10 outfits, 4 days

Andrew is an expert traveler.

When it comes to traveling, I am super good at knitting.

To start, when I bought my very cheap tickets I just bought them based on the days I wanted to travel. About three days before my flight I thought it would be a good idea to see what time my flight left and make sure Andrew could drive me to the airport. That was when I found out my flight was scheduled for 6.

In. The. Morning.

I hadn’t even realized the airport was open that early. I mean who would want to get up at 4 to make it to a flight?

The other thing I do that engenders disappointment from Andrew’s travel-guru-ism is I pack more than he does. Then again if one were to pack more clothing than fits in a Ziplock one would be packing more than Andrew. It makes his bag-shopping fetish more abnormal than just that he has a bag-shopping fetish. To go for a four day trip I packed 5 pairs of shoes, 3 workout outfits, 3 dresses, 1 pair of jeans, 3 pairs of shorts, 6 t-shirts, 4 bras and several pairs of underwear. Andrew would have just worn the clothes on his back and washed them in the shower every day.

The night before the flight Andrew and I each had class (me sketch writing, Andrew teaching improv) and then went home to watch the Blazers beat the Pacers. By the time we got to bed it was midnight. This made getting up at 4 much more complicated. I like to think of it as preparation for East Coast time. Andrew liked to think of it as preparation for a serious nap later in the day.

We got to the airport at 5. I went to the United automatic kiosk area to print my tickets. There were four kiosks but only two were working. Despite the person standing in line waiting for one of the functional kiosks, I tested the broken ones. “Those kiosks are broken.”

“Oh,” I said, “that explains why you are in line.”

So I stood in line.

Then some IDIOT walks up to the broken kiosks and tries to use them. As though the rest of us were standing in line for our health.

I finally got up to the kiosk and pressed start. It asked me to enter information. I tried scanning my debit card and nothing happened. So I read the screen and it said to enter my credit card and I started manually entering the numbers of my card but there wasn’t enough spaces. I pressed escape and Mr. I-think-I-am-going-to-make-these-broken-kiosks-actually-work-for-me-even-though-they-are-obviously-broken-for-everyone-else says, “Swipe your card.” DUH, I already did. I am not stupid – but I tried swiping my card anyway just to show him that I am not stupid. And, that is when the machine worked. Great, now I am THAT person.

I printed my tickets and went to the security line to stand behind the entire city of Portland. Apparently, everyone likes getting up at 4AM for a 6AM flight. The good news is the airport was prepared for it and it took only 12 minutes to get through the line. Truly the TSA was more efficient than Starbucks.

Aside: I am not sure why, but every time I go through security I feel kind of guilty. And if I get through without a hitch I feel like I have gotten away with something. Is this common?

The first flight went off without issue (and with much napping) and I got to Chicago 45 minutes early. I found my gate and took a seat by the window to watch the snow and de-icing.

Twenty minutes after the flight before mine left the gate the screen changed to say “Delayed – Airport Conditions Preventing Departure.” The specific airport condition they were referring to was a lack of airplane at the terminal.

We finally boarded and I was next to a six year old girl who had a protective crust of snot around her nose. Her brother was at the window seat croup coughing. The girl was very friendly and started snuggling into me and kissing my jacket.

“What’s your name?”



“NO! Jelly!”

“Shelly” said her brother and then he hacked up a lung.

Jelly’s parents gave her a movie machine and some Veggie Tales. She laid her head on my arm and watched her videos.

We ended up getting to Jacksonville on time (thank you tail wind). My sister picked me up at the airport and we went to her CSA to pick up the weekly veggies. Also, the farm she goes to has chickens. I thought Andrew and I had a lot of chickens (we do). This woman had 200 (because she has a farm and sells the eggs). The CSA has approximately 200 people with a weekly egg share. In other words, one chicken per each egg share. Andrew and I have 10 chickens. In other words, 5 chickens per each egg share.

Tamar fed me delicious food and I fought the tired for long enough to let the food settle and do my 25 burpees. I drank a glass of wine and passed out.


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