5 Airpors, 4 located barf bags, 3 time zones

4 states, 2 Buddy Holly planes, 2 sodas, 2 airlines,
12.5 hours, 1 failed engine, 1 special security screening, and 0
Starbucks...what a day!

It started with me knocking on my friend Sarah's window at 5:30am, praying that it wasn't one of her roomates' window. A quick trip to the Monterey Airport where I hit the long line of people waiting for their early Thursday morning flight. And of all those people, it was me, little ol' me, who is just trying to get to a funeral, that gets "specially selected" for extra security screening and informed I need to go straight to security (as if I had anywhere else to go when my flight leaves in 10 minutes). I still think that I was selected because of my "Pitch to Barry" San Francisco Giants shirt and was headed toward DogerLand. They must have figured I was on a suicide mission, either that, or my blond hair and blue eyes makes me
totally look like a terrorist.

Arrive in L.A.--I barely remember this, except I was given the wrong
departing gate, and only because I chose to find a seat away from people
that happened to be facing away, did I realize that MY flight was boring
across the way. Then, off to Denver...which I didn't realize I was going to,
until I woke up, looked out the window and decided it was too brown to be
Houston and then the flight attendant welcomed us to the "Mile High City."
Talk about panic. Next time I'll listen when they do the beginning
announcements before going to sleep and read my flight agenda better. From
there, it was off to Houston, which I was happy about. I like the Houston
airport, even if it is named after one of them right-winged Republicans
(haha!). I'm comfortable there, and of course, there is my all-time
favorite, Chili's Margarita Bar. Except paying $8.50 for a margarita is
NEVER going to happen again. It was more than my meal. No matter how good it
may have been, totally not worth it.

Then we get to the fun part of the trip...one more buddy holly plane from
Houston to Lake Charles (plane #4). We get on the plane and apparently the
engine shut itself off. 20 minutes later, after mechanics whom I never saw,
looked at the plane, we restarted it up, and took off. Talk about paranoid.
You hear every little noise on those plane, especially when you are sitting
in the very rear. Luckily it was only a 30 minute flight, so not too long to
fear for your life I suppose. After that, I'm greeted by my step-siblings
and off on an hour long drive to B.F.E., the Cajun version of it, alligators
and all (if you don't know what B.F.E., I'll explain later).
All and all, I made all my flights, arrived on time, and didn't have a plane
crash or get hijacked. I got lots of compliments on my San Fran shirt AFTER
I left L.A. (I got a few evil stares too, but I chose to ignore them).

Ready to do it all again on Tuesday!