Broads on a plane

I just got back from a weekend of total debauchery genteel jazz music, wine tasting, spa, and very little internet. It was magic. We flew in to San Francisco and drove down the coast for our annual pilgrimage to the Monterey Jazz Festival, this time with three of our best friends in tow.

While we were waiting for our plane we witnessed one of those beautiful moments in life. There was a lady celebrating her seventieth birthday, and five of her sisters, along with an assortment of neices surprised her at the airport and were all going on the trip with her. She was ecstatic; the surprise was a total success. Everyone on the plane was feeling revelatory.

The flight was not without drama. The attendants were mostly on call for the sisters, who were apparently attempting to break some sort of drinking record. There was a medical emergency when one of them ran short of breath from all the excitement. Then something went weird with the plane and we had to abort the landing and circle around San Francisco until we went down for a bumpy landing met with EMS and air field security.

Everyone broke out into applause when we landed. At least those of us who weren’t throwing up or busy cracking out the valium. We were feeling a bit giddy from escaping death (that might be a bit of a hyperbole, but in my mind we were only moments away from being a national tragedy), the general euphoria of a vacation ahead of us, and witnessing the family reunion.

So when yet another sister was waiting for the sisters at the luggage carousel, it was just too much. Everyone was in tears. Mr. Giraffe approached them to tell them how touched we all were watching this beautiful day unfold. As he made his way over the birthday girl yelled “Oh my god, you guys hired a stripper too!”

He’s probably hot enough to be a stripper, but not the lewd one of the bunch. Also, not sure the broads would like the white guy punching dance.

My inner broad was doing a slow clap with a cigarette hanging out the corner of my mouth. Bravo ladies, you give me hope. And I think the least Mr. Giraffe could have done was take his shirt off.


  1. RG, now this sounds like a stellar good time was had by all. I hope that’s how I’m rolling when I’m that age (the mature sisters) and glad you landed safe and sound. Jazz, spa and wine without internet, That does sound magical.

    1. It was a good time, and the sisters were inspiring. I hope to be that spry when I get to that age. They were also going to bring their 95-year-old mother, but figured it might be too much for her.

  2. I love close calls. People always ask if you see your life flash before your eyes, but really there’s just mild cursing, and a sense of “Did that really just happen?”

    And I really want to be able to drink (without worrying about medication interactions) and still appreciate strippers when I’m old. I think if I can still do those two things, that’ll bode well for me on the whole.

    Hope you enjoyed your mini-vacation!

    1. That’s a good check-in for where you’re at in life. Can you drink without medication interactions? Do you still appreciate strippers? It should be on the questionnaire at annual physicals.
      I personally could have done without the close call, but it did make everything a bit more celebratory. Especially after we got a few beers in us.

    1. The lady who asked Mr. Giraffe to strip totally had Blanche’s haircut too. I would guess that they went on to change the landscape of San Francisco forever. As for us, well, I added greatly to my collection of embarrassing photos.

    1. The jazz festival was great, although we were traveling with folks who were not necessarily jazz fans and some of it was a bit unconventional for their taste. But, there were a few acts that had a bit more universal appeal that turned it around. Booze might have helped a bit. This was our fourth time going to MJF, and I would go any chance I get. The crowd is great and there’s so much to do in that part of the world.

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