Alright… Well, I am sitting at the airport waiting to board my flight to Washington D.C., which as Karen knows, was supposed to take off at 6:30. Keep in mind as I write this it is 6:31… Let me start from the beginning, picture it, La Jolla, 4:30 am, I am rolling my 80 pound suitcase and two carry-ons from my house to Karen’s pimped-out SUV. It is still dark out, I haven’t slept a wink, and I am about to leave my best friend and my regimented world behind… I hopped out of the car, gave Karen a hug, grabbed my massive suitcase and shed a few tears as I walked to the ticket counter. Little did I know those “few” tears would soon turn into a full blown sweat fest. For those who know me, know I am a VERY nervous flyer, I hate doing it but get by with a little help from my “friend”.
As I get to the ticket counter, I am ready to pay the extra charge for my overweight suitcase, grab my boarding pass and head for the gate for a much need breath. Apparently I was living in fantasy land, because that would have been WAY too easy and easy does not make for a good post. My first savior of my trip, Christina… she is at the ticket counter, she is pretty and she is patient. I tell her my name, give her my flight confirmation and put my bag on the scale (naturally, I need assistance to do so). Christina quickly became annoying to me as she told me my overweight cost would be an additional $150… yes, ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS! She told me I could step aside and rearrange my items to get my 73 pound (to be exact) bag down to a cool 50 pounds. Who did she think I was, Jenny Craig? Seriously, how the hell was I going to rearrange 23 extra pounds? I looked at Christina with a look like, are you kidding? Have you EVER seen someone who was able to “loose” 23 pounds by rearrangement? OH BACK UP… this good news came AFTER she tells me my flight was rescheduled to 8 am… it was 5… yup, a cool 3 hours to kill. I hand Christina my credit card to pay the outrageous fee, after all, what else was I supposed to do?
ANOTHER bag, I need another bag. Christina told me if I got another bag, I could remove the 23 pounds and I would only be charged $50. GREAT! Christina redeemed herself.
I go to the gift shop where this woman, who I am not even sure worked there, sells me a bag that “will-do” for $40. I run back to Christina, I sit on the floor, scuttling to try and loose those stubborn pounds and still sweating. Yes, I was THAT girl… underwear falling out, shoes flying left and right. Every few minutes I put my bag back on the scale to see if I had transferred just enough into the new bag, and after 6 attempts… I had!
Christina lets me go with 53.5 pounds, she refunds my $150, charges me for the $50 second-bag fee and proceeds to put both bags on the conveyer belt… yes, I thought, I am FINALLY on my way. Naturally, because Christina and I have now spent 37 minutes together, we are homegirls. And what does my homegirl do? She breaks my new bag, well, we agreed to blame it on faulty hardware… so I march my little butt back into the gift store, told the space cadet what had happened and proceeded to remove the strap from another bag to serve as a replacement for mine. Well, the “worker” was looking at me and had the gull to say, it was MY fault, because I did not buy it broken. I looked at her and said “hello, earth, I was here 3.2 minutes ago and this strap was coming with me.” Her face was priceless and when she asked me what about the strap on the other bag yet to be sold, I replied “have your manager figure it out” and walked out.
Christina, loyal as ever, is waiting for me and we come up with a secure way to make sure something similar would not happen during flight to the new strap. During the “hardware malfunction” Christina cut her finger, I see this and reach into my Marry Poppins bag and give her a band-aide. She wraps her finger, finalizes my documents and shares with me her dream to travel to Italy to see U2 perform. Like I said, we are homegirls. Christina upgrades my seats for my troubles, we hug it out and I leave my dear Christina.
FINALLY, I am on my way to my gate… I am almost through security and ready to shut my eyes for some much needed rest… but wouldn’t you know, I am pulled aside at security only to be frisked and patted down. The girl asks me to hold my arms out as she runs her latex gloves around my body. Of course, I was clean, except for the fact when my inspector catches those latex gloves on my shirt and pulls it down a bit too far. So please, take one minute, close your eyes and make a mental picture of what I just said… me standing in the middle of security with my shirt pulled down, my pink bra hanging out and about a hundred of my now closest friends around me. It was AWESOME; needless to say I have been getting a lot of smiles.
When my shirt was retuned to its original place, I picked up my stuff, disheveled and unorganized and booked it to the gate. So here I am, sharing my first day of my dream vacation… yes, for the record, all the aforementioned happened.
Ciao Bellas,
Ali
