Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Home Again Jiggity-Jig!

GingerMan made it home Monday.

Note to San Francisco Airport Police and Security: You are every very bad word I can think of and I hate you all. You always have been, and this trip is no different. The day I dropped my Beloved at the International Departures curb, I had literally JUST popped in the car, had barely got my seatbelt on and was trying to get the Nav set to get me to work and Security #*&# came BANGING on my window YELLING “Lady get away from the curb and out of the airport!”. I yell back “Tell me how the hell to get OUT of the airport on 280 cuz the signs all go to the city!”. To which he replied, hitting my sunroof this time, “I don’t care where the hell you go, get away from the airport NOW!” So I drove off, and due to the fact that the only signs for Highway 280 do, in fact, lead one to believe one will be going straight into San Francisco instead of one lane going South instead, I was nearly waylaid and late for work.

Exiting the freeway on Monday, an SFO/SFPD car was exiting the airport loop and I was behind a silver nissan that was having trouble with the fact that one does NOT, as a matter of course, exit the freeway and come to a DEAD STOP in the middle of the exit ramps with traffic behind one and a cop who does not seem to notice the situation merging right into us from the right. I throw my hands up with a shriek. For about 3 seconds.

Silver car finally gets going right when I think we’re going to be crushed by further traffic exiting the freeway behind us. Cop follows the loop behind us. As we enter the Arrivals loop, I notice his one, single little red light is on. I’m coming to the first legal place to stop anyway so I pull over, completely perplexed. An SFO Security A@@hat starts waving me on with a cop with a light on right behind me, exiting his vehicle. So I start to pull forward a bit, thinking I wasn’t all the way in Security’s white zone, and the cop comes and starts hitting my car. I turn down my window and ask if he’d like to tell the Security guy that I can park there and not the two inches forward he’d like me to. Cop asks the stupid Know Why I Stopped You question. Nope. Reason is: I was “Driving with my Hands Off the Wheel”.

His feelings were hurt during the exit ramp incident because I was shrieking at the silver car to kindly not kill us all and he thought I was yelling at him. So he tried to pull me for hands-free driving. First I just stared at him, dumbfounded. And then I snapped. Somewhere just inside the window off the curb was GingerMan who I had not seen for a week, and this idiot was all bent because of a bad merge he was so embarrassed by he followed me all the way into the airport to pull me for. That wasn’t my fault. So I replayed the entire incident and asked how it was my fault, and just HOW LONG he REALLY thought my hands were off the wheel when, between the two cars I was stuck between I wasn’t even MOVING.

I don’t know why my tiny red infuriated ass wasn’t pulled from the car, but I was suddenly receiving a “word of warning” to keep my hands on the wheel at all times and watch my rear-view mirrors (?????). Then he was gone. And GingerMan appeared, apparently drawn out of the arrivals lounge by the vibe of his wife going spare on an Airport Cop. I hop out, get his stuff in the car, my fab outfit, down to gray herringbone tweed heels with black patent spectator toes ignored, and away we sped, happily, but with some small remaining clouds of huff streaming behind us.

I believe it is required here to state we all know that our safety is paramount and blahblahblah but from curb to check-in to security to gate, travel seems full of punks and mean gormless gits these days. If one more of you freaks hits my car in the name of National Security, you’re getting my National Knee in your Security Bollocks.

GingerMan, I am so glad you are home, it is as if the world has had 3 shades of gray removed. Now pick up your socks. I love you.

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