Which is a good thing. I’m especially glad the lady sitting next to me didn’t; she was grossly obese and had some sort of lisp that made me feel strangely sorry and embarrassed for her at the same time. Especially when she ordered some ginger ale. The sound of her saying “ginger ale” made me want to pat her on the head and tell her that everything was going to be OK. And that she should lose 100 pounds.
I mean, now, that I think about it, how often do you really run into super-sassy people on planes, anyway? It definitely depends on where you’re going. I wouldn’t expect to run into a throng of hotties on a flight to, say, Mobile, unless they were coming back from a high school girls’ volleyball tournament or something.
As expected, I slept about 3 hours before waking up ten minutes *after* I was supposed to leave home for my flight this morning (at, um, 4:07AM, to be specific). I jump in the shower, probably forgot a bunch of stuff at home, and get to the airport. I make it to the end of the death-march styled self-service line, do the whole self check-in thing, and the machine only spits out one boarding pass. Weird, I think. I talk to the lady at the ticket counter and apparently my connection wasn’t long enough to make sure my bag would get out of Chicago with me, so she ends up bumping me to a later flight. Which then proceeds to get in an hour early, and before my original flight. No wonder, like, the half the carriers out there are in–or on the verge of–bankruptcy.
Anyway, I’m stoked. It’s supposed to be in the upper-70s the whole week I’m here. Kick ass. Good think I brought wife beaters. And those cursed flip flops.
