I Hate People part 1128

So I'm working at the airport and it appears to be Missionary Homecoming Day. Every time a flight lands there are scads of shiny Mormon families with their matching haricuts and homemade dresses waiting for the aforementioned missionary.

Side note number one. A few years ago the Mormon church came out with a suggestion that families wait at home for the missionary to arrive (picked up by maybe just Mom and Dad at the airport proper) so that it wouldn't become a distraction in a public place. This suggestion has apparently gone the way of the dodo.

Side note number two. When I returned from my mission (at this very same airport) I got off the plane and found...nobody. I went to the bag carousel and while I waited there my mom tapped me on the shoulder, gave me a brief hug, and said "I'll be in the car." I collected my bags and headed for said auto where my father popped the trunk (he didn't exit the car until we got home) and said "How you doin?" You know what? It was perfect. No spectacle, no showboating, no fuss.

Unlike this airport today.

My favorite parts today in no particular order.

1. The flight landed at 8:26, the bags were on the carousel by 8:41 and now at 9:21 one of the families is still here there are (hang on a sec...) 17 people not including the missionary. Please, people, for the love of all this is holy, take your inbred lookin' children who can't sit still or be quiet and go home.

2. The family who, I assume, is welcoming a missionary who had gone to Japan. I assume this because this family of indistinguible members are all wearing these...

on their pointy heads. Yep, nothing quite like seeing a gaggle of white, Mormon Idahoans wearing (perhaps) mocking headwear to salute another white, Mormon Idahoan who appears to be quite proud of his status as dojo master.

3. The mom who brings four kids (the oldest, I'm guessing is five) who all have balloons. Firstly, they arrived waaaay too early, and secondly, when (inevitably) one of the urchins loses control of their balloon and it sailed to the very high ceiling never to be retreived, the child freaked. This was followed by his siblings mocking him with their still-possessed balloons and he mother reading (I wish I was making this up) Better Homes and Gardens while ignoring her four shreiking whelps completely.

So, again, I hate people.

Sigh.

This seems cheesy and dumb, no?

Oh, yeah, this is awesome.

My midlife crisis can't come soon enough.

So I mentioned in this blog a few months back that I was looking into buying a new car. Since my credit stinks, I knew it wouldn't be a new-new car, but a new-to-me car. I had, I'm sure you'll recall, only one stipulation: No Ford Tauruses. I've had my 1996 Taurus for 12 years and, while it's served me (mostly) faithfully, I wanted something a bit flashier. Something fun, you know, for the ladies.

So (long story short) My Mom bought a new car from my sister's husbands company. I flew to Phoenix to pick it up and drive it back to Idaho. My Mom gets a new grandma car, and I bought her 1996 Mercury Sable, the nearly identical twin (although slightly fancier) to the Taurus. Guh. So I kept my ideal alive: I didn't get a Taurus. I got it's cousin that has leather trimmed interior.

Someday soon when I reach the magical milestone of 40 and I start my midlife crisis, I'll maybe move up to a Buick LeSabre or a Crown Victoia. Kill me.

A few random things from my 2 day, 2000 mile journey:

America is illiterate. I saw a car that was "4 sell", and another, apparently desperate owner who was "moving must sale".

I reignited my one-sided, unreqited crush on Neko Case. I listened to her album "Blacklisted" about 1000 times, confident that one day, she will be mine, oh yes, she will be mine.

Living in Idaho sometimes makes me definitely want to kill myself. I passed a billboard outside of Preston hawking Spudfest 2008. You know Spudfest... Dawn Wells' family oriented movie festival held in Driggs each summer? This year they're celebrating Elvis and they have a horrible potato-as-fat Elvis singing "Love me tater...". Seriously, Napoleon Dynamite, racist militia dicks, Larry Craig, these aren't enough to shame us so we need recently pot-busted Mary Ann to have a friggin' Elivs potato butchering one of the best all time songs to shamelessly plug her crappy-ass festival? I will move away soon. I promise.


Sigh. This makes me wonder if Tina Louise or Danny Bonaduce are going to try to sell me crack this weekend.