Travels

I just returned from a three day trip to Little Rock for teacher training. I really enjoy that little city. Everyone is friendly and calls me darlin'. I think it is very charming. You know who I don't find charming? The Hiltons. I don't mean Paris and Nicky personally, but rather the hotel chain that has made them famous for doing nothing.

I am a card totin' Hilton Honors member. I always stay at Hilton hotels. Generally I am more than satisfied. I was dismayed to discover what I consider a scam. I'm hip to your game, Hilton Garden Inn. I am all about the green. I recycle. I'm cool. I actually pay attention to those little signs in the bathroom that say:

We value the environment, blah blah blah. A towel hung on the rack means leave it alone, I'll use it again. I eat granola, I wear Birkenstocks and I'm a female who doesn't shave my armpits. A towel on the floor says please exchange.

That's not the exact wording, but you get the gist. I hung up my towel. Each day. When I returned, I had a new towel. Now you may be wondering how I can tell one Hilton white cotton bath towel from the next. Think...wait for it...

Tag removal! I fastidiously inspect every fabric in my hotel room for tags. I take the time to carefully remove tags. I once used manicure scissors, found them to be inadequate for the task. Now I carry full size kitchen shears. I'm serious about this. It forces me to check my carry on size suitcase, since these are clearly a weapon, but that $25 is well spent.

So, I'm peeved Hilton. You aren't adhering to your signage. I have busted you. I am going to write a letter to address this issue immediately.

Moving on in my random thinking.

I'm hot. Remember the Kroger bag boy? Well, he got some competition today. I flew home via Memphis this afternoon. That airport is small and a tad janky. I had like two meal options. Popeye's, which sounds like it would be totally healthy, no? One might assume that they would specialize in spinach salads by the name alone. False advertising, peeps. Fried chicken legs, or if you prefer, fried chicken fingers. Chicken have fingers, I guess. My other option was Memphis style BBQ. Barf. I ended up enjoying a hearty lunch of baked multigrain chips and Reese's cups. I know how to keep it healthy. Okay, I have seriously digressed. Back to my hotness.

Prior to boarding, Delta solicited volunteers to be bumped. I popped up to the desk to see if I could be swayed. I wasn't. However, I got a little love from this man-

Little Richard.

My Delta agent was a dead ringer for Little Richard. I believe his name was Antoine, and he likey the Betsy. This was our interaction. I'll refer to him as DA, an acronym for Delta Agent, not District Attorney. This isn't an episode of Law & Order.

DA: "You are a cute girl."

Betsy: awkward look

DA: " I noticed you earlier strutting through the terminal."

Betsy: " Ummm. thanks?"

I was not intentionally strutting. I thought I was quickly shuffling away from the putrid smell of Popeye's.

He scanned my ticket to board 15 minutes later. I approached with trepidation.

DA: "I'm going to miiiiiiiiissssss you." wink;)

Vomit.