It’s really here. Months of planning, weeks of hoping, and thousands of mocking emails later, I’m finally on my way to Vegas. If the beginning of a trip is any indication, this is going to be a helluva work weekend, men (thank you Rich Skrosky). By 10 am, I had gotten someone to watch Thor (the oh look, a sports dog), I had (reasonably) cleaned up, I had posted a video on the blog of the miraculous Celtics comeback the night before, and I was fully packed. I had an uneventful MARTA ride to the airport, and got through security smoothly.
So far, so good.
Then, the proverbial other shoe: I get to my SUPER crowded gate, and brace myself for 4 hours of bumping elbows with someone who never manages to be an attractive girl, being unable to sleep, with no leg room and getting hit with the beverage cart, since I like aisle seats.
Once they flight attendants lock the doors, I finally exhale: not only had I forgotten that I had booked an exit row seat (planning ahead? Me?), but the flight is no where near full. To the point that I have the whole exit row on my side to myself. After the flight attendant gives the exit row spiel to the couple across the aisle, she turns too me and asks if I’ve been listening. I say yes, though I hadn’t, and she decides to quiz me. What she didn’t know is that I’ve been flying since I was about 4, and can do flight attendant spiels in my sleep. After hitting the high notes of the exit row speech, she tells me that earned one free drink. A short debate later, and Daniel is drinking free all the way to Vegas.
All in all, off to a good start.