Oh my god, it wreaks of coconut air freshener. How can a plane smell like coconut air freshener? It’s seriously making me want to puke.

Wedding planning has been temporarily interrupted by a trip to Vegas with some girlfriends. I’ve been planning the trip longer than the wedding. Priorities.

My flight was at 6:15 this morning. You’d think that the airport would be nice and empty at this time. Just you and maybe a few business travelers. You don’t really need to get there an hour early. But I’ve learned my lesson. It’s packed. Where is everyone going so early? What can you do when you get there? I’m wondering that myself. I’m hitting Vegas after a layover in Phoenix at 10:15 or so. I’d take a nap, but I’m sure I can’t check in that early. The first of my friends that are joining me doesn’t arrive until late this afternoon. So I’m on my own and will be drifting through the casinos. I do need a pair of coral flats. Maybe I’ll try my luck shoe shopping. Ooooo…or maybe I’ll see if there’s a good salon with an opening. I like getting my hair done in new places.

I’d already planned on sleeping through the flight to Phoenix. Four o’clock in the morning is fucking early. I’ve got my side of the row to myself, which means an empty chair next to me. Yay! Seating success!

But, wait. Seriously? Bitch, you need to turn that shit down. This girl, she’s in my row, but on the other side of the plane…the window seat opposite from me. But you can hear her fucking HEADPHONES from where I am. Not just barely, either. I can hear them well enough to tell you that she has been listening to the same fucking song on repeat since we took off two damn hours ago. What the fuck?

My phone has been dying slow battery death, so I didn’t want to use it as an ipod if I didn’t have to. But finally, I had to put my own headphones on and turn my music up to blaring levels just to drown out the grating awfulness of it. People’s complete obliviousness to the people around them never fails to amaze me. And not in a good way. I never thought I’d appreciate when the flight attendant demands that all electronic devices with an on switch be turned to off at the end of the flight. Amen to the final approach.

Further disappointment comes in the form of the “fresh baked” blueberry muffin I picked up from Austin Java on my way to the gate. Fresh baked? Hah! Like last week. Muffin FAIL.

In Phoenix, it’s a 5 mile hike–with no fewer than 10 separate sections of slow moving sidewalk–to switch from the B gates where I landed to the A gates where I need to catch the flight to Vegas. And what is it about airports that makes you want to rush from point A to point B (or in this case from point B to point A) no matter if you have 2 or 3 hours to kill. There’s something about the vibe that makes me rush, even if it’s running to stand still. On the plus side, I found a Starbucks, this terminal smells like Cinnabon, and the airport has free wifi. Phoenix for the WIN!