Om sweet om

"You want me to do WHAT?!" I asked the security guard again.
"Ma'am, just stand still so we can take a picture of you and put your finger on this pad so we can have your prints on record."

I grumbled and agreed. The last thing I needed after my last 48 hours (of which 25 had been spent on a plane and only 3 had been spent sleeping) was a big fight with US customs. No wonder they wanted me on record. I probably looked like some disgruntled Japani terrorist.

I made it through in one piece and found myself in the main terminal of the Los Angeles airport, more commonly referred to as LAX. Gosh I hated the place. The last time I'd been there, I'd spent 3 hours waiting in the WRONG terminal until I'd finally asked a security guard why my flight info wasn't up yet. "You're in the wrong terminal ma'am."
"WHAT?! Then why'd you guys let me through security then? The guy even asked to look at my ticket! GAAH!"
"Don't ask me any more questions."
"B-but!"

So yeah. I hated the place.

I nervously stepped out onto US soil and began looking around desperately for the guy who was supposed to pick me up.
Having never met the guy before, this proved very difficult.

You see, when I'd tried to get a last minute ticket home, Malaysian airlines had failed to allocate me a connecting flight between LA and Calgary to the outcome that I had to spend a day in LA overnight before I could get a flight home. The idea of spending a day alone in a city like LA didn't appeal to me much. Not to mention the insane hotel fees.

Fortunately, my older sister's latest love goon happens to live in the city of angels. (It's very convenient having a hottie for a sister.) I'd called from Australia, arranging that he take me in for hte night before we caught a flight together back to Calgary so I could finally see my family again . . . and so that he could finally meet my family.

Miraculously, I recognised the goon at the same time he recognised me. He looked like he did in his pictures my sister had sent me- but bigger. Lots bigger. The guy was a freaking football field with legs. I asked him later how big exactly he was and he replied with a nonchalant, "I'm 6'4" and 290 pounds."

Oh goodie. I couldn't wait to squeeze in beside him on our plane ride tomorrow. knowing my luck, I'd probably be squished between him and some other escaped gorilla. And to top it off, the guy was sweating like crazy. "Vivian! Nice to finally meet you!" he shouted and tried to bear hug me. "Here, let me take your bags!"

Well, I survived the evening and I came to the conclusion that the guy was relatively decent, had honest intentions towards my sister and was really not all that bad.

The next day, we got a ride to the airport from one of his friends who spoke mostly in grunts and shrugs. He was another big guy of a Latino background that looked like he could either squish me like a bug or snap me in half. I tried to make conversation with him to absolutely no effect. Or so I thought, cus by the time we got to the airport, my sister's boyfriend turned to me and said in earnest,
"Wow! Jose's said more to you than anyone I've introduced him to. You should feel honored."

We said goodbye to Jose via one of those complicated homie handshakes I'll never get the hang of and piled onto the plane.

Fortunately, the airline was familiar with my sister's boyfriend and remembered how big he was from the last time he flew so they'd booked him the front seats on purpose so he'd have more leg room. "I still have another 50 pounds to lose, and then I'll finally be able to use the table trays!" he told me excitedly. It was true. With his girth, the table tray would never make it down to the horizontal position in front of him.

I wondered to myself what my sister saw in him but then I remembered that he'd kindly taken in a perfect stranger into his home for hte night and not only drove me around but fed me and paid for everything without asking.

The lady beside me overheard us talking about losing weight and chimed in gleefully, "Oooh! I have another 30 pounds to lose. My ex-husband said he'd pay me an extra 300 dollars on top of the regular child support if I can lose that weight!"

Great. I was stuck on a plane between two tubbos on desperate diets.

And it was hot.

By the time we landed in Calgary, our elbows were practically stuck to each other and I practically ran off that plane.

I walked out the Canada customs gate and breathed in the fresh smell of Calgary. My sister and my bratty nephew and my little cousin Hana were there to greet me. I hugged them all and was carted off to the car and then to a giant meal of Chinese food. My aunt's family from Washington DC was visiting for the week and Joanne had landed from England earlier that day. It was noisy, chaotic and messy. I loved it.

We all gabbed like mad until we were back at home.

Home.

I couldn't believe it. It was too good to be true. All summer long, I'd been dreaming of it . . . and now I was finally there. My bed, my clothes, my CAR!

"Vivian. You'll be sleeping in our room," said my parents. "your aunt and uncle and the kids are sleeping in yours and Joanne's rooms."

So maybe not my bed.

"Oh, and I moved all your clothes and stuff into the luandry room. I think it still needs to be washed."

So maybe not my clothes either.

But at least I had my car. But wait! Where did I put my drivers license and keys? I ran down to the laundry room where my stuff was supposed to be and couldn't find anything but a basket of dirty clothes.

"Mom! where did you say you put my stuff again?"

But she was too busy gabbing with my sister's boyfriend to hear me.

So no car either.

Well, still, I was home. Peace and rest at last! AT LAST!

Or not.

My nephew and my little cousins came screaming through the room and charged at me at full force, knocking me to the ground. "MWHAAHAHHAA" my nephew said and started stepping on my head with his bare feet.

"Why you little!" I shouted and flung him off me and was just about to lunge at him to bite off his head when I noticed my little cousin go, "um."

and I noticed my aunt and my sister were staring at me with my arms outstretched towards their precious little guy. "Uh, not doing much. Just, you know, patting his head. Heh." I backed off and put my hands down again.

My nephew stuck out his tongue at me and blew a raspberry in my general direction. Then he farted and ran out of hte room gleefully. My aunt and sister followed him out to see what adorable thing he'd do next.

I felt someone tugging at my sleeve.
"Vivian, um, can you play with me?" said my little cousin Hana.
"Nuh-uh! I asked first!" said Kara, my other cousin.

I sighed and let them drag me downstairs to play.

There's no rest for the wicked.