You know that feeling when you’re just barely holding it together and any one thing could bring on the great disaster of 2017. Well that was me standing in line for airport security with Danny.
Flight attendants usually have their own separate security where all we do is swipe and trot away, except when you’re traveling for vacation your subjected to stand with all the rest of humanity.
Except I wasn’t actually standing…
I was crouched down in a fetal like position with tears running down my face, alternately crying and frantically rummaging through my bag for my Afrin nasal spray. Even in that moment I had convinced myself that I was good, that this death flu had nothing on me and my plans for an exotic vacay to Buenos Aires. That is until my man got flagged for some extra screening. By extra they meant to say “we-will-violate-every-semblence-of-self-dignity-you-have” in which they proceeded to pat him down, pat him down again, unpack his things and then…. unpack his things again.
Luckily I’m dating a man who spends 3 hours meticulously packing his things so the process was made easier by the 10,000 plastic bags for every single thing he owned. (I say that with slight sarcasm given I throw everything in my bag and sit on it as I pray the zipper doesn’t break) All of that to say, I was barely clinging to my sanity while they discussed Organic Chemistry and terrorism threats when I realized I had to blow my nose. This wasn’t a regular, “I have a slight sniffle”, it was a desperate realization that if I did not have a tissue in 3 seconds I would surely sneeze and most likely cover the entire TSA area with an ungodly amount of snot. Being a lady wasn’t really at the top of my priority list. I reached over Danny and grabbed at some wadded up toilet paper when the TSA guy was looking away and in the middle of security, in my heels and painstakingly styled outfit, crouched down and blew my nose so hard I’m pretty sure my mom in North Carolina heard it. Lifting my head I spied a young TSA agent staring at me with her mouth completely open.
This was my great disaster of 2017 moment.
You’ll be happy to know it only got worse. I cried on takeoff out of Detroit, I cried on landing in Atlanta, I cried in the bathroom in Atlanta because my nose was raw and I cried when we got upgraded to First Class. Between my ears being completely clogged resulting in my yelling every. word. to poor Danny and my bright pink raw nose, I’m sure I was the picture of glamour like I had hoped. When we finally boarded the plane for Buenos Aires I curled up in my lie-flat seat (which y’all, is heaven on earth) and passed out for 8 hours. I have a feeling Danny slipped me something lethal #DatingAMedic.
Which leads us to today, sitting in 85 degree weather by a pool on a rooftop reading, “It Takes Faith To Be An Atheist” because I’ve never been one for peaceful vacations, why not throw some theological disputes in the mix for a real winner. But truly, I couldn’t have dreamed a more wonderful week and we still have 4 days left so I’ve got to go get as sunburnt as is humanely possible.