cherry bombs for junior

dear diary,

when the units informed me that we would head south of the border for a few weeks, they failed to warn me of the trials of travel that customarily accompany a small person.

things began to unravel the minute we got to the airport: it was earlier than bloody hell, my teeth were unbrushed, my hair frizzy, and much to my disgrace, my milk source had dressed me in a pimp-like jogging ensemble.

the winking airline-desk-lady talked to me as if i were a nine month old and "forgot" to ask me if i had a seat preference. upon arrival to the security checkpoint, i took off my leather slip-ons, emptied my pockets of my sacajawea coin collection and placed my heavy load of jewelry in the plastic security container. i began to crawl towards the metal detector when all of the sudden, an airport guard scooped me up and placed me in a box and onto the moving conveyor belt. humiliated, i rode on down the line towards the xray, as silent onlookers shook their heads in disbelief.

needless to say, i looked forward to stretching out in my seat once we boarded our flight. my milkmaid and her wing man sat down and got comfortable, pulling out books and magazines. apparently my "seat" was actually a smallish, warm lap. the prospect was horrifying: not only was my arrangement the highly unpopular and uncomfortable leg ride, but I looked like a raving dependant to the self sufficient two year old positioned directly in back of me.

feeling vulnerable and anxious, i tried to engage my self in one of the sky mall magazines, making notes to self of preferred items (memory foam pillow, travel alarm clock/barometer, 5 speed back massager etc.).

i was gaining some breast access when the twinkle toes stewardess rolled up with her travelling beverage cart to take orders, but before i could wipe the milk drippage from my cheek, she was gone. when I began to scream in protest, the tall bearded one laid me on my back, squeezed my cheeks, and poured some god-awful cherry flavored drudge down my throat. unfortunately, the not-so-clever one managed to miss my gaping pie-hole and annoyingly poured half of the entire contents
all over my face.

i don't remember much after this, as i passed out with sticky pink cheeks and sickly sweet medicinal breath. i'm not sure, but i think i may have been slipped what is known by us small folks as a "benedryl cherry bomb" a.k.a "roofie junior".

over and out,
indy, 14 months