Two paper airplanes flying, flying
What a whirlwind October.
There was the Pittsburgh trip to watch my baby cousin turn 1.
Though I might have positioned it on social media as a trip to New York (which, fair, I spent ample time in NYC. Er, LaGuardia).
One of my NYC friends was hoping I was there. Matt, who I met at Epcot and is so much fun.
I think he’s just trying to hook me up with his friend Rachel, though. Which, she is pretty cute but also pretty young.
So is he. I’d asked where he was on 9/11 (as a New Yorker of course) and he said something like third or fifth grade. Oy.
Anyway Matt invited me to a charity ball on Dec. 4 up in the city. But I’ve traveled so much (cough, SPENT so much) that maybe I should give it a damn rest.
I’m talking about my body, not just my wallet. Jesus, I’m exhausted.
I could spend this whole post on airport visits, and I think I will.
First of all, I met Randy Fenoli on my flight out.
He was adorable. I walked past him in First Class. (I was two rows behind him.) He is so TINY! He shared his seat with his tiny white dog.
I only saw one other person fangirl over him. So maybe y’all don’t watch “Say Yes to the Dress.” But Mom and I loved it, so we loved him.
And I’m thrilled to say he’s as nice in person as he is on the show.
I mean, any man who grabs my hand and says, “Hi Beautiful!” before letting me gush about how much I love his dresses and enjoy seeing him on TV is all right by me.
I won’t speak about our connection at Atlanta. (I HATE ATL and Delta for having that shit cyclone as one of its hubs.)
But I will say the flight was exquisite. Total Swiftie plane.
The pilot asked if we are “Ready for It?” and the flight attendant said they were “Enchanted” to serve us.
My row was filled with amazing people, including a man wearing the “22” hat. Though he had a cane, so they made him get out of the exit row. Which made me sad because he was so dapper and cool.
In his place I got a girl whose concert ticket was a birthday gift from the lady on the other side of me in a fabulous Etsy jacket.
The fabulous lady took a pic of my Eras-themed toes.
No orange for Evermore. Then again I am not a Hemingway cat and therefore lack an 11th toe.
Anyway, landing at MSY was such a delight. I put up some videos on Insta of the pilot making one last Swiftie reference. And also of our sad “Love Story” sing-along. We so half-assed it.
Anyway, the AIRPORT. It was all decked out for us Swifties!
So was the whole town, really.
I don’t know of any other city that rolled out the red carpet (and les bons temps) for us even on a low level of magnitude, much less the high holy welcome we got.
Skipping ahead to the taxi ride out of town, I got hit on by the cabbie. He was super sweet and eager to come to Miami … and for me to return to NOLA so he could take me around. He even gave me his card and said let me know when you land safely.
Anyway, I paid cash and tipped well.
Then there was the whole JH of it all. Already covered that.
And we’re just talking about flights in this post.
So, my first flight out — from MSY back to that cesspool ATL — was a dream.
Delta was offering $900 in credits to anyone who was willing to be bumped. I said give me cash so I can see T-Swift in Indy and I’ll take it, but they didn’t.
Also, I told my senior Swiftie seat mates I wasn’t really serious. They were so much fun and I know to appreciate terrific people in my row.
Karen and Ben just turned 65. AND this trip to see Taylor was a gift to each other for a milestone anniversary — I want to say 25 years.
But my head was all sorts of full from everything that preceded that meeting, and I don’t remember exactly.
Oh, I’m fallin’ in love
I thought the plane was goin’ down
How’d you turn it right around?
Karen is a third-grade teacher and Ben is a pastor in California. We talked about Disney, as they are in Anaheim.
They are “rescue fails” — they have eight cats, most of whom have medical issues. And they are the freaking cutest people I ever met.
Karen and Ben and I have texted about a million times since that flight. It would be more, but I drove my happy ass to Key West and murdered my whole data plan in two days.
Swifties are the best. Hands-down.
Also anyone Swiftie-adjacent, like CJ, who appreciates us for all the good we put out into the world.
Which, CJ — I am hoping — is a story for another day, too. I keep pulling Wands cards around this situation.
I see sparks fly whenever you smile.
In any event, my final flight, from shithole ATL to floating island of garbage PBI, was awful.
From the sparkly tRump/Vance jacket to all the MAGA hats and shirts to the bitch in my aisle who was complaining loudly on her cell to someone that she was owed tens of thousands for an election night party but wasn’t paid for it, ugh. 
Let me guess — the “Republican Party Election Night” email subject line that I saw over her shoulder on her iPad might be a giveaway here. Trumpy hasn’t paid for his party?! GO FIGURE.
Honest to God, I was willing to take the plane down for the sake of democracy at that point.
Anyway, we didn’t crash and I didn’t kill any MAGAts. Well, I did get into a fight with a bunch in Marathon.
Fuckers, you came up to MY car with your signs. You get what I fucking say/gesture in return. You don’t get to tell me to go to hell when I was having a nice day without you.
I swear, 10 trumpers constitutes a riot.
In any event, I ALSO saw a ton of Harris-Walz signs and supporters all over NOLA and Key West.
Granted, two very amazing towns in two very red states. But still. I think we have a lot to be hopeful about come Tuesday.