Shooooooot!! What terminal?!?!?

Wednesday was an interesting day for sure.

I got out of bed around 4AM, carefully manicured my curls, put on a nice outfit, slipped on my high heels, packed my work bag, and escaped the house just after 5.

A middle aged man sat next to me on the flight with a stash of drink coupons hell bent on spending all of them before reaching Las Vegas. I’m not sure how many drinks he had by the time we landed but he successfully used all his coupons and successfully drove me nuts. His ideal of respecting ‘personal space’ grew fuzzier with each passing Baileys shot.

I escaped the plane and made my way to the bathroom to make sure I looked presentable. Why is it that after every plane trip, passengers tend to look like they spent the entire flight under those annoying water misters at Magic Mountain? I swear my hair didn’t look that bad when I left! Although not a fan of Star Trek, I’m thinking of investing in the research of those transporter thingies from the show. I don’t care if my liver doesn’t make it, as long as my hair arrives stylishly coiffed.

I rented my car, and headed to the meeting – even though I had more than an hour to drive 5 miles. If there is one thing guaranteed about Las Vegas, it’s that the whole city is constantly in a state of construction – detours are everywhere. After 4 closed streets, 5 u-turns, and 2 missed freeway onramps, I finally got to my meeting 10 minutes before start time.

After the meeting, I met up with a co-worker from our corporate office for lunch and hastily made my way back to the airport. I missed the rental car exit, got lost again, and proceeded to throw innumerable hail Mary’s and a ‘please God let this be the right way’ after every turn.

Arriving with a screech at the rental car return agency, I practically threw the keys at the poor lot attendant and took off running. ‘Katie!’ I screamed into my phone, ‘Can you please check me in online?!?!? I have less than an hour and I’m not even close to getting there!’

40 minutes before take off, I was just stepping onto the shuttle bus to the airport.

While running through the airport I was REALLY wishing my legs were more proportionate to a Barbie doll than a welsh corgi.

A mid-west family (very obvious from the “y’all’s” being thrown around) was blocking the hallway to the terminal I was in a rush to get to. Even though the airport uses this crazy system called ‘numerical order’ that you should be able to figure out by - silly me – COUNTING, the family stood unmoving blocking my way. ‘Where’s gate C16? Should we get a map? This airport is huge!’ they said wide eyed to each other. That’s when I pushed in between the two oldest of the group and said crisply, ‘Go straight until you reach the windows, make a right, C16 will be on your left’

‘Are you from here?’ She said with her thick accent.

‘California’ I said over my shoulder as I took off running again.

‘Ahhh’ they said – as if understanding my rudeness was an innate part of being a Californian.

I barely made my plane, the ticket agent was sure to tell me they almost gave away my seat. I didn’t really care that the take off was worse than flights from O’Hare or that the lady next to me kept resting her arm on mine… I was just happy to be going home.

Thank heavens it’s Friday?!?!