Sorry I haven't posted for a while but I left my sidekick in a hotel in San Fran and am waiting to get it sent back to me. Anyway;

Arriving at Lax and checking in was not a problem. Given the fact that this was a direct flight back to Baltimore and there were no layovers I was not bothered at all at traveling the air bus known as Southwest. The only thing that somewhat worried me was the fact that even though we checked in 2 hours ahead of time we were all group C's, which meant that it was a packed flight and there was a possibiltiy that I would not get an aisle seat. I have to sit in the aise, everywhere. Movie theatres, planes, trains, buses, whatever, I hate having to climb over people to use the bathroom and if I'm hemmed in on either side then my anxiety levels rise and eye end up having to go a lot so me having the aisle seat is beneficial for all parties, whether they realize it or not.
In the boarding line Woody tells me that he overheard the ticket guy say that the flight was overbooked. This makes me a little nervous since the A and B lines stretch all the way back to the bathrooms and we are in line C, but it all ends up working out and we board. At this moment I am positive that there will be no aisle seat and am in the midst of planning an "aisle coup". The tactic there being to just tap the person enough times trying to excuse myself that they would let me have the aisle out of sheer frustration. I find this method especially effective when people are asleep. Its selfish I know, but how many of you are going to try this now hmm? After all, flying Southwest is like being on Survivor. Its every man for himself, left alone with no food or water, just some Ritz cheese crackers and stale ginger ale. Imagine my surprise when at the back of the plane I espy none other than .......AN AISLE SEAT! I felt like Charlie Bucket winning the Golden Ticket!! I stowed my carry-on and with my chest puffed out like a brand new dad took my seat.
The two people I sat down next to, a mother and daughter, didn't seem especially thrilled that I was sitting next to them but fuck 'em right. So Iam sitting there reading an especially dull passage naming and classifying different kinds of fish in Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, when the Mother who sits on the other side of her daughter,who sits between us, leans over and asks me some small talk question about my trip. As I turn to answer, I really get a sense of there appearance for the first time. The Mom, quite wet looking under pounds of blue plaid travel pajamas and long stringy blond hair, quite obviously strikes me as a cat person. The Daughter looks like unfortunately the mold wasn't broken with Christina Aguilera. She 's all done up like a psychopath, and has those puffy foamy boots on that make girls feet look like Clydesdale hooves and a black J-lo sweat suit under Joseph's amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. How did SHE get it? I thought. Well, the wrong answer to the mothers needling was that I was in a band coming back from the West Coast, because she immediately went into this whole thing about how her little pride and joy, who by now I know is named Chelsea, and her are just returning to DC ( I would have bet money they were from Jersey) from LA where little Chelsea was singing fro producers and working with songwriters to complete demos so that .....blah blah blah....Sony blah blah blah next Christina...blah blah blah Jessica's too old and Britneys a fat whore.blah blah blah voice of an angel...etc.
Just then, the Mother, asks if she can show me a few pictures and if I would give her my honest opinion. I said I would and the mother says, "Now keep in mind that these pictures were taken at Laguna beach at seven in the morning with no makeup". Chelsea starts to whine her objection when her mother reaches across and thrusts the picture in front of my face, her little sweaty fingers leaving thumprints on them. At first glance I see what looks like a clown caught in a car's headlights.......Actually it wasn't that bad, I being mean, but man, I would hate to see what she looked like when she WAS made up. The headlights thing is totally appropos though. Anyway, I tell her that her daughter, little special, trophy Chelsea looks fantastic, and that she should be really proud. The mom goes on to say how Chelsea's boyfriend didn't like the picture and somehow that led to the demise of their relationship or something. I kind of zoned out for a minute due to lack of sleep, I do remember her saying at the end of all that "She didn't sleep with him though, she's still a virgin" I wanted to be like "lady Iam a complete stranger" you know, she was crossing into that realm usually reserved for the time your parents told you that they had sex, and other things you really don't want know about. I prayed for sleep.
By and by ( I have always wanted to use that phrase, it always takes me back to Dick and Jane and their little dog Jip) the plane started taxiing for takeoff. The mother, obviously not a fan of flying by the way she clutched her daughters hand and fanned herself with the other hand, started mumbling some kind of mantra I can only assume was meant to ward off anxiety. Having been there myself I felt sorry for her and tried to talk to her to gt her mind off of it. It started working until she noticed little Chelsea touching her forehead. "Chelsea what are you doing!! " she said, sounding like someone trying to stop a "jumper" or someone trying to stop another from detonating a bomb. "I am just getting my bangs out of my face" the daughter whined. "Well godddamn it stop it. You're going to make me take another valium, your'e stressing me out so bad!" "Whoa." I thought. "How many times have i told you not to touch your face, you will ruin your complexion and I am not paying for another trip to the dermatologist!!" It was about this time that started wondering who really wanted this more, Chelsea or her mom. I mean had she ever even seen " Mommy Dearest"? I hope she doesn't get tied to the piano at home.
Throughout the flight I was plagued by intermittent bouts of bickering usally ending with the mother saying " You're going to make me have to take another Valium!" peppered with misinformation about airplanes and flying like " Why are we speeding up again"? thats not supposed to happen". and "Why doesn't the Captain come on and talk us through this"? Finally she said "I used to be an airline attendant, I know all about these planes." like the airline was conspiring against her, the planes whispering behind her back. Another question arose as well; How does a flight attendant become scared of flying? I dove back into Jules Verne head on and they finally dropped off into a valium induced slumber. Elsewhere on the plane, James was in his own personal hell. But I will get back to that later.
"Have you ever heard of the Dave Matthews Band"? " What"? I replied as I was being obnoxiously poked awake by the mother. " Have you ever heard of the Dave Matthews Band?". "Sure" I replied, I mean who hasnt right. "Its just that I have never heard of them and theres this guy that used to produce them and wants to work with Chelsea, he said he wanted Ten Grand and a point on the record, I told him I'd would have to think about it, I mean I have been doing this for fifteen years, I'm not about to sign my Chelsea's life away." I thought, "Haven't you done that already?" then I thought "How does someone who has been in the business for fifteen years never heard of one of the biggest touring acts in the world?" I told her she should get a lawyer. She went on to describe how the label, with whom no deal had been struck, wanted to set her up with some realy big prodeucers like the Matrix but that she wanted her daughter to find someone around DC or Maryland because she, the mother, hated to fly. I told her that I didn't know anyone and prayed for someone to shoot me.
Finally my ride through showbiz mom-afornia, ended and upon leaving I almost ran over women and children to get away from them. I was just standing there, waiting to get off the plane and I coud overhear the mom a few rows back, discussing cats with this passenger who not only smelled like cats but made it a point to show screensavers of his own cats to all those unfortunate enough to be withint hree rows of him. I heard the mom say that they had ten cats at home (see, I was right about the whole cat thing) and that her cats were treated better than most children, until the fire which claimed their lives and according to the mom "Hell, almost claimed Chelsea's life because of the smoke." I thought, "Who are these people?" I then heard her go on a tirade about how the Humane Society was like the Gestapo because they kill unwanted cats after like two weeks or something. As I left, Woody turned to me and said "you should never have a sentence thats like blank blank is like the gestapo" .
At baggage claim I told the other band members of my plight and drew many laughs. James related to me his story about sitting between two Abercrombie and Fitch college guys who argued over him about wheter or not Phish was bigger on the west coast or on the east. James also said that the guy to his left kept falling asleep on James and he would have to elbow him to make him move. The guy on his right, however, had bigger plans. Apparently he had this like "idea book" like get-rich-quick ideas or something that he was writing in and James said that he caught a glimpse of one of these "huge Ideas". He said that all it said on the top of the page was "Pla-mo" and underneath it was written
"plaid and camoflauge" with question marks next to it. Needless to say, we all roared with laughter.
Across the terminal I waved goodbye to poor Chelsea and her mother as they carted three huge neon pink and turquoise suitcases like Jacob Marley drags his chains with him through hell. And then they walked out of my life hopefully forever........mike

ps- if you are ever in San Fran. and you have a van and trailor parked illegally, it would be a mistake to think that they won't tow them....a big mistake