should most certainly go to NY.
Now what do I do? Talk about not having any experience to draw from...
I consulted the best friend who again said NO about 50 million times. I decided to tell MR that my plans had changed & I might be able to make it on Sunday after all, but decided to refrain from committing to anything until after I did the Christmas Eve thing with mom's side of the family.
I think the highlight of the evening would half to be when I learned that grandpa & his "lover" (who was in attendance wheelchair and all) had given up trying to have sex. Whew! Oh but wait, instead they hang out at the nursing home watching dirty movies! Great, now I get to picture grandpa watching porn. Sigh.
I put in my required four hours of attendance & took off with the family's yay vote to go to NY in hand.
I got home, called Mr Robinson & told him to book the ticket. I did so mainly to get it over with it. You can get along great with someone online, but it means nothing until you meet in person.
My ticket was booked at about 12:30 am for a 7:00 am flight. Between packing, my nerves & the early flight I got all of 2.5 hrs of sleep. This should have been a sign.

Getting There:
I arrive at the airport a little late, but since I didn't have any bags to check I wasn't too worried as I went to check in. As my ticket prints out from the little kiosk I see the kiss of death: SSSS. For those of you who don't travel this is airline code for 'You are a fucking terrorist bastard who needs to be strip searched before getting on the plane'. They claim it is random who gets selected for the super security check, but as I told the security folks at the Denver airport, RANDOM MY ASS! (Not that I recommend announcing such things to airport security personnel). Honestly though I'm plagued with the dreaded super security tag about 95% of the time. I do back flips when I get to go through the normal people line. Seriously.

I eventually get to my plane (down one cigarette lighter) & board. When I get on the plane the first thing the flight attendant (who was a dead ringer for Karen on Will & Grace) announces is that we have no ground power supply for the plane. What this means is there will be no heat on the plane until they turn the engine on. Once in the air the captain announces a smooth flight lasting about an hour and forty minutes.
All of those things turn out to be lies.
Lie#1: The Temprature Will Be Fine By The Time We Take Off
Gee, it is Wisconsin in December who would want something like heat on their plane? I had not previously known about the whole ground power thing before this Sunday. I do now & damn if it isn't important. I in fact would not regain feeling in my extremities until halfway through the flight.
Lie #2: Smooth Flight My Ass
No sooner do I tempt fate and ask for coffee then we immediately hit turbulence. By the way do you have any idea how much intestinal fortitude one has to have to order airplane coffee in the first place? Anyway, it wasn't awful turbulence, but certainly bumpy enough to test my ability to control a cup of coffee.
Lie#3: One Hour & Forty Minute Flight
I managed to fall asleep on the plane simply from exhaustion. When I wake up it is about 10 am eastern. I mistakenly think perfect, we will be landing any minute. Then the captain comes on the speaker. We are not landing, we are in fact in a holding pattern because there is about 2000 feet of visibility at LaGuardia. Then to comfort us, apparently, he says that if we can't land before we run out of gas the plane will be diverted. Ok, so let me get this straight: We can't land & we are 20 minutes from being out of gas at 30,000 feet? Wonderful.

We did in fact end up being diverted to Allentown, Pennsylvania. Not exactly the Christmas day plans I had in mind. While sitting on the ghost town like tarmac of Allentown waiting for the airport people to figure out how much money they wanted for being nice enough to let us not die a fiery death it occurred to me hanging out with the catholics suddenly didn't sound so bad. At least since we were on the ground I could use my cell phone. So I called Mr Robinson & explained my situation, he was less than thrilled. So, there I was with an undetermined amount of free time & had forgotten my MP3 player and/or a book. I resorted to scribbling notes down for this post on the stupid business reply cards I'd found in the Skymall magazine for entertainment. The whole time I had Billy Joel's Allentown going through my head. I don't even like that song in the first place, but apparently my brain found it appropriate to play since that is the only thing I know about Allentown PA. I will say that my Billy Joel moments were not nearly as disturbing as listening to the white boy teenager behind me attempting to compose a rap about Allentown.
Every so often there was an announcement about our status. The first one was basically 'We don't have a clue what is happening'.
The second one was about the temperature. Remember the ground power we didn't have in Milwaukee? We had one in Allentown. So instead of freezing to death they managed to keep the plane at a temperature equivalent to the temperature in the 7th circle of Dante's inferno. I made some feeble attempts to bond with my plane mates, but mostly just thought about smoking a cigarette & flipping through the Skymall looking for the strangest item. I decided it was most definitely the light up slippers:
The next announcement was about our lack of priority. LaGuardia had lifted it's ground stop & planes could now land, however since we were on the ground we were considered low priority. What the fuck? Ever been to Allentown's airport? You'd think twice about leaving anyone stranded there I promise.
Then there was the flight attendant's announcement about singing Christmas carols for dollars. Great, now I'm stuck on Karaoke Air.
Finally, after over an hour of bullshit, the announcement came that we were taking off for our whopping 25 minute flight into NY.

Wholly Crap! Terra Firma!
After landing at LaGuardia I realized that being diverted wasn't the worst thing to have happen. Far worse was to be the people who hadn't gotten on a plane yet. The terminal I had landed at more closely resembled a concentration camp as opposed to an airport. I carefully picked my way through the corpses & the screaming babies grateful to be moments away from FINALLY getting a cigarette. I nearly jumped over the counter of a news stand for some matches & rushed outside. Apparently I looked so fried that random people were walking up to me announcing how much I looked like I needed a cigarette. I then got a cab to Manhattan. I really hate cabbies I can't even remotely understand. This particular one was Jamaican. Halfway through the trip to Mr Robinson's apartment there is a toll bridge. The cabbie keeps asking me if I want him to use his zipper. Excuse me? Convinced something really fucked up is going on I have him repeat the phrase several more times. Eventually I discern that he is in fact not asking me to do anything with his pants, but is asking if I want him to use his EZ pass. Fucking New York.

Moment (or hours as it were) Of Truth:
I will admit my initial reaction to Mr. Robinson was something along the lines of "Oh my god, he looks like a cancer patient". His hair was grayer & there was quite a bit less of it than I had surmised from his photos. However, he didn't slam the door in my face & I didn't run screaming so it was a start.
I was a tad stunned at his enthusiasm though. Clearly we were going to have sex. I didn't realize he would try to jump me upon arrival. I was 3 hours late getting there, had gotten no sleep, looked awful even by my own standards & had just entered a strange NY apartment belonging to a man who may or may not intend to chop me into little pieces. Anyone else wondering why maybe my libido wasn't firing on all cylinders? I get him to chill out & mention I could use some food. The bags of mini pretzels & half frozen granola bars I had gotten on the plane were not exactly life sustaining at that point. We ended up walking down to a small diner and getting some food which went a long way in calming my nerves.
We got back to the apartment & there was about 2 hours until the Packer game. So, Mr. Robinson, the pure hormone that he is, decided that now I had definitely been on the ground long enough to have sex. I was more game for it at that point. It actually wasn't bad sex considering I was still a little disoriented & overwhelmed by the situation. It also wasn't bad considering this was the oldest cock I had ever been near. Also, at 40 he has a better body then I've ever had. It was a little depressing.
After the sex he seemed much more capable of being a normal human being which was comforting. We watched the Packer game. As usual my team was sucking ass so MR decides he is going to show me how to play bridge. This actually ended up being one of the best parts of the trip. We talked, he was explaining the game while he played, then let me play for awhile. It's kind of addictive in the same way Sudoku is.
We then ordered some Thai food. If there is one perk to being in a big city it has to be the food. No way in hell could I have had Thai delivered on Christmas day in Wisconsin. The food was awesome too. The plan was then to go see Syriana, but we ended up watching the Vikings game & falling asleep. Well, sleep is a relative term. I figured after we went to bed I'd have no trouble sleeping. I was over my fear that he was going to chop me into a million pieces so no problem right? Wrong. Old New York apartments have steam heat. I had never experienced steam heat before. Basically the deal is every 5 fucking minutes the heat kicks in and it sounds like someone is releasing air from a valve. I don't know how the hell one gets use to this obnoxious sound.
When we got up Monday morning it was basically time for coffee, a recap & then I had to go catch my plane. So there I was sucking down fairly decent coffee, lighting my cigarettes on the stove since my matches were all gone & discussing the experience with MR.
The verdict was pretty neutral. He thought I was too fat (he did say it nicer than that) & was upset that I hadn't taken 3 showers since I'd been there (less than 24 hours mind you) the way he had. I have good hygiene, but am a little weirded out taking showers in other people's places. Call me crazy but I think he was way overly upset by the shower thing. Then he has the nerve to say he wanted to fuck me again, but since I didn't take enough showers he didn't. What the hell is that?
I found him a little too neurotic & the hairline was just way rougher than I expected. When we were having sex all I kept thinking was 'Wow, you are so like a dirty old man', even though the sex itself was good. No wonder guys like fucking younger girls. I mean body aside, at least I have a face worth looking at in the throes of passion.

Homeward Bound:
By 9:40 am I kissed him goodbye & was safely in a cab back to LaGuardia. The plane was about 10 minutes late getting there. When we finally boarded I realized something very important: DO NOT FLY THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS! Ok, you can fly, but I don't recommend it unless you either love demon children or are extremely masochistic. First I got stuck with a window seat. I hate window seats. I like watching the take off & landing, but I always feel cramped by the window. Then the row behind me, my row & the row in front of me all fill up with the same set of passengers: 2 parents (What happened to the good ol' days when everyone was divorced?), a toddler & a fucking baby. I just sat there squished against my window thinking about the suffering to come from the screaming babies & antsy toddlers surrounding me. Couldn't I have just gotten a nice terrorist looking guy instead? At least then I could have slept on the flight. Then of all the dads on the plane I get the tallest one & of course he is a total Madison hippie. Just trust me on this one. If you are from Wisconsin you can spot a granola munching, bike loving, shower hating Madison hippie at a mile. Before we even took off he had whipped out homemade trail mix for the kids.
Another thing about parents...Why are they always armed with crackers? Within five minutes of take off all I could smell was that distinct odor of children eating crackers. It was a lot like being gang raped by 20 men who had just downed a bag of fritos each. I hate the smell of crackers and frito breath for that matter.

Home Sweet Home?
I was glad to be home in one piece. I was even glad that I made the trip out there. Though not a resounding success at least now I knew what to think of the situation. What I wasn't thrilled about was explaining any of the events to my people back home. Mom got the short & sweet version and that seemed to quell her interest. It was probably apparent that it hadn't been awful, but it hadn't been amazing either.
I went out there with realistic expectations so I wasn't overly upset or disappointed. Well, I wasn't until I talked to the best friend. Her take on the situation was that he had basically flown me out there for sex, could have cared less about me as a person & he might as well have left a $50 on the nightstand. I can understand that to a point, but it didn't feel quite that cheap to me at the time. Alternately I'm so use to being treated that way it doesn't even faze me anymore. Something is only worth what someone is willing to pay for it. I'm clearly the ugly brown clearance pile sweater of dates. I'm just grateful for getting a second look.
Plus, sometimes it's just nice to have a warm body. Someone to make you feel a little less lonely even if it's only for a short while.

So that was my Christmas '05. I think I'm going to go put Fuck & Run by Liz Phair on repeat...