Saturday, January 23, 2010
Grumpy Me, Traveler Extraordinaire
Tomorrow is an all day travel-fest back to the daily grind, where I slog through reality until a brief respite in June followed by my next ‘real’ vacation in July.
I just checked-in and printed out my boarding passes, and I’ll pack later tonight, get up early tomorrow for the trip to the airport (although nowhere near as early as the trip to the airport on my way here, seeing as that required a 3am wake-up), and fly down the East Coast, layover half the day, then fly across to the Midwest, to be home by this time tomorrow night. Doesn’t matter … I’m miserable.
Have I told you how much I really dislike flying? Because I do. Oh, I’m totally aware it’s the safest mode of transportation, bar walking (blah, blah, blah), but I just don’t like it. At all.
It’s not that I’m afraid, it’s that I’m not in control: someone else is driving, and I can’t see out the windshield. What form of torture is this?!?! Horrible!
And the smell! Gross! Why not just stick my nose in my row-mates lap, because chances are s/he’ll be farting up a storm the entire time (happens more often than not), or be wearing too much perfume, or too little deodorant. And forget about the special airplane lavoratory smell that permeates every inch of that aluminum tube. Blecht!
And the person in the row behind me? Invariably advises his/her seatmate, in his/her outdoor voice, of every boring-ass aspect of his/her life that lead to the decision to be on that plane at that time. Lovely.
I’ll no doubt be elbowed in the head repeatedly by some stiff getting into and out of the overhead compartment, and someone will fall in my lap while on the way to or from the lavoratory. Precious.
About the only passengers that don’t make me crazy are the babies, because at least it’s understandable when they behave badly … they’re little tyrants by nature, so what do you expect?
If it weren’t a two-day drip, I’d drive. Tru dat.