Continuing with my New Year's Resolution, I'm trying to do something that makes me proud of myself on a daily basis. I've done things like learning some HTML, eating grown-up cereal, and using an eyelash curler. I'm not the bungee-jumping type, ok? In fact, I'm such a wuss, that this resolution is evolving into my simple aspiration to be a normal person. Today is no different.
Marky and I are going to visit my brother and sister-in-law in Houston tomorrow. It's a recreational trip. Normal people do that all the time. But no matter how smooth my life was going before a trip, things start to fall apart when I travel. It starts about three days before the trip. I can't sleep, I start gnawing on my fingernails, and I fantasize about security locking me away for trying to get through the everything detector with a bottle of foundation. I've been flying since I was very little, and I don't know where this all started, but I can't stop my travel neurosis. Although I hate flying, and do everything in my power to lose consciousness as soon as I buckle my seatbelt, this is not a condition limited to air travel. It happens with road trips, too. What if there's no food at our destination and I pass out? What if I need a jacket and all I brought was open-toed shoes and sundresses? I can't focus on the fun vacation I'm about to have, because I'm wracked with paranoia. I'm not paralyzed by the paranoia, but I know it gets annoying to the people around me. Marky has adapted by cleaning the house, packing two days in advance, and letting us leave extra early. It's best for him to acknowledge my panic, and help me through it.
I've packed, shopped, cleaned, taken the knitting needles out of my bag, unhooked my Swiss Army knife, and feel ready. I go to online check-in. This is usually a nonessential step, because when I get to the airline queue, I'm so worried I've already broken a law just by getting in line, I need my hand held at the counter, and I check EVERYTHING so they don't take my lip gloss away. Marky, check. Breezy, check. How many bags are we checking? One for me, one for... Wait. Does that screen say they are going to charge me for my checked bag? You don't even get ONE checked bag as a gimme? Now, I'm in a quandry. I'm paranoid, but I'm nothing if not thrifty. Let me get this straight: the airlines not only charge you $4 for 20 oz. of water after forcing you to empty your $0.89 White Hen bottle, but now they insist that you roll the dice and get your perfume confiscated or else pay $15 to check your bags? All right. Here's my proud moment of the day: I'm getting the quart-sized Ziplock bag. I'm putting my shit in it, and they are going to let me through with liquid carry-on items! Not only will I get through with my conditioner and eye drops. I will brazenly include my empty camouflage SIGG bottle, and once that is through security, I will even more brazenly fill it with water from a fountain, and laugh in the face of the O'Hare McDonald's that for so long had a stranglehold on my liquid intake to wash down my OTC consciousness-ending medication! Ha-HAA! Take that, FAA conspiracy!
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