I’ll come out and say it – I HATE flying.
One, there is always the “when to leave” gamble. Living downtown, I have two options: 1) Pay 35 dollars to take a taxi ride that is only fifteen minutes, or 2) Take the regional rail to the airport for 7 dollars for about the same amount of time. To me, this is a no brainer. But since the regional rail runs only every 30 minutes, it’s always a russian roulette of choosing between the two. If you take the earlier, you run the risk of a lot of down time – something I don’t deal with well. And if take the latter, and – god forboid – hit ungodly lines which leave you cutting it extremely close, your stress level is through the roof. Just deciding which train to take always leaves me in hysterics.
I will say, this time I chose the earlier train – with the good advice of my always supportive twitter community. But, I – as predicated – was through security in what I can only describe as 2.5 seconds, finding myself with over an hour and fifteen minutes to kill.
The tough question at that point was – do I grab the before-the-flight-drink that I have always found mandatory before the trek home?
On that note, I truly believe there is a reason there are so many bars in airports. And it’s not simply to kill time. It’s because airports kills us. Who doesn’t need a drink by the time they are through bag checking, security passing, and gate finding?
And airport security hasn’t made our lives any easier. This no liquids rule kills me, being a girl of many products that refuses to check her bag (if at all possible). I always have to hope that my mom has bought me the shampoo and conditioner I use, and shower gel I like – and god love her, she usually does. To those who think luggage doesn’t get lost, tell that to me two years ago, when I came home for my sister’s baby shower and was forced to wear a ratty ILLINOIS college shirt and soffe shirts. TRUE STORY.
And nevermind that I have to be sedated with xanex and a good cocktail to even go through airport security, let alone get on the plane. That always makes the actual process of all the forementioned easier for me mentally, but impossible physically. Trying to lift an overly stuffed suitcase is hard enough when I’m leaving my apartment in a sound state. Trying to lift it onto the xray conveyor belt and overhead compartment when I can barely feel my legs is another story entirely.
All in all, though – I survived this one. They had been calling for severe thunderstorms and it was clear skies when I left. Otherwise, its safe to say I would have been 2 extra xanex deep, a martini in, and pretty sure my boarding the plane would have been an experience that any of my friends would have paid to see.