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Day One, 3-22, Saturday
Woke up at 3:30 am to the radio and Hubby Bee’s phone alarm. We couldn’t trust the iHome today. We had breakfast at home and headed to the airport at 4:50am. Early, Early. But, I think there were at least 4 flights leaving Bozeman this morning. It was so crazy! We got in line behind a familz with 4 children and 8 bags. Nuts. Oh well. We ran upstairs to security to beat the crowd. Totally uneventful. Besides the guy in front of me who apparently stuffed the entire hotel mini-bar in his suitcase, and as the TSA lady-agent began to pull out the bottles one-by-one for the whole security line to see, tried to explain that he “forgot” they were in there. How one forgets about 6 bottles of Jack Daniels, I’ll never know. Bozeman, a small town airport? Don’t try telling the TSA that!
Currently, We’re over the clouds, looking at my personal in-seat screen, where it says I’m somewhere over Gypsum Hills and I’m thinking, where the HELL is that? Turns out, Oklahoma. People around me? Family of 4 plus one (grandma); cute, but are totally going to miss their connecting flight. Family of 3? Behind. Sweating about missing their flight. They’re on some other international flight that leaves 20 min. before our. And older guy, across aisle, who is CONSTANTLY blocking traffic. Meanwhile, Brother Bee’s watching Wedding Crashers on his iPod eating the entire bag of Goldfish because neither one of us is going to pay $5 for a snack box. Christ, we just paid $200 for 116 Euros. Ouch.
Ok, stop me if I sound like a whiner. Which I probably am. But, for the past month I have been contemplating my suitcase situation. I bought an awesome, huge square suitcase that I was super excited to have because Brother Bee and I can put both of our stuff in there and call it good. Then I had buyer’s remorse. Should I really take a backpack? Of course I would look more like I was roughing it. However, I’m more of a traditionalist. This is where my Tourist vs. Traveler comes into play. I would love to take a backpack, but then my clothes would get wrinkly, my back would get sore, my treasures could get hurt, blah, blah, blah. So I’ve resorted to this big pack. THEN, I got sharer’s remorse. I don’t want to share my bag with Brother Bee. BUT if I don’t, then we have two bags, and he won’t help me carry it, blah, blah, blah. So, back to the old plan. We’ll both take this one ginormous suitcase and share the load (think Lord of the Rings and Samwise) …SHARE the LOAD… Now on to my Airplane Blues…but that’s a whole other story. Let’s just say, more terrifying that not knowing German (did I forget to mention that?) is the fact that there’s a HIGH possibility my bag will get lost.
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