Getting Some Flaming Lip . . .
We boarded the plane in DC confident that, just six hours later, we'd be back in the loving, warm embrace of the three-one-six (as the Wichita gangstas' call it). Then . . . we got to Chicago.
We dropped in to the Windy City (given its name because of its boisterous politicians - not its moving-air-off-the-lake). and were greeted by winds, rain, damp snow, and very low temperatures. And that is where our travels for the day ended. After rescheduling for Tuesday morning, we boarded a bus heading for a hotel and a long afternoon of being stranded with no clean underpants in our suitcase. I digress.
I won't complain about the detour (the American Airlines people were amazing, the Hyatt people were great, even the woman at Starbucks who gave Ava a free hot chocolate made the day easy-breezy (that is a Chicago pun, folks)) but I would be remiss if I didn't share one random aside . . .
The lead singer from The Flaming Lips is an utter bore. How do I know?
He was walking in his super skinny grey jeans, grey suede bucs with day-glo green soles, his grey jacket/shirt/scarf combo and his grey hair while being a rock and roll singer and he, without even seeing her, crossed over my daughter's path - essentially tripping her up in the process (she recovered her footing - no actual injuries were involved). What did he do? Just sort of looked down with a relative amount of disdain that his overall grey appearance was crossed into by a child drinking a free hot cocoa from the nice Starbucks woman.
I don't know how I knew it was him (it was - he mentioned something to someone who seemed to be a fan about being in Ithaca the previous night and on the band's website it had them performing at Cornell's Barton Hall Sunday night) and I don't know why I care (if it had been any other random man or woman I would have just ignored it) but it bugged me. A colleague suggested he is probably just not used to having people be in his space (insert joke about his fixation with performing inside large, plastic balls here). But I can't imagine that is it. He actually seems moderately humble and good natured (my obsession with the interaction coupled with a long afternoon in a hotel room in the Chicago suburbs found me Googling him and reading/listening to stuff).
I don't ever want to be famous. You can't even walk through an airport and accidentally cut off a kid without some douchy bore blogging about it. Then again - I've never cut a kid off in foot traffic without apologizing to them and their adult escorts. Maybe that is why I'm NOT famous.