"Fuck You Hartsfield!" And All The Other Reasons Why Airports Blow

What's the sitches bitches? Holy cat on a cactus, I am a sad combination of tired, queasy, frustrated, and...did I mention sad? I'm currently coming to you live from Denver, CO, on behalf of their generous free airport Wi-Fi. So props up to Denver. I can't go on One D At A Time because of..."questionable material" but oh well. You win some, you lose some.

Speaking of lose some, this had to be the shittiest day de la mi vida. My flight from Hartsfield gets delayed about thirty minutes. Cool, cool. We hadn't even left for the airport so things were alright. Then my flight gets delayed another thirty minutes. At this point I am sitting in the terminal, attempting to salvage the shitty chicken tortilla soup I spent my last dollars on (oyeah, which definitely wasn't closed properly and definitely came open in the bag). I am so sleepy that not even cold air can keep me awake.

My flight finally boards at 5:00 pm. When was it supposed to, you ask? 3:35. And did I mention that I had a connector flight in good old Denver to catch? Because I did. But because of my delayed flight, I didn't actually get into the Denver Airport till five minutes before my connector left. Oyeah, and then, because my plane was so small, my lil vintage suitcase had to be checked, which meant I had to wait to get that before I could catch my other plane.

Which I didn't catch.

I'm supposed to be in LA at 7:30. Because I have to take the only other flight going out to LAX tonight, I won't be there till maybe 12:30.

Despite how it sounds, having to kill almost 3 hours in an airport by yourself ain't fun. The high point of this was probably getting to stand on those moving sidewalks instead of walking.

By the way, in the hopes of lightening up my shoulder bag, I put my school books and jacket in my already crowded suitcase. And then I closed it. Lalalala...and then I heard this cracking sound and saw that the back of my suitcase had split open under the pressure. And then upon attempting to examine this further, I hit my head on the metal pillar next to me.

It's one hour till my flight leaves (hallelujah!) and I would just like to say that no one is ever allowed to complain about having to wait for a twenty or thirty minute flight delay. Ever. Because when you do, just think of me.

Ohmahgawd that sounded totally narcissistic, right?

E