Cheap

I love curb checking, especially when traveling with the family. I mean there is no easy way to get 47 bags to the terminal. OK, I’m exaggerating but still, we had six bags and each outweighs most of my children, so we have a lot more bags than carriers. However, today was rough at the curbside station. First, it was like 108 degrees out there. They had these enormous fans but they didn’t help much. I mean, scientifically speaking, if you accelerate atoms, the temperature increases, right? I think those fans knew their science – under the fans it was 111°.

The second problem was made worse by the first; our dude was a low-talker. I know, like I can talk but it wasn’t just that, he was an old black guy that kind of muttered everything. He asked our destination, but I thought he said something about “chitlins and gravy.” I think he was from the south.

No, thank you. Oh wait, you’re not offering me a meal right now, are you? Do I have chitlins and gravy in my carry-on? No sir. I don’t even know what a chitlin is. And I am fairly certain I didn’t bring any gravy. Don’t get me wrong, I like gravy, but I did not bring any. Pretty sure.

Then he had some trouble with the credit card reader. He swiped our card 17 times with no luck. I got out another and offered it to him but he couldn’t hear me over the fans. He thought I said, “Maybe the 18^th time will be the charm!” because he kept swiping. Somewhere in the 20s it worked and he grinned and said, I think, “Chitlins and gravy!” I think.

In addition to being a soft southern mutterer, he was terribly pokey. I considered not even tipping him; this was already costing me $90. But that wasn’t his fault. OK, a couple bucks. Maybe he could buy himself some C&G. Kara watched as I took two singles from my wallet and rolled her eyes. I am so cheap. She gave me a five. Yeah right. Five bucks!? “No,” she said, “Seven.” I think I’d better be our family’s designated tipper. I didn’t even tip that much when my company reimbursed me and the skycaps shined my shoes and flossed my teeth!

Good thing the tipping process is so clandestine; I made five bucks off the deal. (Well, I also got a hankering for chitlins and gravy.)