Undetainable

It’s been an embarrassing amount of time since I had to go through airport security. Like, years. Multiple years. In a row. It’s just that I’ve been so focused on saving as much money as possible that a) I don’t want to spend the money I’ve saved and b) I’ve been working too much to get any real time off. So I’ve been checking the TSA site every hour or so to make sure I’m not violating any rules (tweezers are okay, at least as of the last instructions sheet released in March of 2005) and won’t be detained by security for any reason related to my own stupidity (what do you mean I can’t bring ninja throwing stars on a plane? That’s crazy!). If we get detained, it will be because the universe is unfair and the government doesn’t want me to have my first vacation in a very long time.

I don’t need to go away to have a vacation, but it certainly is nice. I’m envious of couples who go on trips all the time (which is like once a year compared to my own experience). Aside from one time when I flew with my ex-husband and earlier this year when Graham and I went to Chicago, I’ve always traveled by myself. I had the process down so well that I breezed through security and knew which restaurants in which airports had the nicest employees (I still get a little misty when I think of the waitress in Norfolk who gave me free soup when I had strep and started crying when couldn’t finish my burger). I learned that a drink before takeoff considerably lowered my anxiety and that carrying a large, complicated book (preferably written by someone Russian) was an excellent way to deter potential airplane conversationalists. This time, though, I have Graham, an iPod, and a Kindle. The weather here looks perfect and as far as I know, there are no hurricanes/tornados/Mothras raging through any city on our route. Everything will be fine. It will be fine.

Although Graham is slightly worried about someone breaking into the house while we’re gone and sniffing the butt part of my underwear. I concede that this isn’t the most irrational fear, although it will be sort of difficult while my dad is in the house. He’s been wrangled into catsitting duty with the bonus of cable and Netflix. He has neither, so I gave him an in-person tutorial last night and wrote step-by-step instructions down for his reference. I’m only a little paranoid that he’ll break the TV and the Internet, thus making my return completely pointless.

See you guys later! I’m getting on an aeroplane machine!

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About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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