So, I thought I'd write a little essay on what I did on my very first day of vacation.
Yes, I'm five.
First I took a ride on an airplane. The first leg of the trip wasn't bad. We arrived at the airport at a decent time, checked in, and had just enough time to spare to make a trip to the ladies' room (because I avoid the airplane lavatory at all costs.)
We boarded the plane one row behind the exit row. This is my row of choice. Yes, the exit row has more leg room but when the flight attendant asks me if I am capable of opening that very large and heavy door in case of an emergency, I want to be honest.
And by being honest, I would say "No, I am neither strong enough nor capable and I think at that point I'd be freaking out, so no, m'am I cannot be the hero on this flight which is really tragic, because it would make for some seriously good material for my blog."
Then she'd just move me to the row behind the exit row, which is my row of choice. Because it has the convenience of the close exit without all the hassle of having to save everyone on the plane.
So, instead, two old men and one man who apparently didn't speak English sat in the exit row.
Personally, I didn't feel very safe but they had great leg room.
The second flight of the trip was not that pleasant. I sat several rows behind the exit row, behind the wing and within close proximity to the airplane lavatory. Apparently every man on the plane stopped by the airport Starbucks before boarding.
I really wish Sky Mall magazine would sell a gadget that eliminates lavatory odors while flying. And please. The term lavatory does not make it fancy nor pleasant. It's a porta potty with wings.
We all know how I feel about that.
We landed in sunny Florida with great anticipation of the beach. And the humidity.
When you have lived in the South for nearly your whole life and you move to a place where your sandwich goes stale while you reach for your chips, you tend to miss the moisture. I walked off the airplane and my hair and skin literally said "thank you," out loud. Or maybe it was the flight attendant.
People think that the beauty pageant contestants from the South win because of the intense training. The real secret is the humidity. And maybe their overbearing mothers.
I promise more exciting things have happened than my pores opening up and my hair follicles singing the Hallelujah Chorus. But for now, I have to go. There's a key lime pie from Publix in the frig. just calling my name.
I just realized that there are a lot of things talking to me. Or I'm just hearing voices.