Every couple of years, we take the kids out to our property in the mountains of Northwest, Montana to give them a change of venue from rural Maryland, to keep an eye on our future retirement, and because camping in the mountains with a teen and pre-teen is just plain ding-dang fun!
And every couple of years is an entirely different experience along the route, too.
This year was prank year, apparently.
We had to get up at the very butt-crack of dawn to get to Dulles Airport, because My Captain is a Sadist, and obviously hates us. The kids were tired, My Captain was tired, and Mama was her normal grumpy, exhaustipated self. By the time we finished the first leg of the journey west, and were grabbing a quick breakfast during our layover in the Minneapolis Airport, we were all just plain punchy.
Not that that is a bad thing.
Our moods had lightened the closer and closer we got to Montana, and a two week respite from all things responsible….Critter and Varmint, happy to get as far away as possible from anything close to school, My Captain from his copious serious responsibilities at work, and me, because responsibilities make me fat.
So the farther we traveled from home, the lighter we felt, and I admit I was feeling a little bit frisky.
When we went to board the plane that would take us to Great Falls, I hung back, allowing the kids and My Captain to precede me. I paused at the flight attendant welcoming everyone aboard, pointed to My Captain, and said,
“Hi. You see that tall guy in the orange shirt?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Well, he’s too shy to say anything about it, but he’s a puker. He’s probably going to need extra bags.”
“Oh, we can help him with that.”
A moment later, in front of EVERYONE, she went to his seat on the plane and handed him a huge stack of barf bags with a most compassionate and understanding smile.
My Captain briefly paused, pursed his lips, and politely thanked her for the pile of bags. Then when she turned to walk back up the cabin, he swiftly reached across the aisle, and slapped me upside the head with them.
Who knew he was such a violent little cuss?
Did I hit him back? Did I laugh into his gorgeous steely dark eyes? Did I use one of the barf bags myself?
Stay tuned for more “Mama Hits Montana 2014” stories!
Mama Boe 