CID > exit row > breakfast in my lap > new book > ORD > probably another breakfast > totally another exit row > BECAUSE I’M ROYALTY > LGA > Manhattan > Big Birthday Broadway Bash Blowout! > crippling debt

Let’s hope we get there faster than last year’s 19-hour PR ...

You know how there’s dumbass and there’s HOLY SHIT YOU’RE A DUMBASS?

I just waited patiently for my boarding group to be called and then waited patiently in line to board my flight, only to find out I WAS AT THE WRONG GATE. In my defense, our gates shared the same waiting area and were boarding at the same time. But still.

Also, this wins everything:

I’m home

After a week filled with dear friends both old and new, a new dog you’re all lucky I didn’t dognap, favorite haunts, new museums, historical learnings that I’m still processing, a 5K along a gorgeous ocean boardwalk, delicious cooking, gallons of Diet Coke, the endless magical convenience of Uber in an unfamiliar city, and a Charlotte-to-Cedar-Rapids flight that looped over to Omaha to avoid what looks to have been an epic storm, I am home and happy and thankful and sleepy and ready to resume my regularly scheduled adventures at dawn. Good night!

SPOILER ALERTS:

The Lusitania sinks. There’s a war. Everyone eventually dies. I give the VERY AWESOME book to someone else to enjoy. Sondheim writes a breathtaking show that gives me the gay shudders. I start reading the book about it for the second time. I regret bringing a massive gallon of already-watery-already-flat Diet Coke on my plane home.

WHEELS DOWN! At the correct airport! Whose name is just NATIONAL, damnit!

The Lusitania is still afloat! My watch is still on Iowa time! Saying WHEELS DOWN just made me sound like a seasoned aviator!

Let the beachhousities begin!

VACCINES KILL

It’s true because it’s on a T-shirt worn by a completely-trustworthy-looking dude wandering Terminal E of Charlotte Douglas International Airport. The shirt is scarlet. As in fever.

Also: Charlotte Douglas International Airport is the size and shape of a charming-Belgian-hamlet-size spider squashed by Bob Fosse.

Also: I’m in the mood for a totally-not-abs-friendly snack, but I’ve trekked the full extent of Charlotte Douglas International Airport’s splayed-and-Fosse-angled spider legs and I haven’t seen a single damn gooeyfrostedcinnamonrollerie.

Also: I just followed a distractingly-latted-and-boyfriend-age-appropriate man in a contour-hugging gray T-shirt all the way from Terminal E to Terminal C on the far end of the Fosse-squashed charming-Belgian-hamlet-size Charlotte Douglas International Airport, but he stopped at Terminal C2 and I depart from Terminal C8.

Also: Stupid Terminal C8.

Also: My supposedly-auto-time-zone-synching running watch is refusing to auto-time-zone synch.

Also: Stupid supposedly-auto-time-zone-synching running watch.

Also: The cashier at Sbarro keeps aggressively demanding that every customer have a great day.

Also: DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO MY WATCH WON’T AUTOMATICALLY CHANGE TIME ZONES AND I ACTUALLY WANTED A GOOEY FROSTED CINNAMON ROLL INSTEAD OF YOUR SUSPICIOUSLY SUSPICIOUS PIZZA AND I JUST HAD TO SIT POINTLESSLY ON A TARMAC FOR 15 MINUTES AND GRAY SHIRT GUY IS FLYING TO DALLAS FORT WORTH YES I LOOKED IT’S TOTALLY NOT CREEPY SHUT UP AND MY PARENTS ARE TRYING TO VACCINATE ME TO DEATH SO IT’S WAAAAY BEYOND POSSIBLE FOR MEET YOUR AGGRESSIVE AND FRANKLY CRUEL GREAT-DAY DEMANDS.

WHAT IS THE POINT OF PROUDLY CELEBRATING THE FACT THAT YOU LANDED EARLY IF YOUR PLANE HAS TO WAIT ON THE TARMAC FOR THE OTHER PLANE AT YOUR GATE TO LEAVE BEFORE YOU PULL UP TO IT AT YOUR PLANNED ON-TIME-NOT-EARLY TIME?

Also: The Lusitania hasn’t sunk and I’m already on the fifth chapter. So I’m cautiously optimistic.

Also: Rogue-Iowan-in-Charlotte REPRESENT! Booyah!

My last vacation adventure started with a 19-hour-four-airport-plus-an-impromptu-four-hour-drive-with-total-strangers nightmare commute

This vacation adventure is starting with no Diet Coke in the you’re-trapped-here-and-this-is-your-only-option-I-hate-my-job-so-I’m-going-to-mumble-at-you-that’ll-be-shrvkorsln-dollars-please airport-gate kiosk.

I don’t know which is worse. All I can say is the damn Lusitania better not sink at the end of this book.

Also: Our gate agent just told us we have “free wi-fi available for purchase” on our flight.

Plus she just said we’re now boarding for our flight to Charlotte O’Hare.

Plus she pronounces it conci-air.

This commute is immeasurably worse.