Just Suck It…

I’ve compiled some observations upon my return trip from South Africa. Mind you, I had an absolutely fabulous time while in Cape Town, but I find these observations annoyingly hilarious.

[1] “Smooth” is not a flavor (as designated on the yogurt package on South Africa Airlines). I can’t imagine it being a translation error as English is not highly unknown to [most] people in this region. I opted out on the smooth flavor. I think in hindsight, watching all the people rushing to the restroom after breakfast, that it was a smart move on my part.

[2] Being gassed by the “ungentleman” seated directly in front of me almost every five minutes (I kid you not) throughout the 12 hour flight from Cape Town to London was most unpleasant. Dear sir: if you have a noxious gas emission issue, please take medication or DO NOT FLY ON A FUCKING TWELVE HOUR FLIGHT!

[3] Two ladies sitting across the aisle from me (reminding me of Jack Sprat could eat no fat and his wife could eat no lean… except these were both women, so perhaps Jill Sprat and her wife… not that they were a “couple” …not that there is anything wrong with that…) were most diligent in their stretching regime. In fact, they enjoyed stretching their mighty and lean asses directly into my face. I understand the need for keeping the blood flowing (heh), but please keep it out of my face. I also had an incredible urge to jam my elbow into Ms. Lean’s Converse-shod foot as she stepped directly onto my armrest (while my arm was already on it, mind you!) every time she needed to get her luggage out of the overhead bin. But I decided to be nice… yes, I know I know, I was surprised as anyone that I decided to be nice. Most unlike me. I regret it now. I surely do.

[4] Passport issues: For some reason, the US just adds a postnote to the last page of your passport when you are changing surnames. I thought when I sent in the paperwork that I would receive a new passport. I thought wrong apparently. Most times, it’s only a bit of a nuisance, but this time around it was an entirely HUGE FUCKING NUISANCE. For some godforsaken reason, the South African Airlines attendant that we checked in with on our return trip just did not understand that my lastname/surname was Wyde. The conversation proceeded as follows:

SAA: Your name is not on the flight list.
Me: I have a different last name than what is on the picture page, please check the last page on my passport.
SAA: It says Khan, we have no reservation for you.
Me: Keep reading. My last name is Wyde. W-Y-D-E.
SAA: What is your surname?
Me: Wyde. W-Y-D-E.
SAA: But it says Khan, What is your new surname?
Me: It is Wyde. It is not a description of my physique. My surname is WYDE. W-Y-D-E.
SAA: *After looking thoroughly confused and continuing to stare at his computer screen for several more minutes* Ok, I found your ticket. It is under Wyde.
Me: I shall knight thee King of Morons.

Ok, I didn’t really say that last part about the morons, but I surely thought it! Needless to say, I shall be running to the passport office to get a completely new passport with ONLY the last name Wyde on the picture page. I do NOT want to have to deal with this situation again. Seriously.

[5] I’m thinking perhaps I should not have said “I don’t have time to do that” when the Heathrow agent said “Please do not accept any packages on your way to the gate.” since we were running late. Luckily, she either had a sense of humor or just didn’t understand what I said in my American accent. Good thing too since I didn’t know of any London barristers.

[6] I bought way too much fucking crap. Jesus-christ-on-a-cracker. What was I thinking… did I imagine I would have a sherpa to to carry everything around for me? I will have to work on getting the dent out of my shoulder. I’m sure I’ll remember the pain everytime I see my souveniors. Unless I drink a lot. Which I think is a good plan.

[7] While standing in the long ass customs line in Houston, the guy behind me said

“You’ll be lucky if they let you through with that piece of wood.”

What he was referring to was the cheese cutting board I had purchased at one of the vineyards (it was previously a stave from one of their wine barrels). It was too long… heh… to fit into my checked-in baggage, so I stuck it into my carry-on baggage and it was sticking out the side. I turned around and responded

“And why is that?”

And he goes

“It’s wood, it’s on the no list. It says so right on the customs form.”

Now I had actually decided to READ the customs form this time around and there was NO mention of wood being prohibited. I decided to thoroughly re-read it and IT WAS NOT THERE. He continues with

“Wood has insects and stuff. You’re not supposed to bring that.”

I then said

“It’s a treated cutting board. I didn’t go into the woods and chop a tree down. I think I’m good on the insect situation.”

I was about to turn around and just punch him if he continued on with his commentary. I seriously wondered if I was going to have to place a call to my lawyer when the customs agent would arrest me for starting a fight in line. I’m sure he was THINKING he was being helpful. But I’ve been reading since kindergarten and I really am not as stupid as I look. Perhaps I would have been nicer if I wasn’t in such a rotton mood from all the events that occurred to us on the return flight. But I rather doubt it.

~ by Far on May 26, 2009.