DFW to OMA, Row 32...or How I Met David Sedaris

After arriving at the airport in Austin at 5am for our first trip back to Omaha in 2.5 years and experiencing a hellish 4 hour delay, we transferred in DFW to OMA. We were comfortably seated in Row 32...writhing toddler and complaining pre-schooler in tow. And, here I was thinking the biggest benefit of this seat assignment was easy bathroom access for the one who likes "the tiny plane bathroom."

Escaping to my Happy Place while holding Liz, I began eavesdropping on the flight attendants as they discussed whether or not David Sedaris made it on the Stand By list. As the male attendant served up my drink, I told him what I'd overheard and asked if he could confirm that, as Sedaris is my favorite writer OF ALL TIME. "Bingo," he advised later.

Trying not to go into full stalker mode, I handed the now sleeping Liz off to Steve when the aisle was clear and in my best "avoiding deep vein thrombosis" move, walked to the front of the plane and looked everyone over on the way back. There he was around Aisle 16, fake sleeping, of course...read "When You are Engulfed in Flames."

As many of you know, I've had plenty of celeb contact and rolled with it. They are just people and most of them want to be treated that way. It was always the over excited 50 year old woman who was ready to bust her leg to get The Rock's autograph on a 2x4 that drove me nuts...so I had to play this cool.

I started flipping through Jill's Dora the Explorer coloring book [with over 700 stickers!!!] and found a picture of Dora and Boots checking out an airplane. Jackpot. I wrote on it, "When I heard you were on this flight, I wept like a bereft Pole." This is a reference to a story in "Engulfed." Didn't think I'd see him later, so I just put it away. Note, I did not include, "Can I be your stalker? Check [ ] YES! [ ] NO!"

Cut to the baggage claim. There's my father-in-law standing next to Sedaris and the local handler. He is wearing a highly flammable looking, plaid polyester blazer that looked like a home ec project. I whip out the picture and wait for him to stop telling her about how David Letterman practice interviews you then changes the questions during the show...here's my opening...

Me: Hi, I'm Marti Grandinetti. It's a pleasure to meet you. I really admire your work!

DS: [seeming genuinely flattered] Oh, Thank you. Is this your baby? She's cute. [note: she has a black eye]

Me: Yes, thank you. In fact, Engulfed was the first book I was able to finish since she was born. Do you give autographs?

DS: I do and I have a pen. [I hand him the Dora picture; he examines it, reads the comment on the bereft Pole and chuckles. He then draws tears on Dora's face and draws a bubble, writes "Me, too." and signs it.]

Me: So, are you doing a reading in Omaha?

DS: No, Lincoln. But last night I was in San Marcos [not pronounced the local way "Marcus"] at this strange book store...[thinking...] um..Hastings. Yeah. They had me set up in the Christian section. [We both laugh at this point.]

Me: Yeah...I heard that you were rebooked at The River [Austin mega-church] that last time you were in Austin. Your agent needs to work on that!

He agrees, I wish him good luck and safe travel and float off to the ladies room with the Grandinetti Girls in tow.

So, that's how I met David Sedaris. Super nice guy, no difference between normal and broadcast voice...and, about as tall as I am. : )

Centers for Disease Control Olympics Event: Rotovirus 4x4 Relay

Some of you may know that I like to think up new options for professional sports that would make watching the games more exciting. For example, in football, I conceived of what turned out to not be a new idea, The Fumble Ruskie. Oh well.

However, this week has inspired a whole new class of sports governed by the Centers for Disease Control. There is only one event to date, it's call The Rotovirus 4x4 Relay. Perhaps some of you have been or are participating in this event as I type [Trevor]. Here's how it goes:

The entire family's participation is required.

The mother and father are required to participate in 4 out of 4 legs.

One team member must be a helpless infant.

Batons consist of empty bottles of: Clorox, Lysol, Clorox Clean-Up and Clorox Wipes.



Leg 1: The baby contracts the illness first and harbors it the longest. Parents may no longer use wipes due to raging diaper rash and resort to damp paper towel after the wash cloths are no longer clean due to laundry back-up.

Leg 2: The Mother contracts the illness and is sidelined from caring for the rest of the family save for short bursts of engergy...which are reserved for treating stains and doing laundry and general disinfection of the household.

Leg 3: The Father contracts the illness just as the Mother seems to be picking up steam. His short bursts of energy are conserved for coating the interior of the house in Lysol and opening and closing windows.

Leg 4: When it seems inevitable that older sibling has dodged the Roto bullet and has attended both gymnastics and a bowling birthday party, thereby exposing hundreds to the virus, she contracts the illness. Seemingly uneffected by the symptoms, she has to be reminded to "toot only in the bathroom."

Each leg begins 24 hours after the last leg begins; e.g.: Leg 1 starts on Wednesday, Leg 2 starts on Thursday, etc.

Winning is determined only by your survival and you may rely on medical advice. Good luck!