Travels with Aimee

In no particular order, here's what's made me chuckle from the road this week:

• Monday morning, 5 a.m. ish at Lambert. The nose-pierced girl behind me suddenly asking (in an oddly slow, not-panicked-I'm-gonna-miss-my-flight-way) if she could go ahead in the security line. Me saying, "Well, I guess..." sensing this wasn't a true emergency, which I am always happy to accommodate. And her validating me by saying, "That's OK, I don't have to. I'm just so000 tired, and I want to get on the plane." Me thinking, WTF?????????? Me snapping, "Well, aren't we all" and standing my ground.
• Multiple people at my client commenting, on seeing me in my more advanced maternity state and clothes, "Oh, I didn't know you were pregnant?" followed by "You don't look very big." Well, but remember how you just a minute ago said...so I must look...oh, never mind.
• The front desk guy at the hotel pointing me toward cocktail hour in the bar. Me snottily informing him I didn't think the baby would appreciate that. (And knowing my misdirected anger is a direct result of HOW MUCH I WANNA GO IN THAT COCKTAIL HOUR!)
• Me ordering dinner last night from a combination KFC/A&W restaurant. Ordering off both menus. Eating half on the drive home. And feeling incredible disappointment when my Lil' Bucket parfait somehow did not make it into the bag.
• Me calling the KFC to get a credit for the Lil' Bucket parfait (they agreed).
• Me ordering $10 room serve "chocolate dome" to make up for missing $1.79 Lil' Bucket.
• Driving my rental Nissan Altima out of the airport, and having to pull over several times within the first two minutes, wondering why it's driving so darn funny. Before I call the rental company's roadside assistance - from side of road, hazards on - at which point I figure out I have been driving 50 m.p.h. in first gear. Because Altima's have manual and automatic mode, and guess which one I was accidentally in? (To my defense, what genius labels a stick shift "+" and "-" instead of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5?)
• My wild little boy becoming inexplicably obsessed with me singing him "Rocky Baby" (aka Rock a Bye Baby) which I never sang at all until last weekend, and suddenly, it's his fave. So he's now requesting it by phone. Eight times tonight.
• Me, physically singing my son Rocky Baby, but in reality, watching Jason Castro butcher Bob Marley and Bob Dylan on Idol. (What the heck WAS THAT?)
• My son, requesting "Mama, home? Mama, home?" last night as I was reading him books by phone.

Okay, that one wasn't funny so much as heart wrenching. I might need to start another list...