I couldn’t make this sh*t up (Volume 1)

13 Mar

If the trip just to get to the airplane is this bad maybe you should just stay home.

I had been waiting for months to get out to Las Vegas. This trip to the Golf Industry Show was to be my best yet since it was my first show since starting the amazingly successful group Wives of Turf. I had the gear made, I had trinkets to give away, I had an event planned and fully sponsored, I had bought a new wardrobe, I was ready to roll.

I was also nervous.

I hadn’t flown alone in about eight years and I’ve never had to worry about parking the car and getting myself checked in. I left the house in plenty of time and made it to the airport with time to spare. As per my marching orders I went to park in the B parking garage. It’s FULL. Deep breath. Thankfully there was a friendly woman standing there who told me to just park in the A garage because they are connected.

Something in the back of my mind was telling me to park in C, but I listened to the woman and entered the A garage. As I made my way up the dizzying spiral, level after level was full. Finally I found some empty spaces on the sixth level. If I remember where I parked the damn car it’ll be a freaking miracle.

My next task was to find the B ticketing.

I walked and walked and walked…I never did find where A and B are connected. My journey to B ticketing took me outside, dragging my 45 pound suitcase behind me with the blisters popping out on my feet left and right. Much like our K-9 friends, I do most of my sweating through my feet. Sweaty feet, new shoes and a lot of walking left me in excruciating pain buy the time I made it to ticketing.

There’s Band-Aids in that gigantic suitcase and I know exactly where they are…At the bottom, on the opposite side from where the zipper is. Desperate, I expose the contents of my suitcase to anyone who happened to be walking by. I didn’t care, I was a woman on a mission and in pain. I slapped a Band-Aid on the worst of my blisters, zipped up and went to check in.

Of course I got the checkin agent who hates life and wants to spread her misery to anyone she comes in contact with. She also spoke as if she had a mouthful of rocks. If she told me what gate I was at, I never heard her. Off I went to security. There is nothing like starting your day with a full body scan preformed by rude TSA agents, but I made it through.

Time to hit the gate and relax.

I checked the board to find out what gate I was at. I was only looking for a number since I assumed I was leaving out of B terminal. You all know what happens when you assume…

I got to the very end of the B terminal when I realized I was leaving out of the C terminal. I have now walked about twenty miles and it would have been a shorter walk if I would have just walked from home. The blisters are all gone now, it’s just raw skin by this point.

I finally get to the gate, where there is no space to sit. By this point I’m on the verge of tears and am about ready to find the car and go home.

Once on the plane I get stuck next to someone who clearly had no interest in me or my life but wouldn’t stop talking to me and asking questions. Seriously? Out of the 200ish seats here I get stuck next to this person for the next five and a half hours of my life. Somewhere God is laughing at me! The 10,000 foot ding went off and I put my earbuds in and tuned out the rest of the world.

Once my movie was over I figured I earned the right to WiFi, so I paid handsomely for it and it was worth every penny.

February 28th was a miserable morning and I’m shocked I made it through without losing my damn mind, but I did and now I can laugh about the events the lead me to Las Vegas for the very first time. I hope you got a good chuckle at my misfortune too.

Next time you’ll read the unbelievable tale of getting from the airport to the hotel. I swear, I couldn’t make this shit up.

Note: These stories are all true and factual. I did not make up any part of any of the events you will read about in this series. 

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