1. Notes: 6 / 1 year ago 

    Travel Daze

    The gentleman next to me smells of some sort of alcohol. Very possibly from last nights adventures, or now that I take note of my surroundings, his bare feet could be the culprit. The days been more stressful with each minute. Not the type of stress that leaves one in a bad mood. As soon as each hurdle passes, I simply breathe deep, thank God that I didn’t royally screw myself, and think “that’ll” make a good story.
    Last night, after packing and settling in for a poor excuse for a nights sleep, I was AWAKE. Very awake. This isn’t uncommon for me at night, but undesirable when it’s 1am, and I have to leave my house by 6:30am. Around 2am, maybe later I fall asleep… waking up, not to my alarm, but to a phone call, asking “where ARE you?”. “Shit” has my become my catch phrase for mornings like this. And yes, they happen often.
    I ran downstairs, brushed 2-3 of my teeth, threw my hair into the sink, which will hopefully give any one around me the illusion of a shower, and then threw on the easiest outfit I had nearby. On the way out the door, Dave, our Tour Manager, calls to inform me that I may not make the flight. “Shit” again.
    I fly through Green Hills(my area of town, know for stand still traffic), and get to the airport at 7:55. My flight leaves at 8:30. The curbside check-in attendant let’s me check in, saying “typically we’re not allowed to do this”. The bags I’m checking are not only mine, but a guitar for Ian, and RK as well. The resulting charge is going to be $400+ unless I can check one of them under another person in our party… The party, that is waiting for me…. At the gate. Somehow(he knew of Ian’s dad), he waived the whole “have Ian come out here and show his I.D.” idea. So I race my MINI around the airport, to the parking lot. I fortunately found a great spot, close enough that I could walk to the terminal, and then before I even have the chance, the shuttle pulls up. Ok, perhaps I waved it down while it was en route to drop off it’s passengers, but it worked out brilliantly.
    Security was a breeze. Mostly because, I’ve decided, that paranoid America has become the “who cares anymore” country. I get to the gate… And first class is not even boarding yet! All the years I shaved off of life with the last 30 minutes of stress, and I’m MORE than on time to board?
    I get off of the plane in Detroit. Walk straight to the ticket counter to get a frequent flyer credit for the trip, and then off to baggage claim. I assume everyone else went ahead without me, until I am standing alone at the claim area, reading a text that says “gate C11”. This is the moment where I try and kick myself, but can’t muster the energy. How did I completely ignore the OTHER boarding pass I was given at check in. The one that takes me from Detroit to Madison, since that’s where we were headed after all.
    I walk as fast as I can without getting yelled at to slow down. Actually, I ran a bit UNTIL I was yelled at. I had to go through security again, due only to my own stupidity(leaving the inner part of the airport for the luggage claim). Again, security has never been easier…(Ironic because of the wire cutters I was scared they would find). And again, I arrive at the gate before almost everyone else. Nothing makes sense anymore, but I’m just glad I’m on the right flight.
    By the way, as I’m sure everyone knows, the “turn off all electronics” rule… Bullshit. I’ve asked pilots. I have written this entire blog on my Blackberry, between taxiing down the runway, and about 20,000 feet in the air. I’m in the very front aisle seat, and have had my phone in clear view of the flight attendant, with no efforts of secrecy. As a courtesy, more to my own battery life than anything, I turned off my “service”, and set it to airplane mode. The flight attendant has no knowledge of this. For all he knows, he has been watching endanger all of the lives of the people behind me… If the electronics rule were in any way an actual problem.

  2. Notes

    1. nashoverstreet posted this
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A blog/rant/bitching from Nash Overstreet
 
 

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