In Honor of Finals...

...Let's play a little multiple choice game.

Which of these conversations was had by me sometime during the course of the past two days?

Selection A
Jerk behind me at choir concert: "Walk faster!"
Me: "OK but seriously, I can't find my shoe."

Selection B
Me: "Um, I think I locked my roommate out of the room.
Government teacher: And you care about her deeply so..."
Me: "Well yes, and when I left she was in the shower."
Government teacher: "Oh. Well you better go let her in. That has to be the best excuse to get out of class I've ever heard."

Selection C
Me: (falling down the stairs in the Madsen Center)"Ow."
People Behind me who now know me as, "That girl who fell down the stairs": Laugh, laugh, laugh.

Selection D
ALL OF THE ABOVE.

I don't even deserve your pity.

Jinx

Oh my traveling companions...

Remember that time I tried to smuggle a little Fiscar weapon of death onto the plane back from Poland? Remember how I left my passport on the plane back from Italy and thought they were going to make me live in the airport like Tom Hanks in The Terminal? (It was based on a true story...) How about that time they almost didn't let me on the plane to Washington DC on account of social leprosy? No? No one remembers that last time, you say? Because it just happened a few weeks ago? Well, gather round my friends. Watch as a new chapter unfolds in the saga of Caitlin the travel jinx.

I arrived at the airport to embark upon my adventure at Advocacy days in DC clutching a bright red suitcase filled with fancy shoes and grown-up clothes and an orange folder containing the flight schedule I was sent by the internet. Since I purchased the ticket myself, I assumed something would go wrong, but I managed to get my ticket and make it to security without incident.

But, just as I was about to relax, I was thwarted by the lady checking ID's at the top of the escalator. I gave my coughlearner'spermitcough to her and her hair and her eye shadow and her fake nails:

Her: "Well this doesn't make any sense."
Me: "Well, um, it's not a driver's license..."
Her: "I know that. Do you see this expiration date?"(...You nineteen year old licenseless freak, she said with her eyes...)
Me: "Oh. So, um, it's not valid?"
Her:"Well, not in my eyes. Take this down to the desk where you checked in."
Me: stare, stare, stare, blink, "Where?"
Her: "Where you checked in. Then come back."

OK

I followed her instructions and handed my permit to a grumpy old man behind the counter and he frowned over it and shook his head, then drew two big red S's on my boarding pass and sent be back up the escalator. The S's Probably stood for Super Stupid or Sad...Simpleton. Oh leave me alone, it was traumatic.

I re-showed my ticket to Cranky Ms. A-hair-band-somewhere-wants-its-hairspray-and-eyeliner-back, and she ushered me into the special line for criminals. Apparently, I was the only criminal in the whole Sioux Falls airport at the time, since the line they were all supposed to be in consisted of me alone. So... on second thought, it wasn't so much a line as it was me standing by myself behind a length of red tape trying to decide whether I should be annoyed or terrified. Next, I waited while a woman with gloves and a spiffy uniform patted me down and went through all of my things behind a little shield so I couldn't see what she was doing and wouldn't make a scene when she found my guns and Vodka. Another guard tested by backpack for chemicals and explosives (Oh yes, chemicals and explosives) and finally sent me on my way.

I take the party with me where ever I go.

What is it with me? Why can't I just get on the plane and off the plane without causing any trouble? They've probably put my name on a special Super Stupid airport deviant list by now. I'm never leaving the tri-state area again.