Flying Into Pittsburgh, PA

NOT to be confused with flying into Los Angeleeez.

Despite the fact that we were NOT bringing in a couple of keys, Mister Customs/Security man touched up Hillel’s bag somethin’ fierce. He should’ve at least gotten a corsage and an I’ll call you for all that.

We did eventually make it through security though. Yea us.

We were taking a very late, night flight to Pittsburgh. I don’t like flying at night. Why not? This reeks havoc with my circadian rhythms – remember, I’m one of those icky morning persons. Also too – no clouds. No sky sculpture, no sky fields to look down at.  BORING!

And anotha thing – what the fuck’s up with the bathroom identifiers in the new wing of Terminal C at Logan?! Honest to Bast mon ami – this is some serious lame-ass pre-enlightenment horseshit. PLUS, the artist in charge of bathroom design was SO spectacularly unimaginative that they felt 1980s era cheap-ass, disco silhouette clip art was fun and creative? Presumably Massport had some bones to spare for the new wing’s design – they couldn’t come up with anything more creative or less insulting?

I don’t necessarily need the male and female images to be all multi culti, gender fluid OR subtle BUT PUH-LEEZE – images of rich, white, mainstream FOX “news” personality types out on a posh date? This is BOSTON not Tulsa!

No, I’m not suggesting the men’s room should have an image of a giant dong kitted out in plaid flannel OR the women’s should have a six foot yoni decked out in fairy lights….but HEY, wouldn’t that be fun!

*ahem*

The very patient Mister Bromberg and I are now off to brekkie and then the drive down to my father’s town. We’ll visit with him, have a picnic lunch in his room and then, later, meet up with my older sister who also lives in this beautiful but fraught with a zillion bad memories town.

Cheers!