Mad Mick Box Set Volumes 1-3
Volume 1
The story was going great; nicely paced, set in a plausible post 911 America. The believable development of the characters was quite interesting. I was enjoying listening to it on my noise canceling over-ear headphones while waiting overnight in SeaTac airport. I’d had a nice dinner a few hours earlier hoping to catch a space available seat on a redeye to home. As it happens, the flight wound up leaving completely full thus my overnight wait at the airport. So, here I am sitting at the gate 1145 PM, just chilling, listening to the book with no idea of what was about to happen….
Chapter 21: our heroine has made herself sick to her stomach remembering an event from her past. “There was a soggy ceiling tile that she decided to investigate…”
Well folks have you ever tasted the scent of a rotting bloated skunk that has just been torn open by vultures? The kind of stink that coats your throat and sinuses? The kind of putrescence that just the thought of the smell causes you to gag? Well folks this is exactly what happened to me but wait, it gets better. Our heroine is flashing back to her experience and our wonderfully talented author has detailed this event so phenomenally well, that I flash back 6 years to the one and only time that I have ever gotten carsick. Yes, that skunk tale really happened and I don’t think my husband had the truck stopped before I was out of it and spewing like a freshly struck oil well. Here I am at gate 16, gagging and throwing up in my mouth, trying to swallow it back down, get the damn headphones off, and not puke on myself. I failed. I failed in the most spectacular of fashions! I spewed into the wrap I was using to cushion my head, not once, not twice, but at least three times. I was trying so hard to stop hearing the story and tasting the stench and now there’s the fetid pong of my own vomiting engulfing my personal space. As this is happening I can see the bathrooms and they’re closed. So here I am, trying not to spew on the carpet, gathering my belongings, and booking it to the closest open bathroom. Now remember folks, I have vomit down my shirt front and on my wrap, there are no open stores; what on earth do I do next?
I have now made it to the closest bathroom; it is a family bathroom. In I go, lock the door, try to turn on the light, strip off shirt, try again to turn on the light, gag some more, try to turn on the light. To heck (insert sentence enhancer of choice) with the light. Hey Siri turn on light! Now I’m trying to make the stupid motion sensor soap dispenser and water faucet work so I can wash out my shirt and wrap. Wash, wash, wash, rinse, rinse, rinse, still smells like vomit. GREAT! Now what do I do? My shirt is completely saturated with water, I don’t have any extra clothes with me. So I pull a Will Smith from the movie Pursuit of Happiness and just sit on the floor with my back to the door while I let my shirt and wrap try to drip dry for the next 5 hours. Yes someone tried to come in; 3 separate times, without knocking, they tried to come in. I stayed sitting there for an hour while I laughed like a loon talking to my sister in a different time zone. What else could I do, cry? I finally left the bathroom wearing a long cardigan that is open in the front with no means of securing it closed and walked over to guest services to find out if there’s a lost and found or somewhere I could get a shirt or maybe someone’s has one I could buy off of them, or even a safety pin I could use to pin my cardigan closed. Nope.
Well, folks, here’s hoping my shirt is somewhat dry by my flight at 6. It is currently 2:30 and I have it hanging on a rail right by the gate desk and I’ve got my cardigan wrapped around me and pinned down under my arm hoping that I don’t relax and wind up flashing any of the cleaning crew. As soon as I get to my next stop I’m buying myself an overpriced shirt and I’m never traveling without a button up shirt as part of my travel outfit again.
Oh yeah, the book is great! Watch out for chapter 21!