Live Blogging the Worst Travel Day of the Year

Well, here we are. I'd like to consider this blog my lake house (sans Keanu and Sandra); I visit it only a few times a year but I always love my time spent. I say to myself, "Self, why don't you come here more often? It's only an hour away and you just SIT there on the weekends. It'll be good for your writing and therefore your soul." Apparently feeding the soul is a rarity, but here we are and that's all that matters.

I'm going to one of my homes for the holiday. That means Virginia this time, not to my childhood setting of Loudoun but to my grandma's. Perhaps Loudoun will happen but I refuse to make any plans. I haven't seen members of my family in over a year, and the allure of a stress free loungeapalloza is way too tempting. But I heard they put a Taco Bell and Harris Teeter P-ville. Very exciting.

I'm sitting in the airport bar, A watered downed Gladstones. My chicken sandwich just arrived but I realized I'm not hungry. I turn into one of those people so prevalent in LA- I remove the bun and just eat the insides, barely nibbling at my fries. My priority is drinking.

There are few occasions when drinking before noon is socially acceptable- holidays and traveling. This is both. These are the moments college me takes over and decides that being buzzed is also a state of mind. Everything is an adventure when drunk. Everything is better when drunk. There are celebrations to be had.

i realize this logic teeters on the logic of a true lush, but again, it's the holiday. I am required to release the stressors of life. It's American. This IPA is my patriotic duty.  

It is also my duty to buy a cosmopolitan magazine, which is filled with riveting articles like "HOLY SH*T Sex Moves" and my 2014 sex horoscope. Oh and how to look good when you have a hangover. I take mental notes. For irony's sake. 

Yeah, that's right. For irony. That's my story. 

I watch the people fill in for an early lunch. For being THE WORST TRACEL THAT EVER HAPPENED EVER AND WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE EXCLAIMATION POINT everyone seems to be in high spirits. There are no screaming children. There are no pissed off guys wishing for the days of yore, when "you could get there ten minutes before your flight and fucking WALK on" or "there were metal knives, not the gay plastic crap." (Sorry for using gay, I got caught up in my character.) 

The atmosphere is excited. The northeast is a clusterfuck so we might as well accept the inevitable mixture of nonsense and doom. This is why I would welcome the apocalypse. I feel like everyone would be a lot less stressed.

Well, I'm going to get back to my Cosmo, because I have no shame in reading it public, nodding to myself in interest. Remember: irony. 

My chicken sandwich remains untouched.