Tales of ANOTHER Crazy Biatch

Guess what guys?  I can finally tell you what my job was in Louisiana.

I was a ticket agent for an airline.  That’s right, I was one of those people.  I also worked the ramp and the baggage service office.  Occasionally the gate.

So guess what?  If you ever got stuck in Shreveport for any reason, you probably saw me and I probably had a super fake smile and told you about why there’s no way I can change the weather.  I also probably got drunk after my shift bitching about how passengers are total fucking idiots.

But don’t worry, I was a terrible passenger until I worked for the airlines.

 

My first story, which I think will set the tone for all of you, is about how crazy passengers can get.

 

I typically worked the late night shift or the early morning.  My favorite part of the job was working in the Baggage Service Office, or BSO for short.  This job required me to sit at a desk and help people find their lost bags, as well as replace broken bags.  I thoroughly enjoyed this job.  It was the best job.  You know why?

I got to go through people’s stuff.

I was legally bound to go through suitcases and document the contents. This job was perfect for me because I’m incredibly nosy and I love to see what kind of lies people come up with.  They’ll tell me when I’m taking the claim that they have a five thousand dollar gift (this actually happened) and when I opened the bag, it was just dirty clothes.  Those dirty clothes must have been expensive though.

 

So one night, a week before Alex graduated from Airman Leadership School, which is a huge accomplishment by the way, I had a crazy passenger.  Definitely not my craziest, but she makes the top ten hands down.  The main problem I had with this crazy bitch is she looked suspiciously like the original Crazy Biatch My friend and coworker T took the claim, and he pulled me aside to tell me the monstrosity of this particular passenger.

Apparently her car seat was a flight behind her.  She was yelling at him for the most part, telling him how inconvenient it was that her car seat was missing and there was nobody else who was missing a bag.  And how dare our airline miss a bag, because come on, we’re a big airline, of course we would never miss a bag. She then went on to tell him that she was going to get so many free flights from our airline because her car seat was missing.  We found a replacement to give her for the time being and filed a claim and told her that we could have it delivered.  She told T that she was going to come up here to get it because she wanted the airline to know how inconvenient they were being to make her come back to the airport at 10:30 at night.

Now, if you ever get into this situation, please remember that we are required to document everything you say so that when people try to get free stuff, they can refer to the file and realize that the person is being a pain in the ass.  This woman took the fucking cake.  She was the fucking pain in the ass of the week.

Fast forward to the last flight of the night.  My turn to work the bag office.  T comes with me to call the lady and let her know that her car seat had arrived.  Twenty minutes later she runs in, hoots and hollers about how inconvenient it was for her to drive up to the airport at nearly 11pm and that it wasn’t fair that she had to drive here to get her car seat when we could have delivered it (Can you believe this bitch?  I’m not even exaggerating).  She thanked us and left.  We were relieved.

Fast forward a week. Remember how I mentioned Alex’s Airman Leadership School Graduation?  I was at a table with a bunch of people a few ranks above Alex, as well as their wives.  Alex was asked to sing the national anthem and we had to take pictures with the commander.  There was a total of ten people at my table.

And sitting directly across from me was the crazy bitch.  These were assigned seats.  The universe fucking hated me this particular evening.

Now, you should all remember how much I love military functions.  After I pulled a big bottle of vodka out of my movie purse and started downing the drinks so I was nearly incoherent, Alex was up to sing the national anthem.

I video taped him, but if you listen really carefully, you can hear that bitch whispering in my ear about how my airline refused to give her a $1500 voucher for free flights because her car seat was missing.  Seriously, for over an hour, she was yelling at me when I was supposed to be supporting Alex at this god awful function.  I had a dress and heels on.  I had half a bottle of vodka in my system to tolerate this function, I had Master Sergeants asking me to share my vodka because they were veterans for these horrible things.  I was not at work, I was off the clock, and I consistently told her this, but she didn’t care.  She was pissed that her cars seat was a flight behind her and she wasn’t getting free tickets out of it.  She even traded seats with the person next to me so instead of me celebrating my husband’s huge accomplishment, I spent two hours listening to this crazy fucking bitch about how my company was unwilling to give her thousands of dollars over a car seat.

Then, at the end of the night, this bitch has the balls to ask me a question that caused me to choke on my drink.

“So, what’s the craziest story you have working with difficult people? Who was the craziest, most difficult person you’ve ever dealt with?”

Girl, you make my top ten list.

Puking on the Titanic

So I briefly mentioned this happening once in an old blog post, but I was thinking about how hilarious this story was, and since I can’t talk about my job, I’m running low on awkward stories, so I’m going to start telling you all about my awkward childhood.

This should be fun.

Back when Alex and I first got married, right before we honeymooned in Vegas, Alex found a Titanic Exhibit.  He knows that I love everything titanic, from the movie to stupid books about how it all went down.  I find this stuff fascinating, and so when he brought up the exhibit to me, I casually told him a little something that baffled him.

“We should go!  Maybe I won’t throw up on the real piece again!”

The “again” was the part that caused a large amount of confusion, to say the least.  Most people don’t make mention of puking at a historical exhibit, much less puking at a historical exhibit again.  To which he gave me a very strange look and told me to elaborate.

When I was about ten years old, it was around when the Titanic movie came out.  I watched it every day after school for over a year, and even now, I can recite the entire movie.  Word for word.  Because I love useless information.

When scholastic released those book catalogues to students and there was a titanic book, I would beg my mom to buy it.  So I have tons of childrens books that are infographics for the Titanic.  My grandma got me a Titanic piggy bank that you push a lever and the butt end of it rises up so the coin slides into the front of the ship.  I wanted my name to be Rose because I wanted to find my own personal Jack.

I’m telling you, I was obsessed.

This shit is interesting

This shit is interesting

And even now, I still reread all of those books because I just find it so interesting.

My father, who felt left out with my Titanic obsession, had a friend who was helping run the Titanic Exhibit in St Paul.  Since it was educational, and his friend got him free tickets, he surprised me on his weekend with us that we would be going to the big Titanic Exhibition.  I was ecstatic.  Except for one thing.

My stomach hurt really badly.

I hadn’t been feeling well for a couple of days, and this particular day my stomach really hurt.  I told my dad this, but he insisted that if I walked around, my stomach would feel better.  Since I really wanted to see the jewelry of Molly Brown and even see a real piece of the Titanic, I swallowed my pride and tried to ignore my stomach.

We went to the exhibit and it was insanely interesting.  We got to see old suitcases, jewelry, clothes, tons of stuff salvaged from the ship.  However, every ten minutes or so, I’d have to sit down to keep anything that was in my stomach down because as the day wore on, I felt sicker.

My dad tried to tell me that I was imagining things, and I told him that I really needed to throw up.  He just shrugged it off, as most parents do.  Not going to lie, if it had been me looking at my child, I probably would have thought the same thing.

Then, the big finale of the trip, there was this big pool thing that had the real piece of the Titanic.  It had to remain underwater because of the rust, but it still had the windows in it and the air smelled of something.  To be honest, it’s too far long ago that I would remember.  I think it was salt water.

The piece I nearly threw up on, except that it's been sealed so it won't rust away into nothing.

The piece I nearly threw up on, except that it’s been sealed so it won’t rust away into nothing.

My brother and dad were standing on the rails, looking down on the piece of the ship and my dad was telling my brother about the rust issue with the ship and why it had to stay underwater.

This is when I couldn’t hold the contents of my stomach any longer.  I start pulling on my dad’s shirt, telling him I’m going to puke, to which he shooed my hand away, telling me that he’s busy telling my brother some information.  I start to wail a little bit, to which he snaps and tells me to keep quiet because he was talking.

Then I puked.

Everywhere.

There was so much puke.

And it hurt so badly.  I fell down while I was vomiting because of how violent the vomiting was.

This got my dad’s attention.

I remember him yelling at me, asking me why I didn’t tell him I was going to puke or why I wasn’t feeling good.

I tried to remind him that I did, but he just kept freaking out because tact is not his specialty.  I don’t think any puke actually got on the real piece, but I can’t be too sure.  It didn’t make the newspapers, but that would have been a great story to share.

I called my mom and asked her about this and she just sighed.  Yes, she remembered, no it wasn’t a weird dream.

So when I was in Las Vegas and I saw the real piece, I yelled, “I’M NOT PUKING ON YOU TODAY!”

And it was fun.

So there you have it.  My Titanic Puking Story.

Living Dead in Dallas

Sorry Charlene Harris, but I think it was perfect to describe my trip to Dallas a few weeks ago.

So shortly after I started my new job, my work told me that I needed to go to Dallas for a few days for training.  I figured why not, and went, because I wouldn’t be allowed to work at my awesome new job unless I was trained and certified.

So while I was waiting for my flight, I had a beer, and was waiting and waiting to find out that my flight was canceled.  I’ve mentioned before how driving to Dallas has ended in my car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, but my coworker, who is a pretty awesome guy, found out that we would be reimbursed for gas and he offered to drive.  Which was great for me because if the car broke down, it wouldn’t be mine.

Naturally, I had to prank Alex and my mom because I was driving to Dallas alone with a man.  And I had a beer in my system.

I call Alex first and put him on speaker phone.  The conversation went like this.

Alex: Hello?

Me: Hey honey, so I got drunk and some random guy kidnapped me and is dragging me to Dallas.  I’m probably going to die from either murder or Ebola.  Hope that’s okay.

Alex:… What?

Me:  Well the flight was canceled so I was drinking and my coworker is kidnapping me to Dallas and you’re never going to see me again.

Alex: WHAT?!

Me: It’s all good though, he won’t rape me because he’s gay.

Alex: Ugh, fine, let me know when you get to Dallas*

Then I called my mom next.  That woman is a hard woman to rattle and I told her that I was drunk and being kidnapped and she just said, “Okay, be safe!”  It was rather disappointing.

Halfway to Dallas, we decide to stop and get some Mexican food in Canton.  I’ve mentioned how I’ve had some bad experiences in Canton before, but this time the Mexican restaurant had a church on top of it and I got to touch a giant cock.

Take that, Bloggess

Take that, Bloggess

 

Once we were back on the road, we got lost after getting to Dallas and after making the same turn about six times, we found our hotel.

After training the next day I enjoyed a margarita and a walk with Jesus, and this time  I didn’t make a total and complete fool of myself like the last time I walked with Jesus.  I felt the drinks were necessary in order to enjoy Texas.

Our last afternoon in Dallas, we got out of training early and decided to explore the mall.  I have to say, Grapevine Mills mall in Irving is fucking fantastic.  It has everything.

Even ass fire.

Even ass fire.

However, there was one particular store that left me very confused.  The store was called “Heroes” and it was a store that sold military paraphernalia, airsoft guns, camo, hunting knives, so on and so forth.  They even have a website.

To say the least, this store screamed, “MURICA!”  Not even “America.”  Just ‘Merica.

The main thing that confused and scared and awed me was the mannequins.  The mannequins displaying the women’s clothing were taller than me (I’m 5’8), they had DDD boobs, and their pants were low rise and it was all camo.

Words can't even describe my confusion

Words can’t even describe my confusion

SeriouslyTexas, what the fuck is with this?  Why do the mannequins need to have huge boobs?  Why can you see the fucking nipples of the mannequin?

My coworker and I just stared at the mannequin for a few minutes, just in stunned silence.  We were so confused.  I like to think I’m fairly comfortable in my own skin, but the fact that this mannequin made my boobs look like less than mosquito bites and the fact that this clothing was so… ‘Murican, I had no idea what to make of it.  So I took a picture and moved on.

The next morning was our last morning in Texas, and I couldn’t be happier to go back to my little house.  I missed Alex and Texas has this obsession with the shape of it’s state that was weirding me out.  And I lived in Alaska for heaven’s sake.

         

Seriously?  A fucking Texas shaped waffle

Seriously? A fucking Texas shaped waffle?

So I made it home and I’ve been working so much that every muscle in my body aches and I just want to crawl under a rock and die.  It’s fucking awesome.

 

Have you ever gone on a business trip that went better than expected?  Ever been somewhere where the culture just confused the hell out of you?  Have you ever eaten hot sauce that made you fart fire?  Let me know in the comments!

The Gay Debate: Deep South Edition

Being in a red state and originally from a blue state, I have noticed a lot of different arguments about gay marriage and how they’re played out.  I’ve heard that the bible says no gay love is acceptable, I’ve heard that gay love isn’t “real” love, but Alex told me of a particular gay argument that left us both thinking, “Sweetie, have you had the birds and the bees talk?”

I’ve mentioned before that Alex is in the military, hence my name “Military Wife Rants” (though I really want to change that).  And when we were in Alaska, the whole gay soldier thing didn’t really affect any of us.  We had openly gay friends and closeted gay friends in the military in Alaska.  Nobody really cared.  Alex had a shop chief that told Alex that if he wanted to make below the zone, he would have to get some knee pads and go below the zone.  He was joking, of course, and this was a very common joke among young airmen from their shop supervisors.

On overseas bases, I hear this is very common.  At least, the joking, I have no idea if they actually get their kneepads on.  But I have seen a lot of knee pads in different Airmen’s lockers…

Hmm…

Anyway, Alex was telling me that his coworkers were talking about how gays can’t get married because they don’t have “real sex.”

He then began to describe how a plug goes into an outlet.  “For instance, two plugs can’t go into each other, so therefore gay sex doesn’t work.”

Basically sex.

Basically sex.

Alex told me this and I just shook my head and laughed.  I’ve made mention of touching tips before, but hearing this, I had to wonder what my gay friends would think.

I have one friend in particular, who is very active in the gay rights movement.  He’s very openly gay, I’ve known him for years, and he’s by far one of the most loving people I know.  I love to tell him stupid arguments like this, but for this post, I asked him his honest opinion on this particular argument.  He was happy to oblige, and here was his response.

There are so many ways to unpack it. First, marriage doesn’t equal sex. Marriage is about making a lifetime, loving commitment to each other. It’s not a contract for sex. People have sex without getting marriage all the time. Gay men will have sex, married or not. Equating marriage with sex is only done with people who are opposed to marriage equality think about same-sex marriage. When that same person learns that an opposite sex couple, their first thought is not “Oh, he’ll be putting his erect penis in her vagina now, I guess.” Or, if that is their first thought, wow.

Second, there isn’t a rule book about what kind of sex is legit and not. Straight people do oral, they do anal, they do frottage. That doesn’t invalidate their marriages. The one thing gay men can’t do is penile/vaginal intercourse, but when you take your marriage vow, you don’t swear to have vaginal intercourse, you swear to love each other. What kind of sex, if any, a married couple engages in, has nothing to do with the marriage contract.

Straight couples often stop having sex, yet the marriage endures. One of the spouses could get ill, or they both get old, and the sex ends. No one questions the validity of that marriage. The “real sex” question only gets brought up when talking about gay couples. It’s a convenient, cherry-picked idea used as a tool of discrimination that cannot be universalized.

Plus, why does he spend time thinking about how gays have sex? Seems fishy to me.

Well said, my friend, well said.

 

Have you heard arguments like this and their reasons are anything but sound?  Do you agree with what is said?  Let me know in the comments, but please no flaming.

The Laziest Guard Dog Alive

I’ve mentioned before how my Sahara is a fairly lazy dog.

Sahara is a German shepherd mix who is mixed with something that makes her a really lazy dog.  Which makes no sense because the top dogs she could be mixed with include Red Heeler, Corgi and Australian Shepherd.  She’s short and stocky, but has the coloring of a German Shepherd. She’s always been incredibly lazy, but within the last few months, we’re starting to realize just how lazy she is.

Seriously, what the hell is she mixed with?

Seriously, what the hell is she mixed with?

Alex and I are on very opposite shifts.  I’m not working right now, just finished my bachelor’s degree, and Alex has to get up at four in the morning for PT, then he goes to work and is home around three.

Sahara is not a morning dog, and she is not a night dog.  Well, she’s kind of a morning dog, Luna is not a morning dog.  Luna doesn’t wake up before the crack of noon, but then she’s ridiculously hyper the rest of the day.

I’m getting off topic.

Sahara, I’m fairly certain, is an old girl.  She lays around the house, she only moves around a lot of we mention a walk, to which after a few blocks she trips you until you start heading home.  When she does go on walks, she walks very slowly, tongue hanging out of her mouth, tail wagging with each step taken.  When we’re home, she lays on the floor looking defeated.

When we went to a dog park in Minneapolis, she just laid on the ground next to Alex the entire time.  When we got home, she looked so exhausted that you would have thought she was running all day.

When I was doing homework last week, Sahara started to get… really annoying.  She kept nudging my arm so I would mess up my typing, she kept climbing into my lap, she even howled.  She was very, very whiney.

I couldn’t figure it out.  She kept running back and forth between Alex and I, and finally, I moved over one more room to sit next to Alex.

Her response?

She laid down near Alex’s feet and fell asleep.

Right before falling asleep.  Alex is on the bed next to her.

Right before falling asleep. Alex is on the bed next to her.

She was trying to get us in the same room so she wouldn’t have to make her guard dog rounds.

I think if someone breaks in, she’ll do one bark and give up.

Worst. German Shepherd. Ever.

 

Do you have pets that do ridiculous things that just confuse the hell out of you?  Do you have any idea what Sahara could be mixed with?  What are the funniest things your pets have done?  Tell me in the comments!

Snakes In The Grass

On the one year anniversary of moving to Louisiana, we decided to celebrate by getting the hell out of Louisiana.

By driving with our two dogs.

Up to Minnesota for three weeks.

Now, you may think this is drastic, but I had a family reunion and my mother in law was getting her PhD in Minnesota, the same week of my family reunion, so it lined up pretty perfectly.  We brought the dogs because we knew they wanted a break from the opossums, scorpions, snakes, and 100+ degree weather.  I’ve been concentrating on school as of late, and we both just needed a long vacation.

In case you don’t know, driving from Shreveport to Minneapolis takes approximate 16 hours if you don’t stop.  If you have two dogs that are whining in your ear and eating your seats, it takes closer to 20 hours.

And we left around 5 pm, hoping to miss rush hour in Kansas City, Des Moines, and Minneapolis.  To me, this was a flawless plan.  Alex was off work that day, we tried to clean up the house while the dogs were at day care (Yes, I put my dogs in doggie day care, so sue me), and we packed the car.  The deal was that if the house was spotless, we could leave.

However, since Alex wanted to leave just as much as me, and I’m really annoying when I beg, Alex forgave me for leaving the house in total disarray and we picked up the dogs at 5 and began driving north.

About two hours north of Shreveport, in southern Arkansas, we stopped at a church to water the dogs and feed them, as well as stretch our legs and drink some much needed coffee.  We found a field of high grass and let the dogs loose, thinking that this was a great idea.  There was a house nearby, a house that I was convinced was condemned.  Honestly, it was falling apart.  And I mean no harm to the people who lived in it.

 

Pretty sure the house looked a little worse than this

Pretty sure the house looked a little worse than this

A few minutes after letting the dogs run around, an elderly woman came out to greet us with her little dachshund.  The dachshund barked at Luna, who gave him the stink eye and put her paw on his head, to which she chased him and pretty much ran him over.

The woman was so kind.  She saw our license plates and asked us if we had driven all the way from Alaska.  We told her our story, and she thanked Alex for his service.

“You know, there’s a field on the other side of the house that’s my property.  It’s mowed so there aren’t any opossums, water moccasins, scorpions, or poisonous spiders.  I’d hate to see your dogs die because of a preventable critter.  You can use the field for as long as you like.”

I thought this was very generous of her, and Alex agreed.  We took the dogs to the field, and they ran to their hearts content, while Luna especially found it fun to lay down in a pool of mud.

After a few minutes, the woman came out and offered to let us sit down in her house to relax, offering us some sweet tea.  Considering I was easily three times this woman’s weight, and Alex is just a huge man, we both agreed that we were fine and that we were going to get going soon.

As we were packing up the dogs food and water bowl, she walked over to us and handed us a wal-mart bag.

 

SO MANY PECANS!

SO MANY PECANS!

“I have 12 pecan trees and I have more pecans than I know what to do with.  They make excellent pie, or great to snack on as you’re driving.  Would you like more?”

This bag was so full.  It was easily five or six pounds of pecans.  Freshly fallen from her trees.

We thanked her, she thanked us for stopping by and told us that if we drive through again, just knock on her door and she’ll give us a bite to eat and some sweet tea.

This was the first time in the year we had lived in the south that we had experienced southern hospitality.

I almost wish I lived in Arkansas.

What is your best example of hospitality from a total stranger?  Have you ever been somewhere where you were just flat out confused at how nice people were?  Let me know in the comments!

One Year Transplant: The Pros and Cons of Louisiana

I have officially been in Louisiana for one year. And this blog is one year old now. Huzzah!
Alex told me that I can’t judge a new place until I’ve lived there one year. Well, it’s been one year.

The Pros

The People
The people in Louisiana are actually not overly friendly. However, I’m very obviously a yankee. The reason I have this in the pros is because whenever I go to Arkansas, we meet really nice people. I don’t think I’ve ever paid for coffee in a gas station in Arkansas because they see my Alaska license plates and they talk to be about how awesome the military is. Overall though, I’ve met some really nice people in Louisiana and they’re very good about trying to keep in contact. Unfortunately, I’m such a homebody that I never see any of these people.

The Food
The food in Louisiana is awesome. From Jambalaya to Cajun seasoning, I have to say that the food here is just all around good. The veggies are just so fresh and flavorful, the food in restaurants, even chain restaurants, are just so much better than the chains that are up north. Olive Garden in Louisiana is actually good. I have no idea why.

Gas Prices
Gas at Sam’s club by my house is $3.04. That’s way cheaper than I’ve paid since before I moved away from Minnesota.

Sin Tax
I don’t smoke, but my friend who does told me that $3.50 a pack is dirt cheap. And when I visited Minnesota recently, I realized that alcohol is dirt cheap here too. A bottle of whiskey here is ten bucks, in Minnesota the same bottle of whiskey was $19. Also, junk food is really cheap. A bag of chips is $2. Minnesota it’s closer to $8. The lack of sin tax is nice.

Surprisingly, it helps me deal with the bible belt

Surprisingly, it helps me deal with the bible belt

The Cons

The People
Yes, the people make and break this place. It’s one thing to have friendly people, but it’s another to have people who are incredibly racist. I will be totally and completely honest: I don’t understand racism. Who cares if you’re white or black? Gay or straight? I honestly, truly don’t care about what you look like, I just care about the sweat on your brow and how kind you are to others. I’m coming to hate people who are upper class. They say that the lower class is lazy, but after working a crappy low paying job, I can say that I’ve never worked so hard for so little. It’s ridiculous.

The Weather
On Christmas day last year, it hit 80 degrees. That was the first time that I was able to wear flip flops on Christmas. Additionally, it is impossible for me to get into the Christmas or any holiday spirit here. I think this is because I’m used to a very temperate zone. Thanksgiving and Christmas, and also Easter, always had snow. Well, Easter usually had a blizzard or the lilacs were just starting to bloom. The fact that winter didn’t start until January and it was spring by February freaks me out and I hate it.

Cockroaches
I’ve mentioned my love for cockroaches several times. And I can tell you that I’m a much better housekeeper now than I ever was. However, I’m a better housekeeper because we have those wonderful cockroaches mooching on everything. The fact that I clean my kitchen and a three inch long cockroach hisses at me and crawls behind the stove went from being terrifying to just irritating. I’m getting tempted to burn my house down.

Not that big here, but if they were, I would never leave the north pole

Not that big here, but if they were, I would never leave the north pole

The Critters
This is to address the opossums in my garbage, the 30+ pound swamp rats that hang out in my yard, the armadillos littering the road dead, the raccoons that chase kids down the street, the scorpions that are in my yard, and the snakes that appear in my yard if I don’t mow it regularly.
I moved to Alaska to get away from snakes. There are no snakes in Alaska. There were only garter snakes in Minnesota. We have snakes that can kill you here. Not cool, Louisiana.

DAMN SWAMP RATS!  THEY'RE NOT EVEN CUTE!

DAMN SWAMP RATS! THEY’RE NOT EVEN CUTE!

Sales Tax
Until I was living in Alaska, I had no idea that food and clothing was taxed in other states. Minnesota is a wonderful place where food, excluding junk food, and clothing is tax free. The rest of the tax in the state is 6%. In Louisiana, everything is 9% sales tax. Including groceries. Which is ridiculous.

Overall: I would sacrifice a baby goat to the corn gods of Iowa to take me from this place. Alas, the military says I have to stay. So I’m going to continually try to find the good in this place, be it eating tons of delicious food, or going to the Louisiana Boardwalk in Bossier to check out the outlet stores.

What are some of the pros and cons of where you live? Would you want to live somewhere else? Tell me in the comments!