I wrote this post on my iPad while on the plane*, but I'm just now posting it because a post-travel bout of The Plague had me down for the count for the past 48 hours. That counts as a sucky entree. The good is that... um, the plane didn't pull a "Lost," I guess? Though it's definitely cold enough for a polar bear up here in New Hampshire right now. ANYWAY. Onto the business.
The bad: When I attempt to pay for my airport breakfast of Diet Coke & an almond/flaxseed health bar (where is McDonald's when all you want is an 8am McGriddle?!), I realize my debit card is nowhere to be found.
The good: I am thrilled to learn that the cab driver who dropped me off at the airport has located my debit card in his backseat. I think he never gave it back to me & was possibly attempting to steal it, but it's more possible that I am simply a paranoid, neurotic individual.
The bad: It will cost me another $33 plus tip for the cabbie to return to the airport to drop off my debit card.
The good: The cabbie has time to drive back to the airport to drop off my debit card. Also, I am a paranoid, neurotic individual, which means I arrived at the airport a full two hours before my flight, giving me plenty of time to deal with such shenanigans.
*****The bad: I have already passed through security but will have to do so again after retrieving my debit card. The security line, which was short upon my first go-through, is now approximately the length of a midnight showing of a new Harry Potter flick.
The good: A kindly TSA agent tells me I can go through the priority line on my way back through so I do not have to wait in the line a second time.
The bad: On my second security go-through, TSA confiscates the fig jam I stupidly & impulsively purchased from the St. James Cheese Company (& had initially managed to smuggle through lax security). As added punishment, they also confiscate a miniature snow globe I'd purchased for my boyfriend as a souvenir. Apparently snow globes of any size are a terrorism hazard. Glitter is a deadly weapon!
The good: What I lose on souvenirs ($23, to be exact - that fig jam was fancy shiz), I make up for in cabbie kindness. Despite his 20-minute drive back to the airport to remedy my mistake, he did not charge me for the trip. He does call me "baby" - twice - but I'm willing to endure minor sexual harassment in exchange for the safe return of my sole source of money retrieval. Is this some form of lesser prostitution?
The bad: When I choose Justin Bieber's "Baby" as my inaugural flight song, the teen superstar's photo pops up FULL-SCREEN SIZED on my new iPad. Because I haven't yet mastered iPad technology, I frantically swipe at a few buttons while the Biebs' swooshy-banged mug grins at the man sitting next to me, making me feel like a pop culture pedophile.
The good: The dude next to me is approximately 65 years old & does not speak English. It is my hope that Beiber Fever has not yet become a trend in his native Guatemala.
*This post is so long that none of you will read it in its entirety. That's OK. I'm conceited enough to post is anyway, sans editing.