You're Going to Think I'm Kidding...
...But I'm totally not.
For real though? I've finally hit rock bottom. Remember that time I tried to fly with an expired learner's permit? How about that time I booked my own flight a week late? You thought I was out of traveling lessons to learn the hard way, didn't you. Yeah, well SO DID I.
We were all wrong. Though, considering it's me we're talking about, I can't see any of you being very surprised.
This past Friday, I was supposed to fly to Ohio at 2:30. Only I thought it was 3:30. Who can say why, really. My mother and father are both relatively intelligent people, and I did OK on the ACTs, so it's hard to say how I developed this gaping hole in my head when it comes to dates, times and common sense. Maybe I got the time I was leaving to Ohio mixed up with the time I had arrived in Rochester. Maybe it was the time change. Maybe it was that hippie charter school. Maybe, when I was a very young child, I landed on my head in such a way that caused the unicorn/pony/play-dough part of my brain to stampede into the number/calendar/USEFUL part of my brain and claim it for Candy-Land. Whatever. the reason for the mistake doesn't really matter. What matters is that, at 2:05 on Friday afternoon, I checked my e-mail at home and realized that the flight I thought wasn't taking off until 3:30 was, in fact, already boarding.
At that point I threw a bunch of stuff into my suitcase, hopped into the car with my mother and headed for the airport. When we arrived at the airport, my brother and I hauled my suitcases to the checkout desk, apologised for being late, and were informed that I was not going to be able to board the plane. Then, having learned from a previous travel mishap in which I was charged a hundred dollars to move my flight up a week, I cried. Oh, I cried hard core. And it worked like a charm. The lady behind the counter booked me on the next available flight which was the next day and informed me that there was no charge. She probably thought I was crying because I had missed something important by showing up so late. You know, something good like a dying relative or my own wedding. But no. I was crying because it wasn't until that moment that I fully understood the depth of my own stupidity.
Seriously everyone. At this point, I've pretty much given up on ever becoming a productive adult. There aren't many options for people with my special needs. I'll be lucky if I can get a job at Wal-Mart. I will fulfill all my potential by wearing a blue vest and sticking smiley-face stickers on people's pop cans.
So, I guess that's it. You all have fun with the rest of your lives while I look for a price marking gun and some sensible shoes. And never set foot in an airport again.
For real though? I've finally hit rock bottom. Remember that time I tried to fly with an expired learner's permit? How about that time I booked my own flight a week late? You thought I was out of traveling lessons to learn the hard way, didn't you. Yeah, well SO DID I.
We were all wrong. Though, considering it's me we're talking about, I can't see any of you being very surprised.
This past Friday, I was supposed to fly to Ohio at 2:30. Only I thought it was 3:30. Who can say why, really. My mother and father are both relatively intelligent people, and I did OK on the ACTs, so it's hard to say how I developed this gaping hole in my head when it comes to dates, times and common sense. Maybe I got the time I was leaving to Ohio mixed up with the time I had arrived in Rochester. Maybe it was the time change. Maybe it was that hippie charter school. Maybe, when I was a very young child, I landed on my head in such a way that caused the unicorn/pony/play-dough part of my brain to stampede into the number/calendar/USEFUL part of my brain and claim it for Candy-Land. Whatever. the reason for the mistake doesn't really matter. What matters is that, at 2:05 on Friday afternoon, I checked my e-mail at home and realized that the flight I thought wasn't taking off until 3:30 was, in fact, already boarding.
At that point I threw a bunch of stuff into my suitcase, hopped into the car with my mother and headed for the airport. When we arrived at the airport, my brother and I hauled my suitcases to the checkout desk, apologised for being late, and were informed that I was not going to be able to board the plane. Then, having learned from a previous travel mishap in which I was charged a hundred dollars to move my flight up a week, I cried. Oh, I cried hard core. And it worked like a charm. The lady behind the counter booked me on the next available flight which was the next day and informed me that there was no charge. She probably thought I was crying because I had missed something important by showing up so late. You know, something good like a dying relative or my own wedding. But no. I was crying because it wasn't until that moment that I fully understood the depth of my own stupidity.
Seriously everyone. At this point, I've pretty much given up on ever becoming a productive adult. There aren't many options for people with my special needs. I'll be lucky if I can get a job at Wal-Mart. I will fulfill all my potential by wearing a blue vest and sticking smiley-face stickers on people's pop cans.
So, I guess that's it. You all have fun with the rest of your lives while I look for a price marking gun and some sensible shoes. And never set foot in an airport again.
posted by Caitlin at 8:26 AM
4 comments
