You Trippin’, Bro?

I woke up giddy with excitement and full of anxiety all at the same time.

Feeling like I need to take a handful of Xanax with a strong double espresso is nothing new for me on travel days, even though I had been packed for two days already. That’s the main cause for the anxiety; did I pack everything I needed? 
Two days ago I might have been under the influence of a full moon or Mercury might have been retrograde or some shit and now all I have packed is 3 pairs of underwear, 5 books I’ll never read and a couple of dresses that have been hanging, unworn in the closet since the Harlem Shake was still a thing people did on the internet.
I never second guess myself though. 
I figured I’d roll with whatever Gina from two days ago decided was necessary for this trip. 
I didn’t have to leave for the airport until 1:00 pm.  
I had gone out the night before but refrained from getting Ernest Hemingway drunk, knowing I’d be traveling the next day. I brushed my teeth and headed to the kitchen around 10:30 to grind the beans to make the coffee.  A double shot would work nicely to scare off any hangover nonsense before it even got started.
As I drank my coffee, I did my usual reading of the emails, loading of the dishwasher, and finally the making of the bed before jumping into the shower.  It was rolling up on 11 o’clock now so it would be nice not to have to rush to get ready.  
Grabbed my drawers and headed to the bathroom to begin the ritual: 
open blinds - turn on Bluetooth speaker - connect to phone - select music - turn on shower - ????
Turn on shower????
TURN ON SHOWER!!!! 
FUCK!!! NO WATER???
FUUUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKK - disconnect the fucking Bluetooth - call the office...
WHY THE FUCK IS THERE NO WATER IN MY APARTMENT RIGHT NOW WHEN IT WAS WORKING LITERALLY 10 MINUTES AGO??
None in the sink.  None in the toilet. 
“We’ll let you know when we find out more.”
What the fuck? I have to be at the airport soon.
I have to sit on an airplane for 9 hours and I sure as hell ain’t gonna do it funky as hell!! I NEED to wash my damn hair AND my ass! 
*marches said funky ass over to the office to get some motherfucking answers*
“Hey, what’s with the water?  We weren’t told it was going to be off.”
“We’re on the phone with Atlanta water right now. We’ll send out an email when we know more.”
“I have to leave for the airport shortly.  What am I supposed to do about a shower?”
“Do any of your friends live nearby?”
“No! And even if they did, they have jobs and are at work! It’s 11 o’clock in the morning!!”
“I don’t know what to tell you.  There’s some bottled water in the fridge here if you need it to brush your teeth.”
-_-

As I was letting myself back into my apartment, I glanced over my left shoulder and the rail just beyond when my eyes fell on the sparkling crystal blue that is the swimming pool just below me.
Yep.  
You know what I was thinking.

With great purpose, I strode into the house. 
I put on my bathing suit. 
I delved into my stash of tiny hotel sundries.... little bar of soap, little bottle of shampoo. (Should I shampoo my hair? We’ll make that call when we come to it)
Grabbed my beach towel and some flip flops and marched my ass down the three flights of stairs to the pool.  
The pool area was vacant.
Dropped my towel on the closest chair.  Kicked off my flip flops.
Opened the little bar of soap and in I dove with it palmed in concealment.
Surely this disgusting little swamp rat would emerge a glowing beauty like Daryl Hannah in “Splash.”
I scrubbed the hell out of my armpits and all the other funky bits.
A sunbather came down and so I decided to forego the shampooing.
Would be hard to hide that I was having an Herbal Essence moment in a pool.
Whatever.
I was pretty sure the chlorine stripped away whatever oils were in my hair anyway.
Got out.
Wrapped my newly bathed ass in a towel, tossed the tiny bar of soap in the trash can by the pool entrance and marched my ass back upstairs to dry my hair and apply massive amounts of lotion to my chlorinated body.
Problem solved.
Mermaid status not quite achieved but I no longer had swamp ass.
Win - win in my book.
No water also meant no breakfast.
Fuck it - I decided to go to the airport early.
I can eat AND get drunk while waiting for my flight.
I might even meet someone interesting.
Flight scheduled for 5pm.
Arrived at airport, noon thirty. 
I didn’t want a $30 dollar hot dog (thank goodness for iHop at the airport) 
I got a $9 breakfast instead. 
Things were looking up! ;)

I was so early that my gate hadn’t been listed on any of the boards yet.  
I asked around and was told that E and F terminals were the international terminals so I just decided to ride the train all the way down to F terminal.
I chatted with a guy from Ft. Lauderdale all the way through security so the time passed fairly quickly.
I hopped the train to F.  
As I was coming up the escalator, I noticed a large information booth at the top.
Yay.
The guy informed me that my plane would be leaving from E6.
Back down the escalator.
This time I did not take the train but used the moving sidewalk to get in a bit of exercise.
I got to E and decided to grab a beer since it was only 2pm.
I drank the beer and moseyed over to the Duty Free shop.
I needed some perfume - remember that time when I took a bath in a swimming pool? Yeah.
They had my signature scent - the one that everyone compliments and makes me feel good about not smelling like a goat.  #ChanelisLife 
Anyhoo after I dropped almost 100 large on that shit - they told me it would be waiting at the gate for me to pick up when I board the plane.
This was an odd feeling - like I just handed my dog over to Cruella de Vil expecting she would return him after taking ‘very good care’ of him.
This was not the time for my trust issues to rear their ugly head because this was clearly out of my hands unless I wanted security involved and a big red flag placed squarely over my head.
I convinced myself it would be a good trust building exercise. 
I decided to grab some over priced snacks and go sit by the gate and wait to board the plane.
So I did.
I checked in at the counter just to be sure I was at the right gate.
They changed my seat from the middle seat to an aisle seat a little closer to the front - so that was pretty sweet.

Well, we were told that the flight would be delayed an hour and we would be boarding at 6 instead of 5 now.
What’s another hour when you haven’t properly bathed and have been at the airport for the better part of your life now?
6 o’clock came rolling around and we were then informed that the cleaning crew needed time to clean and we would board at 7.
Ugh.

Eventually we boarded and I totally forgot they changed my seat and sat in my originally assigned seat after throwing my heavy ass carryon into the overhead only to be greeted AFTER sitting down and settling in, by a man who insisted his son was sitting there - then I remembered they changed it and apologized profusely (seriously tho dude you could have inquired a bit earlier)
Now I had to pull my carryon back out of the overhead and go against the flow of increasingly disgruntled passengers to try to get forward in the cabin.
One man in particular was extremely pissed at me so I shot him a look that shut him up immediately, while the overhead was blaring announcements in German that seemed to get everyone more riled up just as I was reaching my new seat and settling in for a SECOND time - ugh.
We were now told this plane was unfit to fly so we would have to deplane and our new flight would be leaving from gate E32 at 9:30pm
Yay! Confusion and mayhem.
And where the hell was my Duty Free shit?
Of course the new gate was at the complete otherend of terminal E.
It had to be.
This was the kind of day it was.
Once more with the heavy ass carryon.
I got down to the new gate and looked around.  Meh.
2 more hours to kill. 
Ugh.
I walked back up to the center of the terminal, looked around in a sort of 360º movie-style montage and decided NOW may be the time to get Ernest Hemingway drunk.
Most of the ‘flying solo’ passengers from my flight seemed to have had the same idea and they all sat at a giant table that was assembled from smaller tables pushed together.
I chose to sit at the bar next to the guy you would expect to see at an airport bar. He had the biggest plate of nachos loaded with peppers and I felt for everyone of us that would have to endure breathing his recirculated flatulence.

I ordered potato skins which paired nicely with several Yuenglings. 

Time was nigh to maybeboard our plane.
The alcohol soaked brood moved back toward the gate in a swarm.
I decided to check in with the counter to see if we would be keeping our same seat assignments and lo and behold, I got another upgrade - ever closer.
“The sun has to shine on a dog’s ass sometime.” My ex-husband’s words ran through my head as my new boarding pass was handed to me.
Several passengers had gotten rebooked on other flights when they chose not to put up with Delta’s horse shit, which worked in my favor, I guess.
Everyone finally began herding into the boarding tunnel.
As I stepped onto the plane, I remembered DUTY FREE!
I asked the attendant and she said I already passed the station to pick it up.
I looked back recalling the last time I had to swim upstream.
Ugh.
These people wouldn’t put up with my bullshit again - half of them were drunk now. I was included in that half.
The attendant could see my distress, took my receipt and had me wait by the exit row seating while she retrieved my coveted Chanel.
I waited as the exhausted horde filed past.
Finally, I was presented with my tiny treasure and I proceeded to my new seat.
The correct one.  I had learned my lesson.
I settled in: -iPad (check) *place in seat pocket* -phone (check) *place in seat pocket*, -water (check) *place in seat pocket with much difficulty* 
-headphones (check) *shove in ears and connect to little seat back TV* 
-backpack (check) *cram under seat in front of me*
Ahhhh.
Let’s do this.
The plane does plane things and we are FINALLYheaded off into the 
wild blue yonder.
Time to check out a movie!
*Touch screen*
*Touch screen* again
*Have seat mate touch screen*
It’s broken.

FML