Holy Guacamole! What a way to beginning my trip to San Francisco this weekend.
I'm such a neurotic Type A person that I doubled checked, tripled checked, and even quadrupled checked that I had done everything possible to ensure that my flight to SF would go as smooth as creamy almond butter. Yes, I used almond butter instead of your typical "smooth as peanut butter" because everyone knows that almond butter > peanut butter. Back to the story. Well apparently I should just give up on planning because nothing went accordingly.
Where to begin.......
Well after sitting in traffic and jamming out to all the popular 90s boy bands and female pop singers known to man kind, I finally made it to LAX with an hour and a half to get through TSA. I figured I was "winning" because I had followed American Airline's protocol of arriving one hour prior to boarding a domestic flight. Well someone should have been standing outside TSA ringing an alarm and shouting code red because the line took FOREEEEVVVERRRR!!!! I somehow managed to get out of there 20 minutes to spare before my flight boarded. I felt a sigh of relief knowing that I was not going to miss my flight even though I felt I was playing escape the room (or in this case "escape the TSA Line"). I mean, earlier in the morning American Airlines had sent me a confirmation text indicating that my flight was on time and still departing from GATE 42B. I REPEAT GATE 42B. Obviously I wasn't worried.
Worry-free, I strolled out of the TSA line and headed to my gate with an iced coffee in one hand an extra pep in my step. I was making my way to my gate when I suddenly jolted to a complete halt. I spotted him standing right in front of me within hands reach. If I really wanted I could reach out and touch his face.
ALDIS FREAKING HODGE! No amount of capitalization or bold face letters will translate how excited I was to see him. You will most likely recognize him from Undergrounds. However, my love for him stemmed from watching Leverage which thanks to Ion televisions' Sunday marathon of Leverage, I am still able to get my fix of Alis Hodge aka Hardison.
To say that my heart was fluttering is quite frankly an understatement. Frozen. I could no longer move. My heart was thumping out of my chest and I was beginning to heave. Since I did not want his first impression of me to be of some creepy person staring at him, I finally mustered the courage to say something. "Hi. Omg. I just wanted to say that I'm a huge fan. I'm having heart attach. And. And. Omg. I seriously can't believe that I'm standing in front of you. You're amazing"
Face plant. I mean I give up. Never will I be able to be NOT be an awkward mess with someone that I find interesting and attractive. He of course, was super sweet and just laughed off the whole situation. He introduced himself, asked what my name was, shook my hand and told me to have a great day. Upon departing out conversation, I seriously contemplated not washing my hand and not letting anybody touch it. Too much??Anyway, meeting him put me in an elated trance of optimism and good vibes. I asked myself "What could go wrong?" Well apparently I jinxed myself because everything went quickly down hill. I seriously don't even know why I continue to have this delusional thought that my flights will go smoothly. Apparently I have to resort to eating smooth almond butter to get that affect because something always goes wrong when I fly.
Upon arriving at GATE 42B and looking at the screen, I was like "What the french toast?!!?!!?! I not going to New Orleans. I'm going to SF. Did I book the wrong flight? am I being punk'd?" I approached the attendant at Gate 42B and inquired about my puzzlement. With a very sympathetic expression she quickly informed me that my flight was changed from Gate 42B to Gate 122. According to her, I would unfortunately not be able to make it there on time prior to the gate closing since there was only five minutes left for boarding. She then suggested that I book a different flight. FML.
Let me lay out the lay of the land if you haven't traveled in or out of LAX. Going from Gate 42B to Gate 122 meant having to go from one side of the airport to another. ok. ok. ok. I might be grossly exaggerating here but you get my drift. It's not a short distance. My stubbornness and competitiveness are two qualities of mine that some often disliked but which I take proud ownership of. I was not about to let this woman, although very nice and sympathetic, tell me that i was not going to make my flight. Doing what any sane person would do in my shoes, I channeled my inner Usain Bolt and raced off.
I sprinted through the corridors of Terminal 4 and headed over the to Tom Bradley International Airport bridge of never ending corridors of pristinely polished white floors. Not surprisingly drawing stares from everyone in sight, I kept sprinting for what felt forever! I mean I am not shocked at all the stares since your girl was running with a pink suitcase, a backpack, a coffee in one hand (which I refuse to sacrifice #priorities), a water bottle underneath my arm pit and boisterously screaming "excuse me!" For all the judgement I get for refusing to wear anything but work out gear, the fact that I was wearing my full on running gear was the best decision I could have made.
I finally reached Gate 122 after what felt like I had just ran a half marathon. God and luck were definitely on my side because the lady at the gate was super sweet and nice about the whole situation. She managed to let myself and the other five people in the same situation board the flight even after the gates had closed. Bless her caring soul because I will forever be grateful.
I guess I really looked bad because the flight attendant rushed to my aide to help me store my bags and take all the belongings I had in hand in order to seat my self comfortably. The huffing and puffing ceased after being seated for a few minutes and I was finally able to go back from looking like frantic mess to just the typical mess that I am.
I still can't understand how that all happened within 20 minutes.
I'm such a neurotic Type A person that I doubled checked, tripled checked, and even quadrupled checked that I had done everything possible to ensure that my flight to SF would go as smooth as creamy almond butter. Yes, I used almond butter instead of your typical "smooth as peanut butter" because everyone knows that almond butter > peanut butter. Back to the story. Well apparently I should just give up on planning because nothing went accordingly.
Where to begin.......
Well after sitting in traffic and jamming out to all the popular 90s boy bands and female pop singers known to man kind, I finally made it to LAX with an hour and a half to get through TSA. I figured I was "winning" because I had followed American Airline's protocol of arriving one hour prior to boarding a domestic flight. Well someone should have been standing outside TSA ringing an alarm and shouting code red because the line took FOREEEEVVVERRRR!!!! I somehow managed to get out of there 20 minutes to spare before my flight boarded. I felt a sigh of relief knowing that I was not going to miss my flight even though I felt I was playing escape the room (or in this case "escape the TSA Line"). I mean, earlier in the morning American Airlines had sent me a confirmation text indicating that my flight was on time and still departing from GATE 42B. I REPEAT GATE 42B. Obviously I wasn't worried.
Worry-free, I strolled out of the TSA line and headed to my gate with an iced coffee in one hand an extra pep in my step. I was making my way to my gate when I suddenly jolted to a complete halt. I spotted him standing right in front of me within hands reach. If I really wanted I could reach out and touch his face.
ALDIS FREAKING HODGE! No amount of capitalization or bold face letters will translate how excited I was to see him. You will most likely recognize him from Undergrounds. However, my love for him stemmed from watching Leverage which thanks to Ion televisions' Sunday marathon of Leverage, I am still able to get my fix of Alis Hodge aka Hardison.
To say that my heart was fluttering is quite frankly an understatement. Frozen. I could no longer move. My heart was thumping out of my chest and I was beginning to heave. Since I did not want his first impression of me to be of some creepy person staring at him, I finally mustered the courage to say something. "Hi. Omg. I just wanted to say that I'm a huge fan. I'm having heart attach. And. And. Omg. I seriously can't believe that I'm standing in front of you. You're amazing"
Face plant. I mean I give up. Never will I be able to be NOT be an awkward mess with someone that I find interesting and attractive. He of course, was super sweet and just laughed off the whole situation. He introduced himself, asked what my name was, shook my hand and told me to have a great day. Upon departing out conversation, I seriously contemplated not washing my hand and not letting anybody touch it. Too much??Anyway, meeting him put me in an elated trance of optimism and good vibes. I asked myself "What could go wrong?" Well apparently I jinxed myself because everything went quickly down hill. I seriously don't even know why I continue to have this delusional thought that my flights will go smoothly. Apparently I have to resort to eating smooth almond butter to get that affect because something always goes wrong when I fly.
Upon arriving at GATE 42B and looking at the screen, I was like "What the french toast?!!?!!?! I not going to New Orleans. I'm going to SF. Did I book the wrong flight? am I being punk'd?" I approached the attendant at Gate 42B and inquired about my puzzlement. With a very sympathetic expression she quickly informed me that my flight was changed from Gate 42B to Gate 122. According to her, I would unfortunately not be able to make it there on time prior to the gate closing since there was only five minutes left for boarding. She then suggested that I book a different flight. FML.
Let me lay out the lay of the land if you haven't traveled in or out of LAX. Going from Gate 42B to Gate 122 meant having to go from one side of the airport to another. ok. ok. ok. I might be grossly exaggerating here but you get my drift. It's not a short distance. My stubbornness and competitiveness are two qualities of mine that some often disliked but which I take proud ownership of. I was not about to let this woman, although very nice and sympathetic, tell me that i was not going to make my flight. Doing what any sane person would do in my shoes, I channeled my inner Usain Bolt and raced off.
I sprinted through the corridors of Terminal 4 and headed over the to Tom Bradley International Airport bridge of never ending corridors of pristinely polished white floors. Not surprisingly drawing stares from everyone in sight, I kept sprinting for what felt forever! I mean I am not shocked at all the stares since your girl was running with a pink suitcase, a backpack, a coffee in one hand (which I refuse to sacrifice #priorities), a water bottle underneath my arm pit and boisterously screaming "excuse me!" For all the judgement I get for refusing to wear anything but work out gear, the fact that I was wearing my full on running gear was the best decision I could have made.
I finally reached Gate 122 after what felt like I had just ran a half marathon. God and luck were definitely on my side because the lady at the gate was super sweet and nice about the whole situation. She managed to let myself and the other five people in the same situation board the flight even after the gates had closed. Bless her caring soul because I will forever be grateful.
I guess I really looked bad because the flight attendant rushed to my aide to help me store my bags and take all the belongings I had in hand in order to seat my self comfortably. The huffing and puffing ceased after being seated for a few minutes and I was finally able to go back from looking like frantic mess to just the typical mess that I am.
I still can't understand how that all happened within 20 minutes.
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