Her Ladyship

Notes from the gutter.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

It's best not to lose your iPod...

...right before you're going to be spending 90 hours in airplanes over a six-week period. Just in case you were wondering. Unfortunately, that's exactly what I did. And I did on the very first flight kicking off all that insanity.

The Texan and I have pretty different tastes in music, but we do agree on dance music. So he went to the Interweb and downloaded a bunch of songs played on our favorite station, KNGY 92.7 from San Francisco, so we could have our own little dance party list. I put it on my iPod and, attempting to save money and the hassle of being a two iPod household, The Texan bought a splitter that would allow two headphones to be plugged in at the same time. We figured we could both listen to dance music as we headed west toward Asia for our honeymoon. WRONG.

All those times I looked like a goof at a rock show with earplugs sure paid off: I have better hearing than The Texan does. However, this can backfire on you. We discovered on the very first leg that what was a comfortable level of volume for me was far too low for him, and what was a comfortable level for him was earsplittingly painful for me. After squabbling over what a good setting would be, we gave up and I won sole custody of the iPod, a responsibility I clearly was not ready for.

We had a direct flight to LAX, where we had a seven-hour layover. We went to Santa Monica for dinner and killed time in a few bars. Soon, we were back in an airplane, this time for the monster 14-hour-flight from LAX to Hong Kong. As we were getting situated, The Texan asked me if he could listen to the iPod. Sure, I replied magnaminously. Just let me dig it out of my bag...wuh-oh. In all my travels, as I have upgraded from Walkmen to Discmen to an iPod, I have never, EVER done anything like that before. Guess the married me is a ditzy dame.

I still miss my iPod, even though - sniff - it's been out of my life for a couple of months now. I especially feel its absence every time I go to the gym and get subjected to the world's crappiest workout music. And the time I flew home from Atlanta, at night, when the reading lights weren't working, and the guy next to me insisted on talking? (Sample joke: Why isn't Wal-Mart in Iraq? Because there are targets everywhere! Haw haw haw.) That's a punishment that doesn't fit the crime of being forgetful.


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