The old lady and the fat lady sat wearily in the car, ready to leave, and gazing out the windows at the unhappy, accusatory faces of their loved ones waving a reluctant goodbye. The car started to move along the driveway, just like many cars had moved before, but this time it was taking the old lady and the fat lady on an unaccustomed adventure by themselves. Husbands and grown children would just have to fend for themselves for 10 days. The fat lady sighed and thought that anything or anyone still alive upon her return would be a bonus.
Nervously they descended into the "Pit", their unkind nickname for the Los Angeles metropolis, with all its crime, pollution, noise, crowdedness, and just plain rudeness. Both the old lady and the fat lady had moved away from the area 25 years before, during the back-to-nature movement of the 70s, when John Denver sang the virtues of country life, and that was also known as the "great white flight'. Only the arrival of a loved one, or an adventure of this magnitude could entice them to return to this dreadful urban area again. "People drive here now as they used to drive in Portugal in 1971" noted the fat lady, remembering of one of the scariest taxi rides in her life, in Lisbon. "Whatever happened to the rule we were taught in Driver's Education, one car length for every 10 miles per hour? Now its full speed ahead, damn the traffic, every man for himself, bumper to bumper."
Quickly arriving at LAX, deposited with bags at the curb, the two ladies went inside the terminal. "Why must they call it a 'terminal'", shuddered the fat lady, always an anxious flyer. "And why use terms like 'final departure'? All this makes me expect to see St. Peter at the boarding gate, checking tickets. Surely they could come up with something more positve." she thought as she washed her hands at the womens' restroom and carefully used a paper towel to protect her skin from germs while opening the door. Beyond was the old lady, her Mom, sitting on what had been the only unoccupied spot on the bench, guarding the luggage. No one would get up to give the fat lady a seat, which barely surprised her, as people are rude down in the pit. The old lady had earned her seat anyway, having speeded the last few feet in order to beat the fat lady to it. And here she was, seated between a rather middle-east terrorist-looking fellow in cheap pvc jacket and shoes, carefully looking at nobody, with a British passport in hand (what is in his shoe?) and a young, good-looking British fellow whom Granny (as the old lady was known in the family) was chatting up! Leave it to Granny! She may be old, but she's not dead yet, obviously. "This young man looks like someone my daughters might like to meet' thought the fat lady, letting her ears swoon to the sound of his English accent. She asked if she might, and then snapped a photo under the pretense of trying out her camera.
Meanwhile a small crowd was gathering for the plane, and the check-in desk was becoming inhabited with Virgin Atlantic workers. The fat lady despaired of getting herself and her mother in line quickly to get the best seats. The desk opened and the fat lady started gearing herself up for the every-man-for-himself fight for a place in line, when English (must have been English) lyrical lilted words "You two were here ahead of us and should go before us" startled her completely, and she glanced open-mouthed in amazement at a fellow passenger who was holding up the whole line for her and her mother. "Th-thank you", the fat lady stammered, both grateful and ashamed (of her own selfish thoughts ) as she and the old lady took up their luggage and place in line. The terrorist was dispatched another way. Good.
Having given up their stowed luggage they went through the metal detectors, and the old lady was caught trying to sneak scissors on board. "Par for the course" sniffed the fat lady, remembering the amusing sight of her mother being frisked down last time at Heathrow. Suddenly appalled, the fat lady realized her mother was seriously considering recalling her luggage off the plane in order to keep these 59 cent scissors! But good sense finally prevailed, and they were allowed to enter the shopping area, sans scissors.
Being allowed to pick the food source out, the fat lady scouted around and finally decided Burger King would pack the most protein for the buck. So they ate there, in that bown and ocher ugly place, jam-packed with people, where everyone shared their tables. One woman asked the boy nearby if the seat next to him was taken. He thought a moment and then said, "It is occupied" in his best schoolboy English. The boy's family returned with hamburger meals and began speaking to each other. "French" said the fat lady to her mother. "Occupied" thought the fat lady to herself. "That's a word I would never think to use". Little did she know she was soon to hear many words used together in (to her) unique ways.
Words like "The scaffolding is alarmed". "Well, how can we calm it", she would wonder. Also some naughty (at least on our side of the pond) little words on perfectly proper signs. Many charming uses of the English language were about to present themselves in the next days.
The fat lady and the old lady began their walk to the seats near their departure gate. The fat lady noticed the old lady was slowing. "Here, you carry this," the old lady commanded the fat lady, handing her knapsack over. "My God, what's in it?!" exclaimed the fat lady, peering inside. 2 bottles of wine! "Mom!" accused the fat lady. "They're gifts" snapped the old lady right back, "not for me!" she shouted, then mumbled "I'll get my own over there." The seats near the gate were crowded with passengers awaiting another flight. The fat lady noticed they all sort of looked alike, blondish, and very much like her cousins Bruce, Dexter and Cathy CARPENTER. The fat lady glanced at the gate. "Of course," she noted, "KLM. Dutch, like my cousins." Their mother, Jannie, had actually been born in Holland. The loudspeaker announced that Northwest flight to Minneapolis/St. Paul was now boarding at the next gate. The fat lady got up to check out those passengers. " I wonder what normal Americans look like", she said to herself. "Being from California, I wouldn't know." She decided they look like people who shop at the Gap. Returning to her mother, the fat lady mentioned it was good they were not leaving from another gate. "A plane arrived there from Toronto. SARS, you know." The old lady nodded. She had brought her face mask just in case.
Click HERE to continue with Fat Lady's story Part 2.
