It’s time to head out to Florida.
It’s interesting to fly in this age. When I was 8 years old and flying to Chicago, the pilot invited all us kids into the cockpit to show us all the really cool things. We ate food. Real food. Not sample sizes and vending machine packets. With metal forks and knives.
Fast forward a few decades.
We can’t have liquids. If you pump, be willing to drink your own milk. They wouldn’t give us blankets last time because of swine flu, you can’t bring on more than a pocket protector without paying $25, and the last time I was really fed on a flight was when I wore my bikini top under a cardigan and the male flight attendant asked twice to see what I wearing beneath the black knit and me, being me, showed him both times.
That’s it, I’m getting my mid-twenties body back by May 31st.
While I was told (gleefully) by the SPL safety person that I would most likely be subjected to embarrassing search techniques on my way back home, I figure I’ll be tired to care…
Because I’m going to have fun!