I flew to Utah Wednesday and, like many, I don't enjoy being on a plane. I'm not scared that i"ll crash and die but I just hate being on a plane. The air is gross, my legs start hurting, sometimes i sit by gross people, and i just feel gross by the end of it. The NY to Utah flight is an hour too long. Anyway, while waiting for my suitcase to come out I started to prep myself. I have this strange-colored suitcase. It's this ambiguous green'ish gray'ish color that i feel blends in with all colors, somehow. Kind of like the Honda Civic i drove in high school. It was this light taupey pinky gray color and I could never find it in the parking lot. I called it a chameleon car. As is my suitcase. a chameleon, not a car. And i'm always really nervous i'm going to miss it and i am convinced every other suitcase that comes out is mine. Is that it? I think it is! IS it?? Fortunately, just as i'm ready to start panicking as it gets closer to me, afraid that it's not mine and i'll pick it up and someone else will think i'm stealing their suitcase, fortunately, someone else reaches out and grabs it. Whew! And i am saved from looking like a thief. But, like my car, I know my suitcase deep down. He is an old reliable friend, and the moment I see him, I know him. And I say, "there you are" and I struggle to lift him out of the conveyor belt thing and stumble because it weighs 500 pounds because i packed 4 pairs of shoes and 5 pairs of jeans and a million sweaters, as was the case yesterday. And i had to shuffle along side the conveyor belt while holding onto the suitcase handle, trying to look normal but getting really nervous because i'm a wuss and couldn't get it out but with one final heave-ho i finally did and got the h--- out of there.
This post was typed in 10 seconds with no edits, no review, and is basically a stream of consciousness about nothing. It might make sense, but it might not. It's silly to tell you that at this point because you know which it is by now.
3 comments:
When my parents fly, they put a big strip of brightly-colored tape on each edge of their suitcases to help them stand out at the baggage claim.
hello jen old roommate who now lives in b-town. this is your old roommate rachel, not that rachel but the rachel who lived with you briefly one time. i have to tell you, your blog is hi-larious, i enjoy it immensely. you should write a book. seriously. lemme know, i have connections.
and also... the NY to UT flight is actually 4 hours too long, not 1. i hate planes for the same reasons. i especially hate being seated in a middle seat between enormous stinky people who get up in my space, and i can't be mad at them for getting up in my space because they are morbidly obese or whatever. and put that middle seat in the back of the plane next to the roaring engines, in front of the exit row (so the seats don't recline) and a couple rows in front of an overused lavatory, behind a screaming child old enough to act differently on a plane... all during a 8.5 hour indirect flight from seattle to philly.... and you have a pretty accurate depiction of 20% of my life.
ahhh, travel.
bye.
yes, i've seen that ribbon trick several times. You'd think i'd do something like that by now.
Rach--how the heck are ya? Thanks for commenting! Your description of flying is too vivid. :)
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