I’m in the airport. It’s 11:30 am. I have already been here for 45 minutes. My flight, if you are interested, doesn’t depart until 4:30 pm.  I’m still not sure why exactly I’m here. Check out was officially at 11. But I think we probably could have gotten late check-out if we’d asked. The two friends I was with were on the 2:00 flight (luck bastards) but still, 10:45 is early even for them. I think it’s because one of them–I won’t name any names–is completely neurotic about travel and once it was time to go, it was time to go right fucking then. Never mind hours wasted in the airport when we could have been poolside or gambling. (Did I mention that this same friend won $250 on the penny slots? How does this happen? I think I ended the weekend breaking even and feeling lucky for it.)

So, to make matters worse, they are both traveling on American and I’m on U.S. Airways. So, they can’t even keep me company until they board. And, I can’t even check in and hang out with them in a restaurant because I can’t check my luggage until 12:30. Really?

…

Well, it’s about to be 12:30 now, so I’m going to go see if I can check my bags and see if they’ve even assigned a gate to my flight yet.

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