Come Fly With Me.....

A week ago, although by now it feels like 7 years ago, in the grand tradition of vacations quickly fading away once “real life” hits, I went to Chicago.
Chicago is great- a really fun city with tons to do, clean streets, friendly people and nice green space. Loved it. Going back in August.

So, I know that it is so bratty to bitch about having to fly to go on my weekend jaunt to the USA- but I’m doing it anyways because, dear reader, I can... and I f-ing hate flying that much.

Airports to me are on the same “fear of space” level as a hospital. Like hospitals, airports have clinging smells that permeate your entire being within seconds of entering. It is a combination of body odor, sterilization and fear and despite what you may think- not a happy combination.
I tend to breath through my mouth as much as possible (even though I have always maintained that in breathing through your mouth you are like, eating the bad smell instead of smelling it) and as such, I end up spending way too much money on water and such. Obviously, you cant bring a damn thing on your flight so instead they charge you 100 dollars for a shitty bottle of Dassani water... But that’s sort of acceptable- if I trapped you in hell and your only option was to buy from me you can bet your bottom dollar I would charge you an arm and a leg just to blink...

Moving on, my second biggest qualm with airports are the policies at airports. For example, although we had paid for a flight, upon arriving at the appropriately designated counter, we found that although we had a ticket, we didn’t actually have seat and that we would have to wait for a “bidding war” to obtain seats that would not be together. Are you joking me? Really?

1. im a shitty flyer- the added stress of sitting beside a stranger knowing without an ounce of doubt that said stranger will be on the receiving end of my hysterics and will likely (for sure) leave his/her flight with bloody nail marks from where I have dug into their skin upon take off and landing just makes my anxiety worse- My fiancé is marrying me- he has signed up for my nonsense. The balding man with the pit stains at my counter has not.

 2. Fucking American Airlines and their stupid bidding wars- who would want to win a bid and get more American Airlines money to use on another American Airlines flight when you are getting totally screwed on the first one?

Any who- in case you were wondering, I shed tears and managed to finagle 2 seats together at the front of the plane both ways...did that make my experience better? No. but never underestimate an overly anxious hungry crying plantain.

So, that aside we headed over to “security”. I’m not putting quotes to suggest that there is no airport security, because as my fiancé found out, there sure is. I put those quotes because, upon random selection, my fiancé was subjected to a full search- less the special search behind closed doors...
Listen, it is totally possible that 2 young adults with lulu lemons and uggs on, holding hands and carrying ipads are smuggling drugs and weapons into the united states- but also, not really. I get random selection to make people feel less targeted and to provide a fair sense of personal invasion to everyone at the airport, but had a terrorist looking dude passed us as my fiancés luggage got unpacked to reveal a lot of condoms and hair products, I would have felt that our system is a total sham.


I absolutely hate the security portion of the experience anyways. These people in their stupid blue suits actualy have the legal right to shove a finger in your ass if they think it is necessary. That is way too much power for me to relax and unclench- and then, as a result, I babble- which I tend to do when I get nervous- and that just makes me look suspicious and nervous... A vicious cycle no?

I just don’t think that anyone, anywhere can just point at you and then subsequently be able to finger your asshole.

Finally, the flight. Some overly flamboyant steward giggling at his even more flamboyant co-steward as they demonstrate the seatbelt, a brief message from our captain who lets us know that there has been “a slight technical issue, but not to worry, it will be fixed in a jiffy” (because that’s fucking calming) and a kid who sits behind me begging his mom for money to purchase 10 dollar d chips and 5 dollar juice- built in birth control.

Anyways... Flying. Hate it. Dream of being the exotic traveler like the sexy woman who sat in front of us drinking red wine and reading a book on economics even while the plane was taking off and landing wearing a fabulous outfit and carrying her own inflatable neck pillow. My reality- sweating through my clothing with fear, whining every time the plane makes any kind of noise- once tried to get drunk on a flight and barfed for 10 hours.....lets call it a work in progress....