(a hobbit’s tale by Jade Park)…
Woke up early on Friday to go to the airport and fly to Vegas to visit my parents. Of course, I’d gained 4 pounds in water weight over night (perrrrfect timing) so I was braced for weight-criticism (it did not happen–whew). I would be flying right back home to the Bay Area later in the day.
If I had been a plant, I’d have been traumatized. 62F in Oakland when I left. 110F in Vegas. And 62F in Oakland when I returned later in the evening. Lettuce would have bolted. Fruit trees would have dropped their blossoms. But I am not a plant–I’m a human being, so I did just fine.
It was a very pleasant visit. I giggled when my parents bickered and my mom and I went shoe shopping, and then we all had a late lunch. My dad’s recovered well from his heart attack and subsequent bypass surgery. He’s back to his cranky self. Well, more than that happened, but that’s my 10 second wrap up.
By the time I was dropped back off at the airport for my return home, I smelled the pungent odor of mothballs. What the–? It was ME. I smelled like mothballs. My parents’ house is like, on Defcon 5 alert when it comes to moths because my mom feels they are the Mortal Enemy. (I told her that I’d heard moths don’t live in the desert and she said, “YES THEY DO! I HAVE HOLES IN SWEATERS!” Wow. That was one determined moth to get through the mothball defense). I bought her a new sweater and the first thing she did was pour a bag of moth balls on it before folding it up. Sheesh.
So anyway, I smelled like mothballs. I felt SO sorry for the chick who had to sit next to me on the Southwest flight home. I gave her my issue of People magazine once I’d finished, but still.
At the airport before my flight, I got asked by very nice middle aged Midwesterners headed back home to St. Louis about flight logistics (they were there WAY early for their flight). “Do you travel a lot?” they asked.
I hesitated, and then said, “Yes.” Because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to CHAT. And because I do. Travel a lot. We discussed which airlines were best (dude, I love Virgin America and Virgin Atlantic) etc., etc.–the kind of talk you make at the airport with strangers. I’d have preferred to read my People magazine, but oh well.
Then they looked at me slyly. “You say you travel a lot.”
“Are you freelance?” They damn near winked.
“Uh?” I wondered what they meant. “I travel for uh–work. And I do a lot of vacationing.”
“But do you work for yourself?” they asked.
What on earth were they talking about. “I travel for my company and I do a lot of personal travel.”
“Oh!” they said. “You look a lot like, I mean, we think you might be–”
OHHHHH. “Margaret Cho?” I asked.
“YES!” they said.
“No, I’m not her.”
“I’m not Margaret–but you’re not the first to ask me.” (Seriously, I think I’ve been asked if I’m Margaret, like, hundreds of times thus far–by everyone except Korean people).
I don’t think I convinced them.
“Well,” one of the men said, “for what it’s worth, I really like her.” He nearly winked.
When I got home, I gave the hubby a big hug. He wrinkled his nose. “You smell like mothballs,” he said.
And there–now you know that Jade Park looks like Margaret Cho. Now excuse me while I deal with my nausea–these meds I am taking make me SO nauseous.
p.s. I am sooo waiting for Margaret Cho’s new show to premiere!