DON'T TOUCH THE BAGS!

I have to be honest, when I first read the story about the man who stripped down to his birthday suit in the Portland Airport because he felt the TSA was harassing him, my first reaction was to laugh. I’m sure I wouldn’t have laughed if I’d been walking past him with a five year old in tow, but I’m pretty certain I would have giggled if I had been alone or with my husband. Why? Because a really white naked backside is just funny. And I have to admit, I admire his um, cajones. In a manner of speaking.

I can sympathize with him. I get it. I surely do. Let’s be honest, who among us hasn’t been on the verge of a meltdown at the airport because of the crazy things that push your buttons there? Flying just hasn’t been fun since 9-11, and I fully understand how he reached the point of dropping his pants in protest. He might be under some personal stress, but I could be convinced that he just got his fill of airport security/airline nonsense and felt the need to take a stand. He must have felt pretty strongly about it, too because he stood without a stitch of clothing for quite a while in front of a lot of people, and he’s no David Beckham, so he probably has the same insecurities a lot of us have about our bodies. Another woman pulled the same thing at a different airport recently, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t see some copycats in the coming months. What the heck, it sure could make the airport more interesting than it is on a typical day.

I’m all for security, but sometimes I just laugh at the TSA lines. Never do I feel more like a cow on its way to slaughter than when I’m dragging through that line with my boarding pass and my carryon. The level of security is not the same at all American airports. It seems to waver depending on the attitude of the TSA agents. There’s no rhyme or reason to the way they do things, and they certainly make some interesting choices when it comes to pulling people aside for body searches. We’ve gone through the lines at times when they’ve pulled Mama J. aside, which always cracked me up. Why pick the elderly woman with the walker? Granted, appearances can be deceiving, but the woman didn’t have enough flexibility to bend over and remove any plastic explosives from her shoes if she wanted to. Her biggest concern would have been not to pass gas when she doubled over that far. When she was little, Teen Angel got searched a couple of times. Again, you never know about folks, but Americans just aren’t big on strapping a bomb to their kids and setting them up for suicide, so pulling a Midwestern kid who’s obviously more excited by the people mover than she is her impending flight is a pretty good sign she’s not going to blow up a plane.

All of the stripping down, wanding and hassle of keeping up with your spare change and your shoes as you snake your way through the lines is trying at best, especially if the line is incredibly long or you’re running late. And the 3 ounce limit for carryon items? Oh, the pain that can cause.

When we flew home from New Orleans in January, we had a big snafu at the security checkpoint, and it was my fault. I’m the chief packer in our house, by the way. Hubby is not allowed to pack because we’d each show up with twenty pair of underwear, a pair of flip flops and no shampoo if he did it. When you leave a cruise ship, you have to put all your baggage outside your door the night before you depart the boat. That’s to get all of your luggage organized and ready to take off the boat. You essentially walk off the ship with your pajamas and whatever essentials you deemed necessary for your last night of sleep, and you get your luggage on shore. When we left the ship, we sent all of our luggage to the airport by shuttle, spent the day toodling around the French Quarter and then caught a ride to the airport closer to our flight time. We checked our luggage, I kept the carryon that had our essentials we had used that last night on the boat and headed to security. The line there was horribly long. When we got to the front of it, I realized I had on sandals and had no socks in carryon. Which meant I had to walk barefoot through security. Ug. That was even grosser than the time I found that lint covered Circus Peanut in the bottom of my purse and ate it, lint and all. I asked a TSA agent if they any of those paper booties and she actually laughed out loud in my face. “Girl, our budget is so bad around here, we ain’t had those in forever,” she said. So I trudged through in my bare feet and prayed that I wouldn’t catch Hepatitis. We actually made it through without setting off the alarms, which is a miracle for us because Hubby usually forgets to take off something metal. But I couldn’t find our carryon. About the time I said something to Hubby about it, I heard this voice boom across the security area, “Who does THIS bag belong to?” An agent was pointing to it like it contained a dead body, and sure enough, it was ours. He waved vigorously for us to come over to him, which was the first sign that we were not moving on any time soon. “THIS bag has NUMEROUS items over three ounces in it!” he barked. “Oh,” I said. “YES!” He started pulling them out and naming them for everyone to hear. Thank God I didn’t have a four ounce tampon in there. He pulled out some cosmetics, and when he got to the bottle of wine from the cruise ship, I realized I had forgotten the whole list of carryon rules when I shoved our cosmetics and stuff from our final night on the ship into that bag. He proceeded to explain the three ounce rule and dress me down like I was an idiot. I explained that I knew the rule; I just wasn’t thinking when I threw the stuff into the bag. I might as well have told him I killed puppies and kittens for pleasure from the look he gave me. Twice he practically smacked my hand when I pointed at something in the bag and got a little too close to the suitcase. “DON’T TOUCH THE BAG.”

He explained that we could either throw away the items or go back and check the bag. Which meant we would have to go through security again. I was just going to toss the stuff until he came to the $30 bottle of sunscreen I had in there, and since it’s the bomb of sunscreen and I paid THIRTY DOLLARS for it, I chose to run the bag back to the check in counter while Hubby went on to our gate to make sure they wouldn’t leave without me as our flight time was drawing near. After I checked the bag, I waited in the security line, took another barefoot stroll through communicable disease territory and dashed to our gate just in time. By the time I sat down on that plane I wanted to either hit someone or toss back a shot of hard liquor. Honestly, I’m not sure which one would have made me feel better. I skipped both, put on some headphones and thanked the good Lord there were no rowdy children sitting near me.

So I get it. I fully understand why the gentleman in Portland dropped his drawers in front of the TSA. I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone else, but I would have applauded his efforts had I been at the airport with him. I would have also needed my sunglasses. Dude’s fanny was WHITE.

From the Bank

This Paris moment brought to you by Hula's memories.  Oh, to be strolling the Seine again.  Someday.  Someday. 

I Love it When my Family Gives me Blog Fodder

This is the picture Teen Angel texted me today.

It's the jar Teen Angel placed on the kitchen counter today.  I like it.  I'm in.  She tells me so far we have about a dollar.  That means we can afford a beverage out of the vending machines in the Metro or a trip to a public toilet.  But not both.

Going Home

I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on our trip to Europe and what I learned from that adventure. Plenty I would say. Since I’ve come home I’ve tried to expand on all that wonderful French and British history I soaked up across the pond. I realized I have so much to learn! There isn’t enough time to squeeze it all in. I can be on the phone on hold and will Google something I saw on the trip and read more about it. I can’t get enough. The Tower of London, Hotel de Ville, Moliere, Napoleon, Marie Antoinette…and the list goes on and on. Fascinating. My high school history teacher would be so proud. Finally.


But that trip taught me a lot about myself. Travel does that. It helps you to find your strengths (boldness) and your weaknesses (foreign language) and shows you how self sufficient and resourceful you can be. It was one of the big reasons I wanted Teen Angel to take this trip. I wanted her to see just how capable she is. She is a quick thinker and can adapt as circumstances dictate. I like that. And I think she began to understand that just a few days into the trip. I was rather proud of the way she handled herself on the trip.

The most important thing I learned about myself though, was that I like home. Don’t get me wrong. I love traveling, and I can’t wait for the day I’ve saved enough money for a tour of Italy (I’m looking at you 2015). I definitely think I could be the backpack across Europe type of gal. I don’t need much clothing or fancy hotel rooms, and I could go for days with a Eur-Rail pass and good shoes, but it did feel good to get back home.

Home. Where iced tea comes in bucket sized glasses and I can drive anywhere I want to go. Where biscuits and jelly come with a chicken dinner and people speak to strangers like they’re old friends. But most of all, it’s where my family is.

All my life I’ve lived in the same basic area. I bounced across the Ohio River after college, but aside from college, I have always lived within thirty minutes of my parents, brothers and various assorted relatives. When I first graduated from college, I had dreams of moving to another city, but my career started here, and stayed here. Over the years, I had job offers in Nashville, Cincinnati, Louisville and Memphis, but by then I was married and had made a deal with Hubby that we would stay here to take care of his parents when they got old. Sometimes, I felt a tug of regret when I turned down those jobs, but over the years I’ve come to realize that was a blessing. I ended up in a great job where my stress level is much lower than it used to be, I’ve stayed close to many family members and Teen Angel got to have a close relationship with all four of her grandparents.

She never had to go to daycare. When she was little she spent her days at Mama J.’s and Papa T.’s and really felt like that was her second home. When Mama J. passed away, I was glad Teen Angel had gotten to enjoy her grandmother so much over the years. It certainly made up for any bumps I had along the way by living next door to my mother in law.

I realized today that I was fortunate to live so close to my many cousins, aunts and uncles. I said goodbye this afternoon to one of my favorite uncles who was not expected to live through the rest of the day. For years, he and his family lived near Chicago, but they moved back home after retirement, and I’ve been able to see them regularly for years now. I know you’re not supposed to have favorites, but I have many favorites, and he’s one of them. Such a nice, sweet man with a patient loving heart and a quick wit. I love him dearly, and his death is a bit sudden. It comes during a rough month for us, and frankly, I’m tired of burying people.

As I drove away from the hospital, I thought about the cousins I have who live away from here and how that distance limited the time they could spend with certain family members, including my grandparents, and how they have fewer memories of those folks. I am lucky. I was here to see my grandpa tend to his strawberries. To watch grandma make biscuits and tend to her flowers and to have my granny at my college graduation.  I was here to laugh and joke with Uncle P. at family dinners.  My life is richer for those experiences, and I am glad for that. For me, home truly is where the heart is, and it feels good to be home. I can’t wait for future travels and adventures abroad, but I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else but here.

Somebody Pinch Me

Hold onto your seats. The Hula-gen’s are headed here:

And here:

And I’d like to add a couple of other stops but there’s the issue of time and money. Holy Toledo, hotel rooms are expensive in London!  I’m hoping the time and money for Italy and other parts of Europe will be available in the coming years, but for now, WE’RE GOING TO LONDON AND PARIS!!!!!!!!! Woo hoo! Rue Cler will never be the same.

One of the gifts we gave Teen Angel for graduation was her passport. In fact, all three of us lined up at the post office recently to get our passports. It was a symbolic gift of sorts to her. A door to the world, so to speak. It has long been my goal to take her to Europe when she graduated from high school. I’m just a firm believer that every person should travel outside his home country to somewhere where he’s the minority and doesn’t speak the language. It’s such an eye opening experience to see how other folks live and to have to fumble around with a language barrier and different currency and traditions. Americans are so spoiled and proud. We think everyone outside the U.S. wants to be IN the U.S. and wants to be like us. We think everyone should speak English, and we really don’t see ourselves the way others see us. Traveling to a place where people live frugally, don’t always have certain amenities or value art and architecture more than the latest pair of jeans is a great way to better understand that the world is a diverse and exciting place. I want Teen Angel to know what other cultures are like and to appreciate the people of this Earth in a way that can’t be experienced by sitting in your own backyard. I want her to always have the desire to see the world so that hopefully, she will spend her time on Earth making the most of what it has to offer. And that journey begins now. The first week of August as a matter of fact.

We have saved and planned and researched. Sister mercy, have I researched! And yesterday I started booking our trip. We’re taking a few planes, some train and a few subways to and around London and Paris. It’s just me and Teen Angel. Hubby is sitting this one out to take care of his folks, but she and I will be seeing Big Ben, the Tower of London, the Museum D’Orsey, the Eiffel Tower and lots of other stuff in between. Instead of a hotel, we’ve rented an apartment in Paris so we can live like the Parisians for a few days, stopping at neighborhood markets for croissants and cheeses, eating breakfast while looking out our window onto the city and soaking up as much as we can in case we never get back. Yes, boys and girls, the Hula-gen’s are headed to Ru Cler, and it will never be the same. And neither will we.

Where is the world is Hula?

Oh, my gosh! Oh, my goodness! Bless my soul! Bust my buttons!! Crack my knuckles! And pinch my pinkie toe!!! I’m headed out of the country in a few weeks. Teen Angel and I are headed out for an adventure, and I’m so excited that I have to work really hard at focusing on work and chores and all that other stuff that gets in the way of daydreaming 24/7. I can barely contain my excitement (or the money flowing out of my wallet at a rapid pace.) Anyhoo…I thought that instead of just blurting out where we’re going, I’d let you guess for a few hours. Go ahead, give it your best shot. Fire away. I can’t wait to hear your guesses, and the three of you out there who already know?  Just jump up and down in blog silence for me, okay?

The answer? Friday. And in the meantime, I’ll be digging around in the attic to see if the mice have eaten any holes in our luggage since we last used it.


Seriously. Somebody pinch me.

Treadmill? Treadmill who?

I've just spent two full days shopping in Louisville. I managed to squeeze in a Gotta Have It size of sweet cream at Cold Stone Cremery, a pomegranate mojito the size of my head and a big slab of red velvet cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory. Oh, and tomorrow is Teen Angel's birthday, which means cake, cake, cake. As my friend Yvonne used to say, "Might as well smear it on my a** 'cause that's where it's goin'." I gotta find a salad or two when I get home.

Where in the World is Hula?

Just for fun we’ll see if you can guess where the Hula-gens went this past weekend. Those of you who live in my corner of the continent will probably guess our destination right away, so if it’s really easy for you, please don’t spoil the fun for the readers in other parts of the world. The prize? If I were the Pioneer Woman I’d have some big gift card worth hundreds of dollars to a home improvement store…and my photos would be better..and my husband would wear sexy chaps..and I’d include a recipe. But I’m not. And I just spent all of my money traveling and giving Teen Angel lunch money, so the winner gets the personal satisfaction that they’re smarter, quicker or luckier than their fellow readers. So here we go. Oh, and no fair Googling the clues.

This trip involved chaperoning about twenty students on a school field trip. Apparently, Hubby and I are gluttons for punishment because we frequently hit the road with large groups of teenagers. Further proof that we’re not quite right in the head as my daddy would say. I’m proud to say we made it through this trip with no permanent injuries, only one lost wallet and just one vomiting incident. Not too bad.

We awoke at the butt crack of dawn to travel by train to this big city.

Have I mentioned how much I hate 4am? By the time we arrived at our destination my fanny was numb and I had sampled every snack available in the dining car and from my purse. I had also eaten a sandwich wrap, half a can of Pringles, a banana and some brownies someone passed around. Does anyone else feel compelled to eat large amounts of food when they’re traveling even if they’re not hungry? When we walked out of the train station we saw this.

For some unexplained reason I cannot walk by a body of water without taking a picture of it. I’m told this little river runs green on St. Patrick’s Day.

This body of water is the one that gets most of the attention by tourists and natives, though. This was actually the view from our hotel window.

On Saturday I awoke early for a three mile run along the shore. Ha ha ha! Not. I slept until 7:30am and ate a free hot breakfast instead. I did think about it, though. We toured some cool stuff and saw lots of tall buildings. Anybody recognize this one?



It’s 100 stories tall, and when you’re at the top of it you can see four states on a clear day.
It made me dizzy to look at it from the ground up. We did a little shopping. This city has everything…including this.


And this.

However, we went to Niketown to look at shoes and Victoria’s Secret for 5 for $25 panties. Tourists.

We took a limo dahling to the theatah and saw a show while we were there.

I had an overwhelming urge to pick up that lava lamp and shake it really good. To Hubby’s relief, I resisted.

Before we left town we had some of this because people kept recommending it.

Have I mentioned I shouldn’t eat large amounts of cheese past 7pm? A fine time was had by all and before we knew it, it was time to get back on the train.

Let’s hope the woman in green doesn’t find out I posted this picture of her backside on the internet. In the next post, I’ll talk about our main reason for visiting this great city, but in the meantime, take a guess at where we’re at, and I’ll work on getting my digestive system back on track...he he..get it? Back on track?

Coming Attractions

Matt Lauer is on the road this week and so am I. I'm packing my flip-flops for another road trip. The Hula-gens will be traveling Friday and Saturday so look for an edition of "Where in the World is Hula" in a few days. We'll have a little fun, and you can guess where I'm at.