Throwing Poo

So far, today has been a good travel day.

After a sleepless night, agonizing over spending the next four days (yes, including Saturday) at a work conference, I woke up late to a freezing house.  Shriveled and shivering, I sprinted about to shit, shower, shave and shove-off (never underestimate the importance of completing these tasks in the proper order) in record time.  Backing out of the driveway and pulling into the street, the dark, frigid morning appeared unusually fuzzy.  I had forgotten my glasses.    

Eventually I arrived at the airport parking garage which, despite them giving me a ticket and allowing me to enter, was full-fucking-up.  I raced laps around the lot with the other snooze-button slaves, eventually spotting a single, partially-obstructed space next to a pick-up driven someone who is apparently incapable of coloring within the lines.  Some back-and-forth aligning allowed me to squeeze my old Saturn into the tight spot, at which point I took no small amount of pleasure in viciously smashing my door into the inconsiderate fuck’s stupid truck.

From there I double-timed it to the check-in counter, dodging in and out of and every dilly-dallying asshole in my path while vulgarly cursing them and, preemptively, anyone else who threatened to drift close.  When the escalator opened up into the ticketing area revealing the bag drop and security lines, my sphincter collapsed.  No way was I going to make my flight.

Fortunately the bag drop line moved quickly, and I darted over to a little-used security checkpoint at the ass-end of the airport that is rarely used.  After more running, dodging, and cursing, I finally arrived at my gate with ten minutes to spare.  

Delayed.  Mechanical issues.

First, it was 30 minutes.  Then an hour.  Then two.  Two hours and forty-five minutes after our scheduled departure time, I finally boarded my five-hour, cross-country flight. 

So, you ask, how could this be a good travel day?  First Class, bitches.  Getting upgraded to First Class changes everything.

Cushy seats, free booze, delicious meals, warm cookies, sexy and slavish flight attendants, gregarious companions, stock tips, low-interest loans, relaxing back rubs and happy endings.

Plus, they plan fun activities to occupy your time between naps, like guessing in which coach passenger’s complimentary thimble of soda the coach flight attendant will unknowingly shed the outer layer of her giant, hairy mole (that’s good protein!).

It just goes to show, it’s the little things in life that matter.  Like feeling superior to other people.