KBTV

KBTV::The YouTube Debate

The plane had gotten hit by another plane, and we were going to have to take another plane in order to get from Savannah to Charleston in time for the debate. Okay, I thought. At least I’m alive. Move on. Next Chapter. Mentally tough, Kate, mentally tough. That has been my motto for weeks now — mentally tough.

3 p.m. Update: There was another plane available, and it would be ready to take us to Charleston in 15 minutes. It was a nineteen minute flight. The problem was I wasn’t going to have time to check into the hotel and shower and blow my hair dry and put on makeup before the debate. We had to be at The Citadel by 5:30 p.m., and the doors closed at 6 p.m.

“Do you think you could manage taking a shower at the FBO?” I looked at the man saying this to me and I thought ‘oh no, I hate looking ugly.’ It makes me feel insecure, and I present like a drowned rat.

But the Charleston, South Carolina FBO it was. Harrumph, I thought, mentally tough. I arrived and was whisked through a door marked “Pilots Lounge.” A nice lady with a nametag that read “Janet” with a thick Southern accent assured me that everything was going to be okay. She handed me a little bottle of Pert 2-in-1 Shampoo/Conditioner and another travel size container of BodySilk bath gel, a towel that looked like it had been washed a thousand times, a washcloth from the same era and she smiled, a big wide toothy smile. “Good luck,” she cooed.

“Thanks so much,” I said. I proceeded to turn on the water, strip down and scrub up with my makeshift bath products. I toweled off, put on my black pants, black and silver Tahari T-Shirt, slid on my silver Gucci mules and Voila! I was, at least, dressed … and clean. Clean-ish, anyway.

As I stood in the Pilot’s Lounge bathroom peering into the now fogged up mirror, I carefully concentrated on applying the black mascara to my eyelashes and the Dubonnet Red M.A.C. gloss to my lips.

Suddenly, the shower door to my right swung open (I had bathed in the shower to my left, apparently there were two), and a man with graying hair and ruddy cheeks wrapped only in a towel broke into a huge, warm, friendly Southern grin. My right hand hit the counter hard and the black mascara slid out of my hand into the sink.

“Why Hello Governor Hodges,” I heard myself say. “How are you?”

To be continued …

posted by rjoyner @ 6:26 AM