This is part two and it would probably be better for all of you if I just didn't post it but I'm not that considerate.

I'm not exactly sure about the chronological order of events after the juggling clown man, but there are some key points that need to be mentioned.  So in the places where I have forgotten the order of things, I will just...mumble.  Or something.  Or blame Tavia.  Or devolve into rambling about that one time that I spilled my Coke in the airport.  Just don't yell at me.  And now that my premature and inexplicable defense has been put forth, let's continue, SHALL WE?


My Airport Adventure: A Tale of Loss, Achieving my Dreams, and Strange Men Dressed as Clowns in Terminal A (Part Two)

You'll recall that when we left off, I was sitting in Terminal A wondering how I ought to have responded to a strange clown man flirting with me while juggling.  And wearing bright red overalls.  It is a situation that still haunts me to this day. 

Tavia and I sat and waited for our plane.  And as we waited, a man sat by us with his 14-ish year old daughter.  Tavia and I both had our laptops out and were discussing something that was no doubt incredibly intelligent and sophisticated and important.  On facebook chat.  While sitting next to each other.  We do this a lot.  The man started talking to us, presumably because we were both wearing BYU jerseys.  He talked about BYU, he talked about Jimmer, and then he talked about his son who had just returned from a mission.  It was pleasant, and Tavia and I returned to our conversation about the particulars of astrophysics.  I soon noticed a quiet power struggle taking place:

Man: Do you think they'll want to see Andrew's picture?
Daughter: OH MY GOSH.  No, Dad. 
Man: I think they will.  They're about the right age. *Reaches for his wallet.*
Daughter: Dad, please.  Please no.  Please, stop.  (She sounded absolutely mortified.)
Man: I'm going to show them.  He's going to go to BYU!  This could be perfect!
Daughter:  I WILL KILL MYSELF IF YOU SHOW THEM.  I WILL LITERALLY STAB MY OWN FACE OUT OF EMBARRASSMENT.

Okay, that last part was paraphrased a bit, but I could tell that his daughter was thinking JUST EXACTLY THAT.  I almost leaned over and asked to see the picture, just to put her out of her misery.  Fortunately for us all, the plane boarded at that precise moment.

The flight itself was uneventful and only two things are worth mentioning: first, my inexplicable inability to perform menial tasks with any sort of efficiency kicked in as I attempted to stow my carry-on luggage in the overhead.  Also, we happened to be in the first few rows of seats (I think) so everyone had to wait for me to be an idiot and my brain was all, "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU RIGHT NOW, IS THAT COOL?" And I just responded with, "Yes.  Please.  Now is a good time for that."

Second, there was minor turbulence in the plane.  This terrified me more than I can possibly explain.  I have this thing with planes, this thing where I'm not sure if I'm SO SO EXCITED or so terrified that oh!  Look!  Is that me peeing myself? Planes are awesome and I am so thoroughly intrigued and astonished at the idea of zooming through the sky while sitting in a chair, reading a book and eating pretzels.  Then again, planes seem very fragile to me.  Like gravity could just be like, "Eh, I don't think I'm cool with this many tons of metal being airborne after all."  And then we would all plummet to the ocean and die in a fiery explosion underwater.  Which makes no sense for a few reasons, the main one being that there is no ocean between Utah and Colorado.  BUT I DIGRESS.

As I said, there was minor turbulence on the plane that night because it was raining when we arrived at the airport.  When the plane started to shake, this primitive part of my brain punched the rational, normal part of my brain right in it's brain-face, and then proceeded to take over.  It didn't help that Tavia was seated in the row in front of me, and we both had window seats.  The guy next to me was a mouth-breather with an iPad.  He was watching Salt on his iPad.  The combined stress of watching Angelina Jolie being tortured in her underwear along with a near-constant jostling in my seat caused me to lean forward to Tavia and predict our death.  WE ARE GOING TO DIE, TAVIA, AND DO YOU KNOW WHY?  IT'S BECAUSE ANGELINA JOLIE IS A RUSSIAN SPY AND ALSO THIS PLANE IS SCREWING WITH GRAVITY, AND WHEN YOU SCREW WITH GRAVITY, YOU ALWAYS LOSE.

Needless to say, Tavia just rolled her eyes a lot and took it like a champ.  And told me to shut up a lot.  And laughed because I was sitting next to a large mouth-breather who didn't like it that I kept frantically checking whether or not Angelina was dead yet.

Eventually the plane landed and I kept wondering whether or not I would die horribly up until the moment we were walking out of the plane.  Because you just never know.  Anyway, nothing too terribly exciting happened next.  I had a wonderful time in Colorado, but this story is about the airport, and I still have to tell you all about the epic return trip.  So, in summary, this is what happened in Colorado:

-BYU basketball games that were awesome.
-Stalking the team around downtown Denver.  Also, meeting Brandon Davies.  He loves me.
-Driving home from the airport at 4 in the morning because Tavia and I had to take her family there so they could go to Hawaii without us.  Also, that was when we made up a version of "Friday" that was all about communist Russia.  It was very socially aware and at the time it seemed pretty profound.
-Mean Girls 2.  It's a crappy movie.
-Tavia punched herself in the face while jumping onto a bean bag.  It is the only time I have ever seen Tavia show any sign of weakness.  I didn't know she could bleed until that moment.
-Other stuff that I forgot about.

Okay, well I planned to write about the TSA lady who thought I was a tiny, deadly terrorist, but I can't because this post is already too long.  So there will be a part three.  In which I get to the part where the authorities start taking me way more seriously than they ought to.