Well-known fact about me - I love to travel. The unfortunate thing is, I also hate flying. I'm too tall to fit well in coach, I can never sleep, and with every bit of turbulence, I'm convinced a wing is falling off. And my biggest fear in life is being bored. So if I'm taking a long trip, I'll spend weeks planning what else I can fit in a carry-on, just in case. "I MAY want to knit a sweater...it'd be tragic if the urge hit and I didn't take those needles..."
Next week, I'm heading to Miami for a friend's birthday. Thankfully, the trip is not long and should be on a large enough plane to where I don't have to see someone manually start up propellers before we take off. I HAVE been on such planes before going between DC and Tennessee. Below is an old (emphatic!) post likely about one of those trips. We'll see if the Miami trip runs a little more smoothly...
July 11, 2005
(And I was apparently "listening to: Music From The O.C. Mix 4"....Laugh all you want, but that show had excellent taste in music...)
Hate them. I hit my head on the overhead compartments EVERY TIME and any time you have to move TWO people from the front to the back just to TAKE OFF -- the plane is too small. Seriously- two people? They didn't even specify how big the people needed to be. So really, perhaps 200lbs in the wrong strategic location could make or break our take off? NO ONE BETTER GET UP TO USE THE BATHROOM or I will FREAK OUT.
And, in my crazy haste this weekend I completely forgot that I stuck my parking ticket in my change pouch, so when my pouch got too full, I just took all the papers out and stuck them - WHO KNOWS WHERE!? So I have to sit at Dulles and take EVERYTHING OUT OF MY SUITCASE in front of EVERYONE and try to find that stupid thing because at this point, I don’t even know what lot my car is in. In the end - I had put it in my SHOWER BAG. What the-? What would possess me to look at bottles of shampoo and body wash and think "that's a good place to store papers"? It was the last place I looked and sure enough the parking ticket was in there. I found it just in time to hurl my luggage onto YET ANOTHER CONTRAPTION AT DULLES which takes me to my car lot. But is the bus stop IN the lot, and the actual lot itself, named the same? No no, that would be too easy. So I glance outside just in time to realize that while my car is in lot FOURTEEN I actually need to get off at the NUMBER THREE stop. Finally, I'm able to exit this strange "people mover", full of cocky business men actually uttering phrases like "I'm going to light him up as soon as I get to a place where I can use bad language" and adolescents carrying HOCKY STICKS that their mom calmly warns them not to KILL ANYBODY with, and drive home.
You gotta love air travel.