Jun 05 2011
Greetings, Cool Peeps:
“Beam me up, Scotty.”
Oh, how I wish what worked for Captain Kirk would work for me.
Today I’m going to talk about traveling: the good, the bad, and the ugly. My favorite part about trippin’ is arriving at my destination. Everything in between usually stresses me out.
Does anyone like to pack? Have you ever taken a trip when you used exactly what you calculated you would need, no more, no less? Even if I’m taking a quick jaunt for business, I never get it right. If I fly somewhere on vacation, forget about it. I’ll have way more of everything I don’t need and then have to run out and buy (if I can find it) whatever I neglected to pack.
What really burns me is when I forget things like the charger for my electronic devices. A charger is something you totally cannot do without, and you do not want to buy a new one just for a freakin’ day or two.
Of special fun for me is trying to make sure my suitcase doesn’t weigh over fifty pounds. My hair stuff, hair dryer, Jimmy Choos, and assorted beauty products weigh that much. I neither want to pay a charge for overweight luggage nor sit on the airport floor, sobbing, as I go through my suitcase and try to figure out what I can discard or throw into my overstuffed carry-on. And I don’t even want to talk about security.
Do you know why my hair is shoulder length? Because when I had long hair it used to get caught under the shoulder straps of my luggage or heavy purse. As many of you long-haired peeps know, having a shoulder strap pull your hair, jerking your head to one side, is not a pleasant experience. Shoulder welts are not pretty, either.
Let me move right along to the greatest bane of my traveling life: flying in freakin’ coach. Really, why not just chain me to the wing and pull me along at five or six hundred miles per hour? At the very least, it would cure my cabin fever-slash-claustrophobia.
Peeps, I have to say it: if you recline your seats in coach, there is a special place in hell for you. Even people of moderate height know there is no legroom to be had. You have to be a contortionist just to get stuff out of your bag that is placed under the seat in front of you. Nothing fun about it. Which is why you do not need the jerk in the seat in front of you to freakin’ recline, smacking you in the knees and completely restricting your access to whatever you’ve carried on. And what is the grand prize for such insane rudeness – an extra inch? That extra inch will never give you as much comfort as it will give another pain. Karma is a bitch. Just remember that. Do not recline in coach. Just don’t do it.
If I have to fly, give me a window seat. At least I can get a glimpse of what it’s like to float above the clouds; there’s something magical about it. And I can rest my head against the wall and drift off to sleep.
I have just one little issue. Why is it that every time I really need to use the restroom, it’s during refreshment time when the peeps in the middle and aisle seats have their tray tables lowered with drinks on them? I don’t like to ask people to move, so I wait until the imbibing and munching are over. I’m nice that way. The only problem is that by then, half the plane wants to use the restroom. And if the line weren’t long enough, the captain will invariably come on and tell us that they’re going through some turbulence and that passengers must return to their seats and secure all seat belts. Oh yeah, and restore all trays to an upright position.
Why can’t Scotty just beam us all up? How about you, cool peeps; what are your favorite and least favorite parts of traveling?
See you next week,
Yours in pickiness,