The girls arrived in Chicago this week, having given their Southwest Airlines handlers the slip at the airport.
The flight was early, giving them just enough time to disappear into the gate area, where they watched as a white-faced flight attendant suggested that someone search the bathrooms.
By the time I arrived, however, they'd been corralled behind the desk, where they offered passengers bogus flight information and paged characters from the Harry Potter series. "Paging Ronald Weasley to Gate A-19, Ronald Weasley please report immediately to the gate area."
It was no big deal, really, considering the track record. They are second-generation BFFs whose adventures are the inspiration for my forthcoming book: "Where is that Water Coming From? and other Household Emergencies."
They came with an agenda, as always. Having just returned from a Manhattan shopping extravaganza underwritten by the Executive Suburbanite, they arrived in Chicago with impossibly high retail expecations. Note to Executive: Send money.
They will settle, however, for destroying my kitchen while living out their Rachael Ray, Ace of Cakes and other Food Network fantasies. Tonight's menu features the world's most expensive cake. Note to Executive: Send more money, I let them go a little crazy in the cake decorating aisle.
Photo by Rick McCawley
eek. and i do mean eek.
(thus saith the woman cowering behind the fact that her daughter is nearly 11...)
Posted by: sher | July 14, 2009 at 05:13 PM
Eek is right.
Also "ugh," "arrgh," "oh shit" and "Are those MY shoes?"
Posted by: Suburban Kamikaze | July 14, 2009 at 09:03 PM