Airport Departure: Part 3

At four o'clock in the morning the last thing I want anyone to do is talk to me, let alone have anyone "joke" with me. No, absolutely not. I haven't eaten anything, I didn't get a full nights sleep, and it sure as hell was not in my bed. I swear, if someone so much as looks at me the wrong way this morning, I am going to punch them in the face.

(I don't actually ever punch anyone, but I say that a lot. It's cathartic.)

I don't hate this person from Richmond, but I would never have chosen to travel with them on purpose. Last night he went on about how I look for dramatic situations to place myself in as to keep myself amused. This is not true. This shit happens. For example, the absurdity of the past twenty-four hours. He misinterpreted me from over a year ago, I hate it when people claim to "hate drama." No one "hates drama" because their lives would be fucking boring if there were no shred of drama in it.

Anyway, I am fully capable of reflecting on my life all by myself and last night's psychoanalysis was unwelcome, but mostly because of the person it was coming from. I almost wish I had cared enough to return the favor.

Today's security line was nonexistent. We got here over an hour ahead of time, and there was no line. There was not a single person ahead of us. Do you understand? I waited in a line yesterday that was like a mile long, and today, NOTHING. At least I still have internet access and can vent uninterrupted without anyone telling me to feel better. Everyone needs to vent, and yeah, I've vented a lot, but would too in my situation, or want to, or maybe not. Maybe you're a better person than I am. Maybe. I doubt it though. If you had spent twelve hours in an airport yesterday without the promise of going anywhere, you would probably hate everyone within sight too.

In the mean time, this is kind of making me feel better.



My flight leaves in less than an hour. I will be home, to my empty fridge and overflowing recycling in about six hours!

Airport Departure: Part 2

After waiting a few more hours, a friend (frenemy? acquaintance? we are incapable of being nice to each other) from Richmond showed up. And guess what?! He was stuck too! Yay!

Then. THEN! A friend (ex-ish) showed up from DC. I haven't spoken to him for a couple of months. Or, I should say, he hasn't spoken to me because he's been in Mexico, or Austin - his family lives here, but they are from Mexico, and he's been with them for various reasons and kind of disappeared. The last I had heard was a letter, a note really, about how he was sorry, but had stuff going on, here is your Magnetic Fields ticket. So, seeing him was completely unexpected.

Everyone was flying out of Austin, to Atlanta, out of my gate. Including Louis C.K. He was shorter than I had though he would be, but cuter, too.

I made more calls, caught up with my sisters, and boy 3. And then after being told that there were no more flights leaving for Atlanta until tomorrow morning my Richmond Friend told me he was getting a room at a nearby hotel and that if I didn't want to stay at the airport I could crash there. Whew!

Unfortunately, my dad called...again. And then my mom. Both felt the need to berate me for "staying with a stranger," I'm not sure where this idea came from, but I was tired of dealing with them and so I hung up. They have called since and left messages that I have not and probably won't listen to. To them I will be perpetually twelve years old.

The hotel had a "happy hour" with free chips, dip, veggies and beer. It was everything you needed to throw a shitty party, but it was free and I was hungry. And after making my roomie watch Gossip Girl we went to Denny's. Denny's. That family restaurant that I associate with drunk assholes in the old part of Woodbridge off Route 1. Well, they have one here, and it was just as shitty, but they had milkshakes so I was fine.

Now, I have a bed, and a wake-up call for 3:45 am. Hopefully, I'll be at home by noon tomorrow. I will be home, to my apartment in twelve hours! TWELVE HOURS! I love Austin, but I love my bed more. Goodnight!

P.S. Just got a text from my dad: "R u safe call me"

P.P.S "Call me when you get this message:

P.P.P.S "Where r u and who r u with?"

Maybe I'm not twelve, maybe sixteen and staying out past curfew.

Airport Departure: Part 1

I am sitting in the airport in Austin, Texas. I am at the same gate that I was at seven hours ago. The same gate that my 6:55 am flight left from. The same flight that I missed due to the longest security line I have ever seen. Guys, I'm from Washington, DC, the capital of security. I mean, really, this line was out the door, down a block or so and then back again. Over an hour in a security line, and now I'm stranded in this airport, at this gate, where there is a woman wearing pajamas waiting for a standby flight for herself and her 16 month old son. The pajamas. Ohdeargod, sure this isn't 1964, I don't expect people to dress up, but pajamas in public are unacceptable.

Really, I don't care that much, but am projecting my frustration towards her. And the Delta worker's makeup. One lady had on an awful shade of reddish-brown eyeshadow on, but only had it on half of the eyelid and did not blend it with anything. Another lady lined her lips in a similar shade, but filled it in with a shimmery pink. Ugh. Unless you're Middle Eastern, you probably don't have the complexion to wear those shades appropriately.

I wish it was 1964 and all the stewardesses were still stewardesses and not flight attendants and were really good looking and wore those awesome uniforms designed by someone in the fashion industry and not someone who took sewing in Home Economics in the seventh grade. In my perfect world they would also be wearing fabulous shoes, and not flats with white socks.

I need a hug.

I couldn't sleep last night because I was worried about over sleeping. Then I had this awful dream about going to South by Southwest (SXSW), and in the dream I kept having horrible things happen to me that would have probably prevented me from going to SXSW, but in my dream I was intrepid and invincible and shameless - there was definitely a make-out break in my dream, you know, between car accidents and catastrophes. Apparently making-out is something that I value, a lot. (Hi, Dad. If you are reading this, please know that I only kiss Aryan looking, return missionaries who are officers in the Armed Forces.)

Anyway, I woke up well before my scheduled wake-up call, and tried to sleep some more, but it didn't work. Then the call came and then my phone's alarm went off. I was out the door by about 5:10 am. I walked to the bus stop where the Airport Flyer was supposed to pick me up, but it was late. I was trying to save money. I mean, the bus was only a dollar, a taxi would have been about thirty plus a tip. I should have made plans for the earlier bus, but I honestly thought an hour would be fine. I was sorely mistaken, and now, because I didn't pay full price for my ticket I am not a top priority.

I have talked to everyone this morning - my mom, dad, boy, other boy, girl, etc. And of course there is nothing that any of them can do except offer some level of empathy. My parents are worried, boy 1 was empathetic and in a different airport, boy 2 was in same airport but his flight was leaving on time, and girl has offered to pick me up in Richmond whenever I get back. It's too bad my brother is a pilot for American and not Delta, I don't know if he could do anything for my cause, but it would at least be a start. Here, I have nothing.

So, I have read and slept and paid eight dollars for internet access so that I didn't completely lose it. And now there is some dude who keeps looking at me. I want him to stop it.

I should probably start my SXSW write-ups or do some homework, but I am a zombie and in no condition to do anything productive.