Itchy-Twitchy and Miss Bitchy...

On our last night in Arkansas, we both tied one on at the manager's reception in the lobby of the hotel. Now I know better than to get drunk on cheap wine, but I did it anyway. And so did Hub. When we got back to the room, we ordered a pizza then began packing for the return home in the morning. Hub forgot his Aveeno skin lotion so he slathered up with the cheap stuff from the hotel, and smelling like a big jasmine blossom, went to bed. I didnt even read or watch tv; I was asleep in 10 seconds, and maybe stayed asleep for 20 minutes. And then the little earthquakes began. I woke to the bed shaking. What the...? Hub was scratching something (I dont want to know) and I went back to sleep. Thirty seconds later, it happened again. OK, no biggie, back to sleep. *WHACK* I got kicked in the leg, and mind you, this is a king size bed. OW! Ok, now I'm having trouble getting back to sleep. Hub appeared to be sleeping , but he would twitch and scratch about every 20 - 30 seconds, so I turned on my reading light and grabbed my book, trying to wait out the invisible fleas that were plaguing him. I figured he'd fall asleep and that would be the end of it. An hour later, he was still at it, but not conscious of any of it! He was flipping like a fish, scratching like a monkey and kicking like a mule until I simply couldnt take it anymore. I shook him awake and told him to go to sleep. "But I was asleep!" He protested. "You're not sleeping, I hissed. "You are as jumpy as a cat on a cactus, now please get rid of your fleas and go to sleep! We have to get up in 4 hours for the plane!" I slammed my book shut, huffed and turned over, muttering bad words under my breath. Having already said my prayers, I figured God didnt have his ears on, and if he did, he had to understand how a twitchy bedmate could bring out the devil in any of us.

Hub apologized and settled back down. I could tell from his soft snores that he had already gone back to sleep. Not me. I was aggravated and as awake as noon. So I opened up my book and began again. And so did he. Twitch, flop, scratch-scratch-scratch, wiggle, snort, kick, twitch. This time I gave him a shove and bellowed, "KNOCK IT OFF!" to which he startled awake. I could see by his bewilderment that he had no idea why I assaulted him. "QUIT TWITCHING!" I yelled. He apologized again and rolled over. I could feel my pulse in my temples. My drunk had worn off and now I was just plain mad with a headache. It was 1:00 a.m. and we had to get up at 4:30 for the flight. I drank a big glass of water and took tylenol and a sleeping pill, clearly forgetting the time I needed for the pill to work and also wear off. I tried to settle down again, closed my book and prayed for sleep. *WHACK* Another sharp kick to my shin which also woke Hub and he frowned at me and said, "Tara, what did you DO that for?" "Do WHAT?" "Kick me! What's going on with you? If you cant sleep, go sit on the sofa and quit annoying me!" At that point, I am sure my face split down the middle and my eyes bugged out on cartoon springs. Fangs burst forth from the demon that I could no longer drive down and I let out a string of words that would make satan lift a brow. I think I now had the boy's attention. I took a deep breath and hissed through clenched teeth, "Ok, Mr. Innocent Bystander. You just sit there a minute and figure it out." Thirty seconds later he scratched the inside of his arm. Ten seconds after that, it was his knee. He scratched here, there and everywhere. I watched with pursed lips and my arms tightly crossed as realization spread over him and he jumped out of bed. "What is in these sheets?!" he cried, scratching his back and his elbow.

The only thing we could figure was the Hub was allergic to the lotion. He got in the shower and using the hotel soap, tried to wash the itch off. But I think it was too late. That poor boy dried off and the scenario began again. Then he made my mistake and took a sleeping pill. I didnt know. I was out.

The wake-up call came 2 hours later and I figured it was a malfunction. I never answered. I just picked up the receiver and put it back down, returning to sleep. BREEEP BREEEP BREEEP there went the phone again. What is wrong with this crazy phone? I lifted the receiver, thinking someone was calling from home. A mechanized female voice, far too cheery, said, "Good morning! This is your wake up call. Have a nice day!" I rubbed my eyes which felt like sandpaper, and tears streaming from the sting, looked at the clock which seemed to be rotating counterclockwise. I shook my head. Gawd was I stoned. The clock said 4:40. Oh shit it really is time to get up. I nudged Hub and he groaned and muttered, "Stoppit Tara." I nudged him again and he sat straight up and yelled, "Oh f---, my head! WHAT?" I managed to get the message across, that we had to move. Now. We both struggled to get out of bed as if someone had glued us in. The sleeping pills. Now I know how they work. They double the effect of gravity, making it impossible to lift your limbs.

There wasnt much conversation between us as we were both suffering from double hangovers, one from cheap wine and the other from a sleeping pill that hadnt had time to wear off. Every movement was torturous and took maximal effort. Neither of us showered. No coffee in the lobby. We did only what was necessary to drag our sorry butts to the airport in the.....oh God, no.....frozen fog again. After scraping the ice off the windshield with our room key-card, (because 'we dont get weather like this') we realized that we couldnt see a hundred feet in front of us. Dammit all.

There were no food counters open at 5 am, so we sat, mute and painfully awake at the gate, our bloodshot eyes saying all that needed to be said. A smattering of other bleary-eyed travelers were there too, but the only sound was the flat screen with CNN blaring a bit too loud. Hub scrounged up some stale bagels and terrible coffee at a little stand that opened, clearly--everything was leftover from yesterday and tasted like it. I just couldnt choke it down.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we regret to inform you that due to the fog, all flights will be delayed. Please stay in your boarding area for further updates." (We didnt even look at each other. We knew better.)

Two hours later we boarded the plane, waiting for de-icing. The plane was so darn cold from sitting all night, we could see our breath inside. We taxied to the runway and then were again, delayed by the fog. Back to the gate for de-icing. More delays. An hour afterward we finally took off, looking forward to hot coffee that was never going to happen. Some witless maintenance person had drained the plane's water reserve to prevent freezing and there was no water and no way to flush the toilet on the plane. Everytime someone had to use the toilet, the flight attendant would hand a sanitizing towelette for hands. That was the best she could do.

Arriving in Detroit, my suitcase had both legs and a wheel broken off, and one of the wires was poking out from the seam, which had split open. We dragged it through the snowy parking lot to our car, and headed home. On the freeway, Hub got tagged for speeding and was written a ticket.

And that is about all I have to say for today. Goodnight.